A/N: Go Hans, go! You can do it! We will, we will, rock- Sorry, got ahead of myself! Cheer with me, folks! Snabarre= "Fast/faster" in Swedish. (By the way, we just passed the one year anniversary for this story! Everyone take a piece of cake as we press on.)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Brother Knows Best

Sitron's hooves pounded against the turf, haphazardly tossing it as he galloped recklessly through the brush. In Hans' mind the beats echoed like a constant drum, urging him onward to fetch the fox before his brother, who had long since taken the lead. He glanced sideways to regard Elsa, concern edging his need to win aside for a moment. He worried whether she would be able to keep up at this pace. To his pleased surprise, she rode with the same focused fixation on the horizon, the same grim line in her pursed lips. Even Heinrik's horse, Jack, who had never been comfortable among other equines when it came to long-distance riding, seemed to draw from a never-ending well of endurance. The three were close enough to shout, but kept quiet, for they were all listening for the same thing. It was not long before their silent refrain was rewarded with the long, reverberating howl of one of the hunting dogs.

Heinrik jerked his reins to the right; the other two closed the gap between the three of them. The barking began to shift into long, low, bays of excitement. "We're getting closer!" Hans heard his brother shout, pulling his horse up close to Sitron. "But if you want to beat Harken to the chase, you're going to want it! I mean, really want it!"

"I want it!" Hans gasped, his eyebrows knitting together as he emerged into a long clearing, composed of a few rolling hills.

"How much do you want it?" Heinrik urged on his brother's adrenalin spike, leaning up in his saddle to take in the widest scope of the hill, hearing their competition shouting in the distance. "Why? Tell me why!"

"Because!" Hans panted, his grip tightening on his horse's reins as they rode up and over, a fleck of sweat from his horse's neck flying into the corner of his eyes, stinging them and blurring his sight.

"Hans! Why?" Heinrik demanded, his pinto finally slowing back behind Sitron, its sides heaving with the effort of keeping up.

"Because Elsa asked me to!" Hans blurted with a grunt of extended effort as he cleared the hill, eyes locking on the biggest horse following the trail of dogs. Just beyond the leader of the pack he glimpsed the flash of movement, identifying a small white creature darting through the grass. Leaning down to Sitron's ear, he hissed words of encouragement. "Snabbare, Sitron… snabbare!" Sitron heeded his master's wish for speed with unmitigated obedience, charging straight for the fox, muscles rippling below his smooth hair. At the current pace, it was clear the two brothers were set to meet one another.

Hans' approach did not go unnoticed. Even with the distance between them, he could see Harken's eyes widen, his head jerking back and forth in a series of swift double-takes. He leaned forward in his saddle, reaching among his pack and pulling out a long, black, cruel-looking riding crop. Raising it high, he brought it sailing down on his horse's flank with a crack, yelling commands as he did. "Go, Attila, go! Go!"

Elsa caught up to Heinrik, her horse chomping at the bit, clearly unused to the hard riding. She panted nearly as hard as her horse, watching Hans close the distance and inhaling suddenly. "No, no, he'll never make it! His brother is going to win!" She watched Harken, her blue eyes widening when she saw his other hand reach and take out his gun, which he aimed at the fox. "He's going to shoot!"

"Not if I have anything to do with it," Heinrik murmured, reaching into his saddlebag. He lifted his gun and aimed, his eyes training on the figure of his brother.

"It's too far to be sure where you're aiming; you'll hit him," Elsa exclaimed wildly, holding out her hand to stop him.

"Don't worry," Heinrik replied in a soft tone laced with confidence, his arm steadily moving, following the figures in the near distance. "I never miss." He chewed on his cheek for added concentration, squeezed the trigger, and watched as the single bullet flew towards the figures. The ground in front of the lead dog erupted with the unexpected impact of the bullet and the dog yelped in fear, screeching to a halt. In a tumult of tails and legs the other dogs in the group tumbled over one another, whining and squirming.

Attila whinnied and reared back for the briefest of moments, snorting and stamping the ground. As she reared, Harken lost control of his gun and squeezed the trigger, the shot ringing out into the clear air, wasted. "Damn it!" the angry royal shouted, hurling the gun away in a fit of frustration. "Go! Attila, go!" Again, spurred by her master's fierce demands, the horse resumed the chase, but the damage had been done, and the advantage was lost.

Hans slid sideways in his saddle as they rode, eyes glued on the fox as it dashed alongside him. He leaned over, one hand clenching the reins of Sitron, the other extended, the bushy white cloud of a tail a foot away, only an arm's length from his fingers. It was then Hans felt a sudden, sharp sting on his hand holding the reins. He nearly released them with a flinch, straightening in his saddle to see his brother brandishing the riding crop and bringing it down on his hand once again, hard. "Ouch!" Hans cried, guiding Sitron a pace away, meeting his brother's dark gaze with a glower. "That hurts!"

Harken's lips twisted into a sickening smirk, and he yanked on the reins, bringing Attila closer, smacking Hans with a few extra slaps of the crop on his shoulder. "I will-not-lose this, little brother!" he hissed angrily between the beatings.

Hans hunkered his shoulder against the sting of the crop, growing more determined with each slap of the leather. Elsa. I'll win for Elsa.

Elsa watched the spectacle unfold before her in horror. "He's hitting him! That can't be playing by the rules!" she exclaimed, looking to Heinrik for support. "We have to help him!"

"With what?" Heinrik asked, face set in a grim hopelessness. "Harken doesn't play by the rules and they're too far for us to catch up to at this point."

Elsa looked back at the two competitors, her heart pounding, mind working overtime. Too far for you… but not for me. Her eyes locked on Harken, hands squeezing her reins tightly. Focus, Elsa… focus. Feel your powers and control them. Do it for the fox. Do it for Hans. She was startled by the sudden, simple realization: he needed her. She released her grip on the reins, her hand trembling as she held her fingers together and extended her arm. Her magic pooled into her fingertips, tingling, leaving a feeling much as if her hand were asleep. She tensed; eyes fixed on the horse, and with a flick of her wrist, let it go.

Instantly, the ground under Attila's hooves began to shimmer with the spread of a sheet of ice which snaked out into a patch large enough to trip the horse. Whinnying in sheer panic, the horse stumbled, sending Harken flying off the saddle and rolling to a stop. In the same instant, Hans bent over, reaching out and making a wild grab for the fluffy tail just out of his reach. When he straightened, he was rewarded with a wriggling, barking prize: Hans had caught the fox.

As shouts rang out and figures began to enter the clearing, Hans quickly veered Sitron towards Harken, dismounting. "Harken! Are you alright?" He bent to help his brother, struggling to hold the squirming fox in one hand.

"I'm fine," growled his older brother, shakily hoisting himself up to his feet and giving his horse a bit of room to get back on her feet, examining her for injuries. Before Hans could ask, Harken scoffed in his direction, rubbing his shoulder. "Attila's fine, too."

"You've done it, Hans! You've done it!" shouted Heinrik as he rode to meet him, Elsa following. "I knew you could; I just knew you could!"

"Congratulations, Hans!" exclaimed Harvard as he rode up to the party.

"Yes, good show! What a twist of fate this is! The youngest of the lineage finally proves himself capable!" Helm agreed voraciously.

"Hm." Harald arrived on the scene, trailing with a miserable Hugo. "How unexpected…" Hans could feel all eyes upon him and battled to figure out whether he should be embarrassed or proud, finally settling on a mix of both. It was especially disconcerting having Harald's eyes on him, as out of all the brothers, Hans was never really sure what Harald was thinking. "Here," Harald continued, leading his horse up to Hans and reaching to his pack on the back of the horse, unhooking a metal cage and holding it out to his brother. "Take your prize."

Hans accepted the cage and carefully lowered the fox into it, the animal resisting at first, but eager to escape the commotion around it. Hans latched the cage shut and set It aside for the moment, still concerned for his brother. "You sure you're alright?" he asked Harken, who furrowed his brow.

"I told you I was fine." He jutted his chin out towards Hans, salvaging his damaged pride by acting indifferent. "So you won the hunt… though I can't say I have any idea how. Congratulations. Tell me, how do you plan on killing it?"

Elsa inhaled a quick, sharp breath, her eyes narrowing. Hans looked sincerely stunned. "What do you mean, kill it?"

"It's part of the winner's choice, after all," Harken said with a precursory glance at the shaking fox in the cage. "We all knew it. I can't imagine how you looked over that detail. Don't tell me you're going to refuse the right? Because if that's the case, I'll gladly become the runner-up."

"No," Hans instantly refused, shaking his head. He knew very well if he gave Harken an inch, the man would demand a mile, and the fox would be stone-cold dead before he could figure out its salvation. His mind worked quickly, but not quickly enough, because Harken moved over closely to him and clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder. "If I were as naïve and ill-suited to the sight of blood as you are, Hans, I'd shoot it. It's a quick death, and more or less painless, apart from the sheer horrifying pain of a bullet going through its head for a split second. After all, you do still have your shot, don't you?"

Hans glanced back at Sitron's saddlebag, where he knew his pistol still lay unused, mind working overtime for a solution. "I do."

Elsa clasped her hands together, forcing herself not to interrupt. Her expression was that of silent, earnest hope, fervently watching to see if Hans could truly be so cold-hearted. Please… she begged him, his blue eyes crumpled in defeat. Please don't kill it…

"Then there you have it. Shoot the beast and let's be on our way home. Mother could use the pelt for a shawl, I suppose," Harken murmured, still trying, rather unsuccessfully, to conceal his sore disposition at having lost his best event. Hans walked to Sitron's side, digging in the saddlebag and removing the pistol, handling it with care, which prompted a short bark of laughter from Harken. "You didn't even have it ready?"

Hans frowned at his brother. "Unlike you, I don't relish thoughts of sadistic play. I never intended to use it."

"Makes sense," Harken retorted with a smile, a hand around his horse's neck, "Though I doubt you intended to win, either."

Hans bit back his bitter reply behind grit teeth, his gaze turning to the fox with a deep, concentrated look. Carefully, he drew his pistol back, lowering it with a steady point at the cage. The fox watched him with wide, rarely-blinking eyes, hunching its neck between its shoulders and flattening its ears against its head. Hans felt his hand quiver, steeling himself to stop the light shaking, taking aim.

BANG!

Half the company flinched at the sudden shot ringing in the cold air, and Hans bent, swinging open the cage door and taking a step back, the door opening freely with the lock shot off its hinge. "Old age."

Harken just stood at a standstill, as rigid as if he were formed of stone, watching as the animal took a few tentative steps outside of its cage and dashed away into the woods as a streak of white. "What have you done?" he gasped, looking to Hans with bewilderment awash in his face. "What did you do?"

"I chose the method of death… old age," Hans elaborated, watching as the fox disappeared into the woods. He turned to face Elsa briefly, meeting her eyes. For a moment, the two spoke silent volumes to one another. Then, before either one of them could say anything, Heinrik took the opportunity.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, raising a hand in the air. "Three cheers for Hans, the winner of the hunt! Hip-Hip!"

"Hooray!" chorused the other brothers.

"Hip-hip!"

"Hooray!"

"All together now! Hip-hip!"

"Hooray!" cheered the company. Among all the hustle and bustle, Hans was most stunned to see Harald joining in the cheer. Though he couldn't hear his brother's voice, he could see his fist in the air and see his mouth move. The congratulations and cheering died down and left everyone packing up to head back to the castle, Harald leading the pack and Harken trailing nearly as far back as Hugo, sulking about his loss.

As they rode, Hans was conscious of Elsa's smile, and the way she rode close to him, as if she had something to say, but dared not among the current company. He brushed at his ruddy cheeks, scratching his sideburns aimlessly to hide it.

"Cold, Hans?" emphasized Heinrik with a winning grin, leaning over to playfully shove him with his elbow. "Your cheeks are turning absolutely rosy red!"

"I'm fine!" Hans replied through grit teeth, looking at Heinrik with a darkened gaze.

"You sure?" Heinrik asked, holding his hands up in defense and backing up, unable to keep his smile from spreading. "Alright, alright! It just wouldn't do for you to faint on us after winning, that's all."

"He wouldn't have won if Attila hadn't run across that patch of ice," Harken spoke up, riding closer to the front of the pack. "It wasn't there before, believe me."

"Ice?" Harvard asked, looking back at Harken, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "How unusual."

"Why?" Elsa turned to face him with puzzlement. "Isn't it winter? I should think ice pretty common."

"Well, yes, that's true. It's about frosting time in the meadows. But you see, Queen Elsa, our winters are often very mild in climate here. My Father's land rarely sees more than the rare icing over of the rivers in these times," Harvard elaborated.

"But…" Elsa kept her lips pressed together to avoid bringing up the subject of the lost sister. "You must have had snow at one time," she managed hopefully.

"Snow?" Harald snidely said from the front of the pack. He turned his horse to cut off Elsa, riding beside her. "We haven't had snow in years, not since we were children. If it snows here this winter, I'll eat my hat." As if to emphasize the point, he clapped a hand on top of his head and tipped in her direction, straightening his posture and returning to the front of the pack.

Elsa watched him, and wondered silently if he was thinking of his sister, too, or if he ever did. She decided she had seen enough of his superiority, and firmly made up her mind to challenge him, clicking her tongue to encourage Primrose to canter up close to him. "I think snow would be nice," she commented, leaning over to try and match his eye contact.

"Why?" Harald asked, jutting his chin up and narrowing his eyes. "It's cold, it's wet, and it's miserable. It kills many plants and makes it hard to keep livestock healthy."

"It's beautiful," Elsa countered, her tone soft. "It allows animals to hibernate, for the world to sleep and dream until its ready to awaken… winter is wonderful."

"Hmph," Harald replied, obviously unimpressed to the point where Elsa wondered if he was really paying attention to her.

"It gives us time to spend with family… to think about loved ones… those who are with us… and those who are not," Elsa finished, keeping her gazed straight ahead. She ached to see how he would react, and though she wasn't looking at him, through her peripheral she still saw his head whip aside a few inches, his eyes dart to look at her and back ahead. But the greatest indication her words had struck a chord was his reply, or rather, the lack thereof. Steely silence was his reply, and thus remained as the party rode on through the woods.

As they approached the castle gates, and rode through to the courtyard, Harald suddenly stopped in place, prompting the horses behind him to whinny and sidestep to avoid him.

"What's going on?" Harken demanded, rounding his brothers to reach the front. "Why are we all-" his breath died into a puff of vapor as he whispered, "stopped…"

A small party of the remaining royal family awaited the return of the brothers, with George and Allowyn at front, Heins beside them, and standing beside him, Helena, though even Hans did not recognize her at first. In place of her previously muddy burgundy outfit was a flowing, crème-colored gown fit for a princess, the designs winding intricately along the bodice. Her ebony hair was wound into a well-placed braid interwoven in small flowers. Her skin was clean and her smile bright, her cheeks giving off a gentle glow.

"Is something wrong?" Elsa asked, stopping beside Harald to make sure he was alright. His face had drained of color, and he looked nearly as white as her horse. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Harald stared ahead as he gave his horse a little kick in the flank, knuckles pale from gripping the reins so tightly. "Maybe I have…"

Hugo, tight-lipped, dismounted from his horse, doing his best to conceal his hobble. He glowered at Helena with pure venom behind his eyes, jerking his head towards Harken as if to beckon him closer. As the two communed together, the other brothers dismounting, slowly they began to impart quiet greetings to the king and queen. Then, one by one, they disappeared inside the castle gates, leaving the air thick with discomfort. "Congratulations, Hans!" Helena exclaimed as she heard the news, her hands clasped together. "I'm so glad you won!"

"It wasn't just thanks to me," Hans admitted, glancing towards Elsa, who simply smiled. "But I'm grateful for your compliments." His eyes drifted back to Helena, where they remained glued, straining not to stare but unable to stop himself.

"Hans," murmured Heinrik, pulling his shoulder aside to whisper in a low tone, "brother's meeting in the dining hall, pass it on." Puzzled, Hans nodded once, putting a hand on Heins' shoulder as they went inside together.

"I knew you could win, Hans, I always knew you could, I told Helena, I told her Hans could win the hunt, I told her Sitron was fast, and if you pushed him to his limits you could beat Harken, even if he-mmph!" Hans pulled his brother aside and covered his mouth, letting the others go ahead and lowering his tone to a hush.

"Brother's meeting, Heins… in the dining hall." Cocking his head, Heins nodded, remaining quiet as Hans let his hand slip away. Brotherly meetings were as sacred a ritual as any to the Southern Isles siblings, and with a swift and polite temporary goodbye to Helena, the men snuck away to meet with the others, though the location of the meeting left Hans with a bad taste in his mouth. The last meeting he'd spied on, the meeting to discuss what the family should do regarding his actions in Arendelle, was held in this very spot. He could only speculate as to what this sudden meeting could be about now, though he had his suspicions. They were confirmed as soon as the last two siblings entered the room.

"Ah, so here they are," began Hugo, who appeared to be the leader of the meeting, waving an arm elegantly in their direction. "The youngest brings the traitor to us."

"I've already told you, Hans isn't-" Heins blinked, looking from Hugo back to Hans. His glove pointed at himself, expression awash in confusion. "Wait, me?"

"Yes, you!" Hugo snapped, slapping a hand on the table. "Your fling with that lady in waiting has gone too far! Don't think we haven't noticed!"

Heins blinked several times, mouth an inch or two agape. "What do you mean by that? She…I… I mean, we're… it's not…"

"Not what?" asked Hubert, his tone serious, but lacking any of the accusatory tone Hugo used. "Hugo has told us quite the story of you and this young lady. Tell us, Heins… what is your story?"

"I just… that is… well, when I was in Arendelle I came across her working in a fashion shop and-"

"See? Just as I told you all! A peasant girl! Didn't you all see what she was wearing?" Hugo elaborated, waving a hand in a wide arc. "Is this the proper way to honor Hannah? Are we sinking so far as to let anyone come in and take her things, her clothes? Do you really think so little of our dearly departed sister?"

Heins tightened his lip and arced his chin upward, trying to maintain a stalwart appearance. "I didn't mean anything like that! It's just…"

"Let him talk," Horatio stated, shooting those around him a small glare. "Go on, Heins. Tell us why you gave her Kris' clothes."

Heins dropped his gaze and linked his fingers together, his lips forming a smile. "I wanted her to feel as beautiful as I see her." He peeked at the faces around him, and he saw a mixture of emotions, some smiles, some frowns, and some faces lacking any readable emotion. "I thought Kris' clothes would do that… I want her to be happy… I… I love her."

A wave of stunned expressions washed over the faces of his siblings. "L-love her? Please, brother, that's demented talk," Hugo laughed, taking a step forward. "This is why you never should have left. Heins, this whole romance that you've invented just proves you're too naïve to leave here." He swept a gloved hand in a wide arc as if to address the entire company. "You think this 'love' will last? Come on now- really! She only wants him for his inheritance! Are we going to let her blood poison our heritage?" He faced his brother, his smile growing, eyes flashing in the flicker of the fireplace. He clapped a hand on Heins' shoulder, patting it in bittersweet condolences. "Don't be foolish, Heins… you may miss her company for a time, but in the end, you'll find another. A woman who's royalty… who can keep our bloodline running with purity. Trust me… your big brother knows best…" His grip tightened.

"No!" The brothers watching gasped as Heins stared Hugo down, his face uncharacteristically defensive and strong. He shrugged away his brother's hand and straightened his posture.

"No?" Hugo asked, acting as if he'd just been struck by a slap across the face. "No?" He scoffed and shook his head, gritting his white teeth as he grunted, "Oh… I see how it is… Heins knows best… look, everyone! He's so mature now! Talk some sense into him, one of you! This kind of thing isn't possible! We won't allow you to do this!"

"You can't stop me… none of you." Heins replied steadily, standing firm. "I love Helena and… and I don't care what anyone thinks."

Hans moved to his brother's side and put a supportive hand on his shoulder. "A prince sacrifices for others. He is strong… he is compassionate." He gazed at his family surrounding him. "It might not be the expected way of things, but we're brothers. All of us, together. Think about Kris… what would she have said? What would she have done? She would have wanted her things to be used by others… she would have wanted us all… to be happy… even if through unconventional means."

"It's crazy." Heinrik flatly stated as he stepped forward to Heins' opposite side. A grin flashed on his face as he clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I love crazy."

"Kris would have wanted it this way," Horatio agreed with a steady nod, walking over to join Heins. He jerked his head to motion to the gaggle of men still staying put with stunned looks on their faces. "Oh, come on, brothers. Don't force me to argue the point further." One by one, others followed, until only a handful remained opposite.

"You've all lost your senses!" Hugo sputtered, desperation filling his expression as he noted the numbers on his side rapidly decreasing. "This can't happen! Think about the lineage!"

"Hugo…" Heins said softly, his expression stressing to remain patient. "Please try to understand… I love her. And… she loves me."

The look of innocent chivalry shining behind his green eyes was simply too much for Hugo to bear, and he wildly blurted the first thing that came to his mind. "You? Do you honestly think she'd want you when she refused someone like me?" He stiffened and clapped his mouth shut, but his words still rang in the ears of everyone in the room.

Heins blinked and furrowed his eyebrows, looking as if the words themselves had no meaning for him. "Refused… what do you mean refused?"

"I… just that she could have picked another brother. She could have picked me, but she- I mean…" Hugo fumbled with his words, but they seemed to tumble together before he could arrange them in any eloquent fashion. The last of the doubters crossed over to join Heins, leaving Hugo alone.

"You… you were there… when she came outside looking so scared… so… shaken…" Heins began to breathe faster, eyes darting to the left as if recalling events playing before him. "You were there when she fell in the mud and she said you did it on purpose… she told me… when I brought her back here… that it was nothing… but it wasn't. I could see it in her eyes… I know her. It wasn't nothing… it was you! It was you, wasn't it?"

"Me? How could it be me? I swear, she fell!" Hugo's color began to pale, his eyes sweeping over his siblings to pick out anyone he could rally for support. "I want nothing to do with her!"

"Swear it on Kris!" Heins yelled, his eyes watering with heightened emotion. "Swear it on her grave that you did nothing!"

All eyes turned back to Hugo, and his mouth hung open for a moment. He looked to his left to see Harken, who stared impassively ahead, unreadable, and then to his right, where he met the smoldering eyes of Harald. His brother's gaze seemed to seer through his skin straight into his soul, leaving him no shelter, no comfort, and certainly no support. "Alright!" he exclaimed, "alright! I admit it! I suggested she take the better half of the family, but she refused! I tell you truthfully I want nothing to do with her! She's nothing but an ugly, poor, worthless little guttersnipe-"

CRACK!

Suddenly Hugo reeled backward, colliding with the end of the dining table and tumbling to his knees, instantly bringing both his hands to his face to try and stifle the spike of pain he felt. Blood began to pour through the cracks in his fingers, and Harald bent down, hoisting him up. He gaped wide-eyed across the way at Heins, who was being restrained by two of his brothers, his hand shaking, the fist clenched smeared with a spattering of red.

Heins struggled against his brother's grips, but was unable to break free, his hair diarranged and breaking free of its ponytail as he thrashed. "Let me go! He can't say those things about Helena! He won't ever talk about her that way again! Never! Let me go!"

"That's enough!" Harald swiped a long cloth napkin from the dining table and pressed it forcefully against his brother's hands to help stifle the bleeding. "I'll take him to the doctor. Everyone else, take the chance to calm down. Especially you!" he exclaimed as he let his hand fly towards a stunned Heins, leaving the room with a crying Hugo in tow.

#

The sky overheard, which had been only slightly spotty by the end of the foxhunt, had turned into a dreary gray shade, the sun hidden beyond layers of clouds. It seemed to feed the atmosphere of the castle: wilted, tired, and spent. The family remained together in one of the sitting rooms, most sitting in chairs, quietly reflecting on the events of the day. Heins stood near one of the large windows spanning from floor to ceiling, staring at his hand with a vacant look. He had not spoken a word to anyone since the accident, nor left the windowside.

The doors opened, and in walked Johan, making his way to the middle of the room to address all of his siblings. "The doctor has seen him. He's being treated now. It's a broken nose, but nothing time won't fix sufficiently. The king and queen are with him."

Harald paused before striding to the center of the room and clearing his throat. "Let us all send healing thoughts for our brother… in these times of such gloom."

Elsa, who had been watching Harald carefully, rose from her spot beside Hans. Suddenly, she felt a tug at her wrist. Her magic prickled, but died down as she saw it was Hans who had grabbed her. As she gave him an inquisitive expression, she was surprised to see his response was a look of… concern.

"Don't," he warned in a low voice. "He's not reasonable. Believe me… I've tried." Was he worried about her? She found herself offering him a soft smile of reassurance as he released his grip.

"It's alright…" She hesitated, staring at her hand, and reached out, letting it rest on his for a moment, thinking back on better times she'd had in the past: times with Hans when they were children, times with Anna, times filled with laughter and fun and so much this family needed desperately. "I just want to talk to him."

Hans nodded, watching her and finding himself in awe of her determination to reach his estranged brother. Although he pretended to carry on vague affirmations of conversation with his brothers sitting nearby, his eyes stayed glued on Elsa, wondering over what her plan may be.

Elsa approached Harald with confidence, but tentatively. Something the man had seen seemed to have struck him hard today. "I'm glad to hear your brother will be alright."

"He deserved it," Harald said, his tone sharp and cool, impassive to her presence.

"It seems to have hit Heins just as hard…" Elsa leaned forward to try and make eye contact. "You should talk to him."

"Nothing I can say would make a difference, your highness," Harald replied steadily. His use of formality made Elsa feel uncomfortable. Then, before she could continue her encouragement, he spoke again, in a quiet, level tone, more as if he were talking to himself than to her. "We all get what we deserve in the end, don't we? We all reap consequences of our decisions. We can't run forever…"

"You're right," Elsa began, "but it's never too late to make things right… it's never too late to try and find happiness. Believe me… I thought I could never be happy or be forgiven for some things I've done… you just have to be willing to try."

Harald turned and looked at her for a good, long moment, his green eyes dark, pillars of strength, but shadowed by dark circles she'd never noticed before. "Whatever happiness we had died many winters ago… in times when it used to snow here… times long gone. As I said… nothing I can say to him will make a difference." He turned and Elsa watched as a slow smile spread on his lips. "The same can't be said for her." Elsa followed his gaze to see Helena enter the room, seemingly ignorant of the circle of eyes watching her every move.

Helena, in truth, knew very well of everyone watching her. She just didn't care. Her entire focus was on Heins. She strode across the room until she reached his side, following his gaze to his hand, and slipped her own over it, covering the blood stains. She lifted it in her hands, and brought it to her chest, pressing it close, her heart beating beneath it. Heins looked up at her, his green eyes watering.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, his voice trembling. "I-I didn't think… when he said those terrible things about you… I just…"

"I know," she replied in a gentle voice, slipping her arms around his neck and leaning against his chest, burying her face against it. "I know… and I love you so much for it."

Heins wrapped his arms around Helena, gripping the small of her back as he drew her close, bending his head down until it touched the top of her head, smelling her silky hair, letting a tear fall from his eye and wiping at it absently. He inhaled a shaky breath, breathing out next to her ear. "I love you, too… more than anything."

"Heins… if you marry me… you could lose your inheritance… you could lose… everything," she murmured, squeezing his clothing tight as she wiped her eyes with it. "I feel… I feel so terrible… because… I want it… I want you so much, that jealousy doesn't care about what you might lose…"

Heins slipped a finger under her chin, tipping it up until she was forced to look at him, her eyes becoming red. He smoothed his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear, and then bowed his forehead until it met hers, nuzzling her. Then, tilting his head and bringing her close, he met her lips with a deep kiss. He parted from it after a few long moments, meeting her forehead once more, his smile returned as he whispered. "Consider it all lost, Mrs. Westergard."

Then, to everyone's shock, there was the sound of clapping. Ignoring the eyes on him, Hans stood to his feet, bringing his hands together in faster applause for his brother. The motion was infectious, and spread from one brother to another like a raging fever, until the entire room, even Harald, was offering some type of encore. The applause finally died down, and Heins laughed cheerily, spinning his loved one in a little circle so her back faced the window. "You see, Helena? You're part of the family now… and there's no-" he suddenly stopped in mid-speech, blinking rapidly. "There's… there's snow…"

"Go on, Heins, kiss her again," encouraged Heinrik with a laugh of his own, "don't get lost in her eyes now!"

"No, there's snow!" Heins shouted, leaping a foot off the ground into the air in excitement, pulling a stunned Helena with him to the windowsill. "Look! Everybody! Look, look! It's snowing! It's really snowing! Come see!"

"Snowing?!" exclaimed half of the room, and suddenly everyone made a mad rush for the windows, excitement rippling through the crowd.

"It is!"

"He's right! It's really snowing!"

"See it?"

"Do you think it will keep going for a while?"

"I hope so!"

"It hasn't snowed here in years!"

Harald stood at the back of the pack, his eyes glued on the window, mouth agape. "But… it never snows here… never…"

Heinrik took advantage of the moment of shock to sneak up quietly behind his brother and jumped, snatching his hat off the top of his head with a sudden swipe.

"Heinrik!" Harald shouted, making a grab for it, but his brother jerked it away just out of his reach. "Heinrik! Give it here!"

Grinning, Heinrik tossed it halfway across the room to Johan, who looked at the hat, and then at the angry Harald stomping over to him, pumping his arm to throw it back to his captain.

Heinrik, chuckling, shoved the hat back into his brother's hands and beamed. "So… would you like salt with it? Or do you prefer to have your hat served raw? I seem to recall you saying you'd make a meal of it if it were to snow… and I'm not a forecaster of any sort, but I think… that's snow," he elaborated with a charming smile and a point at the window.

Harald replaced his hat on his head, pretending to straighten it a few times before finally becoming satisfied. He crossed his arms, hunching his shoulders in a show of bad posture. "What are you all staring at?" he grunted, turning on heel and heading for the door. "It will never stick, you'll see. I'm going to check on Hugo."

Elsa watched him go, trying not to giggle as she saw the brothers clamor over one another over the windows for the best view.

"Elsa." She turned and saw Hans, who stepped close to her, close enough so he could talk quietly and still be heard. His green eyes were almost sparkling, his mouth curved into a handsome smile. "I know you did this."

"Who, me?" she replied with a graceful tilt of her head, her smile playful, but secretive. "Next you'll be saying I can make an ice palace."

"… thank you." Hans looked out the window, leaning a little so his arms were supported by the sill. Trying not to seem awkward around Elsa, he exhaled a breath on the glass so he could fog it, tracing his initial as he did. The H left a small drop of moisture trickling down and disappearing into the wood of the pane. "But you didn't have to do something to pay anyone back… because of the fox hunt."

"I didn't do it to pay anyone back," Elsa replied, moving her hand and causing Hans to slide back as she touched the still-fogged glass. She daintily traced lines, forming an E next to his tracing and dropping her hand, conscious of how her body was touching his side, and how strangely good it felt to be so close to someone and not feel the least bit afraid. She turned, looking into his eyes for a moment. "I did it for your family… for you. Because I wanted to."

"Elsa… I don't know what to say… it's wonderful…" Hans leaned once more on the windowsill and stared outside at the snowflakes falling. His eyes wandered and rested on the reflection of Elsa, who shared his gaze outside. "Beautiful," he added softly.

"You're welcome," Elsa managed, aware of how his gaze had shifted, but not putting the implication together. She was far too busy coming to terms with the fact that she'd never known warmth in her life like she did right now, next to him. She felt his hand touch hers, sliding over the top of it. The thrill sent a prickling of excitement much as it felt to use her magic rushing through her body, because she admitted she wanted it. Suddenly she felt breathless, and she looked at him with coloring cheeks.

"Some snow, huh?" Heinrik exclaimed broadly as he came up behind them, oblivious to the situation.

Their hands separated, and Hans cleared his throat to help ease the awkwardness. "Yes, though as Harald said, it probably won't stick." After it became clear he and Elsa would not receive another private moment together here, he began to sullenly walk back to join his other siblings, especially Heins, who was calling Hans over and already talking about plans for a snow day.

"Don't be so sure," Elsa called, making him turn back as he walked. "Things change." Her hands slid away from the windowsill and linked together, but it only succeeded in making her feel the absence of his. She would not get the chance to talk to him in private here and now, but she vowed she would find time soon, very soon, to do so. And they would talk about painful pasts, she was certain, and present thoughts, and future hopes… and perhaps… just perhaps… they would touch again.

Heinrik watched them both go and quirked his lips, sighing through his nose. "Was it something I said?" he asked himself, shaking his head. He noticed the tracing of something in the pane of glass, using his hands for support and leaning in to get a better look and interpret it, but as he did, he jumped back, stunned. Below his hands was a smattering of powdery snow, and it was in the shape of a dainty handprint. In the heat of the room the snow quickly began to melt, leaving behind only water. His mind began to work as he turned slowly and looked behind him.

"Snow, right?" Johan remarked, clapping him on the back and hoisting himself up on the ledge, which only just supported him with its width. "Who could've guessed?"

"Yes… who could've guessed indeed…" Heinrik murmured, looking back in the direction of the queen.

A/N: Whew, that one got a little longer than usual. Who caught the references? Hands up! Hope you all enjoyed and as always, leave me a review if you can spare the time! Thanks to all my readers, be they followers, guests, or long-time fans! Merry belated Christmas and a happy new year!