Author's Note: The End... or is it? (It's not.) I debated whether or not to write more, and decided to leave it short and sweet, in the end. Quality over quantity. Thanks all for the reviews and support, as always.

X.

The prince paused. "That was the start of it all. The breaking point." He looked down at his hands. "I had spent so many years learning to control it, and then hiding it, that I almost forgot about it, after a while. Until that dinner."

The room was silent but for the queen's deep, shuddering breaths, the fireworks long since having ended outside.

"And so you plotted to kill them, one by one. Is that it?"

"Not exactly," he replied. "The first time was—well, there was some planning involved, yes. I sensed that I wouldn't be able to control my powers for much longer, unless I did something. So I waited until the evening that I set sail for Hungary, right before New Year's Eve. I started a few small flames in the corners of my father's, Frederik's, Antoni's, and Harald's residences, and by the time I was gone, they had consumed the rooms."

His eyes moved up to meet hers. "After that, as you might have guessed, my other brothers and their families immediately suspected me of the murders. They wouldn't accuse me publicly for lack of evidence, but the rumors they started were enough to poison my name in the Isles."

"…because they didn't know about your powers," the queen murmured. "That was why you didn't kill them with the others."

"Yes," he nodded, "not at first, anyway. But once I was back home, I knew I would be a hunted man. Guilty or not, they blamed me for their deaths, so I—"

"Had to protect yourself," she finished, her tone dull.

He suppressed a frown. "Yes. Though it did little to quell the rumors, I was at least able to foil several active plots against my life." He sighed. "Those were the first three fires, the details of which I'll spare you. The last one that took Karl and Jesper, I had nothing to do with. Just bad luck."

"Bad luck," she echoed drolly, her lips pressed in a thin line.

"Forgive me for not eulogizing, Elsa," said the prince. "Even if I never intended them to come to harm, they certainly weren't innocent, either."

He was quiet for a time, and his arms relaxed at his sides. "You probably understand, now, that I lied to you when we spoke that first night about where I was during the fires," he said, "and more than likely many of the reports you received from the Isles were fabricated as well. I kept a close eye on correspondence to the palace, and in the disarray following each fire, I managed to forge more than a few letters favoring my version of events. Not that any evidence contradicted what I wrote, of course."

"So you did reply to mine," the queen said, her eyes drifting up to his.

He bowed his head. "In a way, yes. But not as I should have. And for that, I am still sorry."

The clouds parted for a brief moment, allowing the crescent moon in the window behind the prince to cast a wan, ghostly glow across the queen's features.

When it passed, she looked down, her blonde hair hanging loosely around her face.

"What is it that you want me to say, Hans?"

He blinked. "I didn't expect you to say anything in particular, really," he answered as his shoulders sank with fatigue. "I just wanted you to hear me out."

"And so I have," she replied, her gaze tightening. "But I fail to see how you are not still a danger to me or Anna, or to Arendelle."

"Because there is nothing that either of you could do that would move me to use my powers in that way ever again," he countered, taking a cautious step closer to her. "You are the only other person I've ever met with powers that are anything like my own, who understands what it's like to live with them—to be in fear and awe of them at all times."

The queen swallowed with discomfort, encouraging the prince to drive his point home.

"I would not – nor could not – ever use mine against you, knowing that."

"There's no way you can promise something like that," she pressed, her look distrustful. "Not with powers like these."

"Perhaps," he conceded, taking another step forward, "but even if something were to happen, we would be able to stop it, for we are each other's equal."

"You don't know that," she snapped, stepping back. A tepid flurry of snow drifted over her.

"I don't," the prince acknowledged, watching as a single snowflake landed on her exposed collar. "Since I arrived, I've noticed how unpredictable your powers can be, much as my own were when I was a boy. But I can help you with that."

"Help me?" the queen scoffed, her eyes widening. "After everything you've just told me?" She shook her head. "I don't want that kind of 'help,' Hans."

"It's not like that," he protested, restraining himself from inching closer as he held his arms at his sides. "I can help you control it better, without using that chant your father taught you. I can help you so that you don't feel like you have to run off after the trolls, or lock yourself in your room for days on end, just to keep yourself from hurting others."

He shot her a long, meaningful look. "I know the ending of my story troubles you, as it would anyone who heard it. But it doesn't erase the years I spent training the fire and taking care to conceal it from others, all while in the public eye. And I know those are the same things you want to be able to do with your ice."

She scowled. "So that's it, Hans? You'll 'help' me by continuing to keep everything a secret?" The queen emitted a short and harsh laugh, taking the prince by surprise. "Weren't you the one who told me that my powers were special—something to be celebrated? To be proud of?"

"Yes, I did," he agreed, not missing a beat, "because they are special, and you should be proud. But you know as well as I do that others won't see it that way."

"You mean that they won't see your powers that way," she hissed. "It'd be easy enough for everyone to connect the dots, if they knew."

"And what makes you think that yours would be treated any differently?" the prince rejoined. "What do you imagine Anna would say, if she found out what happened to her as a child? Or your gentle, simple citizens—do you suppose they would take kindly to a queen who can conjure ice and snow at will?"

Her defiant look faltered at the mention of the princess, and his voice grew quieter. "Just look at our parents, Elsa: people fear what they do not understand. And that fear can turn to hate, easily enough."

The prince's eyes, darkened by passing clouds, resembled burnished emeralds.

"All we can do is learn to control it, and harness its potential for good in whatever ways we can. But we can never expect them to understand it, to accept it – nor us – as we are."

The queen said nothing for a time, and then closed her eyes, lines of pain cracking at their edges.

"Even if I agreed with you, and want what you're offering," she said at length, "it comes at too high a price."

The prince's expression fell. "Elsa…"

She raised her hand to quiet him. "I don't deny that everything you've told me is anything less than horrifying, if true. And a part of me wants to believe you, because I've felt echoes of it in my own life—as I'm sure you guessed well before you came back to Arendelle."

Her forehead wrinkled. "But that's the thing, Hans: I can't stop thinking about all the times you told me you wanted to 'earn' my trust, or asked if we could 'rely' on each other, or tried to push me into admitting the sins of my parents. And all the while you were so careful in the information you gave me in return, making sure that every story you told left out the most critical detail: that you were the boy who could make fire."

The queen's eyes glistened with fresh tears, though she blinked them back. "I imagined you as that boy, you know, after you left," she murmured. "I wanted it to be you, because you were the only other person who knew. But now…"

She turned around to face the door, pressing shaking fingers to her brow. "I want you to leave tomorrow, with the other guests," she said in just above a whisper. "I don't care where you go—just as long as you're far away from here."

The room went still, and her breath caught in her throat as she waited for his reply.

The prince's voice was soft and plaintive.

"As you wish, Your Majesty."

The queen's brow wilted, and she swallowed a sigh.

"Goodbye, Hans," she said, and left the room.

Her retreat back to her bedroom passed in silence, with only the eyes of her guards daring to follow her down the long hallways.

The guests had turned in for the night some time before – hours before, perhaps – and so she was granted a rare moment of privacy as she opened her door, promptly sliding down to the floor in a shaking, weary heap once she was alone again.

Elsa…

The queen buried her face in her knees as the sound of the prince's voice lingered in the air, filling her senses.

We are each other's equal.

She unraveled herself in order to crawl to her bed but could not summon the strength to rise, clinging to the footboard.

I can help you.

She bit her lip to keep from vomiting, and rested her head against the mattress.

Above her, snow trickled down from the ceiling, slowly enveloping her in a blanket of white.

"Elsa!"

She awoke to the sound of her sister violently banging on her door the next morning, the younger woman's voice calling out her name in distress.

Disoriented, she shook off snow from her body, wincing as she struggled to stand. "Anna?"

"What did you say to him, Elsa?"

The question made the already sallow queen's face pale further.

She swallowed. "Anna, I—"

"You know what? It doesn't matter," the princess interrupted through the door. "I should've known you would send him away, just like you do to everyone else."

The queen paused halfway to the door, shutting her eyes. A cold breeze wound through the room and blew under the door, making the princess release a startled gasp as she stepped back on the other side of it.

"It's not like that, Anna," she pleaded, hugging her arms against her chest. "Please, let me explain…"

"No, Elsa," the princess replied. "There's nothing left to say."

The queen heard her sister walk away – just as she had many times before – and the breeze was replaced by harried gales of snow that encircled her in an endless vortex, throwing hairbrushes and jewelry and sheets from her vanity and bed around the room indiscriminately.

We can never expect them to understand it, to accept it – nor us – as we are.

Chilled to her bones, she did not move a muscle, her hands pulsing as she fought to control the wind from blowing her doors open.

She did not know how much time had passed before the steward came to the door next. His knock was gentler than the princess's, but his request was delivered with the same insistence.

"Your Majesty? Our guests are on their way to the docks. Perhaps you might come out to bid them farewell?"

The queen breathed shakily. "No, Kai," she ground out. "I'm still feeling ill. Please have Anna offer my regards."

The older man paused. "Very well, Your Majesty," he said, not hiding the disappointment in his voice.

She waited until he was out of earshot to finally take one step, and then another, in the direction of her washbasin. With each movement, the wind followed her, a hot, pricking sensation traveling down from the back of her neck to the base of her spine.

She gripped the sides of the basin once there, managing to splash her face with water only once or twice before it all froze over.

Don't you ever think they might have left you with your powers, and your memories, for a reason?

"Stop it," she whispered, pressing her palm to her sweating forehead. "Enough."

Even if it somehow all worked, don't you understand what it would mean?

She pressed her eyes shut again, her forehead wrinkling from the effort of keeping them closed. Ice slipped out from the hand still gripping the basin, freezing the bowl and stand beneath it.

You'd be just like everyone else.

Her lip trembled as she pried her eyes open, and her heart raced when she saw trails of ice glittering and spidering out along the carpeted floors, leading to the window.

She followed them, spellbound, until she was looking outside at the procession of dignitaries as they left the castle, making their way to join their crews and porters at the docks.

She clasped her window frame as she leaned forward, her eyes darting through the crowds. At length, she spotted her sister at the end of the promenade, bathed in sunlight, the steward, head maidservant, and several guardsmen accompanying her. The younger woman curtsied perfunctorily at each guest and their party as they came and went, no doubt exchanging pleasantries and farewells.

You don't have to keep your distance anymore.

The queen wore a guilty look at the sight. Though she did not hear the sighs and complaints about her absence from the lips of those departing, she was sure they were being expressed.

Her sister bore the weight of that alone, smiling through it all.

He's not the reason I'm here, Anna.

Isn't he, though?

The memory of their conversation from the morning before – a lifetime before, it seemed to the queen – percolated in her mind with renewed fervor in the context of her last conversation with the prince.

She tried to convince herself that she could still smell traces of fire and smoke clinging to her dress, unchanged from the night previous—that there were holes in the hem and sleeves from his flames licking them, and sweat still dripping from her body in the hot room.

Instead, when she looked down, there was only her snow and ice surrounding her, freezing the fringes of her clothes and painting her skin a white-blue color.

Why is it so hard for you to believe that I could be right?

The queen's eyes lifted to gaze upon her reflection in the window, at which she gasped. Fractal ice patterns crawled up her collarbone, neck, and finally began to spread over her pallid cheeks.

As her breathing quickened, her reflection grew blurrier, and she groaned with helplessness.

I should've known you would send him away, just like you do to everyone else—

The faint, drowsy sound of the chapel bell tolling in the background gradually broke through her bout of panic, steadying her heart, and she blinked as the room came back into focus. Pressing her hand to the window, she peered through it again, expecting to see her skin burnt with frostbite.

Instead, her reflection was invisible under the sunbeams pouring through the glass, the bright light revealing only the outside world.

Squinting against the sun, she found her sister once more… along with a familiar head of red hair bowing before her.

Her eyes widened as she stared at the pair, watching as the princess's head drooped forward, the young woman putting her face in her hands. The prince reached towards her sister as if to comfort her, but in the presence of the parties surrounding them, he pulled back—only for the princess to grab both of his hands without reservation, pulling him in just short of a hug.

I'm not asking you to be responsible for him or his feelings.

The queen could not make out their expressions from her vantage point, but the scene caused a flutter of warmth to spark at the bottom of her belly, and her lips gently parted.

I'm just asking you to consider what it would be like if you listened to your own, for once.

She stepped back from the window, the heat from her belly rushing into her chest and face, and the ice retreated from all around her until it became nothing more than a distant memory.

Her fingers vibrated with warmth as she raised them to eye level, staring with wonder at the vibrant, pink color that had returned to her skin. Bringing them to her cheeks and neck, she noticed the same sensation, and she leapt over to her mirror at the other side of the room in disbelief.

The reflection confirmed what she had felt: her face was flush and alive, and even the room had returned to its original state – the furniture arranged in its usual manner, not a single thread of carpet or drapery out of place – and all completely dry, without a hint of ever having been kissed by snow.

Dumbfounded by the sight, she pressed herself against her bedpost, her eyes wide.

"It's him," she said. "It's because of him."

She looked at her bare hands with childlike wonder, and then again at her reflection in the mirror, undistorted by magic.

What's stopping you, Elsa?

Whipping around, she barreled through the doors, not sparing a glance at her baffled guardsmen as she sprinted through the halls, down the stairs, and finally out the front doors, ignoring the gasps and mutters of surprise from the last few groups of guests and their coteries when she pushed past them.

When others still on their way to the gates heard the commotion behind them, they parted in waves for the queen, watching in a collective stupor as she ran, her long, golden hair rippling behind her, unfettered.

She did not pause even as she stepped foot outside the gates for the first time in over thirteen years, her feet carrying her ever forward, as if possessed, towards the docks.

With every stride, she attracted more and more spectators from the groups of departing dignitaries and townspeople nearby, who stared and chattered at increasing volume; to the queen, their voices, like their faces, blurred together into an unrecognizable mass as she shot through them.

She stopped only when she was within a few feet of the gangplanks leading to the ships, bending over to collect herself, her breathing stilted and ragged. Above her, storm clouds began to gather, the sun fading behind them.

"Elsa!"

It was the princess's voice that seemed to call her name, just as she it had that same morning, doleful and distraught. It was soon joined by others – the steward, the maidservant, and the guards, all pleading for their queen to stop, and to listen – but none were paid any heed as she craned her neck up, searching the gangplanks with a fierce purpose behind her eyes.

Thunder boomed suddenly, causing the crowds to gasp; a spate of rain followed soon after, though it was light and gentle, pattering quietly against the cobblestones.

It obscured the queen's vision for a moment, and she squinted hard, shivering as the rain soaked through her dress.

This is me saying that I trust you.

A bolt of lightning shot out from the dark skies, and in the same moment she alighted upon the prince, her hand dropping to her side.

A hush fell on the crowds as she stood stock-still, staring at him.

Do you trust me?

He was halfway up a splintered plank with his luggage at the end of the dock, making his way onto a lonely, battered old merchant vessel. It was a far cry from the grand passenger ships whose colorful banners waved proudly in the air to signal their country of origin, and it reminded her of the story the prince had told her about the dilapidated frigate he had served on, back in the Isles.

She dashed towards it without hesitation, pausing at the foot of the walkway to exhale, her lips trembling.

The prince dropped his bags at his sides, his mouth agape as he turned to look at her.

"Elsa? What—"

She used the last of her strength to bound up the gangplank and throw herself into his arms, tears flowing freely down her cheeks and into the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry," she murmured through sobs, "for everything. You've been trying to help me this whole time, and I just—I didn't want to accept it. But now…"

She clutched the back of his jacket in balled-up fists, her face burrowed so deeply against him that she could feel the outline of his scar through his shirt.

"Please don't leave me, Hans. Please."

Unable to go on, she continued to weep, and he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

"It's all right, Elsa," he whispered into her frayed hair, and kissed the top of her head. "I'll take care of you."

She shuddered as his body enfolded her, and succumbed to the cold sweat of his embrace.