Five

The Queen of Arendelle didn't even have to explain to the guards that she wanted to see the prisoner alone. They just opened the door as she approached.

The door had scarcely closed when Elsa demanded, "Take off your gloves."

Hans was sitting on his cot, head down as if he was taking a nap. But at Elsa's presence, his head rose. The cluster of red hair and freckles contorted in confusion.

"What?"

Elsa, who was breathless and definitely feeling ice curl at her fingertips and palms, stared unwaveringly. "Take off your gloves."

He didn't seem panicked or secretive, like the severity of her words didn't mean much. He rose from the cot, arms still crossed. He had his coat off, a light blue shirt dressing his top half, torn and dirt-covered and sweat-stained. And of course, the gloves were still firmly on his hands.

"You're visiting earlier than normal," Hans observed. "I'm afraid we parted on terms yesterday that-"

"Take. Off. Your gloves," Elsa interrupted, voice strong as ever. She was vaguely aware that she was shaking.

Hans was for the first time, decidedly disturbed. "Why?"

"Because a handful of Westernland men including the French delegate just showed up in Arendelle, tired and starving," Elsa began.

It was like a blow to the chest, and Hans stumbled back slightly in the way that Elsa had minutes ago. His mouth fell open, just a bit, like he'd lost control of his face in the shock. He had to hold onto the wall to keep his balance.

"They told me what happened to their ship," Elsa said, voice growing quieter. "They said it burst into flames."

"Did they?" Hans asked, short of breath like he'd swam across the fjord and back.

"In fact, the fire started from the prison," Elsa continued, the shaking in her hands now too prominent to ignore. She held her arms crossed over her chest in attempt to not let her emotions overtake her. "The men said there was no way you could have survived."

Hans said nothing. He stood like a statue, staring at the wall with a glassy look in his eyes.

"Of course, you said that you escaped the ship. And what better way to leave than by going out with a bang?" she asked. "You set the boat on fire to make it seem like you were dead. You sacrificed almost an entire crew, all for a disappearing act."

"I couldn't go back," Hans mumbled. "I couldn't..."

"So you set a ship on fire?" Elsa accused, voice rising. "You doomed them to burn or drown? You... you..."

This wasn't about Hans anymore. All Elsa could see was the scroll pronouncing the king and queen of Arendelle lost at sea. All it took was one storm for waves to claim the lives of so many good people. And this idiot probably thought his escape was so daring, so brave.

"Listen, I can explain-"

"Take off your gloves," Elsa said, voice growing menacing. Her eyes turned sharp, the ice around her hands threatening to spiral out of control. "How could someone light a fire with no matches, no access to lanterns?"

Hans finally grew as panicked as he should have been. His green eyes were more pupil than color, and Elsa noticed his breathing becoming heavier.

"You... you don't know that."

"Your mother was insistent about the gloves, wasn't she?" Elsa said. "Conceal, don't feel, isn't that right? It would take a magician to know one."

Hans shook his head slowly, like he couldn't believe what was happening. He stumbled backwards again, running into the cot and immediately sinking down to sit.

"How many people know?" he mumbled.

"Only me," Elsa said, feeling her pulse return to something almost normal.

Hans said nothing, but stared at his gloves. They were as dirty as his white coat stuffed in the corner of the cell, most of their former charm lost. With a shaking hand, he brought his fingers down and pulled on the white fabric, faltering slightly before finally revealing a soft, peach hand.

He had a straight face as his hand rose, palm facing the ceiling. Before displaying his secret, those green eyes darted to Elsa, who felt her heart leap into her throat. She convinced herself it was out of sheer nerves, the anticipation of what was about to happen.

And then he let it go.

A small flame, scarcely a foot in height, flared into existence, elicited from the palm of his hand. Elsa was speechless as she watched the reds and golds curl through the air, always in motion as Hans stared at her, watching desperately for a reaction. He looked so vulnerable, which was saying something for someone who was spouting fire. Something in his eyes told her that there was nothing else that could have laid him more bare than this.

"I... I almost couldn't believe it," Elsa said so quietly, it might have been a whisper. The flame burned bright, being consistently held like a candle in his palm. "I thought maybe I was going crazy. That I had jumped to conclusions."

Hans looked from Elsa to his flames, staring deep into their dancing ribbons with a look classified somewhere between hate and fear.

"How?" Elsa asked softly.

He looked up again, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

"I... I just..." Elsa had a hard time putting all her thoughts into words. "I never knew people like me existed."

"Not quite as special as you thought, huh?" he said, voice dark.

"You've had this your whole life?"

"You like stories, right?" Hans asked, closing his palm and extinguishing the flame. It went out with a slight sizzle and a skyward puff of smoke. "Settle down, this one's awfully long."

Elsa's heart pounded as she sat on the stool that now rested permanently in the room. Everything she associated with her powers and with Hans was changing. Even now, as she looked at Hans, it was as if seeing some other person. Not the Hans that had charmed Anna, not the Hans that had tried to kill them, not the Hans who told stories while shackled in prison.

No, this Hans had no smiles. Nothing charming, nothing prideful, nothing even in the slight definition of happy. He couldn't have looked more solemn if he was at his own funeral. He rested his back against the wall again, busy shoving the glove back in place. Elsa almost told him to keep it off, but didn't want to argue. She wanted to hear his story as soon as possible, and sat quietly with her own hands fidgeting.

After securing the glove and staring a moment, Hans took a deep sigh and brought his face into his palms. He sat like that for far too long, only the rise and fall of his back showing any sign of life.

Finally, he lowered the gloves, running them down his face like he was shedding skin. He turned to face her, those eyes that were panicked in her imagination and ever-changing in real life now void and darker than she'd seen.

"You'd know better than anyone what it's like to be born with a curse," he began. "You've had ice as long as you can remember?"

Elsa nodded.

"And from what I've heard, that was nothing easy to deal with. But ice can be beautiful. It can be playful and incredible and awe-inspiring. Fire, on the other hand..." he trailed off, his focus falling from her face to the gloved hands, which were now tightly clasped together. "Fire is nothing but destruction. Fire burns, consumes all. Ice can melt eventually, but what fire burns away can never be saved."

He paused again, eyebrows sliding together and jaw growing taut. He clenched his teeth and tightened the glove with a crack of the leather.

"It's a curse," he growled. "It's a terrible, wicked curse. I'd give anything to not always needing the gloves, always being afreak."

"I'm sure fire can be-" Elsa began, but Hans' head shot up, now a minefield that had just been stepped on wrong.

"You have no idea what it's like," he snapped. "You were never exploited by your family. Never cast out for the amusement of everyone. Used as another toy for your brothers to break."

Elsa said nothing, not knowing how to respond. Part of her wanted to complain that of course she understood, she'd been trying to balance a sibling and powers for years. But another side felt like this was a different kind of story. This was not a story of sisters who loved each other despite feeling like the loneliest people in the world.

Hans spoke again, gloved hands still balled into fists. "Born thirteenth of Queen Caroll meant I wasn't anything special. But when I began setting things on fire, accidentally burning my nurses and filling the nursery with char and smoke, I proved to demand attention. Unlucky thirteenth indeed. My mother thought I was the devil, wanted me thrown out immediately, but my father saved me. Assured her that this child was a sign, a gift. For God knows what, of course, but it saved me all the same." He chuckled humorlessly. "It would have been better for everyone if he hadn't."

His fists unclenched and he stretched his fingers, refitting the glove. The burning gaze he had simmered down as he continued.

"A few of my oldest brothers were already adults when I grew up. Each of them were assured of their place in the world. They were princes of the Southern Isles, and they were destined to be part of something bigger. So they took every chance they got to prove to me I wasn't.

"It wasn't so bad until I was eight, I suppose. I'd been playing with fire little by little. It was nothing too bad until I burned down a whole wing of the castle. It was an accident, but apologizing doesn't make walls raise. You can't un-burn a building."

His eyes were always darting around, shifting like he was still that eight year old, staring at the charred remains of a hall and trying in vain to come up with an excuse for the damage.

"I received a very stern lecture from the queen," he said. "That's when the gloves were made. I was deemed a danger to her society, and wouldn't make a fool of this family. I wouldn't soil our nation's name. And I wouldn't ruin any of their damn futures.

"My brothers tore me apart because of the burning incident. They scolded and lectured me to no end, with no mercy. And they said if I hurt them, they'd tell the queen I was threatening to burn them. Being as young as I was, I took their threats seriously. And Ididn't want to hurt them, not at first. But... then the gloves went on."

Elsa had been watching his gloves the whole time, finding them incredibly interesting. His hands were restless. They gestured with every sentence and had an entire personality all to their own. He fidgeted and grasped and crossed his finger, did anything to keep from being idle. As the topic of conversation turned to the gloves, he squeezed them into fists again.

"When I was commanded to start wearing the gloves, I rebelled. They were too itchy and confining and unnatural. So I'd leave them off every chance I got."

He stopped talking, voice trailing off near the end. He was silent, but looked as though there was something else he tried to get off his tongue. "Then... then the teasing began."

Elsa could see he had dragged her into the dark recesses of his memories by the haunted look on his face. She wondered if she had that expression whenever previous horrors surfaced.

"They began pushing me around more, using the gloves to control me. If they even saw a hint of bare hand, they'd come and speak of how I was the unlucky thirteenth, that I wasn't even supposed to be born. I was a mistake, after all; unplanned, unexpected, and unwanted. My mother didn't love me, they claimed, and that's why I was cursed and a freak of nature and a creature straight out of hell. And so I made sure the gloves stayed on, and I've rarely taken them off since."

The mid-day brightness was far too cheerful for such a subject. Birds sang outside the stone walls, but Hans' face didn't absorb even one ounce of the summertime happiness. His face remained cold as stone.

"The hate actually helped, in a way. All that loathing and disgust and shame my brothers fed to me couldn't be directed back at them. After all, I still thought I loved them. Thought they loved me. That's what families do, love each other. So I directed my hate at the fire."

His face twisted, looking at the gloves with repulsion. "I hated it. I still do. I directed every fiber of loathing and aimed it at the fire, successfully getting it to be concealed and controlled."

"But that's not how it works," Elsa interrupted. "Fear only makes it worse."

"Fear, maybe, but hate is much stronger," Hans explained. "I didn't fear the flames. I knew exactly what they were capable of. I'd sit by myself and ask why I couldn't just be normal. Why couldn't I have hands that could go outside and get dirty and splash around and play games without sending everything up in smoke? With the gloves and my hatred, the fire died down. I've reached the point where I am so in control, I almost don't need the gloves."

Elsa looked down at her own hands, ungloved. They were folded in her lap now, politely set while she listened. Her head still reeled, replaying Hans' fire over and over again, as if when she stopped playing it, the memory would only be a strange dream.

"I grew to hate magic. It was a terrible force, I was sure. If my brothers called me a monster, then every magician must also be one. Monsters that have the power to hurt and destroy like I do."

He glanced up, green meeting blue. Elsa didn't know how long the stare lasted, but she cleared her throat and looked down after a spell.

"So you planned to expose me," Elsa said. "You somehow caught word of magic in Arendelle and came to kill the snow queen."

"Actually," Hans corrected. "I didn't know anything of your powers. Not until the night of my engagement to An-" he stopped, then hesitantly rephrased, "...your coronation."

At the memory of the brief engagement, Elsa felt something bubble inside. Like it was burning away the pity and grief of Hans' childhood, burning away all excuses since he'd taken advantage of her sister. And no amount of sob stories could ever change that.

"I had come to Arendelle solely to wear your crown upon my head," he returned to his story. "I only wanted a kingdom of my own. The Southern Isles are crowded, after all, and finding my own place sounded like the perfect thing to do. I wanted to prove to them, to myself, that I was worthy. I could conquer a kingdom and rule it too."

He laughed again briefly, focusing on the floor. "My original plan was less... murderous, really. I'd sail in and charm the lovely queen, then marry her and become king."

"Marry me?"

Hans shrugged. "Like I said, it was my original plan. Then I ran into your sister, quite literally, and learned that no one was getting anywhere with the private, hard to reach, soon-to-be queen. But it really wasn't until your powers were revealed that things became darker.

"Something awoke in me that brought me back ten years. Back to telling myself all magic was evil, and this kind of magician was nothing but trouble. So I was hell-bent on finding you again. Magic had to be contained, snuffed out. But you couldn't beat a queen into submission without a public outcry. So it was no big deal, I'd be the hero, snuff both magic and life. I'd never gone that far before, but first time for everything, right?"

His gaze grew distant, glassy eyes telling a story of their own. "But it failed," he sighed. "I was punched off a boat by a dead girl, and then thrown in prison on another ship by your guards. The prison of the ship that I had come on, nonetheless. What a humiliation."

He stopped, and Elsa waited for more, but it never came.

"Is that all?" she asked.

He remained silent, eyes still glassy.

"Why did you burn the boat?" Elsa asked, remembering the only question that she had wanted an answer to. "You didn't have to-"

"I panicked," he blurted. "I stood in that cage and all the air on the open sea wasn't enough to help me breathe. My throat was closed and my heart threatened to rip my chest open, it beat so hard. I couldn't go back to Queen Caroll, to my brothers. Icouldn't. Especially after seeing your sister."

"My sister?" she asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Yes; dear Anna who saved the day with her act of true love. She was willing to sacrifice her life for , who had closed her off all your life and then struck with ice. She should've saved her own skin. But no... she chose you."

Elsa's throat threatened to run dry as he spoke of Anna, but his words ended up being strangely... relaxing. Anna had chosen Elsa, even when she should have saved herself. Anna loves me. Anna's safe.

"And that's what love really is," Hans said, shaking his head slowly. "Not brothers assuring that their teasing and controlling is for the best. Not a queen who I can hardly call my mother without a bad taste on my tongue. Not people who keep you on a chain because you share blood, and who shame you for being born with a curse. That's not love, and that shouldn't be family. I couldn't go back.

"So I... I panicked. I ripped the gloves off and ignited the wood. The ship was up in flames in no time. I grabbed a rowboat before most people even realized disaster had struck, I was onshore just hours later and free to go where I pleased."

"Why haven't you broken out of here, then?" Elsa asked hesitantly. She didn't want to put ideas in his head, but was too curious to hold back.

He stared at the window with a scowl, the outside world and freedom just out of reach. "What, do you take me for a fool? Of course I could burn my way out of here. I could be free any time I'd like. But in case you haven't realized, those brothers I'd never like to see again don't know I'm alive. It's been a year since my 'death', and I'd like to keep it that way. No doubt if I escaped, you or your sister would immediately notify them."

"But why Arendelle?" Elsa asked. "Of all places?"

"I didn't mean to," he growled. "It just so happened that after so many months of living off the earth and what I could steal from villages, I'd reached a turning point. I had stumbled straight into Arendelle, and should have just turned back to another fork in the road. I'd probably still be free had it not been for something that told me to go to sea.

"I missed my ship back home, and got the idea to steal a ship and sail somewhere completely new. Uncharted and waiting to be lead. After all, I'm still born of royal blood. I'd find myself a bunch of people and call myself their king. The plan still has kinks to work out, of course, but it's better than any sort of life back home or rotting in this cell."

"I don't believe that's how monarchies work," Elsa said pointedly. "And any place to have you as their ruler would be very unfortunate indeed."

"Listen, you may have your arguments against me," Hans said with furrowed brows, pointing a gloved finger at her threateningly. "But you can't say I wouldn't be a good leader. Yes, I lead your sister on. It was all an act to rise to power, but I kept this kingdom running. I took good care of Arendelle while you two took a holiday. I kept your people warm when you cast them into unending winter, feeding and clothing them when that weasel duke only complained about limited trade supplies."

Elsa grew colder as the room grew warmer. The cutting reminder that her freedom had been at other people's cost always twisted her stomach.

"I would care for my people. I'll sail somewhere that my name's unheard of," Hans said, growing less defensive and more explanatory. He waved his hand in front of him like he was gesturing to the endless possibilities. "No brothers, no magic powers, nothing but King Hans of somewhere new."

His hand fell and he looked to the queen again. "So I ask you, again. Please. Let me have my own ship."

Elsa stared back, biting her inner lip. "No."

His face couldn't have fallen further. "What?"

"As sad as your story is, I can't just dismiss your crimes," she explained, looking anywhere but him.

"I promise I'll be different! I'm changed!" he pleaded, but Elsa didn't buy a second of it.

She rose from the stool, only now daring to look down at him. "You'll remain here," she said. "Your sentence still stands."

"What sentence?" he scoffed.

"The one where you're our prisoner until I send a letter to the Southern Isles," Elsa bit back.

He clamped his mouth shut immediately, eyes full of fear that Elsa now knew was justified. "You... you can't."

"I can," she said. "But I won't."

The fear remained, but something more was spread across his face. Something like... curiosity.

"I will not alert the Southern Isles of your current location, let alone that you're alive," Elsa continued. "Your imprisonment will remain a secret for now, until I can find a use for you."

He still stared at her as if analyzing her face for secrets. "Fine," he finally said. "I begrudgingly accept your decline for a ship. I'll still wait, though. Someday, I'll be king."

"Better start counting the days," she said, leaving the room.

For reasons unknown, she was hesitant. She wanted to hear him continue to speak. To tell her everything about living with powers, about burning through glove after glove and discuss how different it was from ice. But she'd kept Anna and the survivors waiting far too long, and she shouldn't have been spending so much time on the prisoner anyway.

She at least turned around before leaving to give him one last look. He was the same dirt-smothered man, but something had changed. His expression was less harsh now. Softer. More vulnerable. She knew his secrets now, and secrets were powerful things; she would know.

Elsa left the cell, head still swirling with information and stomach tight with the knowledge that she wasn't the only magician. Even if the only other one she'd met was the exact opposite of her. But the more she thought of it, the less they seemed that different after all.

Knock, knock, knock-knock knock.

The thud of knuckles colliding with a door sounded all too familiar too Elsa, but felt foreign to her hands. She was usually the one on the receiving end, though she never gave much response.

Even though it was well past the hour when decent people slept, Anna still swung the door open so quickly, it might have ripped from its hinges. Her eyelids were still half-closed, like she'd just woken up, but they somehow still managed to be wide with surprise.

"Elsa?" the princess asked somewhat groggily. She cleared her throat and blinked a few times, as if to make sure this wasn't a crazy dream. "What're youdoin' here?"

Elsa bit her lip, fixing her gaze on her hands as they fidgeted. They were gloved, as they always were during the night. Maybe she had continued to wear them to bed out of habit, but she suspected that if she had to be careful when she was consciousness, who knew what dreams could elicit?

"You're not here to build a snowman, are you?" Anna asked, a sleepy smile lightening the air.

Elsa couldn't help but smile. "No, not tonight."

It had been hours since she learned of Hans' secret ability. She hadn't the heart or stability to return to Anna and the survivors. She took her dinner in her room and remained there until just minutes ago.

She couldn't sleep. Not with so many thoughts dancing and twisting and haunting her mind. There was too much to take in. The only center of peace she'd ever known was Anna, who was just a short walk away. A year of freedom to be with her sister reminded Elsa that she didn't have to be alone.

"I was... I was wondering if maybe..." Elsa tried, still not looking at her sister. "Could I... sleep in here tonight?"

Anna blinked slowly, probably certain she was dreaming now. "Um, yeah, yeah, that's fine." She opened the door wider and waved her sister inside.

"Thank you," Elsa said, clutching the pillow she'd taken from her room.

Anna's room was like Elsa's, but much smaller and much more cluttered. She stared out the window into the night as Anna closed the door and rubbed her eyes.

"You okay?" the princess blearily asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," Elsa answered immediately. Anna might have countered that if she wasn't so sleepy.

"All right, you can sleep on the other side of my bed if you want," Anna shrugged, climbing back into the snuggly embrace of her blankets. "Yaknow, if you wanted a proper sleepover, you should ask me when I'm awake."

Elsa smiled slightly, feeling her heart grow warmer at the very sight of Anna. She was like Elsa's pacifier, something that could always ward bad feelings away and immediately relax the queen.

"Goodnight Elsa," Anna mumbled before disappearing under the covers.

Elsa quietly claimed her side of Anna's bed, her loose hair falling across her face as she lay on the pillow. She had plenty to think about; the survivors, the letter to the Southern Isles that was never written, Hans' gift or curse, whatever was the best term, and about how she felt so many emotions that she couldn't name them.

She thought of Anna, pure and simple, and her mind cleared immediately. The gentle warmth of the body of her sister made Elsa herself feel drowsy, and a smile crept across her face.

"Goodnight, Anna."

Elsa's world was changing, but at least she could have this one moment of contentment.

Fire!Hans! Finally! Sorry for such a long chapter. I should probably note that this story is going to be relatively fluffy compared to some other pieces in the fandom. Yeah, sure, lots of angst, but not so much of the grit. So I apologize if this Hans seems a little more compliant and weenie-ish. I hope you grow to fall in love with the weenie douchebag prince.

Also, brothers amiright? Their role has only begun. ;)

Thank you so much to everyone who's been reviewing, your words are like hot, slightly undercooked cookies.