So.

I've gotten so many wonderful reviews and messages, both here and on Tumblr, and I just wanted to thank you so much for all your kind words. It really does make my day when I find them in my inbox and I'm so grateful that you're enjoying the story enough to write them, whether they come in paragraphs or just a single sentence.

Know that you're valued and appreciated.

ssg.x.

CHAPTER 17
RED TORNADO

For the second time in less than a year, Elsa woke up in a fog, having no idea where she was or why she was there. Varying degrees of shadow and light moved across her eyelids. She could hear and smell wood burning and the murmurings of two women, one on either side of her, but couldn't make out what they were saying.

Then she remembered…

Hans…

Where is Hans?

She remembered the grim look of resolve on Hans' face as he clung so stubbornly to his pride, standing steadfast as the world crumbled around him before she turned away from him for what she thought was for good.

She remembered the floor beneath the staircase breaking apart and the structure beginning to sink, the panic in Hans' green eyes. If she hadn't been so scared that her miscalculations were about to kill them both, she would have burst into tears of relief at seeing the life return to his green eyes.

After that…?

She couldn't remember anything after that.

Her body ached, but nowhere near as much as her head did. Her eyes fluttered open, the seam of a cloth bandage hung in her eye line. She tried to bring a hand up to her head to feel the extent of the damage, but she couldn't move her arms – she was tucked very tightly into a bed, she realized. She fuzzily wondered if she was in the same bed she'd shared with Hans.

Maybe it was all just a nightmare and she was still nestled against him, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders even as he slept. Maybe she was still curled up in the bed sheets she and Hans had…

No. Don't be stupid, Elsa.

She would have sworn on her life that he was there beside her just then. The seasoned wood burning in the fireplace, the way its colour and heat kissed all five of her senses in different ways couldn't compete with his scent, and the effects it had on her body. She tried to speak his name but her throat was just too dry. The single syllable came out sounding more like a croak than anything else. She fought against the stiff blankets, finally able to bring her hand to her face, but not before her fingers brushed against the silky folds of fabric at her throat.

Hans' necktie. The one he had given her. It smelled of spearmint and wild tarragon.

Hans wasn't here with her after all. Of course he wasn't. Why would he be? She had left him, and he had let her go.

Then where was she?

She used her free hand to rub her eyes. The simple movement set her head throbbing. She moaned and suddenly an older woman she didn't recognize was at her bedside.

"Britta! Fetch King Enoch! Tell him that Queen Elsa is awake!"

"Yes, right away!"

The older woman, grey-haired and red-cheeked, hovered over Elsa holding a glass of water. "Do you need me to help you sit up, Queen Elsa? King Enoch will be here to see you in short time, and he'll be needing you to look and sound decent when he gets here. You've not had anything to drink in hours."

"King Enoch?"

"Surely you remember where you are, Queen Elsa. That's some bump on your head, but the doctor had a good look at you and said your mind would be working good as new if you woke up."

"Bump on my head?" Elsa murmured, dazed.

If I woke up?

"A nasty one, yes. Britta and I thought for sure you'd be out for days, if you ever came to at all. Let me help you up, your highness."

Elsa didn't question why the woman was in such a hurry to prop her up and pump her full of liquid. She silently let the woman wrap an arm around her shoulders to haul her up and lean her against the headboard. Elsa's head was spinning and she felt like she might vomit when the woman pressed the glass of water to her lips.

"Come now, girl. Drink. He'll be here any minute."

Elsa sipped a little water and groaned again. She turned her head away from the glass.

"I'm fine. That's enough," she said weakly. "Please, just tell me if I'm dressed or not."

"Of course you're dressed! What a question!" The woman snorted. "Everything but your jacket. Britta took it off because she thought it would make you more comfortable. It wasn't on that chair over there more than fifteen minutes before –"

"It melted," Elsa finished flatly. That was the only problem with the clothes she made – they needed the freeze, the glacial blood in her veins, to keep the delicate fabric from becoming one big puddle around her feet. Away from her body and in a room with a roaring fire, the jacket didn't stand a chance.

The doors flew open and Elsa almost leapt out of her skin. Her head began to pulsate again and she thought she might faint from the pain. Gritting her teeth, she sat up straighter as King Enoch and Queen Alma entered the room followed by two guards, each carrying a high-backed, darkly upholstered chair. They set the rather imposing looking chairs down at the foot of the bed, bowed and left the room, Elsa's nameless caretaker scurrying after them and closing the doors behind her.

Positioning themselves in front of the chairs in what was clearly a joint act of intimidation, Enoch and Alma remained standing, looking like they were dressed for a funeral. Her funeral, maybe. She wasn't looking forward to this meeting in the least. Thanks to Hans, along with her own inability to keep her emotions under control, she had no idea what to expect. He had admitted to lying, but she had let her anger and frustration go from zero to a thousand before she could get any real information from him. Her recollection of the details of their last conversation was already getting away from her. Did he ever tell her if his parents had really planned to execute him?

Who were the real villains here? Did this story even have any?

She whimpered quietly. She wasn't making any sense. She felt the freeze pooling in the palms of her hands and touched one to her forehead hoping it would soothe the pain and clear her head a little. It did neither.

"Queen Elsa, it's good to see you're awake," Enoch said, looking and sounding so very sincere. God, he reminded her so much of Hans. She wondered how many hearts he'd broken with that handsome face of his.

"Is it really?" Elsa asked out loud, which wasn't at all her original intention.

"Remember who you're speaking to, Queen Elsa," Alma snapped. To her husband she said, "This is a mistake, Enoch. I beg you to reconsider."

"Come now, my darling. A promise is a promise." Enoch smiled, his eyes never leaving Elsa's, and a shiver ran down her spine. It wasn't like any of his other smiles. It was almost lewd.

"What is she talking about? What's a mistake?" Elsa asked, her hands grabbing fistfuls of the bed sheets beneath her quilt. She couldn't look away from Enoch's gaze. Something deep inside was telling her not to take her eyes off of him for a moment.

"We're putting you on a ship back to Arendelle first thing in the morning," he explained. Elsa's eyes widened.

"Against our better judgement," Alma added sourly, reaching up and smoothing a lock of her silver hair back with the others in the severe updo she wore. How different this woman was from the one who welcomed her so eagerly to her kingdom just a few days earlier.

"If you weren't going to send me home, what were you going to do with me?" Elsa asked before she'd decided whether or not she really wanted to know the answer.

Enoch chuckled and waved his hand dismissively.

"That really isn't important, is it? The past is in the past. What matters now is that you will be back in your own kingdom before you know it. If…"

"If…?" Elsa's eyes narrowed.

"If we can get your solemn promise that what has happened here will stay just between the four of us."

Almost as if on cue, the bedroom doors swung open and in stepped Hans, looking incredibly striking dressed entirely in black. Every detail was sharper – eyes greener, skin fairer, hair red like hellfire. It was like she was seeing him for the first time in years. Forgetting herself, she smiled. She hadn't realized how worried she was that he had been hurt. All at once her anger, her hatred, and the shame she had felt for falling in love with him evaporated into the air and left her cold. She couldn't remember the last time she could actually feel the cold.

Because it was too late. She was too late. They were lost to each other now. What kind of life would she have without him? What kind of life could she have?

Hans didn't look at her as he crossed the room to stand between his parents.

He bowed stiffly. "Hello, Queen Elsa."

Elsa smiled and sighed. "Prince Hans, I'm relieved to see you're alright."

He looked surprised by her words, and it hurt her heart so. He seemed to hesitate before speaking again.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

Through the corner of her eye, Elsa could see Alma watching their exchange carefully. She wasn't sure what his mother was watching for exactly, but it made her uneasy nonetheless.

King Enoch's voice broke the tense silence between Elsa and Hans.

"Prince Hans has agreed to keep what transpired here over the past few days a secret in exchange for your freedom. We will, of course, require the same vow of secrecy from you."

Elsa couldn't believe her ears. Did they really expect her not to tell anyone what happened? Were they insane?

"You can't be serious," she said. "I have an obligation to Arendelle as its ruler to be honest and forthright in all matters concerning the kingdom, and that includes foreign relations and any threat they may pose to the safety of my people. You held me against my will, deprived me of the most basic of necessities, forced me to leave my country vulnerable and without a leader, and you expect me to keep silent? Keeping secrets might be the way things are done here in the Southern Isles, but that isn't how we do things in Arendelle."

"Very well, Queen Elsa," Alma said calmly. "If you insist on keeping your subjects up to date on what you've been up to the past few days, we'll happily oblige."

Elsa didn't like the sound of that. She looked to Hans for some sort of elaboration on his mother's words, but his face told her nothing. He continued to stare blankly at a spot just above her head.

"On the subject of foreign relations, our son has informed us that you and he, um - I'm sorry, Hans. How did you phrase it again exactly?" Alma asked.

"That I skewered the queen like a rare piece of meat," Hans replied.

Elsa's heart stopped beating.

I heard him wrong. I must have heard him wrong.

"Hans…" she whispered, hardly able to believe what he'd just said.

"Ah, that's right. He said you let him skewer you like a rare piece of meat." Alma smiled smugly. She reached out and touched Hans' chin, lifting him out of his trance. Hans looked across at his mother and returned her smile with one of his own. Elsa's eyes darted from one crooked grin to the other.

No…

Elsa felt sick. This wasn't happening.

"I'm sure it's well within your subjects' rights to know what their queen has been up to with the man who allegedly tried to murder her for her crown. Don't you think, Hans?"

Hans smirked, tilting his head so he could look down his nose at Elsa. She shrank back against the headboard, her bottom lip shaking. "If I'd known how easy it would be to get the ice queen to lift her skirts for a man she hardly knows, I wouldn't have wasted so much time trying to get her ridiculous sister to marry me."

"Hans..." Elsa gasped, still clenching the bed sheets in her fists. The freeze howled in her ears, raced through her veins like a beast, wild and aimless. "Why are you doing this?"

"I want to ensure you get home safely. I have a vested interest in your wellbeing, Queen Elsa," he explained. "I do hope you at least possess the good sense to accept the deal."

She searched for some sort of sign that this was all just a show Hans was putting on for his parents, but she could find no hint from top to toe that Hans' vile behaviour was anything other than exactly what it looked and sounded like.

"It isn't a deal," Elsa snapped, trying not to sound as helpless as she felt. "It's blackmail. And what do you mean you have a 'vested interest' in me?"

Alma chuckled. "I'm sure it didn't occur to you while in the throes of passion that you might end up carrying your would-be murderer's child."

Elsa's eyes grew wide with panic, sending the tears that had been clinging to her lashes cascading over her cheeks.

No, no, no…

How could she have been such an idiot?

Queen Alma continued, "It really astounds me that a woman who doesn't even know how her own body works was only moments ago trying to tell us how to rule an entire kingdom."

King Enoch laid a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, beaming proudly. "A Westergård may end up ruling Arendelle one day after all."

Alma crossed her arms. "Here's how it's going to be, Queen Elsa. You will return to Arendelle. You won't speak a word about being held against your will. In exchange, we will keep your secret. No one outside of this room will ever find out that you were our son's whore."

Elsa closed her eyes. Her chin wobbled, but she refused to cry. They would enjoy that, she decided. She clenched her jaw so hard her entire head throbbed.

"Very well," she whispered, resigning herself to her humiliating fate. "I just want to go home."

"A wise decision, Queen Elsa. Now rest up. You have a long journey ahead of you."

Queen Alma put her arm through her husband's and together they headed for the doors. Hans turned to follow them.

"Prince Hans," Elsa called hoarsely. Hans paused. For a moment she thought he'd decide to keep walking, but he turned around to look at her, the same unreadable expression on his face. Enoch and Alma stopped and turned as well, curious as to what Elsa was going to say next.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"When I told you I hated you, that was a lie."

Something in his eyes flickered, but she was too far away to decipher its meaning, and too despondent to care.

"What I felt when I first said those words to you was nowhere near as ugly as what I feel now. What I feel now – thisthis is hate," Elsa said, impressed that she was able to keep her voice so steady. "If it turns out I am carrying your child, which I can only pray isn't the case, I won't wait until the next time you decide to try to lay a blade against my neck. I promise you I will slit my throat myself. And as you already know, I was raised to always keep my promises."

Her last words to him hung in the air for barely a heartbeat before Hans suddenly doubled over and gasped as though something or someone had breached flesh and bone to yank the air from his lungs. The room was plunged into darkness as the fire went out and a strong, sudden gust of wind whipped around the room like an unforgiving spirit seeking vengeance. Hans grabbed onto the fireplace mantle to keep from dropping to his knees. Frost reached swiftly across the stone, crackling noisily. The oil lamp resting on it burst, sending shards of glass in every direction. Queen Alma and King Enoch both raised their arms to protect themselves. The chairs tumbled over, skating across the floor and crashing into the wall, one just barely missing the room's only window.

Hans squeezed his eyes shut, clutching his chest with his free hand. The familiar sight of a white streak surging through his red hair was just as upsetting as it was the first time Elsa saw it happen to him. She almost made a move to help him, but the guards at the door were faster.

"Get him out of here before she kills him," one barked, ushering the king and queen through the doors. Two others grabbed Hans under his arms before he hit the floor and swiftly dragged his limp body out of the room. The doors slammed behind them and Elsa found herself alone and in the dark in more ways than one. She removed her hands from beneath her quilt and stared at them. No. Despite how livid she was and how betrayed she felt, she had managed to keep the freeze under control. Under any other circumstances, she probably would have been proud of herself. But her personal triumph was quickly gobbled up by her feelings of confusion and fear.

Hans…

It was Hans.

She could tell Hans what was happening to him, which could possibly save his life, but at the expense of putting everyone else's in peril, or she could keep quiet and…

God, she didn't want to say it. She didn't even want to think it. She hated him, so very much, but she couldn't imagine a world without…

She closed her eyes and sank beneath the covers, pulling them over her head.

She pressed her face into the pillow and softly started sobbing.

Or I can keep quiet and let him die.