A/N: That last chapter really took it out of me. So many OCs. SO many OCs to handle. But enough of that, let's get on to the juicy stuff. I think it's time to meet the sister of the family… please, watch your step.

Chapter Thirty

Beware the Frozen Heart

Tick. Tick. Tick.

All Hugo could focus on was the never-ceasing slip of the hands in circles. Though the clock in the room was located near the doors of the entryway, he could not help but hear the ticking as clearly as if it were right in front of him. None of the brothers were typically allowed inside his father's private study, never in childhood and rarely even today. The exception to this rule was if their father wanted to speak to them alone, and Hugo, much to his dismay, was currently an exception. He had held out a fraction of a hope that his father would forget their private talk in the midst of royal business, but that hope dissipated when the news arrived that his father had ordered for him.

For the past five minutes, which seemed more like an eternity to the prince, the king had done nothing more than study his son's expressions, and take notice of his body language. The only words which had been exchanged between them were the perfunctory greetings of, "You wanted to see me, father?" and the flat, stoic reply from the king, "Sit down." Hugo obeyed his father's command and took the single chair before his father's ornate desk. He watched as the king sifted through books and scrolls placed in orderly piles about him, occasionally dipping his ink quill into the well to renew it before he scrawled something on the paper. Hugo brought his hand to his mouth to cover a cough, if only to give himself some kind of respite from the silence, but before he could clear his throat, his father let the quill drop into the inkwell with a gentle clink and stacked his papers to the side. Seemingly satisfied, George interlaced his fingers and leaned over the desk, posture straight.

As Hugo thought there could be no equal to his mother as a queenly figure, he thought similarly of his father as a king: a picture of dominance, pride, and power. It was one thing to have your father as your protector figure, but quite another when you were facing him in the wrong. He swallowed to try and open his throat, shifting uneasily.

"I saw you among your brothers earlier the other day in the courtyard." George began, turning to look at the nearest window as if to emphasize the point, though it was not the same one. "You were speaking to Helena and your brother."

"Yes." Hugo admitted quietly, sensitive to his father's tone and doing his best to try and judge his responses accordingly.

"What did you say?"

Hugo found this an odd question simply because of its obvious nature, but he answered regardless. "I apologized for my actions and asked forgiveness from them."

"And you received it?" his father asked grimly.

Hugo nodded hesitantly, unsure if this was what his father wanted to hear, but certain honesty was the best policy. His father did not reply, but a look of sincere surprise on his face hurt Hugo more than anything his father could have said. "I am relieved to hear you began to seek reconciliation after your transgressions. Then all that remains is to discuss your punishment."

"I understand," Hugo murmured, in a quieter voice than usual.

"I am not a cruel ruler, son, and to my knowledge, I have never been known as such. But there is a large gap between being cruel and just. I have never in the past, nor will I ever in my lifetime, tolerate a man taking unfair advantage of a woman in the way you attempted. If this is to be your behavior as a prince, what am I to expect from you as a king?" George watched his son as he continued, studying the way his eyes fell, the way his heels rose from the ground, his feet curling around the posts of the chair. "I've asked for advice from a wide selection of court advisors as to what the punishment should be for a man who committed your crimes."

Hugo waited, thankful that his father had, at least, not made mention of his name, but when his father did not immediately elaborate, he had to push. "And?" he asked.

George's face took on the look of a troubled man, which bothered Hugo far more than he would admit. The king pretended to move papers a little further away from his arm before he continued, "The consensus was, for the majority of voters, that such a man should be made a eunuch."

Hugo stiffened, the shock of the word still fresh as he began to fumble for a debate. Though the Southern Isles had seen no need for eunuchs, Hugo had heard of them used in royal families of old, and the very ideas of how such a procedure would be performed petrified him. "But father, that's, that's inhumane! Surely you wouldn't, I mean, there must be another way, not now, not at this time, and not something so, so permanent!" His body remained rigid in the chair, his temperature cooling as his color drained away in an instant.

"Yes, the punishment is severe," George replied. "But I am sure your unwanted advances left a severe scar on Helena just as grave afterwards." He shook his head slowly from side to side. "No, I too believed the first choice, even if the most common one, to be overzealous. So I resorted to asking others for advice, those closer, with more input. I asked specific family members for advice on punishment."

Hugo did not wait for him to continue this time. "And?"

"It was suggested to me that you be placed in something likened to chastity belt, until such a time that you can control yourself accordingly."

"A chastity…" Hugo's forehead lined in confusion and disgust. Such things were defiance of nature, in his opinion, and had no right existing at all. His lip curled as he growled. "I do not need a chastity belt to control myself."

"Then you have made a poor show of it!" George exclaimed vehemently, causing Hugo to recoil back in shock. "As a prince, you are expected to be strong! Be compassionate! Show mercy and forgiveness! Be an example for others! Have you forgotten everything I've taught you?"

"Heins would suggest something I wear as punishment," Hugo murmured, his face heating up after hearing his father's accusations, shrinking down in his chair, sweat making his clothes stick to his back.

"Heins did not suggest the punishment, nor did he agree," George commented, his voice a little softer. "There are many others willing to do that."

Hugo blinked and dropped his gaze from his father. Heins was the one I wronged. But he didn't agree? Why? "Is that it then, sir? Is that… my punishment?"

George dropped his gaze to his folded hands, and did not answer Hugo's question as simply as his son expected. "If your mother had not intervened and suggested seeking another's advice, I would have taken that route."

"But?"

"But she asked I listen to another suggestion. I sought the advice of our own Miss Helena, not because I believe your acts deserve less recompense, but because I found it intriguing to hear her ideas as the victim of your attempted acts." George's gaze demanded reciprocation, and Hugo was incapable of looking away from his father.

"So it was she who decided what my punishment would be?" Hugo thought back on how she'd reacted when she forgave him. She was hesitant, certainly, and he doubted she would remotely trust him at all for some time, but she'd at least claimed she would forgive him. Besides, he'd never consummated the wrong, even if he'd wanted her at the time. Still, whatever she'd suggested had to be better than his father's first two ideas.

"Yes." George gestured to the stack of papers beside him. "I've been working on some of the record, you see."

"If a prince is strong, then I will be." Hugo responded, forcing himself to sit straight and tall. "If she is to be my new sister, as I strongly suspect she will, I will respect her and teach her all she needs to know, on my word. Go on, father. Tell me what my punishment is to be and I will accept it."

"I am proud to hear you say such things, son, and I will certainly be all the more glad when I see the fruits of your promises." George placed a hand on the parchment next to him before continuing. "From this moment on, until I decide otherwise, you are no longer permitted to be alone with any feminine presence, apart from your mother, without an escort. You will not leave public view without escorts. You will not entertain at any of our parties or events without an escort."

Hugo's eyes darted down to the ground. Me? Escorted like a child everywhere I go? What would people say? "And what if… I slip?"

George's eyes softened, and a sparkle of wit entered his eyes. "Then I suppose we will have to default to one of the first two choices of punishment."

Hugo would have blanched, but he caught the look in his father's eyes and smiled wryly in return. "I'll take care of our new sister, father… you don't have to worry."

George scrawled with the ink quill, signing a piece of parchment before he met his son's eyes, and Hugo was surprised to find they were faintly wet. "I pray there will never be a need."

#

It was already apparent to the royal family that Kris' absence, long since unmentioned, was weighing heavily on the kingdom lately, but most of all on Hans. Such a knowledge worried Allowyn far more than it should have. Hans had always shown a particular knack for dwelling on painful parts of his past. Although she'd been thrilled at the fact that her children actually seemed to be getting along with one another, her son's melancholy attitude after the merriment of the day did not go unheeded. Allowyn had spoken with Hans many times over the years in an attempt to seed the truth from him, but whatever digging she'd done continually left her with nothing more than dirty hands and torn, useless roots. Therefore, upon seeing Hans venture once more outside on his own into the stables, she decided to try a new tactic. She approached Elsa.

Seated on the edge of her chair, staring absently out the window, Elsa suddenly jerked at the sound of the knock on her door. Eyes darting downward, she snatched a book resting haphazardly on the floor, flipping it open. She'd mused through this book the last few nights, It detailed the history of the Southern Isles family more than any records available, of that she had no doubt. Horatio knew all. Doing her best to look as if she was not as troubled as she felt, Elsa called out. "Come in."

Allowyn gracefully opened the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind her as the material of her dress swished over the floor. "I do hope I've not disturbed your privacy, Elsa. Forgive my intrusion."

"Oh, no, I was only reading some of the history of the Isles," Elsa replied, flashing her open book as if desperate to produce evidence.

"I see…" Allowyn bent over and scanned the page before a smile broke through her face. "And is your interest in my husband's brother's years of rule proving fruitful?"

Elsa looked down at the strewn, rumpled pages of the genealogy and flushed despite herself. "I seem to have lost my place." She could not tell the queen the truth. She had seen Hans below through her window and afterwards tried unsuccessfully to read the same passage four times before getting so angry she tossed the book aside. She could not stop thinking about him.

"I know who you're thinking of." Allowyn said, dropping her gaze.

"You do?" Elsa gasped, closing the book and holding it tightly closed on her lap.

"Yes. She has been on our minds far more than usual lately," Allowyn murmured softly, her eyes drawn to the smooth surface of the bedside table as if she were focusing on a stain.

Elsa followed her train of sight but saw nothing, nodding faintly, too thankful that her care for Hans had gone unnoticed. "I promise you I mean no insult by asking this, but… why are there so few records detailing her loss?"

"Because the bitter facts surrounding it, are, for the majority, a mystery, even as we speak." Allowyn replied, her gaze still glazed over and distant. "Although it was Harald and his brothers who came to us to alert us of a break in the ice, Hans was the only one present, and to this day, he will not speak of it beyond what we already know."

Elsa searched the air around her, as if hoping to pull down some comfort in the form of an elaborate apology for their loss. The air around her remained stagnant and still, barren of words. "I am deeply sorry you had to go through that," she managed lamely, bowing her head in respect.

"People have always wanted answers for the likes of things they do not know," Allowyn went on, unphased by the apology. "We couldn't provide those answers, and our people began to make their own. Rumors circulated, many involving her engagement to the prince of Weselton. She was always nervous about the idea of an arranged marriage, but we knew the man to be kind, and we wanted her to be cherished. People who wanted to drag our name through the mud began to say that she was driven to her own death, that she willed it, because of our lack of understanding…"

Elsa's thoughts turned back to Orion on the night she had been dragged from the dining room, clamoring about the princess taking her own life. She shuddered impulsively and let the silence in the air linger, wondering whether she was expected to say something in response or whether silence was the more prudent choice.

"This is why I have come to you, Elsa. I would not trust anyone else if I did not believe you were capable. Talk to Hans, please… ask him to speak to you. Perhaps speaking to someone he trusts, someone not of the family, will bring new truth to light. May I ask this of you?" Allowyn's blue eyes, suddenly focused, only shone dimly compared to normal.

Elsa looked back outside, unable to see the footprints leading to the stable, but certain they were there. Her mind flashed back, for a brief, frightful moment, to the image of Hans confronting her in the snowstorm.

Her skin was like ice… I tried to save her, but it was too late. Your sister is dead… because of you.

She felt a series of goosebumps erupt down her arms, shutting out the vision before she could see the glint of his sword. Yes. Yes, I will talk to him. She did not know whether she'd spoken the words out loud or only imagined them, but she knew she had to go now. She rose to her feet and went to the closet, taking her long winter cloak and wrapping it securely about her shoulders, slipping her arms inside the sleeves. She made her way downstairs, to the front doors, and beyond into the snowy courtyard. Determination fueled her, made her blind to everything around her as she briskly walked towards the stables, her footprints following those already made before her. I have to know the truth, Hans… and maybe, if we can understand what happened, we can leave the past in the past… and I can help you finally let it go.

She found him in the stables, saddling a horse she could only guess was Sitron. He looked so comfortably familiar based on her memories of a stuffed animal she could not help but smile as she approached. "Hans?"

Hans blinked in surprise as he clipped part of Sitron's reins onto the bridle, fitting the bit to his horse's mouth, who amiably nickered at Elsa. "Elsa? What are you doing here?"

"Is this Sitron?" Elsa asked, drawing nearer, a little cautious. She only vaguely recalled riding horses as a child with the help of her parents, before her powers manifested themselves. Since then she'd had little contact with people, much less animals. That is, apart from the fox hunt, which she'd agreed to in the first place partially due to the fact that she had the opportunity to ride. "I saw him on the fox hunt, but I never got to ask you to be certain of it."

"Yes, this is Sitron." Hans slipped the rest of the halter over his horse's ears, smoothing his mane aside with a short haired bristle brush. He took his horse's reins in one hand and extended his other hand towards her. "Did you… want to meet him?"

"I'd love to," Elsa enthused, slipping her hand in his and coming closer, reaching her opposite hand out for Sitron to sense before touching him. Sitron sniffed her palm, pushing his muzzle against it, encouraging her touch, snorting once and puffing out a stream of vapor in the cold air. "He's beautiful," she enthused, letting her hand drop. Sitron snorted, and brushed her arm with his nose, nickering.

"He likes you," Hans admitted, pleased. Sitron was generally a good-natured horse to strangers, at least, he certainly was for Anna, but generally living in the Isles left him a bit more wary of visitors, because Hans' brothers were not always kind.

"Where were you going?" Elsa asked, her hand sliding in a constant, calm petting motion along Sitron's forehead down to his muzzle.

"For a ride," Hans replied, hesitating. On one hand, he did desperately want company, and even more so, the company of Elsa. However, he knew his destination would not be a pleasant one, and would bring to light thoughts and feeling he would just as well prefer remain forgotten.

"May I accompany you?" Elsa asked, and for a moment Hans questioned whether she could read his mind.

He glanced towards Primrose, who was finishing her helping of oats in one of the neighboring stalls. Company would help root him to the present, even if his thoughts were hell bent on galloping back to the past. Consenting with a sigh of defeat, he briefly nodded. "Please, do. Can I help you get her saddled?"

"Yes, I think I would like that. My experience with horses is limited." Elsa took supplies from where they hung on the wall and entered the stall, giving special attention to stroking her horse's mane before positioning the saddle. Hans' hands brushed hers as he helped outfit the horse further, and she noted how cold they were. She wondered silently whether he'd been outside for much longer than she'd thought. She drew her eyes to look at him, and found his face impassive, his gaze distant, forehead furrowed as if he were either concentrating deeply on something, or equally determined not to think of it at all. She swung into her saddle and took the reins in hand, making a kissing sound with her lips to encourage Primrose to move forward and follow Sitron.

Though he would not say so, Elsa was sure Hans had a particular destination in mind, but his extended silence advised her against asking about it. Instead she followed complacently until he came to a halt only a small distance from the castle. Before them was a lake, only thinly frozen from Elsa's influence, the sheet of ice almost transparent, revealing a dark, sinister undertone beneath the sheer surface. Bare trees stood firmly around the lake as if they were timeless guardians of this sacred place, their skinny, hollow arms stretching out aimlessly in all directions. Hans stood as frozen as if he were part of the environment itself for a long time, and finally shifted off his horse, his arms going to hug his side.

Though the cold never bothered Elsa, she could still feel it, and knew how susceptible Hans must have been to its influence. She moved over to stand next to him, leaving her horse to mingle with Sitron. She knew he would never tell her himself, but she could guess why they were here. "This is where she died, isn't it?" She saw no point in edging around the truth, in keeping the pain hidden away.

"This is the last place I ever saw her… alive." Hans stared, unblinking, at the unmoving surface of the water.

Elsa knew what the queen had asked her, but suddenly her pleas seemed so far away, so unimportant. She didn't need to talk to him because she was asked to; she needed to talk to him because she… wanted to. Her heart suddenly leapt into her throat, her breath catching there, too. She wanted to.

"Elsa?" She turned to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushing until they starkly contrasted the rest of her pale, subtly soft complexion. "Are you alright?" Although his eyes had been distant, even otherworldly when they first arrived, she was awestruck to find his entire focus was now on her, concern shining in his green eyes. It was enough to make her blush harder, until her face felt on fire.

"I should be asking that of you," she replied, tucking a piece of her wayward hair back behind her ear. "It must…" She took a breath and sighed, resigning herself to drop whatever royal protocol dictated she say. She looked up into his eyes, her expression waning. "You must miss her terribly."

Hans nodded once, his eyes falling to stare at the ghostly white ground. "Every day."

"Hans, you can't blame yourself. You were only a child. Her death… it couldn't have been your fault," Elsa whispered, bending slightly to try and meet his gaze. "Just tell me what happened."

"You don't understand…" Hans murmured, shaking his head slowly, his vision blurring with tears threatening to escape. "I was there… I caused her death."

Elsa watched as the pristine blanket of snow below him seemed to wink, a tiny imprint appearing where the tear had fallen from his chin. Paying no attention to the way he tried to wipe at his eyes, she moved instinctively, letting her hand rest on his shoulder and squeeze. "Hans… tell me." She could see the way his skintone turned ruddy at her touch, the way his sorrowful gaze met hers with a mixture of tenderness and vulnerability, enough to break her heart. She suddenly felt a wave of overwhelming sympathy for the sheer power of will he had to expend to keep his tears at bay. How long had he kept himself from crying over this loss? How long had he shut the pain in? She swallowed, steeled herself, and let her hand slip from his shoulder to his cheek, her thumb stroking in little circles. "Please."

It took more than a moment for Hans to process what had just happened. His hand covered Elsa's, lingering there, their breaths combining into one great cloud of vapor because they were so close. "I don't know what I can tell you that will change anything, Elsa… but I will do what I can." Elsa let her hand fall as his own dropped, but instead of letting it return to her side, she interlinked her fingers with his as he began to speak.

"I was young...I was running away from my sister. I felt so angry at her then…" Again he'd grown distant, but it was not stoic, just thoughtful, lost in the past.

"Why?" Elsa did not want to interrupt him any more than necessary, and made a silent pledge to keep her questions at a minimum.

"She was leaving… getting married to a prince who lived far away. She didn't tell me, and when I found out… I thought… she was doing it because she didn't love me. So I yelled at her… I yelled and I ran… I told her I hated her…" he trailed off, staring at the lake and the land beyond it.

"Oh, Hans…" Elsa started to protest, to tell him he was only a child and could not have been expected to understand, but she remembered her silent promise and bade him go on with a squeeze of his hand.

"I came to this lake, and I heard her coming after me, calling my name. I was so afraid of her catching me, I thought I would find a place to hide… do you see that tree there, the willow with the broken lower branch?" Elsa nodded, following the direction his finger pointed. "My brother Harken broke his arm climbing that branch, and the branch, my father said, must have been so afraid of him it simultaneously broke itself." There was a flicker of a smile on his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. "It was a common place for my brothers to be, especially when they wanted to get away from me. Today was no different. I remember seeing smoke and thinking I would hide in the hollow of the tree with them."

"Smoke?" Elsa asked, keeping her interruptions at one word.

"My brothers used to sneak my father's cigars when they could. I think that's what I saw." He gave pause, his forehead creased in concentration lines. "The fastest way to get there was to go across… so I started across the lake on foot." Elsa inhaled, holding her breath. She could guess the results, and squeezed his hand harder. "The ice broke…I fell… and I couldn't get air…" His words slowed considerably, enough to make it sound as if he were speaking an unfamiliar language. "I tried to get out... I think… Kris tried to get me out. She tried… so hard." Hans' voice choked off for a time, and Elsa patiently waited until he was ready to go on again.

"There was another crack… and I remember looking up at the sky, and how white everything was around me… how empty the world suddenly was." He lifted his gaze to meet Elsa's, the tears streaking down his cheeks. "She died that day because of me, because I was too stupid to listen to h-her." Then he bowed his head as if someone had wrapped a weight around his neck, his breath shaking with choked sobs strangling his words. "I never t-told anyone that I led her out onto the ice… how could I? It was my fault she d-died… how can I tell that to my father, t-to my m-mother?"

"Hans." Elsa's tone was so sharp, so commanding, that he could not help but face her. "Your sister's death was not your fault. Your sister loved you enough to give her life for you. I know that kind of love; I've witnessed it firsthand. And that love… it's more powerful than anything on earth. It transcends time…" Her hands moved to his shoulders, firmly planted there as she spoke. "I used to think that I could force myself to forget my fears, that as long as I concealed it from everyone, I would never have to feel it. But I was consumed by it… and I lost control of everything... including myself."

Hans nodded mutely, sniffing and wiping at his eyes, his face red. Elsa stepped closer, bridging the gap between them until they were only inches away. "I know how it feels to feel alone… see the world around you empty… I didn't even go to my parents' funeral because I was so scared I would lose control… and I was right." She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. "But after Anna saved me, I knew then… we aren't alone, Hans… we don't have to be afraid, because when we let fear control us… it turns us into something… someone we're not."

"We?" Hans rasped, suddenly looking up at her. In his eyes she marveled at who she saw: a fragile, frightened man, a man who'd been running from his past for so long he hardly had the strength to go on any longer. He was a man so different from the person who'd attacked her on the ice. That person seemed like a complete stranger in the midst of this Hans, this man who was so easy to talk to, who was gentle, kind, and cherished life so deeply.

Elsa felt a strange, faint fluttering in her chest when she held his gaze, her eyes settling on his lips, and the slow, steady way vapor escaped them with each exhale. Her stomach quivered in anticipation, her heartbeat roaring in her ears. Then, before she had the chance to doubt herself, she closed the distance between them, whispering with a single puff of vapor. "We." Her arms slipped about his neck and her lips met his in a tender, willing kiss, her eyes instinctively flitting closed. His arms in turn wrapped securely around the small of her back, drawing her body close against his own, his head tilting at a slight incline as he returned her embrace. Elsa had dealt with magic all her life, but the sudden combination of both giving and receiving affection this freely lifted her spirits until she was no longer aware of the ground below her feet.

When at last she opened her eyes only to meet Hans' gentle green gaze across from her, her mind began to scream. What are you thinking? Did you really just kiss him? Smiling as she responded to herself, she felt warmth fill her body as he took her hands in his and brought them to his lips once more, bestowing several kisses to her bare knuckles. Yes, I did! And… I liked it. A breathy laugh escaped her throat and she took his hand in her own, bringing it to her cheek. "Your sister loves you, Hans. It won't be easy to move on from her death, but it will never happen unless you let yourself believe it was not your fault. You have to believe that. You have so much to give… if you can only be willing to open yourself up…and then… you'll see there are others who want to give you that same love she did… you only have to accept it."

Hans thumbed her cheek and nodded once, marveling at how fate used bad for good. It was awe-inspiring to see how his sister's death led him to meet Elsa, and in turn, his acts with Elsa led him here. From the moment she'd arrived, she began stirring thoughts and feelings both wonderfully new and soothingly familiar. All of it leading here, to this moment, where she'd understood so succinctly how deeply his pain ran. Only Elsa could speak to his soul so clearly, so genuinely, and it moved him. He swallowed, taking a moment to pick his words before speaking. "I need some time to think here…" His smile was subtle, sad, but real. "I need to make my peace with her."

Elsa immediately nodded, understanding. "Of course. I understand. I'll go back to the castle and meet you there whenever you return."

"Elsa?" he asked as she turned to go, causing her to look behind her. "Thank you… for everything."

The snow queen glowed brighter than her horse as she mounted the white steed, her smile far more meaningful than one friends would share. "You're welcome." She nudged her horse away, turning to watch Hans grow more distant behind her until he disappeared from view.

#

Elsa's spirits soared higher than the trees as she guided Primrose through the woods back towards the castle. Her thoughts were wandering, specifically on her time with Hans. She was suddenly jolted out of her pleasant reminiscing to see Harald fly by her at a full gallop, his cape flaring out behind him, passing by Elsa without seeing her through the foliage. She blinked and furrowed her forehead, clicking her tongue. "Come on, Primrose. Let's see where he's going off to in such a hurry." She had to push Primrose hard, aware that her mount was struggling to keep up with Harald. She nimbly dodged branches and encouraged her winded horse to jump over a fallen log. By the time she caught up to him and could see him stopped in the distance, she had pressed Primrose hard, and the horse, typically only used for easy riding, frothed at the mouth.

Feeling sorry for her horse, Elsa dismounted and let her rest at the bottom of the incline, tying her off around the nearest tree trunk. Then she turned her gaze upward, starting up the hill. She could make out Harald at the top, his horse a little ways off, the man kneeling down before what seemed to be a stone. It was an odd sight to see this man kneel, and in such a lovely place. The way up to the top of the hill was framed with lilac shrubs mostly bare of the purple blooms and trees dotting along the edges of the path like a trail of a congregation attending a wedding.

She tentatively approached down the middle as though she were a bride having second thoughts, stopping five or six feet behind him. "Harald?"

The man jumped to his feet in one swift, graceful leap, whirling upon her with eyes wide as marbles, wide enough so she thought he might have seen a ghost. His hand hovered over his belt, where she could see a dagger not an arm's reach away. "Queen Elsa…" he whispered, his body visibly sagging in relief, his hand falling to his side. "What are you doing here?"

"I was on my way back to the palace when I saw you streaking by. I followed you to make sure everything was alright." Elsa was certain a little white lie wouldn't hurt anyone, and it would disguise her curiosity for concern. Harald's expression subtly shifted from confusion into suspicion, prompting Elsa to add, "Is everything alright?"

Harald's eyes scanned the treeline around Elsa, as if he were checking to ensure she came alone, and he gave one slow nod. "Yes."

Elsa had not expected such a clean, curt response, and what followed was an extended, awkward period of silence between them. Although he claimed everything was alright, Elsa knew it not to be the case and summoned the courage to carry on the conversation. It was impolite, she knew, to ask personal questions from a virtual stranger, but comments couldn't hurt. "It's very lovely here. I would imagine it even lovelier when this lilac starts to bloom." The burden of continuing their talk fell to him now.

"Yes." Again, he deflected her comments, his tone unamused.

Elsa wracked her brain for ideas to continue the conversation, but nothing came to her. Frustrated by his stony exterior, she crossed her arms and served him a glower. "Is that all you can say, yes?"

Harald allowed a moment of pause, and slowly, a smile almost charming in nature spread over his face, giving it a rare look of warmth and character. "No."

Elsa gaped for a moment as his response sank into her and then laughter bubbled up from her heart. She was awed to find him chuckling quietly as she approached, and she thought it a pleasant sound, feeling a little sad she hadn't heard it more often in her visit. "You have a sharp wit about you, Captain."

As she drew closer, she could see his smile fade, but he was no longer guarded against her presence, just uncomfortable. He turned away from her, his tone flat. "Not Captain. I'm not on duty."

"I apologize," Elsa said, pondering how she could continue the conversation. It was at this moment Harald took her by surprise.

"Have you seen Hans lately?"

The whole of it was more words than she'd heard him speak to anyone alone, and she just blinked for a moment before responding. "Yes, yes, I just finished speaking with him."

"How was he?"

Elsa was flabbergasted by the sudden flow of the conversation. "He was fine. He was…" She trailed off, realizing how boring her explanation sounded. "He's taking time alone now with himself." She saw Harald's adam's apple bob in place as he swallowed, noting the way his eyes fell, his gaze turning to look behind him to rest on the stone marker. "What is that?" Elsa asked, closing the gap between them with careful, reverent steps.

"Our sister's memorial."

The way he said it was so labored, so heavy of heart, that Elsa was forced to bow her head. "I'm very sorry this winter has caused all of you so much renewed mourning of her loss."

"It's not her actual grave, not where she was buried after we found her body." Harald spoke almost as if he were talking to himself, as if Elsa was not even present. "Our family has already planned each place where we're to be buried before we're even born." A grim smile curved on his face, just barely visible to Elsa as he faced the stone. "Isn't that a pretty paradox? We know where we're to die before we're allowed to live." His breath came as a soft scoff. "It was already waiting for her… she just… occupied it much earlier than I- than we expected."

His stammer did not go unnoticed. Elsa's heart grew heavier by the minute, and she summoned up her courage to stand by Harald and look at the memorial herself, silent until he continued. "She loved this view… you can see the entire Isles from here… all my father owns." He made a sweep of his hand, and Elsa followed its movement herself. The landscape before her eyes was a magnificent view of the wide sea, but it was dull without the sunlight, a mass of grey blue water rising and falling in rows. To her left and behind her was the expanse of the kingdom, wooded areas and hills still speckled in life, a white wonderland of beauty.

She bent before the memorial marker, tracing the remains of the words once carved so clearly on it. I only wish there were something I could do for you. From the corner of her eye, a flash of purple, so different from the rest of the monotone world, caught her attention. A single lilac shrub sprouted from the furthest bush on the clifftop, lazily blowing in the chill of the wind. Elsa glanced back briefly at Harald, who was staring with an empty gaze at the stone slab, and in that moment, she determined to pick the sprig of lilac for the grave. She avoided looking at how far the cliffside dropped, the sheer height surely enough to make her dizzy, instead focusing on the flower itself.

It was then, with a billow of her winter cloak, that Harald noticed her. "What are you doing?" he asked, stepping around the marker behind her.

"Getting that flower for the memorial," Elsa replied, pointing in the general direction of the purple.

Had he not been able to see the white of her hair, he might have thought her a specter coming to haunt him. Shifting his eyes to look down, Harald studied the ground around Elsa, thinking on it. He'd been visiting this site for years in all seasons, and many times had sat alone on the edge of the cliff, staring aimlessly at the ground so far below him. He had never fallen, though there were times he wished he had. Still… "Your majesty, I don't-"

CRA CK!

Suddenly, there was a scream from Elsa, and the ground beneath her gave way, causing her to vanish before Harald's eyes along with a good chunk of earth and rock. The ground may have been sturdy before, but with the sudden onset of snow, the old, fragile dirt and rock had eroded and finally broken away.

"Elsa!" he shouted, edging his body over the crag in the cliff, panic splitting his voice. "Elsa! Are you alright? Elsa!"

"I'm here!" Elsa shouted, her fingers squeezing the stone in a firm grip, splaying herself against a crag in the mountain, her fingers edged in any cracks she could find. She balanced on the tip of the balls of her feet, pebbles breaking off and clattering into silence far below her. "I'm here, I'm here!"

"I see you!" Harald exclaimed, already dashing away from the cliff, adrenalin pumping through his veins. "I'm coming, just hold on!" He raced back to his horse, fumbling at its side for his sword. Undoing the strapping holding the scabbard in place, he removed it, tucked it under one arm, and slapped his steed on the flank, hard. "Get!" As he sprinted back towards Elsa, he could only pray his horse would return home quickly and bring help back with it. Holding his sheath by the tip, he lowered it towards Elsa. "I'm here! I'm lowering my sheath to you! Grab it and I'll pull you up!"

Elsa tensed her body, carefully reaching one hand towards the sheath. Make a shelf of ice… a shelf of ice below me… She gasped, her mind raced, and her focus shattered. If I could only think, I could use my powers, but… I'm slipping! She uttered a little shriek, tightening her grip again, shaking her head wildly. "I can't! I can't reach it without falling!"

Harald threw the sheath aside, lowering himself on his belly and crawling towards the edge, peeking over it. He could make out her figure, but it was too far for him to hope to reach in his current position. He wriggled, dirt and pebbles scratching at his arms, pulling himself over the edge up to his abs and reaching out a hand. "Reach for me! You won't fall! I won't let you fall! Reach!"

Elsa stretched out an arm, ice forming around her hand holding the rocks, making them slick. "I can't!" she choked, her voice echoing, stretching her body until she felt her muscles cramp in effort. His fingers looked so close now, only two, maybe three feet away, but she couldn't stretch any further.

"I'm coming!" Harald inched closer, his pelvis grinding against the sharp edges of rock, feeling his arm gain distance with each inch he sacrificed, his fingers craning for hers. "Grab my hand! Grab it!"

Elsa's feet scrabbled, the ground beneath them wearing thinner by the second with her mounting weight. "No…" she whispered, "No, please…" Reacting to her fear, the environment around them began to darken, the skies clouding over in gray, snow beginning to fall, the wind channels swirling into an angry churning motion. "I'm slipping!"

"I will not see you die!" Harald cried, his voice echoing like a bolt of thunder, thrusting out his hand with all the force he could muster. He stretched, his fingers coming together with Elsa's and intertwining… and suddenly he was falling forward. He pitched and shouted in panic as he lost his grip with the earth, his body ripping across the ground as he tumbled over the cliff top. He fell like a rock, but he was born with a swift enough instinct to react, snagging a piece of Elsa's hold only a foot or so away from her. He smacked against the face of the mountain hard, blood streaming from a cut in his lip and trickling down the side of his face from a larger gash in his forehead."Augh!" he grunted in pain, craning his neck back to look above them. His feet scrabbled against the mountain, but their size left no room for rest as Elsa's did. He pried his hand over a piece of rock outcropping above him, his two arms stretched far beyond a normal man's comfort level.

Regaining his breath, he shouted overhead. "Hello? Is anyone up there? Can anyone hear me?" The only reply was his own ragged breathing. "Hello?" he cried again, blinking away blood above his eye. His muscles were taut, straining and visibly quivering from the effort of holding him there. As he turned to face Elsa, she could see a horrifying look of resignation on his face. He wasn't going to make it. "I… I have to tell you something, Elsa…" he gasped, his forehead lines creased in blood. "I have to tell someone…I…"

"Elsa! Harald!"

Elsa snapped her head up towards the voice to see a face that in that moment was better than heaven itself: Hans. "Hans!" she yelled. "Help us! We can't hold on much longer!"

Hans wasted no time. He surveyed his surroundings and spotted a root from a tree nearby, only inches from the cliff edge. It was half exposed out of the ground, but tree roots were strong. He focused on making a good hold, wrapping his foot through it. Then, secure in his spot, he let himself fall forward, stretching one hand out to each person. "Take my hand!"

Elsa reached, slipping her wrist into Hans' grip, and when it tightened, she was suddenly certain no force on earth would make him let go. "Got it!" she called.

"Harald!" Hans shouted. "Grab my other hand! You can make it!"

But Harald, who had been trained to have an exceedingly observant eye characteristic of a soldier, had noticed how far Hans sagged taking Elsa in hand. "No!" he shouted back, causing Hans to gape at him.

"What do you mean, no?" Hans grunted, stretching out further. "Take my hand! Take it!"

"You can't support both of our weights!" Harald shouted back, gritting his teeth. "You can't even pull Elsa up on your own, much less both of us!"

"I won't let you go!" Hans stretched harder and swiped with his free arm towards his brother, brushing his wrist. It so happened at that very moment Harald's strength gave out and his fingers slipped, but Hans was there for his brother. He cried out loud at the strain of supporting both people, one in each hand, and his arms felt as if they were slowly being ripped out of their sockets muscle by muscle. Then came a sound like a choir of angels: voices in the distance, accompanied by a chorus of hoofbeats. They were getting closer, but still a ways off. Regardless, Hans screamed. "Here! We're here! Here! Hold on, everyone! I can hear people coming! Help is coming!"

Tears began to well up in his eyes from the effort of holding them, his jaw clenched so hard he could hear his teeth chattering. He heard a telltale groan and a small snap, looking back only to realize the roots he held onto were straining, and his hands were growing slick with a coating of sweat. "Elsa!" he choked out. "You have to freeze my hands!"

"What?" Elsa gasped out, her wide blue eyes sheer in panic. She paid no notice to the fact that Hans had just revealed how intimately she understood ice, because the possibility of death far overshadowed those thoughts.

"Freeze my hands! If my hands are frozen to yours, I can't let them go, even if I tried! Channel your magic from our hands to my brother's! It's the only way I can hold on!" Hans' gaze darted from his brother's look of bewildered panic to Elsa's shaking head.

"I can't do that, Hans! My… my magic would have to travel through you, through your heart! You know what happened the last time my powers struck the heart! You know what happened to Anna!" she gasped. "It's too dangerous!"

"Elsa, it's the only-" he broke off with a strangled cry of effort, his body sliding forward a foot. "It's the only way! My heart has been frozen for years!" He heaved, a vein in his temple throbbing. "Listen, Elsa! I'm not afraid! You said I had so much to give, if I was only willing to open myself up! I'm willing! Do it! Do it now!"

Elsa sucked in a breath too deep to hold, and cried in anguish as she released it, letting her pent-up magic go in a sudden rush of chaotic streaking. Before Hans' eyes a block of ice clawed around his hand as he gripped Elsa's wrist, locking him in an immovable block. The streak of magic disappeared then, but Hans felt it slice through his body with a pain he'd never experienced in his life. Falling through the ice as a child now seemed a distant dream in comparison. The magic shot through his torso and stole his life for a brief moment, stopping his heart and sucking away his breath in the span of five unending seconds before it moved into his opposite side. His body, clamoring for breath, took it in a gasp of agony, and the aftershock of the pain was so severe he hardly noticed his opposite hand freezing like the first.

The cry of pain from his brother swayed Hans back towards reality. He had never heard Harald scream before, but the man did now, stifling it by biting down on his lip. His brother's scream fading from his earshot, Hans' vision wavered, his breath leaving him in a puff of white.

"He's going into shock!" Elsa cried, using her other hand to smack Hans' arm. "Hans! Stay with me! Stay with me!"

Hans' vision began to ebb further, blurred images swallowed by black at the edges of his eyesight. He began to pitch forward, memories from the past, both long ago and recent, swirling together in a haze. Suddenly, something held him back, and he felt a motion of pulling, along with an odd pressure at his hands. A chorus of voices blended together as the sun disappeared behind clouds, and someone's face bent over him.

"Hans! Hans!" His name was being repeated by all manner of voices, and the vague image of someone female bent over him. At first, she looked just like his sister, her eyes tearful, her cheeks wet. He tried to speak her name, but all he could do was moan. Then, his own cheek felt wet, and the tearful face clarified into that of Elsa's. Too exhausted to remain awake, Hans closed his eyes and fell into a cold, dark place, his mind wracked in fear with the realization he could barely hear the beat of his heart.

A/N: That chapter ending tho.

P.S. For those of you wondering why Anna never experienced this much pain, it's because she only got a sliver of Elsa's magic burst. Hans received it all at once.