So.

I haven't slept for a couple of days because I'm manic. I think this is the longest chapter yet, but it might come with some typos or grammar goofs. Once I get a couple of hours sleep, I'll be able to give it another once-over. In the meantime, I hope it's legible!

It's beginning to feel a lot like Summer! About time!

As usual, thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favourites. I really appreciate them, and I'm happy you're still here with me and hanging on. :)

ssg.x.

CHAPTER 11
THORN IN MY SIDE

Once Elsa stopped thinking and let the full breadth of her emotions take over, she felt free. There was no one left to protect from the cold, and for the first time since she first found herself locked up in that room, she truly believed that she was going to die there. Without her direction, the freeze had its way with her surroundings. The room had quickly become a glacier-like tomb, which was fitting, she thought as she stared glassy-eyed at the bed. Snowflakes hovered in midair like cosmic dust, and the icicles that had formed on the rafters hung so dangerously low that Elsa could just barely stand up straight, not that she had tried since she managed, with much greater ease this time around due to all the ice on the floor, to place Hans' body on the bed.

She had carefully dressed him again, properly tucking his shirt back into his trousers and pulling the braces back over his shoulders. She buttoned up his waistcoat then gently cradled his head against her breast to wrap the silk scarf around his neck. She meticulously tied it and tucked the ends into the collar. She slowly buttoned his jacket, smoothing the lapels down and letting her hand linger over the royal crest under which lay the snowflake she'd scarred him with when she froze his heart.

She was about to pull the blankets over his head but stopped short of his shoulders.

"I'm sorry," she said. It was the first thing she'd said in what felt like days, though she knew only an hour or two had passed. "I said I wasn't like you, and that I didn't prey on the weak. You called me a liar and I called you a repulsive parasite, a monster, a slimy bast—"

Elsa's whole body shook as she sobbed. "God, I can't even tell you if I meant the words when I said them or not. I can't tell the lies I've told from the truths anymore. How many lies do you have to tell before you start losing track of them all?" She looked down at Hans' still face. She still hoped to see his eyes moving beneath his eyelids, or a quirk of his mouth. "I'm sorry…" she whispered again brokenly.

She curled up beside him on her side so she could look at his profile. Like everything else in the room, he'd been drained of all colour. There was only white. This was not the magnificent blue ice palace she'd raised on the mountain from sheer will. That was born from an altogether different kind of freedom than the one she felt now. This time, untethered to anyone or anything, she felt lost, and the only will she had now was the one to die. Even if she did manage to escape, she'd murdered a man. Yes, King Enoch and Queen Alma wanted Hans dead, but no one else knew that. Elsa would be accused of the same crimes Hans had committed in Arendelle. Queen Elsa came to the capital after forging a note from a member of the royal family, dined with the king and queen, won the heart of their entire kingdom, and then slaughtered their prince with her witchcraft.

If Elsa didn't fight her way out of there, she'd surely be executed. If she did fight, though, it could start a war. More people would die – people who didn't possess her powers and could in no way protect themselves against whatever force was keeping her locked in this room, a force that was proving itself to be far greater than her own.

"Anna…" she murmured. If I died in this room, Anna would be crowned queen. She'll be engaged to Kristoff in short time, I'm sure. They're brave, loyal, and kind. He can keep her grounded when her flakier side starts to get the better of her.

Elsa smiled to herself when she thought of how much she adored Anna's flakier side - as much as she loved everything else about her. She hoped Anna would remember that love and find strength in it during the dark times ahead. Elsa moved closer to Hans. She needed to be close to something human just then. He wasn't Anna, but he was flesh and bone, and he still smelled like the most alive thing in this room – like spearmint and wild tarragon. She pulled Hans' arm out from under the covers, then burrowed under it and rested her head on his shoulder, too tired then to feel guilty about using his body this way.

"I used to read a lot of Greek myths when I was a child. Well…I mean I used to read all sorts of things. All I had was time, solitude, and books after all. The Greek myths gave me nightmares when I was very young – gods eating their young, raping women, exacting the vilest revenge on their enemies, starting wars. I remember reading about Hades and Persephone, and how he kidnapped her and brought her to the Underworld. It kept me up at night, but I couldn't very well climb into bed with my parents or with Anna. I'd freeze them to…" her voice trailed off. "Well…you know," she finally said quietly.

She continued. "For a while I was afraid that I could be whisked away in the middle of the night, and no one would ever notice I was gone. Or, worse yet, maybe even…" Elsa took a deep breath, feeling bad for ever having believed her parents were capable of such a thing, but - "Maybe my parents would even be relieved I was gone."

Without realizing it, Elsa had placed her hand over Hans' while she had been talking. She was surprised when she noticed, but she didn't draw her hand away. Instead, she thought about how lucky she had been. Yes, her parents had made many mistakes, but they loved her with their whole hearts. Hans' parents, however…

She squeezed his hand.

"As it turns out, I didn't have to worry about being captured and taken to the Underworld because evidently I bring my own Underworld with me wherever I go," she said. She stared at the thousands of snowflakes suspended in the air all around them as though time had stopped. She wondered if the icicles hanging from the rafters would eventually become so heavy that they'd fall and impale her, or if their weight would pull the entire ceiling down and crush her.

She was too exhausted to be scared anymore.

"Hans…" she began, tears still stinging her eyes. "When you kissed me, I…What you said was…And I lied to you about…" Elsa stammered. She sat up and leaned over him, letting his arm fall behind her. She tentatively reached out and, with a gloveless hand, traced the stubbled line of his jaw. She touched one of the white streaks in his hair and stroked his brow. "Hans," she whispered again. She lowered her head, touched her forehead to his. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing hitched. Before her mind could return to her, she pressed her lips tenderly to his. She felt the freeze begin to stir inside her again, and she was disgusted with herself for violating Hans' body this way, for the heart that betrayed her by skipping a beat when she put more pressure on his mouth with her own, and, lastly, for wanting to kiss him again. But she found she couldn't pull away. How was it possible that the kiss of a dead man could make her feel so alive, she wondered.

And then the dead man began to kiss her back.

Elsa started, her breath leaving her all at once. Or, perhaps when Hans inhaled sharply, gasping as though he'd been submerged in water for far too long, he took her breath from her. All at once, the colour returned to his lips, cheeks and hair. And then there they were, his eyes – lucid, flawless, and greener than spring.

So many things went through Elsa's head in that instant - confusion, relief, happiness, dread - but she hardly had any time to dwell on any of those emotions for more than a few seconds, or even assign them to any one thing. The one emotion that lingered, though, was the one she welcomed the least – shame. She had killed him, said those reprehensible things to him, then desecrated his…

Well, it was his corpse only moments ago. And she'd been caught.

I'm disgusting, she thought despairingly, feeling dizzy on the receiving end of his unblinking gaze. She fumbled to pull away from him, but the hand at the small of her back moved swiftly to stop her, tightening around her hip. Her stomach clenched and she closed her eyes.

Subdued and then guided by his firm hold on her, she leaned over him again. Her white hair fell down around her face, and Hans reached out a hand to feel it between his fingers before wrapping it around the back of her neck lifting his head from the pillow just high enough to close the distance between his lips and hers. Immediately, the freeze began its now familiar eddy through her veins, tingling deliciously as it did the first time Hans kissed her. When Hans used his thumb to tilt her head and deepen the kiss, her lips opened against his and her tongue began to explore his mouth with earnest. He moaned, his own tongue chasing hers, and Elsa thrilled at hearing the sound of his voice again, even if no words came with it.

Elsa's hand trembled as she pulled at one of the ends of his silk neck scarf, her heartbeat picking up its rhythm. Suddenly remembering she didn't have her gloves on, she hesitated for a second. Then Hans began to bite, suck and lick his way to her ear, her neck, and her mind went blank. She finished untying his scarf and drew it out from under him, then started to unbutton the high-collared shirt he was wearing. She needed to feel his pulse fluttering beneath her fingers, needed to feel his Adam's apple undulating against her lips. She had no idea what had gotten into her, but moments ago she was sure she was going to die - that a large part of her had been long dead already - and now every molecule was pulsating with life, and, for whatever reason, Hans was the source of that life.

Hans' hand gripped her hip hard and, in a single, smooth motion, he rolled them both over so that he was free of the bedding and on top of her. It happened so fast and caught her so off guard that she didn't have time to keep the freeze in check. It rapidly gathered in the palms of her hands and spilled from the tips of her fingers. The release, combined with the feeling of Hans' icy breath, lips and tongue travelling down her neck, felt so good that she couldn't tear herself away. She hardly noticed the blue glow beneath his white shirt that only grew stronger with every drop of the freeze that poured out of her. His body seemed to be absorbing all of it. Moreover, he seemed to be aroused by it. He ground himself against her thigh, growling softly into her hair.

Alarm bells started going off.

What…?

Her eyes widened. She could feel him, or rather it, through the skirt of her dress and petticoat. It felt larger and firmer than it had looked through his trousers when she was tucking his shirt in (not that she had looked or anything). She lifted her hips to meet the drop of his, her body instinctively knowing what it wanted before she did, and Hans' teeth sunk into her bottom lip.

Neither of them had spoken a word yet. She was afraid that she'd come to her senses if they did, and she wanted all five of her senses to remain just beyond her control.

Not to mention that bad things happened when the two of them talked.

"Elsa…" he moaned, and she felt its timbre in her chest, her thighs, her stomach. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, her fingernails biting into the fabric of his velvet coat. Okay, maybe talking wouldn't be too terrible, she decided, arching her back and rocking against him. He reached down and grasped the hem of her skirt and petticoat and pulled them up around her thighs, shifting his body so that he could lie between her legs. Elsa gasped when she felt his hand brushing against her bare skin, and toying for a moment with the garter just above her knee that held up her white, silk stocking. He ran his fingers along the stiff fabric of her bodice, and a long, blissful sigh escaped her lips. The pleasure of being able to touch and be touched was almost decadent.

He reached behind her and gripped one of the brass bars of the canopied bed, thrusting himself against her again, rather forcefully this time, and groaning thickly in her ear. She dug her fingers into his lush red hair, clutching the back of his head and roughly pulling him into their kisses with equal force. His tongue slid unrelentingly against hers and his hand unfurled across her breast, his thumb grazing her nipple through her dress. Elsa rolled her hips and squirmed a little, but was careful not to disturb the rhythm she and Hans had wordlessly established.

She didn't stop to think about Anna. She didn't stop to think about her kingdom. She didn't stop to wonder why this was happening, what Hans was thinking, or whether or not they'd ever see the light of day again. All she thought was that she needed this – his whispers, his moans, his tongue, lips, teeth and taste. Occasionally, Elsa would allow herself some awareness of the freeze surging inside her, and how it practically roared in her ears. She could still feel it streaming into Hans whenever and wherever his bare skin made contact with hers. She began to unbutton his coat and he raised himself up on his knees to accommodate the nimble movement of her determined fingers. She was less patient with the buttons of his waistcoat. He sat back on his haunches and finished the job for her, quickly shrugging out of both articles of clothing then throwing them off to his side.

He grabbed her by the ankles and tugged her fiercely towards him along the bed, pulling her into his lap. Her skirts pooled around her waist as he gripped her bare thighs, directing her to wrap her legs around his hips. He palmed her breast again with one hand, eliciting a whimper from Elsa, and then very deliberately ground his rigid arousal against the silk drawers she wore under her petticoat. He hissed his pleasure and pinched the nipple beneath his hand. Elsa cried out.

Oh, God…

She had questions, of course, that she chased into the shadows of her mind. Why wasn't Hans feeling the cold? Had he really been dead or just unconscious? How was Hans able to conjure that ice barrier before he collapsed?

That last question was the most worrisome of them all. There was no doubt that she had feelings for Hans – inappropriate feelings she knew she'd have to shake eventually – but she couldn't trust him. If she had somehow managed to transfer some of her power over to him when she struck him, she knew she would have to leave him behind. The freeze could be catastrophic in the hands of a man like Hans. She would have to keep this secret to herself. The safety of both their kingdoms depended on it.

The snowflake imprinted on his flesh was now emitting a glow too intense to ignore. Reluctantly halting all movement, she pulled back. Hans moved to gather her up in his arms again, but she tilted out of his reach.

"Hans…" she whispered. He followed her gaze to the mark over his heart, eyes narrowing against its brilliance. He slipped his arms out of his braces and removed his shirt. His eyes grew to the size of saucers, a mixture of awe and fear running amok on his face as he observed the brand on his chest for the first time. Elsa couldn't look at him – she was too ashamed.

"Is this…?"

"Yes," Elsa answered hoarsely before he could finish the question. "When I froze your heart."

Hans studied it silently. His hand hovered inches away from it for the longest time as though he were afraid to touch it. He used his finger to trace the unmarked skin around it. One second Elsa wanted so badly to know what was going through his mind, and in the next she hoped he'd never speak again.

"Did this happen to…"

"No, I don't think so," Elsa said. "When I froze Anna's heart, it was from a distance. When I…" she shuddered, remembering the feeling in the pit of her stomach and the feel of her heart in her throat when Hans collapsed after their first kiss. "When I froze your heart, my hand was touching it."

Hans raised his eyebrows and smirked at her. Elsa blushed. "I mean your heart," she clarified. "I was touching your heart."

He smiled then, and she could have sworn it was a real smile.

They both turned their attention back to the mark on his chest.

"Does it hurt?" she asked softly. Much to her relief, Hans shook his head.

"No," he replied, distracted. "Oh, geez. Is it in the shape of a snowflake?"

"Um…yes."

Hans huffed, disappointed. "Of course it couldn't be in the shape of a dragon, or a lion or something."

"I'm sorry," she said, squeezing her eyes shut. "The snowflake is…It's kind of my thing. I have no control over it."

"You say that a lot," Hans remarked, still staring at the snowflake without venturing to touch it. "Do you think this thing is permanent?"

"What do I say a lot?" she asked.

"That you have no control. Not always in those exact words, mind you –"

"I don't, do I?" Elsa wrung her hands together. When did his opinion start meaning anything to her?

"You do, whether or not it's actually the case."

Elsa rolled her eyes and chuckled nervously, "Oh, how I did miss our talks."

Hans leaned back on his hands, smiling smugly, and Elsa realized she was still sitting in his lap.

"Can I give you a piece of advice?" he asked lightly.

Elsa arched an eyebrow at him. "Can I stop you?"

"Whether you think you're capable of handling it or not, if you don't take control, there will always be someone waiting in the wings who will," he said, eyes on hers and a wicked little grin on his face. "I was that someone once, Your Majesty." He began to rock his hips from side to side beneath her skirts.

"You're exasperating," Elsa said, trying to ignore how good the simple movement made her feel. She was also trying to ignore the ridged plane of his stomach, the contours of his strong shoulders, and his long, sinewy arms, mostly because now he knew she liked looking at him, and she didn't want to keep feeding into his vanity. There just wasn't enough space left in the room for his head to get even bigger than it already was, what with all the icicles and snow drifts closing in on them.

"Elsa…" Hans began quietly, meaningfully.

Elsa glanced at him, expecting to see the same self-satisfied smile on his face, but instead he was straight-faced and staring at Elsa's hands woven together and sitting in her lap.

"What is it?" Elsa asked, her tongue darting out to lick her dry lips. The action caught Hans' attention, and he finally met her eyes, the same serious look still on his face. There was sincerity in his wide, green eyes that threw her for a bit of an emotional loop.

"I…um…Can you pass me my shirt?"

Elsa frowned. She wasn't sure what she was expecting him to say, but that certainly wasn't it. She picked up his shirt and held it tightly to her chest.

"What were you really going to say?" she asked.

Hans grinned.

"Are you trying to keep me undressed, Your Highness? Like what you see?" was his reply.

Elsa climbed out of his lap and tossed him his shirt.

"Forget it," she said, her heart sinking. He really was incapable of being open with her, she realized. She felt a tightness in her throat. She would never be able to trust Hans, and that meant that she would have to leave him and his life in the hands of his parents. Not that she ever thought for even a second that she and Hans could ever be more than just two people thrown into an abysmal situation together, but she thought… Okay, maybe she thought they could be more. Not for a second. Maybe half a second. But it was hopeless.

Elsa climbed off the bed and smoothed out the bodice and skirt of her dress. Dodging the lower-hanging icicles, she made her way briskly to the bedroom doors, not sure what she'd be able to accomplish there. Hans slipped his shirt back on and followed her, less successfully managing to miss the icicles due to his height.

"Elsa, I was just kidding. Come on," he laughed, making a grab for her arm. She jerked away from him.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, leaving Hans looking as though she'd struck his heart again. Recovering quickly, his eyes narrowed angrily and his jaw tightened. His hand closed around her wrist as he spun her around to face him. Raising her free arm, she slapped him hard across the face.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Hans shouted, tightening his hold on her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking control," she hissed. "As per your suggestion."

"You're putting up walls," he bit back. "It's hardly the same thing."

Elsa turned her back on him, wiping away the welling of tears in her eyes with one of her sleeves before he could see them. Hans yanked her back in his direction again.

"Don't ignore me!" he shouted, eyes shining with tears of his own. Elsa stared at him. A wind picked up and snow began to whirl around them, but all she knew was the pain on Hans' face, and that she was the cause of that pain. His kiss-swollen lips parted as he sought to catch his breath.

"Hans…" she whispered.

You were shut out…

"Please…" he pleaded with her hoarsely.

and I was shut in.

Slowly, silently, Elsa reached for Hans. She drew her arms around him and pulled him close to her.

"I won't. I promise," she said gently.

Hans rested his chin against the top of her head. Elsa closed her eyes and surrendered herself again to the feeling of holding him and being held in return. She would deal with the consequences of using Hans as a source of strength later. Right now she needed him. She tilted her head up to look at him.

"You know, you can't trust me as far as you can throw me," Hans said. She was beginning to understand his ebb and flow. Just when he started looking and sounding like a sensitive man with a soul, he'd tuck it behind an arrogant grin and an air of overconfidence.

Very well, she thought, blue eyes sparkling mischievously.

Elsa arched an eyebrow and smiled. "You know, I could conjure up a snow monster that could throw you clear across the fjord and back to Arendelle with a snap of my fingers."

Hans chuckled throatily. "Is that right?"

His fingers followed the line of buttons down the back of her dress. The shiver that aroused her more than frightened her now took hold of her. His hand rested at the base of her spine and he began to walk her backwards towards the door.

"That's right," Elsa said, the faintest tremble still in her voice. "Is that what you'd call taking control?"

Hans nodded, "I'd say so. But I have experience fighting snow monsters. I'm sure I'd be able to best it. I'm very good with a sword."

"If memory serves me, you aren't as good with a sword as you'd like to think," she replied, gasping a little when she felt her back making contact with the doors. She boldly raised her chin and met his eyes, her heart pounding a mile a minute. She didn't like thinking about what he'd done in Arendelle, but she liked showing him her strength, that she wasn't afraid of him, and she suspected he liked seeing that, too.

Hans stood with his hips flush against the slight curve of her belly, his hardness pressing into her. He remained perfectly poker-faced throughout their back and forth, in no hurry to rush their conversation.

"Like I said - you take control whether you think you can handle it or not, or someone else will. Sometimes taking control means getting your hands a little dirty. Maybe making a mistake here and there." Hans leaned over so that his forehead was touching hers. His pupils were dilated, and his breath started coming a little faster. She gripped the hem of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.

"Mistakes, huh?" she replied as nonchalantly as she could manage. She slipped a hand beneath his shirt, thrilling at the feel of his of stomach muscles clenching beneath her light touch.

"Hans?"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

Elsa clasped her hands behind her back. She leaned against the door, smiling coquettishly.

"Take off your shirt."

Hans grinned. He made a move to pull his shirt off over his head.

"Stop," Elsa said.

Hans paused, arms in the air, looking at her curiously.

"Use the buttons," she instructed.

He pulled the shirt back down around his waist. He reached up and slowly started unbuttoning it, a proud little smirk on his face.

"As you wish," he replied, bowing ever-so-slightly.

Biting her lip, Elsa decided that a mistake here and there might be worth the occasional grab at control.