Author's Note: Glad you're all enjoying the story so far! I don't mean to repeat the events in Frozen just for the sake of repetition - rather, it is to show a new interpretation of them. One founded on how I see Elsa, based on the tragic circumstances around her upbringing, and which will tries not to gloss over everything that she suffered on her way to becoming queen.
III.
Despite her determination to be annoyed with the letter's obsequious and flowery language, its informal address of her and her sister, and the presumptiveness of its sender in postmarking it so close to the date of her coronation – thus leaving her no time to respond – the young woman found herself reading that last note over and over again to herself until the line became smudged and almost illegible.
After two days in her keeping, she asked for its contents to be relayed to her council, as well as to her sister. The former echoed her annoyance at the late notice and suspicion of the sender's true intentions, given the events in the Isles, while the latter bubbled with excitement at the prospect of seeing the mysterious prince again. While the younger princess's memories of her childhood encounters with him were faded, they still provoked a feeling of warmth upon recall.
She was glad to give her sister something to look forward to amidst all the hustle and bustle around the castle, both sisters being pulled to and from one engagement to the other. Since being cut down in size during her childhood, the staff had adapted well to the new challenges of managing the castle's daily duties—but even the hardiest among them seemed to struggle with how much was being asked of them for this specific occasion. The security personnel required for reopening the gates and managing the guests alone was much greater than anything that had been needed in the previous thirteen years, and she watched them rehearse and train in the courtyard from afar, their disorganization making her hands twitch with unease.
She did her best to accommodate their needs, understanding the difficulties they faced, but struggled to maintain a calm and even temper with all of their requests. The most challenging times were those in which she had to be in a room with her sister for her own rehearsals, finding herself ill-equipped to hold even the most basic chats. Eventually, her answers would become shorter and more elusive until the her sister would sigh and stop trying to push the discussion any further. Though these moments were painful for the young woman, she would silently repeat her father's mantra to herself, and the feeling would pass.
On most days, this routine and her father's words were enough to placate her agitated mind. But as the date of the coronation drew nearer, she found that their pacifying effect had weakened. When the day arrived, she came to the library to be alone, watching as the many unnamed, unknown guests from lands near and far filtered in from the docks, waiting impatiently for the gates to open. She wondered if the young prince was among them, and searched for a while to see if she could find him. When this effort proved futile, she finally turned away from the window, her gaze drawn to the portrait of her father.
It was his coronation portrait, and in an effort to calm herself, she removed her gloves and picked up a candlestick and ornament from a nearby table, holding them in the same manner as her father held the royal orb and scepter in the painting.
Conceal. Don't feel.
Her father's voice broke through the silence in the room, and she swallowed in surprise, starting to perspire.
Put on a show.
Looking at her hands, she saw that the candlestick and ornament had iced over. The sight caused her to gasp and slam them back down on the table, and she quickly slid her gloves back over her hands. She closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed.
"It's only for today," she told herself, exhaling.
A knock on the library door roused her from her brief meditation. "Come in," she called, standing in front of the table so that the visitor would not see her handiwork.
The steward entered. "Is it time, Your Majesty?" he asked.
She nodded, her cheeks returning to their normal pallor. "Yes, Kai. Tell the guards to open up the gates."
He bowed, exiting the room, and she turned around, catching her breath. When she looked down again at the table, she gulped.
The candlestick and the ornament were still frozen.
She did not see her sister for most of the rest of the morning and early afternoon; she supposed the younger woman had rushed out of the gates as soon as they were opened, having spoken of nothing else in the weeks prior. She was relieved to have her own space for a while, and by the time of the ceremony in the castle's chapel, she felt more or less prepared to go through with it.
The steward stood at her side before she entered through the chapel's thick wooden doors, a warm smile alighting his features.
"You are ready," he reassured her. "You've been ready, for a long time. This is just a formality."
She raised her chin at the remark, her back straightening. "Thank you, Kai," she said, and with a nod from him turned back towards the doors. He retreated behind her with the other servants as the guards took their places. After a pause, she knocked on the doors as tradition dictated, and they opened for her.
The young woman tried not to look around as she walked down the aisle, though from the little she did see, there were not many faces she recognized in the crowd. This unsettled her until she caught sight of her sister, standing to the side of the altar, and the girl's proud expression and wide smile encouraged her to go on.
She reached the altar after the short procession, and then stood for what seemed an interminable length of time as the Bishop of Arendelle gave an esoteric and dull speech in a mix of the standard tongue and Old Norse. With nowhere to look except forward, she practiced slow, steady breathing to keep herself calm through the proceedings.
At length, the bishop placed her new crown atop her head, and then his assistant presented the royal scepter and orb to her on a silk pillow. She suppressed a swallow as she reached for them.
"Your Majesty," the bishop whispered to her, "the gloves."
Her lips tightened at the reminder, and with hesitation she removed the articles of clothing, one by one, laying them on the pillow. Then, she took up the objects in her hands, trembling all the while.
Once in her hands, she finally turned around to face the crowd, though she kept her gaze fixed on the doors. The bishop concluded the ceremony in Old Norse, and the strange language – along with the discomfort of being forced to hold the equally strange objects in her bare hands – disturbed her to the point that, as in the morning, the orb and scepter began to freeze over.
Conceal.
"… Queen Elsa of Arendelle," the bishop finished in the standard tongue.
Don't feel.
"Queen Elsa of Arendelle," the crowd echoed, and she breathed, quickly placing the objects back on the pillow and pulling her gloves back on with a nervous smile.
Don't let it show.
The crowd rose as she walked back down the steps and towards the door, and though she told herself not to look at them as she passed, she thought she saw someone familiar smiling at her from the corner of her eye.
The reception in the Great Hall following the ceremony was more tolerable than she expected it to be, in spite of the inconvenient duties she was obligated to perform – namely, greeting and pretending to take an interest in foreign dignitaries – and the live music and wide array of fine foods lifted her spirits. She was even able to hold pleasant, albeit short, conversations with her sister, discovering that they still had some things in common (like their mutual love of chocolate).
Of course, this brief peace did not last as long as she would have hoped; when she had quickly quashed her sister's expressed desire to keep the gates open for longer, the princess had trudged off despondently in response.
In lieu of the awkwardness of her sister's company, she resumed her meetings with various visitors to her court, maintaining a veneer of thoughtfulness and curiosity in the discussions. Throughout them, her gaze often drifted over the rest of the crowd, seeking out any sign of the prince. After presuming she had caught a glimpse of him in the church, she had found no further evidence of him in the large room, and she wondered if she had imagined things, and he had never really been there at all.
The idea planted a permanent frown on her lips for at least an hour, and she was able to think of little else until her sister came barreling through the guests in the hall, an absurdly large smile stuck to her face. She pulled a young man behind her by the hand towards the front of the hall, approaching her older sister with cheeks red from running.
"Elsa," she breathed out, panting with excitement, "look who I found!"
The queen exhaled as if for the first time that evening.
"Prince Hans."
He bowed. "Your Majesty."
She paused, unsure of what to say next; the whole room had fallen quiet save for the musicians, watching and murmuring amongst themselves.
"I wasn't sure if you'd made it," she said uneasily, trying to ignore the stares. As her servants motioned for people to continue their conversations and dancing, she added with greater confidence: "I didn't see you in the church."
"I was—"
"He was sitting in the back," her sister interjected. "We actually ran into each other earlier at the docks, so I spotted him as soon as I got to the church." She grinned, poking his shoulder. "He looks pretty much the same as when we were kids, right, Elsa?"
"Just a little taller," he joked, and smoothed his auburn hair back with a smile.
She noticed with a raised brow that the hand in his hair was uncovered, and when she looked down to see his other hand – now out of her sister's grasp – she saw that the other was bare as well. The prince caught her look, but said nothing.
Her gaze narrowed for a moment. "Yes, he does," she agreed at last, and plastered on a smile. "How was your voyage here? Smooth, I hope?"
"Yes, thank you for asking," he said. "Arrived just on time. And – as the Princess mentioned – I was fortunate enough to bump into her shortly after docking, and we were able to catch up for a little bit."
"Yes, very fortunate," the queen said, her stare intensifying. "Will you be staying in Arendelle long?"
"For two weeks," her sister cut in again, and the prince grinned a little. "I thought it would be wonderful if he could join us for breakfast tomorrow. What do you think, Elsa?"
Her older sister's eyes flickered as she kept them trained on the prince. "I'll consider it," she replied, though her smile began to slip. "It depends on our schedule, of course."
The princess's smile faltered at the ambiguous reply, but she stepped forward after a moment, her voice still bright. "Do you mind if I take him around the castle? There's just so much to show him – the gardens, the gallery… oh, I can introduce him to Joan! And—"
"That's fine," her sister said, unable to keep some distaste out of her tone, "so long as you're accompanied by one of the guards. Now, if you'll excuse me, I unfortunately have duties to attend to with some of the other guests." She stepped down until she was at eye level with him, a warning in her gaze, and then turned to her sister with a softer look. "Don't be gone too long." The queen motioned for a guard nearby to come over to the pair, and told him: "Stay with them, please."
"Okay," her sister replied with an eyeroll, glaring at the guard before taking her guest by the arm. "We'll be back soon, I promise!"
They quickly curtsied to each other, and then the queen found her way to a another throng of new faces clamoring for her attention, her eyes following her sister, the prince, and their minder until they left the room.
"Your Majesty," an elder statesman said to draw her attention, bowing deeply. From the colors on his and his company's sashes and their fashionable outfits, she recognized them as representatives of France.
"Ambassador," she acknowledged, her pasted-on smile returning. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."
"Not at all," the older man said. "Actually, your timing couldn't be better: we were just discussing how our courtiers have taken a liking to aquavit recently, and since it's one of your top exports…"
His voice faded into the background as she wondered about where the prince was then, in that moment: perhaps her sister had spirited him away directly to the gallery, or to the kitchen to complain about their thousands of unused salad plates.
The thought of how quickly her sister had taken to him – and of how quickly she had left her with him – put her ill-at-ease. She imagined the winding conversations between them, and to which unpleasant memories they might lead… and her stomach turned, wishing more than ever that she had been more careful with the company the princess kept.
As the hour grew late and the festivities continued unabated, she excused herself to the wide balcony of the hall for fresh air, pressing her hand against her forehead. There had been no sign of her sister, nor the prince, for some time by then, and her hands twisted around the sides of her dress, wrinkling the fabric.
Don't feel.
"Your Majesty."
She stiffened, recognizing the voice, and then sighed. "You may as well call me Elsa," she drawled, "since that's how you addressed me in your letter."
"I'm sorry for that. I guess I got a little… caught up in writing it, and forgot myself," he replied, and she knew without seeing him that he was bowing. "I hope you can forgive me."
"I take it that Anna took you on an insider's tour of the grounds," she replied, ignoring his apology, and motioned for him to sit down opposite her. "You two were gone for quite a while. Where is she? And where is Andre—the guard I sent with you?"
The prince obliged, pushing his tails out from under him as he sat, and smiled. "I'm afraid she spent a little too much time at the fondue fountain, and excused herself to clean up some chocolate that had gotten on her dress. As for your man, he chaperoned her back to her quarters."
"Good," she said, though she did not match his expression, her lips pressed firmly together. "So now you're here. With me."
His smile twitched. "Actually, I've wanted to talk to you all night, but the princess kept me rather occupied until now." His gaze was fixated on her. "I would've come to you sooner, otherwise."
Her nose wrinkled as a tingling heat entered her cheeks. "Is that so?" she asked, though there was little curiosity in her question. "I should think you would've been equally eager to see both of us again."
He leaned back, his expression relaxing. "Naturally, yes," he said, "it's been wonderful to see you and Anna again in person. It's been a long time, after all." He glanced down at her gloved hands, and then back at her. "Too long, really."
She held his stare for a time, studying his face, and frowned. "Why are you here, Hans?"
He blinked in surprise. "For your coronation, of course. I wouldn't have missed it for the world."
Her frown deepened. "After everything you've been through in the last few years? No one would blame you for not coming, least of all me," she countered. "In fact, I think everyone finds your presence here rather baffling, given the circumstances."
He sighed. "Am I expected to sit home and grieve when the queen who has given my kingdom so much finally takes her rightful place on the throne?" His brow rose. "I know what the others think and say about me. But I'm not here for them."
"Then why send notice of your coming so late?" she snapped. "After not seeing you in God knows how many years, for you to write me out of the blue like that was just…" She shook her head. "I don't understand, Hans."
"If I could explain myself better, I would," he replied. "Like I said in the letter: there's no excuse for not writing before. Life was… difficult, to say the least," he told her. "Both before and after the fires started. I wasn't keeping up regular correspondences with anyone, including you."
"That's not good enough," she judged, eyeing him with suspicion. "Just like the reports from the Isles weren't good enough." Her arms crossed, she stood, looking down at him. "There are things that happened in your country that I want to know the truth about. I can't even begin to trust your intentions, otherwise."
He bowed his head, still seated. "Whatever Her Majesty wishes to know, I will do my best to provide answers."
Seeing his open bearing, she sat down again, though her arms remained crossed. "Why weren't you crowned King, instead of your uncle?" she probed. "I could never make sense of that decision by the council."
A half-smile played on his lips for a second. "Oh, they did ask me to take the throne—I can assure you of that," he began, "begged me, in fact, after Karl died—the last one of my older brothers fit enough to take over. But I refused it outright. I had no interest in being king of the ashes."
Her head cocked to the side. "But… didn't you see it as an opportunity to rebuild? To heal your country after it had suffered such great losses?"
"And 'win the hearts of the people' along with all those good deeds? No," he replied, "not after the horrors that had passed, and all the vicious rumors and lies about me surrounding them." His look was stern, but not cold. "I was considered a suspect early on in the investigations, and even after I was cleared following each incident, my reputation has never recovered." He leaned back, looking at the sky. "Can you imagine what the people would say if I were coronated, after all that? It would've given my father's council exactly the victory they wanted, in asking me to be king in the first place."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Even though no reliable evidence for arson turned up in all these years," he explained, "they were desperate to explain it as such, and to find a scapegoat to blame for everything to quiet unrest among the lords and ladies at court. I would have been very convenient, in that sense, since the controversy around my coronation would have completely destabilized the Isles." He leveled a knowing look at her. "Amidst the chaos, the council would likely have accused me of whatever crime they saw fit, and then ruled in my stead. I didn't want to give them the opportunity to do that, and so now they are left to deal with my uncle."
His answer was somewhat plausible, and she found the tension in her body easing without even realizing it.
Don't let it show.
Her face hardened. "Where were you, during the fires?"
His expression fell. "In the first fire, I was out on a naval exercise in the Baltic Sea," he said. "During the second, I was at home, but on the other side of the palace in my bedchambers. It was a terrible night." He paused, wincing. "And on the third and fourth, I was visiting relatives – including my uncle, actually – some miles away from home." He pressed a hand to his forehead. "I can't describe to you what it was like to come home and find that everything – and everyone – as you remembered them so completely changed, or gone."
She was silent for a while, and then looked down. "I can understand it a little bit," she said.
He looked at her, reddening with embarrassment. "Of course—I'm sorry, Elsa."
Her lips pursed as she tried to keep her emotions in check, inhaling slowly.
Conceal.
When she felt in control again, her gaze returned to his. "Then if there is nothing left for you at home," she said, "what's next?"
"Anything," the prince replied, resting his hands against the railing, and added: "Within reason. I don't think the hermit life that my brother Erik chose is for me, though I can see why it might be appealing to some." He eyed her with a smile. "Coming back here was on the top of my list."
She did not smile back. "Right. For my coronation," she echoed his earlier comment, before suggesting: "Or perhaps for something else?"
His brow furrowed. "I don't understand what you mean."
She glowered at him. "Come now, Hans: running into Anna just 'by coincidence' at the docks, catching her eye in the chapel, running into her again in the hall, disappearing with her on a long tour of the castle grounds?" She scoffed. "I can see what you're playing at."
He held his hands up in surrender. "Elsa, I—that really isn't my intention," he defended himself, looking at her in disbelief. "I can understand why you might have gotten the wrong idea, but Anna… she's like a younger sister to me, if anything. I came here for your coronation, and to see you both again. No more, and no less than that."
Her face grow hot. "How can you expect me to believe that?" she asked him, incredulous. "The last time I saw you, you were just a child—a surly little boy who wore gloves even during playtime, and who hardly spoke except to snidely comment on what my sister and I were doing." She scowled down at his hands. "Now, you're a grown man—friendly, talkative to a fault, who doesn't wear gloves at all, even to a queen's coronation." She considered him with indignant skepticism. "How am I supposed to make sense of any of that? How is she supposed to, when she hardly remembers what you were like before? No, Hans," she said, shaking her head. "I can't, because it doesn't make any sense."
"It's not as if you're the girl I remember either, Elsa," he rejoined. "But you're right. I haven't told you the truth about everything that's happened to me over the last thirteen years. But how can I, in one night? Even if I'd written to you before, I still wouldn't have been able to tell you everything." He stopped for a beat. "But I can promise you that it's not Anna I'm after. It never was."
"Oh? Then what is it you're after, Hans?" She glared at him. "And don't tell me that it's me."
The silence that followed her question made the heat spread from the queen's face to her toes.
She nearly choked. "You can't be serious."
His voice was quiet. "I wouldn't joke about something like this."
"You—I hardly even know you, and yet you'd presume to…" She laughed to herself, stunned. "Honestly, I'd be angrier if it weren't so absurd."
He was quiet for a while, and then remarked: "I wanted to be honest with you, Elsa. You deserve that."
"What I deserve is none of your concern," she snapped, "and you wouldn't know the first thing about it, anyway." Her fists clenched until a tiny spell of ice began trickling out along her dress, and she sucked in a breath.
Don't feel.
"I'm going to forget that this conversation ever happened," she said, "and I suggest you do the same." At his concerned look, she added: "And don't bother showing up at breakfast tomorrow; I'll make up something to tell Anna. Just be on the first ship back to the Isles in the morning."
He frowned, but bowed his head.
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
And with that, she turned on her heel and returned to the hall, the din of the crowd swallowing her whole.