"The festival's grand."
That's what Hans was supposed to say every time a town's member asked if he was enjoying himself. He had snickered and adopted a royal air the first few times, even thrown in a few bows for good humor, but eventually he had grown weary of the constant attention and dance requests to the never ending folkish tunes. Unsurprisingly, he was now found hauled up near the food bar with good ole Agust, the last person he wanted invading his alone time.
Looking up at the sky, he observed no stars and swore he could smell coming rain. Well, at least the party would be ending soon.
He wanted to have a good time, he truly did, but he couldn't let the nagging suspicion go that that the town's kindness was attributed to Elsa's royalty; he was so sure their amiable hosts only wanted something in return.
He spotted the snow queen across the court yard talking to her endless mob of new friends. If he thought the attention he'd received was unbearable, he now realized she had it far worse. When he first saw her today she was almost unrecognizable. The usual royal garb had been replaced with an elegant white sundress, dancing flats, and a blue-dyed shawl. Her traditional crown braid had been released, the soft curls woven instead over her shoulder, and adorned with small, brightly colored wild flowers, most likely gifts from her younger female admirers. The shorter dress and carefree hair style took away the titles she was forced to bear, leaving her simple, young, and beautiful. He smiled as she caught his eye, a friendly expression she playfully returned, seeming to say something between "look at all these sweet people" and "help me, I'm drowning over here!" He laughed a little and turned away, pulling more food onto his empty plate. However, he continued to watch her out of the corner of his eye.
"So Agust," He asked with affected joviality, wanting to be rid of the uptight sailor, "Why don't you ask one of those girls ogling you to dance?"
"What?" the crippled red-head spluttered, nearly choking on the watered down ale he'd been nursing the past half-hour.
"Oh, don't be coy." Hans teased, waving chicken bone at him, "I've seen you watching them. They're pretty cute, why don't you go have some fun, stop being so broody all the time?"
"How am I supposed to dance on this leg!?" Agust complained.
"Though, according to the horrid novels I've read, girls go wild for the broody ones." Hans talked over him.
"Oh, you're just mocking me again." Agust huffed, setting his drink down so roughly it nearly spilled brown liquid over their borrowed clothes.
"I don't think they'd mind." Hans laughed as the boy panicked, trying to steady the wobbling mug. "Come on, I just saw you glance up to see if they noticed your blunder. Go talk to them! Remember, you're an exotic with royal connections."
"I'm not interested in them." Agust insisted, shifted on his crutches as his ears burned.
"So you are interested in somebody." Hans proclaimed, the double meaning in the sailor's words never lost on him. "The question is who could it be?" It only for took a second for Agust to habitually glance at the young woman in question. His face was now redder than his hair as Hans's smile grew wide with victory.
"Abbie!" Hans called to the inn-keeper's young daughter. "Please, come join us!" The girl looked in their direction upon hearing her name, her brilliant smile so wide Hans could easily guess she'd been fantasizing about this occurrence.
She wore a heavy summer dress that fell about mid-calf of an astonishingly royal blue. Hans was sure he'd seen the dress somewhere before, especially when he noticed the carefully stitched gold accents. The dark, velveteen material seemed foreign when compared to the styles worn by her peers, making her the most beautiful girl at the festival. Right after Elsa, of course.
"Master Hans, Master Agust." She acknowledge blissfully. "You clean up well."
"Miss Abbie." Hans replied with a charming smile. He gave a genuine bow, which she returned with a blushing curtsy, though her eyes only graced him for a second. Agust claimed her attention.
The sailor stared at her wide eyed, his mouth gaping.
Hans would've laughed at the poor boy again, but vicarious desires overpowered his actions, driving him to instead roughly pat the boy on back and attempt to bring him out of his hormonal rapture. "Agust was just talking about how your lovely dress compliments your natural beauty, weren't you Agust?"
"You're in Queen Elsa's dress!"
Abbie's dark complexion flushed, eyes darting away self-consciously. "Ah, yes. She gave me the materials from her gown. Mother sewed it into a party dress for me. I love it, but I should've been more tactful and not worn it so soon. It was impulsive of me."
"No!" Agust spluttered, nearly shouting and dropping his crutches. "I mean, no, you look beautiful!"
Her blush deepened as a relieved, enamored smile replaced her embarrassed frown. The soft background music suddenly swelled and a violin hummed, demanding the attention of all the guests. "Agust, they are about to begin another dance. Would you care to join me?"
"Yes!" He blurted, but as he shot forward to escort her to the floor his stumbling reminded him of his lame leg. "Oh, but my leg…"
"I don't care if we simply stand on the floor and talk." Abbie insisted with a warm smile, placing her dark, nimble fingers on his lean shoulder. "I want you as my partner."
"Yes, my lady!" Agust acquiesced fervently, though he still shot a nervous glance at Hans as the young girl led him away. Hans laughed and encouragingly waved the two younger people on, eager to watch their quaint romance unfold and simultaneously make a mess of the dance floor. But keen as he, Elsa once again recaptured his attention.
A young man with a blond pony-tail approached her with a bow, offering her his hand for the dance. Elsa smiled sweetly, though when she glanced away Hans resolved she was looking for an escape. Finding none, she turned back to the handsome young man and mouthed a few words. She then placed her hand in his, allowing him to triumphantly lead her to the dance floor. Hans sighed, feeling a pull in his heart. After watching them spin together a few times as the dance began to a cheerful roar and flourish of merry band music, Hans forced himself to turn away and refocused his attention back on the food. He noticed the silent flash of heat lightening out on the coast, and the wind was beginning to come faster, too. Guess the dance would be ending soon.
"You know," an aged voice croaked beside him, "you exchange partners several times in this dance."
"Excuse me?" Hans softly gasped in surprise, whirling towards the voice, three bites of food still in his mouth. The elderly woman before him smiled and pointed towards the spot where Elsa spun with pony-tail. Sure enough, they spun away from one another after a few beats, clasping a similar dancer adjacent to them and began repeating the steps with them instead. A warm feeling crept into his chest as he watched her dance, an involuntary smile spreading across his face. She moved so fluidly and kept perfect time, eyes always on her partner and never straying to her feet. Any reservations she might have had when approaching the floor were now gone, replaced with utter joy and the adrenaline of the dance. Her smile lit up her entire face making her previously cold, tired eyes sparkle like crown jewels.
"Well go on!" The old woman laughed, pushing him away from the table with more strength than he deemed her capable. "You'll miss you chance!"
"But they've already begun," he protested, nervously adjusting his vest, which suddenly felt far too tight. "I can't join now, not without a dance partner."
"Ha, well look around!" The old woman crooned, giving the courtyard a grand sweep. "There are plenty of ladies to choose from, all of which are dying for you to ask them."
A devilish grin lit up Hans's face as he realized the opportunity she presented him; a newfound ambition to claim Elsa as his dance partner filled his heart. But after scanning the rim of the dance floor for pining ladies, his eyes came back to land on the elder clad in muddy purple before him. "The only one I wish to grace the dance floor with is you, my lady." Hans said with all the genuine charm and swagger he could muster around the hammering of his heart.
"Hah!" The old lady laughed, a fine tint blooming on her pale, wrinkling face. Flirtatiously glancing away and smoothing her pile of white hair, she glided to him with the poise of a queen. Grabbing her small, warm hand in his, the two of them abandoned the food table and entered the dance.
All the other ladies heaved sighs in dismay.
XXX
Stepping to the rhythm of the music that consumed her being, Elsa spun around the dance floor, linking arms, skipping, and turning with more partners than she could count. She tried to memorize their faces, make a connection with them as they partnered for intimate moments.
But every encounter was brief, their spirits barely brushing, the heat of their hands and raptured stares lasting just a heartbeat before they were torn apart. And so the dance went on, spinning turning, jumping, clasping, ducking, and skipping until there was nothing but the music and the soul's insatiable desire to move. She laughed energetically, sustained by the movements and the pounding of her feet as the song resonated through the earth. She could move like this forever; only when the music finally ended would the spell break and she'd realize her fatigue.
Reaching her hand behind her, she clasped her next partner. Whirling her dress around with an exuberant laugh to face him or her, she found them pressed intimately against one another. Her breath caught as they locked hands and eyes, heart fluttering to a near stop.
"Hi." Hans lightly panted with soft ecstasy. His smile was wide with fulfillment as he gazed down at her, holding her both tight as if he'd finally found what he'd been searching for and would never let go. Any exhaustion she imagined in him was lost as he suddenly lifted her up at the waist with reclaimed energy, spinning her round once more to the music.
He was so close, so warm, and giving her a smile so charming that it wasn't until her bosom heaved against him with an invigorated breath that she remembered to dance.
Feet finding the floor as he let her down, they began the second spin, hands repositioned and clasping the other's forearm for three beats, then pulling close again to dance as one.
The music became more spirited as the dance built, forcing them to spin faster and faster until all she saw was the man holding her. He was bright and laughing through his heavy breaths, auburn hair flopping out of its neat part, green vest shimmering, and the colored lantern light making his eyes sparkle with such violent pleasure she felt her insides swell. He was so different, so warm, so ecstatically happy and moving her around the floor with such ease that their partnering suddenly felt—wrong.
She shouldn't feel this, shouldn't be noticing Hans like this. He was an enemy, a revolting monster that had tried to kill her and Anna. But the sheepskin this wolf wore was so appealing.
Primal urges propelled her closer to him and blood began roaring in her ears, drowning out any thought of escape. Her mouth parted in hunger for his, unable to further deny herself in the intoxicating super of the dance. Her thoughts began to slip away, abandoning her to the fire within. She was burning, unable to focus on anything but this painful yearning she saw reflected in his own eyes and parted, blood filled lips. He leaned closer to her, the heat of their bodies and the dance nearly one—he was so close, so warm, so hot—she couldn't do this, it was unbearable, she needed air, she needed to cool down, she needed too—
Hans gasped in pain, recoiling from their near embrace. She floundered, for a moment unsure of what happened and feeling far too cold in his absence. Curling inward and breaking the contact, he panted softly in pain, hand in question quivering as he cradled it with the other.
"Hans?" Elsa asked with concern, voice straining to reach him through the music. "What's wrong?" He attempted to turn from her, hiding his left hand. She reached out and gingerly pulled it towards her. "Hans, are you—?" Her heart shattered as she found shards of ice frozen against and piercing his skin. Ice and blood.
"Elsa," Hans breathed steadily, eyes both wounded and worried. "It's okay. I'm fine."
Her hands flew up to her mouth in horror as she backed away, mumbling incoherent apologies. She'd done this, she'd hurt him. She'd lost control like she did back in Arendelle. Cold fear began to creep over her heart, freezing her blood with a familiarity that shook her to the bone. She thought she'd overcome this, she thought it was under control.
The music changed with her growing fear, becoming loud, chaotic, and unbearable. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think as the noise pressed around her, no longer invigorating or uplifting her spirits but sending them running with fear.
"Elsa!" Hans warned, voice straining through the music and thundering of the dancers around them.
Her retreat was forced to a sudden stop as she backed into another dancer. Heart dropping as the two of them stumbled and clung to one another for support, she caused stranger yelped in pain as her hand grabbed his arm. She fell to the floor as he flailed away, the cold ice encasing his skin so intense it felt like he'd been burned.
The hammering in her ears intensified as she watched her power hurt another, the old fear taking over. The man stared at his arm in horror, waving it hysterically as he fell into another group of dancers, causing the floor to break into chaos. Eyes wide in self mortification, Elsa helplessly observed the dance fall apart from her spot on the floor.
The band came to an unnatural stop, the screeching strings drawing the attention of the entire festival. When the awful sound finally died, Elsa remained alone on the dance floor. All eyes were trained on her, the dread setting in as she felt eyes boring into her from all directions. Suddenly she realized this deathly quiet was worse than the oppressive music could have ever been.
Breathing heavily, she pushed herself to her feet, knees trembling with fear. The power surged within her, pressing against her skin and threatening to release. She couldn't contain it; it hurt and numbed her marrow, leaving her aching and sweating cold droplets from every pore. She couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything but the freezing cold as it encased her insides. Every beat threatened to burst through her ribs, the pain growing worse with every passing second. She had to escape the stares, she had to get away from the people before she gave way to the anxiety she thought she'd conquered long ago.
Backing away from those in front of her, she turned her head around to find the crowd had encircled her. Hans stood near her, blood dripping from his wounded hand. Every face was painted with confusion and worry.
"My queen!" a vaguely familiar voice shouted out of the crowd. "Are you hurt, are you alright?" Elsa at jerked the sound, edgy as a trapped animal. Agust limped forward, pushing through the surrounding bodies. Abbie, Margery, Miria and Isaac followed closely behind.
"Elsa, dear, are you alright?" Miria asked hesitantly, stopping a few feet from where the queen unsteadily stood.
"Agust, what's happened?" Abbie begged nervously, grabbing his wobbling arm.
"What's going on?" Isaac asked loudly, turning toward all those in the crowd. His voice was affected with accusation, as if someone had insulted his honored guest.
Everyone began to buzz, asking similar questions and trying to figure out what was wrong. The man she'd accidently froze continued to yell about his arm, unsure of how it happened and afraid to begin speculations. More women and men came forward, arms stretched out and murmuring consolations to her.
"Everyone, give her space!" Hans begged, attempting to hide his wounded arm. His eyes connected with Agust's in a mutually shared apprehension.
"You're scaring her!" Agust warned. But his words were lost, especially on Elsa.
All she could see were the swimming faces, the sweaty hands and bodies pressing towards her, heightening her fear. She needed air, she needed space, she needed to let the surging power go. But she couldn't. Not here, not now, not with all them so close. The ice was rising in her like bile, inevitable and unpredictable but going to come up. She was dying inside. She could no longer subdue it
With an agonized scream, ice exploded from her pores, crystalizing with such speed it was almost a manifestation. The sheets spread from where she stood, flat at first then fracturing into dangerous shards at the ends, forcing the people back, even her friends. They stumbled and screamed, eyes wide with a growing fear that only accelerated her own. She was able to direct most of the power upward, away from the people, lighting the sky an indescribable blue. The color hung in the night air like a northern light, then slowly rained down on the city as shards of hail.
Everyone gasped and screamed, running for protection slipping on ice.
"Sorcery! Dark magic! Demons! Witch!" were some of the cries that reached her ears. When the power finally expended itself, she collapsed to the ground with a sob. Suddenly her arm was grabbed and body forced away from the center of the chaos.
"What?" she spluttered through the overpowering sobs that claimed her being. Though her body refused, the strength of the one pulling her away seeped into her limbs. She found her legs and was able to push herself forward.
"Come on, your highness!" Hans shouted over the din, squeezing her wrist painfully but encouragingly. "We need to go!" He pulled her through the crowd of running people, pushing the townsfolk aside as if they were branches in his path.
In the chaos, Elsa saw a glimpse of red-hair, a young boy struggling to get up from the floor as bodies ran over and around him.
"Agust!" She cried out, reaching for the loyal subject. But he disappeared behind the swarming mass of bodies as Hans dragged her away.
They finally broke free of the festival grounds, running through the dark, echoing streets as lighting lit the sky. Elsa looked up just in time to see the freezing sheet of rain come hurtling from the dark, swirling sky. Her power caused another storm.
"Hans, I did this!" she cried in agony and self-loathing, knees giving out as she attempted to let the chaos re-consume her. She needed the pain, she needed to suffer, she needed to be stopped—!
"You DID NOT cause this!" Hans yelled in reference to the storm. He dropped down beside her and looped his good arm around her waist, forcing her back up to her feet. "It's been brewing all night. Now, please Elsa, run!"
"I can't!" Elsa cried, though her feet continued to propel her weak body forward.
She followed him down a narrow alley, the white stucco buildings exploding in bright light with every flash. She felt herself begin to suffocate again, but seeing Hans before her as they bolted towards the opening filled her with the determination to run forward, to escape the chaos, to calm down, to survive.
They burst out of the alley and into a field of uneven grass that spanned hundreds of yards in all directions. The wind hit her like a wall as they tore across the open land, making a beeline to the dark, gnarled forest beyond.
She looked over her shoulder, fearful of being pursued, and chest seizing as her fears were confirmed. A few brave souls chased after them, intent on getting answers and justice. She couldn't let them catch her, couldn't face them. Not like this, not in her current state. Without a second thought, she swung her arm backward in defense, causing the grazing field to freeze under a layer of ice. Focusing back on Hans, she continued running, straining her ears to hear if the men slowed or gave up the chase.
Hans leaped into the thick brush and trees, sparing a glance to make sure she followed, but his concern was missed as she simultaneously looked back to see the mob of men. It had worked; they'd slipped, falling back in fear and awe of her power, second guessing their resolve to catch her. They disappeared from her view as she followed Hans into the trees.
Freezing rain soaked them to the bone, their beautiful clothes becoming soiled as they once again tore through the wilderness. The dark woods were the last place she wanted to run to, but though the leaves rustled violently above, the dense forest remained still, chilly, and quiet. It was like hiding under a blanket of fresh snow.
Because that's what she'd chosen to do again—hide. Like all those months before, she decided to run from her problems.