I know I haven't updated in forever, I'm sorry. Things got in the way sometimes.

He promised himself that he would not let his brothers get to him.

Arendelle was his home, he was the one hosting the Southern Isles' royals, their mere presence should not have bothered him so much -especially when they were here to help him in finding his beloved wife, maintaining a good and welcoming attitude would be what was expected of him. Elsa would have told him to keep his chin up, to stand better and not to let his past weighted him down.

Yet things were easier said than done.

He had thought that he had rid of his family for good, when he had sailed away from his kingdom for the last time to marry the mysterious young Queen betrothed to him -unlike his other betrothed brothers that had their chance in meeting and knowing their future wives beforehand, but never once did he complained for as long as he was able to bury his past then even marrying someone that he never met would be much preferable. Having Elsa as his wife was a blessing that he didn't even know he deserved.

Six years of a happy married life -there were ups and downs but it was expected from any normal and healthy marriage, of barely having the thoughts of his brothers and his family aside at the times that they came up in discussion, and he had to invite some of them to his home, to open his doors for them for the sake of desperately finding his wife.

"I say we return to Hølen," hunching over the map that they had laid across the table, Lucas had pressed his finger against the town's name, so small compared to it's surrounding that people were sure to miss it. "Sweep west with your men."

"Why?" Anna had barely spoken since the meeting had been held, listening closely to the men's discussion despite his brothers' initial disagreement for a woman to be involved. "Why west? They could have headed to any direction."

Three brothers had frowned as they eyed her, as if her question was the most unnecessary and should not even be voiced out. "Because Weselton is at the west." Lars replied, tone kind as he gestured toward the line running across the map. "They wouldn't head east because that's where Arendelle is, the same with south because then they would face the Southern Isles across the ocean. North is also edging dangerously close to Arendelle's alliances, they wouldn't risk it, especially if they travel in a small group, they would be badly outnumbered. Their safest bet is to get closer to home."

The third oldest brother's explanation had not stirred a sharp remark toward the Princess from the others, fortunately, as they all turned their attention back toward Lucas. "This is the main road that would lead to Weselton," the eighth brother's finger ran over the line. "But I doubt they would take it, too many potential witnesses passing through." He had added the last part as his eyes glanced upward at Anna, gesturing that the explanation was meant for her.

"So, we take the small roads." Jurgen concluded, arms coming to cross over his chest. "Dirt paths through the woods."

"Find wheel tracks, disturbance on the ground and grass." Lucas nodded, "Their carriage would definitely leave some sort of markings."

"They're taking her somewhere deserted, away from everything." Rudi's finger lingered over the woods that stretched far and wide between Hølen and Weselton. "Chose a place where no matter how much she screamed no one would hear her."

The comment had sent a shiver down his spine, over the thought of what the Duchess would have done to his wife, of the blood-curling screams that may gone unnoticed no matter how hard she had screamed until her throat ran dry and sore, the horror of knowing absolutely nothing about the Duchess' real intention with Elsa as she held her captive.

"Papa!"

He hadn't notice that the door to the Council Room had been pushed open, that his son lingered by the doorway as his uncles and aunt stared at him while his own father had failed to notice him, and only when he had called out for him that the Prince Consort turned around, watching as the boy ran inside without a care to those around them.

"Wilhelm, you're not supposed to be here." He scolded, frowning. He had told his son that this was a matter that would only be discussed among the adults, that he was not to interrupt -let alone barge in, no matter what. "Go back to your playroom."

"But Papa," the auburn-haired young Prince had his father's pants held in a tight grip as he tugged against it. "Papa, come look!" his other hand was pointing out toward the tall windows, at the blue cloudless sky. "Papa!"

"Now is not the time."

"But Mama—"

"We are looking for Mama, Wilhelm!" His brothers had been watching them, snickering at his inability to control his own son, and perhaps that added with the frustration already hanging thick over him ever since he had discovered that Elsa may be in danger had made him raise his voice a little, but enough to make the boy silenced himself as he took a step back from him, eyes wide in surprise. "And we can't do that if you keep interrupting this meeting. So please, go back to your playroom and stay there."

Anna stepped forward on his left, kneeling down to be at Wilhelm's eye level as she offered a small smile at the now quiet boy. "Come, Auntie will stay with you there, alright?" gathering her nephew in her arms, she glanced up toward the auburn-haired Prince Consort with a disapproving frown before she made her way out.

Silence befallen the room once the doors were shut, echoing in the halls. And as he turned back toward his brothers, he had noted the look at were exchanged between them, before Lucas had cleared his throat, gesturing back to the map laid before him.

"Shall we continue?"

Lars had tugged him aside as soon as their meeting was finished.

The look on his face was one that he was familiar with, though he didn't wish to remember, especially since the dark-haired Prince had quite a fame in chiding people's ears off –as he was one of those people who had to endure it throughout his childhood. He couldn't understand why he would have to be chided though, he was no longer the teenage Prince that had found himself in trouble just to draw any sort of attention, even the negative ones, or the young child who had been driven to near tears by his older brothers, needing to be dragged into the library as Lars tended to the youngest with a never-ending chatter.

"You're starting to remind me of him."

"Who?"

"Father."

The mention alone made Hans flinched, grimacing in distaste. "What makes you think of that?" he had sworn to himself that he would never be anything like their Father, that he was far better than the man who had raised him –or didn't raise him, he really was not going into details.

The third oldest brother's brow had rose as his arms came to cross over his chest. "Didn't you think it was rather harsh, treating your son like so?"

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything."

"You raised your voice."

"Because—"

"Because he was interrupting the meeting?" Lars questioned, eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "It does remind me of a certain someone who had done similar thing, a long time ago." At this his jaw had clenched. "And your reaction mirrored Father's."

He remembered the stinging words of his father, dismissing him with a hard shove when he had apparently interrupted one of his meetings with a visiting dignitary, telling him that he should never have embarrassed him like so in front of others even when all he wanted was to show his father the new swordsmanship skill that he had just mastered. The one thing that he had ordered him to do and told him to report to him immediately.

"I…"

Placing a hand on his younger brother's shoulder, Lars gave him a small smile of encouragement. "You are a good man, Hans, I know that. Don't let our brothers get to you." After he had nodded, the dark-haired Prince gestured for the hallway. "Go and speak to your son. He's also affected by his mother's absence, you know."

He didn't have to be told twice.

Anna was standing by Wilhelm's bedroom door, arms crossed over her chest as she watched him come, an eyebrow raised. "Before you get in there," she started, moving to stand in front of the door instead, blocking his way. "Please tell me why we need your brothers, again? Because you've changed with them around, if you haven't notice."

Of course, he had noticed, not to mention that Lars had already pointed it out at him just early on, but the Princess' question had given him an absolute assurance that he had been different in everyone's eyes and not just Lars' sharp ones.

"There's no denying that I would very much like them to get out of Arendelle as soon as possible," if anything he was perhaps the one that hated them the most, "But we need them, Anna." He kept his voice low, as both to keep their discussion private and to keep Wilhelm from knowing that his father lingered just outside his room. "We were trained ever since we were young, but each of us branched out on our own. Lucas is a master strategist, the best we had in the Southern Isles, he knows how to read the enemy. Jurgen and Rudi –the eighth and eleventh brother respectfully, are both officers in the army." Caleb and Klaus wouldn't send those with a high rank if not absolutely necessary, as they liked to keep them at the Southern Isles to hold base. "And Lars… he's a master historian but I think he came as a form of support above else."

Anna's mind went on to process all the information he had just given her, considering his words regarding their dire need for the Princes despite not finding the most comfort with their presence. Eventually she had let out a sigh, nodding. "Just promise me that you wouldn't let this—" her hand gestured toward the door, "—happened again, alright? He's pretty upset."

"I promise." If he could help it then he would not let his frustration got the best of him again, especially if it involved his son. "Can I see him?"

Nodding, the strawberry blonde haired Princess stepped away, allowing him passage as he took a deep breath, hand on the knob as slowly he turned it, pushing the door opened.

"Wilhelm?"

The boy didn't answer, didn't come running and leaping into his arms like he would have, and his heart ached. He had caused this, his own son's being upset, perhaps even disappointed in him to some degree. Finding the young Prince sitting by the window, he noticed that he was sulking as he looked out at the forest that spread far and wide while his finger traced random shapes over the glass.

"Hey, Wilhelm," even when he had sat beside him, the boy still refused to look at him, keeping his eyes on the view. "I'm… sorry, for what happened earlier."

"You don't want to listen to me, Papa." He mumbled; lips pursed in annoyance.

"I do, Wilhelm, I do want to listen." Yet it seemed that it wasn't enough for the young Prince as he was still adamant in not meeting his father's eyes. "I was distracted and desperate, I wasn't thinking straight until I pushed you away. But I know I shouldn't have done that and I'm so sorry for making you feel like I'm ignoring you."

"I want Mama."

His admit was met with a weak smile from the Prince Consort, as he finally dared himself to pat his son's matching auburn hair. "I want Mama too." More than anything. He would have given anything to get his wife back safely in his arms, surrounded by her family instead of being held up in a secluded place, unknowing of what her captors want from her. "Your uncles and I are trying our best in finding her, so you need to wait a little bit longer, alright? We will get her home."

"I can help." Turning his head to finally look up at his father, with those eyes that reminded him so much of Elsa, Wilhelm had pushed himself to stand until he was at eye level. "But you can't be mean again, Papa."

He doubted that his three years old son could do much help, but he had nodded nonetheless. "I won't be mean again, I promise."

Studying him, perhaps even waiting for him to show some sort of a lie, Wilhelm had finally nodded in approval before he had turned back toward the window, finger pressing against the glass, pointing west. "That's Mama's magic, can't you see?"

At first glance, no he couldn't see anything but the clear sky, but as he leaned close with squinted eyes until his nose had almost touch the glass, he could see the smallest of glint in the furthest horizon, flickering every once in a while.

"Wait, what? Wilhelm, are you sure?"

"Mm-hm!" His eyes were clear and bright as he nodded. "I was going to tell you, Papa, but you wouldn't listen."

"Because Weselton is at the west." Lars' voice echoed in his mind. "Their safest bet is to get closer to home."

His son wouldn't know of this, he wouldn't understand, he wouldn't even being able to pinpoint where west was and being so confident in it if he hadn't seen something. Elsa had sent her message, had seek out for help, and he was too foolish to notice it. But their son, their beloved son, had seen it, he had seen the message and he had only wish to tell him about it, yet he had only pushed him away and delayed the information.

They could follow the magic to find Elsa.

"What do you know of the Southern Isles?"

The young platinum blonde haired Princess pursed her lips as her brows furrowed, the gears in her head turning as she tried her hardest to remember the kingdom her father had asked of her while the King watched his daughter patiently from across the desk.

"It's a kingdom that consist of one large island with smaller ones surrounding it." The girl started, glancing up at her father, and when he had nodded in encouragement –confirming that she had been correct, she continued on. "King Harald and Queen Adela are the ruling monarch—Father, do they really have thirteen sons?"

"Yes, Elsa, they do." Agnarr had nodded, "The youngest is just a few years older than you."

Thirteen seemed to be such an excessive number of children to have, not to mention that they were all boys, and she couldn't see the point of having so many. Yet she had not expressed it to her father, she knew how rude it could sound, and had simply nodded as she returned to remembering anything else. "Their main strength is their military. We trade our resources and other exports for their island fishes, wheat, wine, and cheese."

"They also breed horses." The strawberry blonde-haired King added, "What else do you know?"

This had become their annual activity, the King quizzing his eldest daughter of the may trivia regarding their neighboring kingdoms each week, testing her memories and whether she had been serious in her studies, preparing her for the crown that she would wear when she must take it.

It took her a moment to come up with another thing, raking her brain in between the many lessons that she had received for the week from many of her tutors. "They had a thing with Weselton." She frowned; eyes casted down on the wooden surface of the desk. "A certain agreement, though I couldn't remember what."

Her head throbbed as she forced her eyes to open despite how heavy her lids had felt, slowly regaining her consciousness she began to note the sensation from each part of her body. She must had returned to bed as she had felt the rough sheets that she unfortunately had grown familiar with under her, there was something around both her wrists that she couldn't really point exactly what, and there were evading fingers all over her stomach –pressing firmly yet with a strange gentleness in them, and she had jerked awake by it.

"Please, stop moving around so much." Sofia murmured; eyes remained casted down to where her hands were working against the Queen's belly. Elsa had never seen this room before in the small hut, it was far darker –with walls made of stones, yet seemed to be just a tad larger than her original room that she had put a huge gaping hole on one of the walls early on. Pressing over a spot, Sofia had sent a jolt of pain that prompted Elsa to let out a cry, body jerking away, yet she soon found that those things around her wrists had been cuffs holding her down. "You're bruised."

"Don't." she hissed, glaring at the girl's hands as they reach for the hem of her top, knowing fully well what her intention was. "Don't even think about it."

Finally, the girl had turned her head toward her, an eyebrow raised, and for a brief moment she truly looked like her mother. "Which one you prefer? Staying hostile or let me actually check your child?"

"You don't care about my child."

"If I don't," Sofia started, grey eyes narrowing. "I would have executed my mother's wish when you're unconscious, it's easier that way, less of you talking and thrashing about."

The way she had said it alone had sent shiver down her spine, though Elsa had willed herself to remain calm and collected. And she couldn't exactly shake off that part of her that wanted to know exactly how her child was, no matter how Sofia was the Duchess' daughter, something about her felt different –and she seemed to really know her ways like a doctor did, she was her only hope in knowing that her baby was alright.

"…Fine."

The Weselton's lady worked quietly in undoing her top, removing the piece of clothing just enough for her to see the belly, and surely enough even Elsa –who could do nothing but stay lying down with her cuffed wrists, could see the purplish-blue color that stretch over the pale skin.

"Is it going to be alright?" her voice was quiet, merely a murmur, as fear for her child had started to consume her being. What if she had harmed it during her attempted escape? She shouldn't have tried to run away, she should have not put her child in such danger, she should have—

"It will be fine." Sofia answered, after running her hands over the curve of Elsa's belly, occasionally putting a light pressure to feel the inside. "There's liquid that would cushion your child. The bruise affects you more than it did your baby."

"Why did you do this?" she shouldn't ask, she should just be grateful that Sofia was willing to do this, but she just couldn't help it. "Why are you being nice?" it would have been far easier for her to follow her mother's words, she imagined that after they terminate her pregnancy, they could move on to their intended plan far quicker and be done with it.

Grey eyes studied her own blue ones for a moment, before moving away and settling at the small bump instead, frowning. "I like children." The girl admitted with a quiet voice. "But Mother always said it's nothing but a burden."

"But she has you." That was rather harsh, even for the Duchess, to express such thing to her own daughter.

A sad smile tugged on the girl's lips, if only for a moment, as she continued in watching the rise and fall of the Queen's abdomen along with her breathing –she was not far along enough for the baby to show movement yet. "My mother never wanted to have me, she never likes children, the only reason why she did was because she had to, to provide an heir for my father." Gently, she tugged the top back to it's rightful place, covering the exposed skin once more. "They do not have what you do with your husband."

"What is?"

"A choice for love."

"My marriage was nothing but politics as well, once. A betrothal to unite two kingdoms." An arrangement between her parents and Hans', since God knows when, and had only been informed to her when she had reached the age of eighteen. At that point, there was nothing that she could do, nothing that she could say would severe the betrothal, and she had accepted it as her fate.

"But you got lucky, Queen Elsa. Not everyone had that chance." Sofia did have a point. She had been lucky, to be wedded to a man like Hans, who had been nothing but a loving and loyal husband, one who stood by her side despite everything –not even her powers had driven him away, if anything he had only grown closer, willing to accept her for who she was even when she herself couldn't.

But her successful marriage to Hans had not only been out of luck. There were ups and downs, struggles that they had to overcome together as husband and wife, egos and pride that they had to set aside to meet a point of agreement in which both of them could have the best out of everything. "You can. If you work for it."

"Mother does not believe in such thing. She told me that love is a lie."

"And you believe her?"

Sofia's head tilted to a side, confusion clear on her youthful face, making her actually looked her age, for once. "Why of course, she is my mother after all, and mother knows best."

"Not always."

"What?"

"I once thought that what my parents told me, what they did for me, were what was best for me." The self-isolation, how she was not allowed to have any contact with the outside world other than what was truly necessary, all in fear that her magic would gone out of control and harm people that had gotten close to her. "I realized, for much too late, that some of them were wrong, some had nearly cost me my sister."

"Anna, wasn't it?" the girl questioned, shrugging at the Queen's frown. "You mistaken me for her, once."

"Your hair reminded me of her."

The echoes of footsteps bounced off the walls, startling the young girl as she hurriedly gathered herself, standing up onto her feet as she stepped away from the bed just as the door swung opened with a heavy creak of metal grazing against the stone floor that deafened the ears.

"Why must you foolishly try to run?" Duchess Atalie questioned, eyes narrowing as she studied the Queen. "I have given my best in trying to be hospitable but you have forced me to resort in something so barbaric." She had treated the word as if it was poison, spoiling her tastebuds. "At least I know my special cuffs worked beautifully."

"It won't hold me." Nothing could, not when her powers were able to penetrate most things and break them apart at her will. For God's sake, she had just brought an entire wall down with her ice.

Her answered to have challenged the Duchess instead, as her eyebrow rose in amusement. "Go ahead and try then, break it."

Satisfying the woman's desire was definitely not what she would do, but still her fingers curled to fists as she willed her magic to gather, for frost to seep through the metal and weaken it until it was as frail as thin ice. But she could hardly feel anything. It was as if her magic would not listen to her, would not respond to her wishes, she even dared compared that her magic was not there.

Atalie chuckled as she watched the Queen's brows furrowed, the confusion that was clear on her expression seemed to be what she had expected, and she was delighted because of it. "I've told you. They're special. As long as you wear them, Queen Elsa, they would cancel out your magical abilities."

"How?"

"I have my connections." The reddish haired Duchess shrugged, stepping closer until she could reach out and ran her fingers over Elsa's jaws, smiling when the younger woman had flinched away. "Be careful, Queen Elsa, curiosity kills the cat. After all, that's exactly how you ended up in this situation with us, no?"

The constant reminder over it, and the fact that she couldn't deny such thing because it was true, made her sneer. "You're merely using your husband's failed attempt at assassinating me, Duchess Atalie."

"Oh?" the woman glanced over her shoulder at her daughter, bemused as a wide smile tugged at the corners of her lips, before she turned her attention back at her prisoner. "You give him too much credit, Elsa." She didn't know that the way her name rolled on the Duchess' tongue without her title could sent a shiver down her spine, the change of it had awoken a certain fear in her. "Robert could only wish he could come up with such delicate plan."

Genuinely surprised, the platinum blonde haired Queen could only frown in disbelief. "You were the one who sent the assassin to Arendelle?"

"Why of course." It seemed that Atalie truly took pride in it. "I have also provided him with the gun."

"Well you've hired the wrong man." Elsa informed with a sneer. "He missed."

There was a glint in her stormy grey eyes, as if this whole ordeal had excited more than anything in the world. "Because I told him to, of course. If I want you dead at that courtyard, in front of your people and family, if I want to put a hole in your head and for your blood to splatter on the stone walls of your castle, I wouldn't hire a mere pathetic farmer who had never seen a gun, never appreciated it's beauty and the art of shooting, before I showed him."

"He was not a professional, but having those two things on him could not mean that he was a random ordinary killer."

"He's a bait." The platinum blonde haired Queen concluded, blue eyes growing wide in realization. Atalie was right, after knowing the Duchess' true colors she knew that if she wanted her to die at the courtyard then she would have sent for a man that was capable in executing his purpose. But the man who came to Arendelle had also served his purpose, he was there to terrorize her, to plague her mind long after his death, to drive her into digging for answers. "You sent him so I would come to you."

"You're a Queen, Elsa." Atalie noted, patting her cheek with a smile. "It's time for you to learn how to play the long game."

So will Hans be able to find Elsa now that she had given him a clue to follow? Or will she slipped past his fingertips once again?