"Hey, wake up!"

Hans shifted as he painfully became aware of his stiff body. Everything hurt and though his body was raw with heat, he felt unbearably cold. Struggling to open his eyes, he felt sleep rise from him like a heavy weight and took a reassuring breath of the brisk, sea air. He blinked at the harsh daylight and grimaced. No more sleep today.

"Come on, we need to get out!"

He tried to push himself up, body soaked in both sea spray and sweat, and gripped the side of the slick, ice boat. He tried to focus on his surroundings and remember how he got here. The sky was a sickly gray just bright enough to strain the eyes, and the water was about forty-nine shades darker, churning calmly in the aftermath of the night's storm. The storm. There had been a terrible storm, and now he was adrift in the ocean with his favorite ice queen. And that hot-headed sailor. But that didn't explain why he felt so awful.

He then promptly turned around and threw up over the side.

Oh yeah. He nearly died of heat stroke.

"Hey, come on prince, it's time to go."

A pair of rough hands grabbed him under his arms and tried to pull him to his feet. He mumbled intelligibly in protest, not completely sure of what he wanted to say. The motion made him want to throw up again and he attempted to wiggle out of the person's grip, desiring to lie back down. The person wobbled unsteadily, grunting in pain under Hans's near-dead weight, and guided him to the side of the boat.

"Be careful, Agust!"

"Don't worry, I won't drop him." Agust grimaced, gingerly securing his grip on Hans. "I want out of his debt as soon as possible."

"Ready, Agust? It's going to be a cold swim."

"Aye." Agust took a ragged breath that sickly rumbled against Hans's body. "Let's get this over with." The boat rocked violently as they all moved to one side.

Hans strained his ringing ears, trying to make sense of the puzzle-like dialogue. Get out…time to go….cold swim…

"Wait—!" He yelped, head clearing as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him. His remaining words were choked from existence, for that was exactly what happened.

"What—why—oh lords!" he spluttered, flailing his limbs as he, along with the stoic crewman bobbed up for air. For some reason, he and his shipmates were back in the freezing sea.

"Looks like someone is finally awake." Agust chattered, loosening Hans's deathlike grip.

The prince, like some poor cat, clung to the young man, unaware and slightly deranged from the sudden cold and illness. He began to panic, scrambling back for drifting boat.

"Hey! Hans, look at me!"

He ceased struggling and spun towards the voice. Elsa bobbed in the water, hair a wild mess of tangles and salt crust, purple makeup dripping down her cheeks like war paint, thin brows obtusely creased, and teeth bared under chapped, frost burnt lips.

He swallowed, regaining his faculties. She was terrifying, like some devilish mermaid or sea witch come to claim his corrupt soul.

"We are swimming," she pointed dramatically behind them, "to that island cluster. So pull yourself together and quit drowning Agust! He's got a lame leg remember?"

"I wouldn't say lame, your highness." The boy mumbled, face reddening as he struggled to tread under their combined weight.

"Ah—yes." Hans stammered, unhooking one arm from the nearly submerged lad. He took a breath, calming his stomach and focused on the task at hand. The cold water was just as numbing as last night, but at least this time it served as a wake-up call. He felt his tired mind and limbs begin to rejuvenate.

The island cluster, a mass of dark green, hazy lumps in the sea, was about a mile swim. Elsa created ice boards that they held onto as they kicked, making the excursion less exhausting and easier to fight the tides. It was hard to do in their weakened state, but the three vigilant castaways managed the distance in less than an hour.

Finally, they dragged themselves onto the rocky shore, coughing and shivering from the cold sea water. The sun powered through the thin layer of clouds, casting faint shadows on the dark rocks and warming their frozen skins. They each, in their own turn, collapsed onto the earth with justifiably dramatic sighs as exhaustion and relief took hold.

Hans wearily pulled the heavy, drenched shirt off his aching body and flung it behind, caring little about where it landed. Bare backed, he lied down on the gravelly beach, barely feeling the sharp rock cut into skin. He sighed again as the weak sun his kissed his pale, sheen skin and he closed his eyes.

As they regained their breath, he asked the angry question that had manifested an hour earlier during their impromptu swim. "Why, my dear Arendelles, did we swim to shore as opposed to taking the nice, little boat?"

Elsa sighed and brought her knees to her chest. Her ragged, drenched dress clung to her body and was smeared with salt residue and mud. "If you forgot, that nice little boat happened to be made of ice." She sighed again, evidently too tired to explain.

"The queen spent the entire night trying to figure out what to do!" Agust snapped, defending the weary woman. "She tried everything. Making oars, using her power to propel the raft. Nothing worked. Ice doesn't work well against ice. The oars kept freezing to and cracking the raft, and trying to propel the boat nearly capsized it and drained her even further. When we saw this archipelago, and realized the sea was carrying us parallel to it, we made the choice to swim. So stop complaining and start showing her the thanks, and frankly respect, she deserves!"

Hans face went slack and his mouth feel open, utterly taken aback by the boy's sudden, impassioned speech. The boy stared at him incredulously, lip curing on his severely freckled face which had grown nearly as red as his hair. As he continued to glare, Hans realized he expected an apology.

For the first time since they started this drastic voyage, Hans felt guilty for his indifference and ingratitude. He felt a pit form in his stomach and his face grew warm, though the display of shame was hidden due to his already frost burnt cheeks.

He looked at Elsa, the tired, bedraggled queen who had gone to great lengths to save him. Her chin was rested on her knees, eyes closed, and lips chapped and puffed. She could've let him die, several times in fact, lasat night. She should've. He'd been so quick to try to kill her and Anna all those months ago, and he'd almost done it twice on her royal boat. The only reason he'd saved her was because he was scared to be alone.

But Elsa…

She locked herself away for years just to protect her family, she ran away at the coronation to protect the kingdom, and now she spent all her energy trying to rebuild it and its people from her good-intentioned neglect. The only thing she was scared of now was failing her kingdom. She would do whatever it took to save them.

Elsa looked out for everyone. He only looked out for himself.

With downcast eyes, he said into the whistling, shore wind, "Thank you for saving me."

XXX

Elsa's piercing blue eyes flicked open as the uncharacteristic words left the callous man's mouth. She turned to him, expression quizzical as she tried to interpret what he said. His auburn head was turned from her, nose sloping to the earth and floppy locks dripping over his solemn face. His eyes were locked on the ground, unable to rise to hers.

She blinked, not believing the sullen visage was real. The man who always wore a sly smile or a sneer, the man who cared about no one but himself, the man who would rather die than be placed in her debt. This had to be another game of his, a mean to a selfish end. But he sounded so sincere and looked so…

She stood up, unsteady under the weight of her soaked dress, and pushed the intentions of Hans from her mind. She chose to pretend she hadn't heard or seen this side of him. If he wasn't sincere he would drop the act, and if he was…it had come far too late to deserve her acknowledgement.

"Well, we're all here," she began, trudging uncomfortably in the heavy skirting, "so let's make our way inland. There has to be a settlement somewhere. Or on one of them."

"Aye, your majesty!" Agust said with zeal, jumping up to follow her and yelping suddenly as he put weight onto his forgotten break.

"Here, let's take care of that." She soothed, conjuring up two ice slates the length of his thigh. "It won't be as good as a wooden splint, but it'll have to do for now." She earnestly held the ice splint out to him, but then hesitantly pulled back as she wondered how they would secure it. Thrusting them into his arms, she and bent down and began tearing at the expensive lining at the end of her filthy dress. She worked a tear into the already damaged hem, but the heavy, blue velvet material proved to be thicker than she thought.

"Come on, dammit!" she cursed, angrily ripping at the stubborn material.

"Allow me." Hans appeared by her side, grabbed the snagged hem, and unscrupulously tore it off. It just happened he tore it all the way up her thigh.

"Stop!" she snapped, frantically, batting his hands away. He snapped the shredded hem off and handed the now sturdy, velvet rope to the limping sailor. Agust took it gingerly, face red and averting his eyes from the livid queen.

"Why, why did you!?" Elsa fumed, face reddened as she examined the giant slit in her dress, exposing her petticoat and under skirting beneath. "You—you did that on purpose!"

"Oh, stuff it." Hans growled, a roguish smile playing on his lips. "It's no more revealing than that crystal dress you pranced around in several months ago. Now patch yourselves up and let's get moving. I'm starving and feel like death." He draped his own ripped shirt over his shoulder, taking care to send a spray of water on them, and walked away.

She fumed, glancing at the hasty tears with embarrassment. Looks like the Hans she knew was back.