So.

I sense this will be full of typos. I hope you'll forgive me. I also hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

He's baaaa-aaack.

Lots of love,

ssg.x.

CHAPTER 27
NO HEAT FROM OUR MOUTHS

Elsa waited until she was sure Anna was asleep before undressing for her bath. Once Gerda made sure Elsa had everything she needed, she shooed the other ladies-in-waiting out of the bathroom adjoining the bedroom and bid her goodnight. It had taken a few weeks to finally convince Gerda that she didn't need to hang around until Elsa was done with her bath. It took even longer to assure the older woman that it wasn't because she didn't need her anymore. Elsa insisted that she liked having the time to herself, and didn't want Gerda to have to wait up for her.

She closed the bathroom door and turned the lock, then removed her robe and slung it over a stool by the full-length mirror. She stepped back and stared studiously at her reflection. She looked no different than she did two months ago when she had to give Hans up. Her hair was a little longer and the rose was gone from her cheek. Her eyes, as Anna had astutely remarked, were overcast with an emotion the younger sister had yet to give name to – immeasurable sorrow.

These were but small and subtle changes that revealed no secrets. She'd honed perfectly good explanations for just about anything and everything her court had thrown at her, but she hadn't yet been able to work out a thing to explain away the biggest change.

Her fingers traced the long, white feather over her ribs that followed the curve of the underside of her left breast, marking her otherwise flawless skin. The scar emitted a soft, white glow that grew brighter whenever her mind wandered in Hans' direction. During the day, she could tuck those thoughts away, reminding herself that she would eventually be free to reflect on her brief but meaningful time with Hans all she wanted once she was alone. She had no regrets, and she truly believed that the shame she felt for falling in love with him had evaporated some time ago, but that didn't mean that she wanted their affair to be brought out into the open. There were dozens of reasons why the events of the past few months had to stay under wraps, some of them a matter of life or death.

She hadn't seen Hans since he was arrested. It was cowardly of her, but seeing him being taken away had been excruciating. She couldn't help him, couldn't say a word. One guard childishly stepped on the back of one of his boots more than once to trip him up, just to be a jerk – such a small thing, but Elsa could feel the freeze throbbing in her joints. Finally she had to look away to keep from freezing the entire interior of the palace – or at least that bully of a guard. How Hans was managing to not fight back, she had no idea. He really had mastered his powers in an astonishingly short amount of time. If she'd had more time with him, she would have asked him to teach her some of his tricks.

Days passed, then weeks. Elsa's feelings of shame only increased as time crawled by.

I promised him I'd visit him. I told him I'd never forget him.

She hadn't forgotten him, though. She thought of him every day.

How could he possibly know that?

Unable to look at her reflection in the mirror any longer, she crossed the room and carefully lowered herself into the porcelain tub, wincing a bit as she sank into the still steaming water. She brought her knees to her chin and wrapped her arms around them. Her face was lit up by the ethereal glow beneath the water's surface emanating from the scar on her chest. Within minutes, the steam gave way to snowflakes and the bath was ice cold. The rim of the tub became barbed with rime, but she barely noticed. She glanced at the mirror through the corner of her eye but found that, mercifully, her reflection had been eaten up by frost. The surface of the water was an icy sheet she distractedly poked holes through with her fingers and toes.

Since Hans had read her that passage from The Devil's Elixirs, Elsa had been devouring pages and pages of E.T.A. Hoffmann's works. Her favourite so far was The Nutcracker and the Mouse King, but she could certainly understand the appeal of Hoffmann's darker pieces, and there were a lot of those. Knowing what Elsa did about Hans' family, she completely understood what drew him to writers like Hoffmann and John Webster – he probably found stories chock full of characters just as twisted as himself and the rest of the Westergård clan to be a comfort.

One Hoffmann quote kept coming back to her over the past few weeks -

"Let me ask you outright, gentle reader, if there have not been hours, indeed whole days and weeks of your life, during which all your usual activities were painfully repugnant, and everything you believed in and valued seemed foolish and worthless?"

The answer was a resounding "yes", and Elsa hated herself for it. That last night she had spent with Hans, she had predicted that saying goodbye to him might eventually spark feelings of resentment towards her position as queen and her subjects. She could not have predicted how soon "eventually" would happen, or how hard it would be to come face-to-face with those resentments every single day and not allow them to have a negative impact on her commitment to her responsibilities.

You can see him anytime you want to. No one is to blame for your spinelessness but yourself.

Once Elsa was clean, dry and dressed, she crawled into bed and dimmed the lamp on her bedside table. Unfortunately, the mark on her chest was far more difficult to extinguish. He was in her thoughts tonight, more like broken glass in her bloodstream than the silver tongue and flawless green eyes in her dreams, and the feather imprinted on her flesh lit up as brightly as if it were on fire.

"Tell me you'll come see me."

"I can't," she whispered as though Hans were in the room with her. People would ask questions, gossip, start rumours.

And Anna…

God, what if –

I would die, Elsa thought. If Anna ever found out what had happened between them, she would more than likely never want to speak to her again. Elsa would lose her, and she couldn't lose any more people she loved. She wasn't sure she could survive it, and if her past actions were of any indication, she was almost certain Arendelle couldn't, either.

oooOOOOooo

Elsa wasn't sure whether it was a gift from the gods, or a punishment disguised as a gift, but when she told the Captain of the Guard that she wanted to do a tour of the prison, not only did he not question why she'd taken such a sudden interest in current prison conditions, he actually seemed delighted.

She decided to wear the drabbest dress and cape in her closet. She thought it would be best not to put on a show; that showing up looking like Marie Antoinette might come across as disrespectful. She pulled her hair back into a loose bun and dressed it with the simplest tiara comb she had. The feather beneath her breast burned bright, but thankfully its light was smothered under a corset, chemise, and a rather heavy layer of cotton. She couldn't see it, but she could feel it in the freeze the closer she was to seeing Hans. Her heart was hammering in her chest, jolting her ribs, and the sound was like thunder in her ears.

She thought she'd be too nervous to speak to anyone during the tour, but she found that her heart easily went out to the prisoners, and that distracted her from her anxieties. They weren't being mistreated as far as she could tell, which was comforting. She asked about their diet, the quality of medical care they received when they were ill or injured, and what measures were taken to maintain the prisoners' comfort in their cells during changes in season. Due to the very short time she spent locked in a cell (though that very short time was long enough as far as she was concerned), Elsa was extremely sympathetic to the prisoners and their needs. They worried about their families' wellbeing outside of the prison walls. They despaired that they would be forgotten. They missed the people they loved, and the people they loved missed them. At the very least, they should know they were well taken care of. They were clean, healthy and, for the most part, comfortable. She made plans to sit down with her court to discuss granting the prisoners a little time outdoors every day, bringing in new books, and organizing for churches to begin asking for donations of used clothes from parishioners.

Once Elsa was satisfied that she'd managed to do some good during the tour, she asked about Hans.

"Has he been giving the guards any trouble?" she asked, feeling sick to her stomach that she couldn't even bring herself to just ask about him without having to pin him as the bad guy.

"No, Your Highness. He's as arrogant and insolent as he ever was, but he's harmless."

Elsa was relieved to hear it. He was alive, he was well, and he was still a mouthy jerk. She felt like she could breathe again.

His cell was one of the newer ones. When she escaped during the eternal winter, she'd caused extensive damage to several, all of which had to be rebuilt. When she saw that he was being kept in a closed cell, her heart broke for him, but she was not surprised. His crime was a far more serious one after all. The barred opening in the heavy wooden door was tiny, and even from where she was standing she could see that the cell was very badly lit in comparison to the others, what with the north-facing window being so high on the wall. A guard opened the door and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Hans had been seated on the bench in dark trousers and a well-worn, formerly white shirt, and from the positioning of his body – shoulders slumped, legs crossed at the ankles – he clearly had no intention of standing, at least not until he saw that it was Elsa. He stood and bowed, and one of the first things she noticed was that he had grown a beard. Or a beard had grown on him, rather. Elsa found it unsettling how much it made him look like his father. His hair was longer, and he was much leaner, but other than the mild scruffiness and rougher edges he didn't appear much different. Elsa couldn't help the little smile that tugged at her lips. He really was okay.

When he straightened out of his bow and his arms dropped to his sides, Elsa heard the rattling of chains.

"What's this?" Elsa demanded, turning towards the two guards standing by. Her voice came out much harsher than she'd intended, but the shock of seeing Hans' hands encased in iron shackles – the same kind of shackles she'd been forced to wear during her brief stint as a prisoner – was a dreadful one.

"Your Highness?"

"Why is he wearing those?" Elsa pointed starchily at Hans' caged hands, her eyes blazing.

Looking positively puzzled, the other guard's head cocked to one side. "Your Majesty, he's wearing those as a safety precaution. Just as you did whe –"

Elsa shot the guard a warning glare.

"I want those terrible things removed immediately," she said.

"Is there a problem, Your Highness?" the Captain of the Guard asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Whose decision was it to put this prisoner's hands in those shackles?"

"I'm sorry, Your Highness. There was an incident during his first week here with one of our guards and we thought it best that he wear the shackles in the best interest of the other guards and prisoners."

Elsa glanced over her shoulder at Hans to see his reaction to that, but there was none.

"It's inhumane, and I want them removed and destroyed now. Where is the guard who reported this 'incident'? I want to speak with him."

"Right away, Your Highness."

The Captain gestured for the two men to retrieve the guard in question. He turned his attention back to Elsa. "I'm so sorry, Your Highness. We were only thinking of everyone's safety."

"Just so you know," Elsa said icily, "I wore those same shackles, and if Prince Hans wanted to get out of those things, he could have at any time, but he chose not to."

The Captain looked at Hans then shook his head remorsefully. "I apologize, Your Highness. I had no idea."

Elsa's expression softened. "No, you didn't. Next time you have any concerns in regards to this prisoner, please bring them to me. No one understands his powers the way I do."

"This prisoner"? What's wrong with me?

"Yes, Queen Elsa."

They continued to wait for the guard in silence. Elsa tried to make eye contact with Hans, but he was avoiding it. She couldn't get a reading on him. Was he angry? Of course she wouldn't blame him in the least. She had mentally prepared herself for it all the way over here. He'd been in this pit for two months. And after everything she'd said about fighting for him, and fighting for her feelings for him…

She hadn't made any strides towards getting him out of here. She hadn't even tried to soften Anna's opinion of him.

The chains keeping him tethered to the floor rattled again softly as he turned to look towards the window.

"Who has the key for those, Captain?" she asked, gazing at Hans, her eyes practically burning holes into his back.

Please look at me. Why won't you look at me?

"Officer Benedikt Iver. He is the guard you're waiting to speak with," the Captain explained.

Elsa's eyes narrowed.

"Why wasn't the guard reassigned if he feared for his safety?"

"The shackles were put on, so we believed there was no longer any reason for concern. In fact, Officer Iver insisted on remaining he— Ah, here he is," the Captain said, looking relieved when Officer Iver walked through the door.

Elsa's shoulders tensed. She recognized Officer Iver immediately as the guard who kept tripping Hans up while escorting him out of the palace. He was tall, taller than both Hans and the Captain, broad-shouldered, strong-jawed and handsome. Very handsome. He held his hat under his arm and bowed.

"Your Majesty," he said. His voice was smooth and quite pleasant to the ear. When he straightened, she was struck by his grey eyes and soft smile. "Officer Benedikt Iver. You wished to speak with me? This is indeed an honour."

Elsa blinked, realizing she'd been staring. She cleared her throat.

"Thank you, Officer Iver. First thing's first – I wish for you to remove Prince Hans' shackles. He is not to be subjected to them again."

"Your Majesty, I must object," he said.

Elsa frowned. "I beg your pardon?"

"I believe he is still a danger to the other guards. It's the reason I suggested we put the shackles on him to begin with."

"What makes you think he's a danger?" she asked. Then she raised her hand and waved it dismissively. "You know what? Nevermind all that. I want them removed, and that's all there is to it. I swear on my honour you have nothing to fear from this prisoner. He will not harm you or the other guards."

He shrugged his shoulders and it left a bad taste in Elsa's mouth. "Very well, Your Highness. As you wish."

He slowly put his hat back on, taking his time to secure the chin harness. He was getting uglier by the second. He pat down the pockets on his jacket and trousers, pretending he was having trouble locating the key. Once he "found" it, he sauntered over to Hans who was still staring out the window.

"Prince Hans," Elsa said, and he finally awarded her with his attention. "Your hands."

Hans held his hands out towards Officer Iver. The guard unlocked the iron casings, letting them fall to the floor. The sound sent her heart to her throat.

Elsa gasped audibly and squeezed her eyes shut, her hands covering her mouth.

Hans' hands were completely mangled. The skin was a quilt of open sores and thick scabs, and the knuckles were swollen, misshapen and bruised. His thumbs were contorted into impossible angles. She almost couldn't bear to look at them.

He's been punished for my cowardice.

She approached Hans to get a closer look at his hands, trying to fight the tears threatening to spring to her eyes. His thumbs would have to be reset for sure, and if it turned out that none of his other fingers were sprained or broken, she would truly be shocked. His eyes finally met hers.

"Poetic justice," he said quietly. She desperately wanted to grab him, shake him, and beg him to tell her why he didn't just remove the shackles himself weeks ago.

But she couldn't here. At least not now.

Elsa crouched down to examine the shackles' casings.

"These torture devices are just barely half the size of his hands!" she sputtered angrily. "And why haven't his wounds been tended to? Didn't these things ever come off?"

Officer Iver was unfazed by her fury. "Of course they come off. When it's time to eat or –"

"Then I ask you again, Officer Iver – why haven't his wounds been treated? You surely must have noticed the casings were too small."

Officer Iver said nothing. The Captain spoke in his place.

"Your Highness, I apologize on behalf of myself, Officer Iver, and for any other guards who may have come into contact with Prince Hans during his time here. I take full responsibility for this egregious oversight. We will bring in someone to examine and tend to his injuries immediately."

"No, Captain. You will not."

Everyone's eyes were on Elsa, waiting for her to elaborate, but hers were squarely on Officer Iver's as she spoke. He looked back at her coolly - a small, self-satisfied smile on his face that only served to infuriate her even more. She ground out her next words, clenching her fists to keep from sealing him up in a cell of his own made entirely of ice.

"Prince Hans' stay here has come to an end."