A Particular Understanding

by najadi

Queen Elsa of Arendelle has regained her throne, but ruling a nation recovering from a crisis while coping with her own demons proves to be far more challenging than expected. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and Her Majesty forges a peculiar agreement with the very man accused of conspiracy and attempted treason. Non AU post-canon Helsa (elsa x hans), slow burn.

2. where a queen makes three offers

Oh jaysus, finally!
I apologize it took so incredibly long, but there were some broken bones and a trip abroad and work and all that. It was also a surprisingly hard to get Elsa right - she was a bit too feisty in the first attempt, and it didn't feel right.
But really, I need to learn to write shorter chapters and post them faster. Thank you for your patience! The full chapter and the third offer finally posted, 16 000+ words, yikes! I've also changed "France" to Galterre (and "Italy" to Umbiria, though it's not mentioned in this chapter). First chapter has been edited to reflect this.

II

where a queen makes three offers

The stitches kept getting uneven. Elsa sat in a comfortable nook by the window in her chambers, trying to focus on the elaborate embroidery work in her hands in order to calm down, but her mind kept wandering off and twisting into nervous knots, and she kept botching it up. She sighed deeply while she pulled on the thread, undoing yet another mistake. She wished she could untangle her thoughts the same way. Usually, focusing on the meticulous needlework calmed her more effectively than anything else. It transported her mind away from the painful and frightening thoughts swirling in her head and offered a welcome respite from all the dangerous feelings she tried to control and extinguish. She could lose herself in the pleasantly meditative repetitiveness for hours on end, and got a deep sense of satisfaction from seeing the complex patterns slowly take shape through her efforts, stitch by stitch.

During her years of solitude, she'd come to love embroidery like a trustful friend she could rely on. This time, however, the current situation was simply too much, and not even needlework could offer her relief. The dread was festering inside her, the nauseating mix of fear, failure and inadequacy throbbing in her belly and whispering in her ear. I should be focusing on the realm. I should be setting things right and ruling my country like a true queen. But she just didn't know what to do, didn't know where to start. It was a horrible mess.

At least her secret was out. She didn't need to worry about that any more.

It was difficult to comprehend. She had spent most of her life consumed with shame, desperation and fear, certain that should anyone find out about her, she would become a hated outcast, hunted and feared. Her fears had almost come true, too. At her coronation, when she'd finally had to emerge out of her protective solitude and take the throne, the nightmares she'd had for weeks leading up to the event had horrifyingly become reality. She'd argued with Anna, and the public shame had been too much. Her power had broken out in the middle of the coronation ball with such force that there was no hope of concealment. She'd thought she would die on the spot with the sheer horror of it all. Elsa shivered at the memory. She could still feel the paralyzing terror, the unreal, desperately choking feeling when her mind had reluctantly accepted that it wasn't a nightmare, that it was actually happening. She opened her eyes to look at the fjord, trying to calm herself. The window was covered in thick frost and sharp, angrily jagged crystals of ice had formed where she'd gripped the windowsill. I still can't control it. The intensity of the memory still triggered her fear, still made her emotions manifest through her power.

She'd ran away in a blind panic like a frightened hare. She'd thought she could live in isolation at the mountains, naively hoping that maybe they'd leave her alone, but her overwhelming fear had been so strong it had completely frozen the land. Her distress had been too deep, and the snowbanks hadn't melted even during her absence. They'd come after her, first Anna, then Prince Hans and his men, trying to persuade her to reverse everything, to stop the winter for the sake of the realm. She couldn't do what they asked. She couldn't control her powers and had been unable to come up with any solution to the disaster ravaging her country. My disaster. Me. I was the disaster.
She had utterly failed everyone. Her people, her father, her sister, herself. Hearing about the true extent of the catastrophe had plunged her deeper into the dark depths of paralyzing terror, making everything worse. She sighed again. She had been completely helpless and useless. All those years of practicing, all in vain. Everything had spiraled out of hand and things had kept getting worse than she'd ever thought possible, and then even worse still. She'd almost killed Anna, the person she held dearest in the world, after accidentally striking her in the heart with her powers. Accidentally! The thought was still almost too painful to bear. Elsa had been like a living, walking curse, destroying everything in her vicinity. Isn't that what I still am? Has anything changed?

However, a miracle had happened. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles, Anna's charming fiancé who'd turned out to be a blackguard and a traitor, had tried to kill her in order to claim the throne for himself. And maybe to destroy my curse by destroying me, a faint thought whispered in her head, but she angrily pushed it away. When Anna had gone to her groom for an act of true love to save her life, he'd cruelly left her to die alone and had exploited the crisis for his own benefit instead. He had convinced the other dignitaries that Anna was dead, that they'd married before her death thus giving him a claim to the throne, assumed power and sentenced Elsa herself to death for treason and cursing the land. It was incredibly wicked. Elsa ground her teeth together, black bitterness hissing somewhere within her. To be honest, the attempted coup infuriated her far less than the emotional torment that vile crook had put them both through. She remembered the incredible anguish she'd felt when he'd lied to her that Anna was dead, that it was all her fault. The despair had crashed upon her like a black wave, never before in her life had she felt such all-drowning pain. She'd wanted to die, wanted to never have been born. She almost had died at that moment, when Prince Hans had taken advantage of her paralyzing grief and had tried to strike her dead.

With incredible coincidence, Anna had been close by, at deaths door but still alive, and had thrown herself in front of his sword in order to save Elsa as her last deed. The curse had claimed her at the same moment, turning her into ice, and Hans' sword had collided with a blast of magic instead of flesh, the impact knocking him unconscious. It was an absolutely unreal stroke of blind luck that Anna's selfless sacrifice had been the act of love required to thaw her heart, so powerful that it even brought her back to life. The memory of seeing Anna as a statue of ice, clear as crystal and dead, was harrowing. The crushing guilt was whispering in her ear again, and Elsa hugged herself. It had been a close call, too close, and entirely up to chance. She thought bemusedly she would probably have terrible luck with smaller things, like finding socks, for the rest of her life, having used all of her good fortune up in this one moment. The intensity of the emotion made the air around her colder. She suddenly realised that she could see her breath and that frost was creeping up the wall from where her back touched it in sharp, painful formations. She felt frustrated and nervous.

They'd been able to reverse the disaster, but the root of the problem - herself - hadn't gone anywhere. Her power was still there, still not entirely under her control. She'd finally learned to thaw what she froze, and that was a great gift in itself - but she was still at the mercy of her own erratic emotions. When she was calm and in control of herself, she could control the frost, too, but she dreaded what might happen should she plunge into the depth of despair again. Elsa buried her face in her hands and groaned. The problem with fear, she thought desperately, was that it had a nasty habit of strengthening itself. When she would realise that she was afraid, she started to fear the fear itself. That led to more fear, and thus more fear of fear, and so on. The faint, ominous sense of threat and disaster kept following her around, creeping around her like a shadow. All that was needed to set the whole triple-cursed vicious circle off was a hefty stroke of bad luck, something to unsettle her, to make her nervous and afraid. And she had plenty of reasons for nervousness and fear.

The Queen glanced longingly at her bed. She felt like crawling in under the covers, hiding from the world in a tight ball of blankets, closing her mind and refusing to deal with anything, like a petulant child. It was impossible, of course, but the idea had a certain appeal. She sighed. She was a queen now, and queens did not hide from unpleasant and miserable things. Be the good girl, Elsa, she thought. Be a good queen. Be strong. There's no choice. She got up and went to put the embroidery away.

She really wished Anna was there with her. It was truly wonderful to know her again, to be able to feel like she had a family, like she was accepted and loved, like there was someone she could bond with and confide in. She felt like she was emerging from the darkness, from the long winter of loneliness and fear into the first hopeful rays of honesty and acceptance. Love and happiness, too, maybe, eventually?
However, after over a decade of distance, the newly formed connection was still fresh and tender, delicate like new leaves in springtime. It needed to be nurtured further in order to become a truly strong sisterly relationship, but as it was now, she was afraid to test its strength. Elsa sighed as she sorted the embroidery threads in her craft chest. She was yet hesitant to truly be honest with Anna, afraid to reveal all her misgivings, fears and grievances. When Anna had told her she was planning to go tour the north with her newly found suitor, Kristoff, Elsa had just smiled and wished her a happy journey. Don't go, she'd wanted to say, I need you here by my side. I'm afraid, Anna, afraid to rule alone, afraid of the people, afraid of the newness of it all. I can't face it alone. But she'd stayed silent. She closed the chest and stared at the Arendelle emblem elaborately painted on the lid, deep in thought.

What's more, Anna had only known this Kristoff for a few days at best. Her last whirlwind romance with the dashing Prince of the Southern Isles had ended in complete disaster, but she seemingly hadn't learnt much from it. It was true that the ice harvester seemed to be a good man of solid character, very pleasant though a little gruff, very handsome, and very enamored of Anna. But Prince Hans had also seemed to be an exceptionally strapping and capable man madly in love with her, and look at how that turned out. Elsa was also slightly apprehensive of how it all looked to the outside world. Anna had formed a public engagement with a man she'd just met the same day, left said man in charge of Arendelle as her fiancé, returned a couple of days later with a completely new paramour - a common worker, too - who she had been kissing in the middle of the town square while the first fiancé was locked in a cell, and who she had now gone off with for weeks. Alone and completely unchaperoned. It was effectively an engagement. An engagement or a scandal. Or maybe both. She wandered to the front room, viewing her kingdom through the balcony doors.

Anna was a princess of Arendelle, and royal marriages were more than just unions of people, they were alliances of influential families, nations even. Usually they were arranged very carefully, taking into consideration both the interests of the realms as well as the personal feelings of the people in question. Elsa would have liked to have more time to plan Anna's marriage with her, more time to find a suitable match, more time to deliberate over who to choose and what the implications of each choice were. But that had all gone out of the window. The two split-second engagements within such a short time, one to a traitor, the other to a labourer, had undoubtedly greatly damaged Anna's marriageability.
In the eyes of society, being engaged was practically the same as being already married, Elsa understood. She was worried about the gossip and Anna's reputation. She suspected that they would have significant trouble finding another noble-born suitor for Anna, should she end up with a past of two failed hasty engagements. And if the gossip would get out of hand, it might tarnish the reputation of the entire royal family of Arendelle. Elsa sighed again. She had no choice but to hope with all her heart that it was really true love this time, that this Kristoff was genuinely a good man and that Anna would marry him. And be truly happy with him, heaven willing. Please, please, let her find happiness with him. Elsa gazed out through the window, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the high peaks. They were in there, somewhere, on their own private adventure.

If their relationship had been stronger, Elsa might have tried to reason with Anna or even forbidden her from attaching herself so publicly to yet another man she had just met, but the last time she had tried to protect Anna and her reputation had ended in a horrible disaster, and she did not dare to rock the boat again. She was hesitant to upset Anna and question her judgement so soon after everything had been finally sorted out between them. She desperately needed Anna's support and friendship, she could not bear another argument. And besides, Kristoff had played a big part in solving the crisis, it was really quite heroic. Without him, Anna might very well have died on the mountain. So Elsa had kept her mouth shut and simply granted him a position as the royal Arendelle Ice Master and Deliverer, both to thank him for his help and to make him slightly more suitable for a royal match. She had tried her best to conceal her unease and had smiled and told them that she was incredibly happy for them and kissed them goodbye and waved after them. Her heart had ached when she'd watched them disappear over the hill. The princess was gone, and the queen was left to rule alone. It was daunting.

Together with Anna, they'd been able to thaw the ice and calm the population. Anna was so incredibly energetic and optimistic it was enviable. Her excitement and bullheadedly determined cheer had won everyone over, and she'd convinced the people that their queen was not an evil sorceress hell-bent on causing ruin and destruction after all, but that the whole thing had been a dreadful, unfortunate mistake. Elsa had expressed her most sincere regrets, and they'd forgiven her, incredibly enough. Anna had suggested Elsa show the people what she herself had seen, that her power could be the source of fun and beauty as well as destruction, to give them some positive experiences with their new monarch. To replace the fear with happiness. She'd obliged, and that seemed to have gone over well, although she had been very nervous about using her powers in public. But as amazing as it was, everyone now knew about her affliction, and no-one was coming after her with torches and pitchforks. No, they had accepted her as their queen.

Accepted, but how willingly and for how long? She knew that the people harboured some sort of suspicion or unease about her, at least some of them. Most of them, more like. She was something that should be impossible. Magic wasn't supposed to exist, not so tangibly, even though everybody knew of the folk tales and some people still left food out for the tomtes and the gnomes. But a monarch with undeniable magical powers was different, something completely unheard of, and new things tended to make people nervous and afraid. Especially when they'd had such extremely negative first-hand experiences of her. And when the people started to fear their ruler, the threat of a revolution became a distinct possibility.

It was a problem, she felt, made all the worse due to her newness, her unfamiliarity with the people. They had dearly loved her father, the late king Agdar IV, and were ready to love her, too - or had been, before the false winter, when she'd been assumed normal. And they would have loved her even more readily had they been more accustomed to her, had her person been more solidly associated with a prosperous and just rule in their minds. That thought carried a load of guilt with it.

Unfortunately, she had spent most of her life isolated inside her rooms, desperately trying to learn to control the frost, and the people were not at all familiar with her. After the death of her parents, she really should have started to show herself in official capacity, taking on more responsibility and performing some royal duties, in order to give the people a sense of continuation of the rule, to show that the family remained in power. The King is dead, long live the Queen, and all that. But she had been too weak, too afraid, too desolate after her dear parents had both been taken from her in one blow. She'd been left utterly on her own with her horrible secret, and she'd failed under the weight of the responsibility. The throne had sat empty for nearly three years, leaving a vacuum of power. Without clear direction and authority, the realm had entered a period of hibernation of sorts, turning inwards and limiting it's contact with the outside world, waiting for the new ruler to emerge and take the reins. I should have done my duty then, but I hid like a pathetic weakling.

Elsa had felt so sickeningly alone. It had taken months for the icy traces of her grief on the walls to disappear even momentarily, and all notions of leaving her room had been dismissed. She hadn't even been able to attend her own parents' funeral. Even the small comfort of paying her last respects was denied her. It still hurt. It had also been extremely alarming to see just how strong her power had got and how little she was able to control it, and that had made her even more reluctant to risk venturing out. When she'd finally gotten herself under some semblance of control, she'd already grown accustomed to the solitude, the comforting bubble of isolation, and the thought of leaving her room and exposing herself to the world had been too frightening. She'd kept postponing it, making flimsy excuses she knew to be false and loathing herself for her weakness. Not today, I feel nervous, I might accidentally lose control. Not today, I don't feel confident enough, better not to risk it. Of course, Elsa had practiced by sneaking around the castle at night, just to be outside of her rooms and to remain familiar with the castle, her castle. She'd read endless heaps of books. In a desperate attempt to prepare herself for her inevitably approaching reign, she had polished her manners and knowledge of etiquette to perfection. Perhaps, if she learned all of the mundane minutiae of decorum, she could distract herself with the details of protocol and build up a front of formality. Perhaps she could survive through the unavoidable public appearances hiding behind an armour of etiquette. It was a slim chance, but it was all she'd had.

She had viewed her reign with trepidation and almost superstitious aversion, like an impenetrable cloud of doom and darkness in the horizon, advancing on her with the all the weight and inevitability of death. Occasionally, she'd tried to think about what her life would be like after she came of age, but had seen mainly shadows. Everything had kept freezing at her touch, the frost had just kept getting worse and worse no matter what she tried. A nauseating hunch of inevitable failure had kept pestering her, whispering in her ear that there was no point, that she could only hope to keep up the pretense for a few months at most and then all would be lost, but she had tried to shut it out. She'd had to try. There was no alternative.

Sometimes, at night, she heard the distant, inviting whisper of death, enticing her with another way out, but she firmly refused to listen to the call. She was the crown princess, and she would not run from her duty. She was her father's daughter, the blood of kings, the successor of Arendelle's long royal line, and she would rule or perish in the attempt. It was her part in life and that was that.

Even more intimidating, however, was the obligatory continuation of the royal line. As queen and a woman of age, she would certainly be expected to marry and produce a heir to the throne relatively soon. A monarch without an heir - let alone without even a spouse to try to produce an heir with - was generally considered unsteady and vaguely inappropriate. Doubly so, when the monarch was a solitary woman. No, Elsa would be expected to marry, and sooner better than later. But how could she, when her very touch might prove fatal for her future husband?
She knew that historically, some queens had reigned in their own right, alone, but they had all faced formidable opposition and prejudice and had had to overpower attempts to displace them with great cunning and displays of brute political force. She very much doubted she had that sort of capability, though leaving the duty of producing the royal progeny to Anna seemed like the best option.

The whole mess petrified her with fear, and she had avoided thinking about it as much as possible. That was weak of me, too, she chastised herself. Unpleasant things don't disappear if you refuse to look at them because you're afraid, they just gain more power over you. But she hadn't had the courage to properly face her reign and think it through, and time had continued its merciless passage no matter how hard she'd wished the day would never come.

On her first day of public life, when she should have finally begun acquainting herself with her subjects, she'd ruined everything. Her subjects' first impression of her had been one of terror, destruction and supernatural wickedness. Her reign, so far, had been a plight to the realm. I am such a failure. Elsa faintly felt like crying. Queens don't cry. Don't feel it. Face what you've done. She looked at Arendelle, let her gaze sweep across the buildings and the bustle of people in the square.

The false winter had done considerable damage. A significant part of the crops had died under the snow and some buildings had been damaged, too. The deep freeze had unsettled the ground and several houses near the royal castle had to be repaired. Thank God, no lives had been lost. The houses had been prepared for summer and hadn't offered the same protection against the cold they normally would, but thanks to the efficient arrangements for evacuation and temporary insulation, no-one had succumbed to the cold and fallen into eternal sleep. Everyone had woken up into the new dawn.
She frowned slightly. That was part of the problem. The efficient emergency measures had been absolutely vital to Arendelle, keeping the disaster on the right side of the thin but crucial line between deeply uncomfortable and devastatingly fatal. But the man she had to thank for guarding the welfare and life of her subjects through the crisis was also the man accused of treason, the same man who had horribly mistreated her dear sister and even tried to kill herself in order to usurp the throne. Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.

Elsa groaned and closed her eyes. After the thaw, when things had calmed down a little, Anna had been nearly beside herself with anger, deeply humiliated and hurt. She'd believed she'd found true love with the Prince and had opened her heart to him, and his treacherous deception had cut her deep. According to Anna, her former fiancé had cruelly refused to help her when she'd begged him to save her life. Instead, he had apparently mocked her and delighted in her doom, declared he'd only pursued her for the throne and did not personally care a fig for her, luxuriated in his plans to murder the queen and seize the throne for himself, cackled evilly and locked Anna in to die alone. She'd vehemently insisted that he was the wickedest, most heinous creature on earth and that there should be some kind of very harsh punishment. Elsa had gently reminded her that Prince Hans, despite his dastardly actions, was still a member of the prestigious royal family of the Kingdom of the Southern Isles. Hasty actions regarding him might result with severe diplomatic repercussions, even war.

The Southern Isles were a significant power, exerting great influence over trade and politics in the surrounding areas. Despite their relatively modest land mass consisting of islands of various sizes, their navy was renowned and notoriously efficient in battle. They controlled and taxed nearly all trade passing between their islands, which was almost all of the trade in the Grey Sea - and that was a lot. As a result, the country as well as their royal family were very wealthy, powerful, old and proud, very aware of their influence and prestige, and very, very sensitive to slights. Sentencing one of their royal princes to prison or death would be a severe breach of diplomatic immunity and a direct offense to them and their status, and they would be sure to retaliate, quite possibly with military force. Arendelle was a small kingdom, much poorer, and Elsa dared not risk any enmity with one of their most powerful neighbours. It frustrated Anna, but it couldn't be helped.

Arendelle's diplomatic affairs were in poor shape as a result of the secluded three years they'd spent without an official monarch. The coronation had been an attempt to re-establish their standing and presence in the diplomatic stage, to strengthen the remaining ties they had with their allies and to possibly form new alliances. Of course, the whole frozen disaster had very nearly done the complete opposite. Her powers had broken out in front of all the diplomatic envoys of every ally they could hope to have. So much for a positive first impression and cordial relations! She'd almost frozen the ambassadors to death, for goodness' sake. Thankfully, all - well, almost all - of the emissaries had been understanding of the situation and had accepted her most profound apologies with smooth assurances of good will. Or at least they pretended to do so to my face. Who knows what they really think of the sorceress queen of Arendelle. She felt unease coiling inside her. They desperately needed good relations with their neighbours, especially now when it looked like they would need assistance from them in order to make it through the coming natural winter.

I've truly caused a horrible mess, she thought. The simplest and easiest way to deal with the troublesome Prince Hans, then, would be to let his own family deal with him. Banish him back to his country with a report of what had happened and an official demand for just punishment as the royal family of the Southern Isles themselves saw fit. Anna agreed with the notion quite easily, she seemed to want Prince Hans out of Arendelle as soon as was possible. The ambassador of Galterre, the Duc du Fourberenard, had very gallantly offered to take him to the Southern Isles on his way back to his own country. It was a very easy and appealing option, and she'd almost taken it. Almost, she thought, her eyes flicking to a note lying on the side table in front of her father's portrait. Almost, but not yet.

The thing was that the kingdom of Arendelle seemed to be indebted to the Prince.
At first, Elsa had naturally assumed that the life-saving emergency measures were the handiwork of Anna, who had been the remaining member of the royal family after she'd fled into the night. She had meant to express her appreciation of Anna's surprisingly great presence of mind under fire, but Anna had sheepishly admitted that she had ridden after her almost immediately and had not had the time to really think of the realm. With a darkening look, she'd told her that she had left Prince Hans officially in charge, not yet understanding his true nature. Anna seemed to think it had been a terrible mistake, giving the scoundrel more influence and easing his plan to overthrow them, but for some reason, Elsa wasn't so sure. The doubt had nagged at her, and she'd seeked out Gerda, their long-serving head housekeeper, to find out how everything had actually happened. Perhaps the ideas had actually come from their trusted servants, and Prince Hans had simply taken the credit? After all, it was Kai, the royal butler, who had temporarily assumed the duties of a royal steward during the absence of a proper monarch.

At first, Gerda had indeed not given the prince any credit, humming and hawing and prattling about how he'd fooled them all with his smooth manners and friendly air and who'd have guessed that he was such a villainous traitor, trying to murder Her Majesty, oh my, so very shocking, thank goodness he hadn't succeeded. But when Elsa had pressed for a clear answer, she had caught a brief flicker of fear in Gerda's eyes. Gerda, her faithful, gentle Gerda, who had been with the family longer than she herself had lived, was afraid of her.
She fears that if her answer displeases me, I'll get upset and hurt her. The realisation had filled her heart with a deep, heavy sadness. Gathering herself, she had flashed the gentlest smile she could, and assured her that she would not be angry, she was not going to blame anyone, she merely wanted to know exactly what had happened in her absence. After all, she'd beamed, she meant to truly reign now, and good queens ought to know what happened to their people, no? Relaxing a little, Gerda had finally admitted that the smallness of the damages was entirely thanks to Prince Hans, and him alone. Without his efficient, organised and thoughtful leadership they would have been in much worse shape, and she did not doubt that lives would have been lost.
Elsa had felt oddly uncomfortable at the disclosure. It complicated matters. It would be simpler if he was just a cold-hearted villain. And it had gotten worse. Kai had informed her that the prince had spent some time at the state library, going through some documents before deciding what was to be done. Curious, Elsa had gone to see what the traitor had been up to, and what she'd seen had filled her with guilt and discomfort.

Prince Hans had apparently skimmed through the state bookkeeping of the last couple of years, trying to figure out the condition of Arendelle's affairs. On the library desk, among the books, Elsa had found a note the Prince had made for himself, detailing the measures he thought necessary and the current state of each of the factors he'd checked. It had been a chilling list for Elsa to read, full of important, crucial points marked down in a neat hand, half of which had not even occurred to her. Very evidently, Prince Hans had found Arendelle's affairs to be in poorer shape than expected, and Elsa had found herself agreeing with him. He's a vile traitor, but he would be better at running my country than me, she had thought miserably.

She had kept the note and returned the books to their places. She'd even carried out some of his plans. She had instructed Kai to organise a carpenter team, funded with money from the crown, to efficiently carry out the repairs in a descending order of importance. She had also opened a trade deal proposal, offering exclusive trading rights for a year on one of their more desirable goods, fine frostfir timber, to whoever met the offer with a binding contract of delivering the required amount of foodstuffs, wool and fabrics (details to be agreed upon later depending on Arendelle's needs). Both endeavours had been successes, the carpenters evoking gratitude and appreciation among her people, the various ambassadors falling over each other in their rush to try to get her to accept their word as bind on behalf of their respective sovereigns. She'd been able to pick who she liked. It made her look good as a queen, judicious, clever and resolute. The envoys had praised her sound judgement, but the compliments had left a bitter taste in her mouth, only adding to her unease. It's not my work at all, really. I wouldn't have thought of it on my own.

Sighing deep, she turned from the window and went to the table, studying the now-familiar note once more. It is really a very nice note, she thought absentmindedly. Prince Hans had a good and elegantly flowing hand, if a little impersonal. Clear, precise, well-rehearsed, everything that should be expected from a royal person. He really appears to be he perfect prince in every aspect. Expect honour, goodness and honesty, she thought bitterly. She looked at the picture of her father, so determined and just in his portrait. Oh, Pappa. What do I do with him? Her father would have known, she was sure. Her father had always seemed to know the answers, had always seen with clarity exactly what needed to be done. Elsa missed him so much it hurt, missed being able to rely on someone, missed having someone guide her on her way. The edges of the note started to stiffen with frost. She sighed again and set it back down.

The worst thing was that she was personally indebted to Prince Hans, too.

When Anna had been speaking to the people, persuading them into believing that Elsa was really good at heart, she had declared that the Queen had never intentionally harmed anyone. Elsa hadn't been able to tell her that that was a lie. She recalled the incident at her ice palace, when the Weselton men had tried to murder her and she'd been forced to defend her life with force. But it had gone beyond pure self-defence. The adrenaline, the rush of the battle had consumed her, and she had been a hairbreadth away from intentionally killing a man. The only reason she wasn't a murderer, she reluctantly admitted to herself, was again the involvement of Prince Hans. He had called out to her, and his words had broken through the intense rush pounding in her veins and her ears. What did I almost become?

It was distressing. Elsa walked to a full-length mirror and looked hard at herself, at the woman behind the glass. Who are you? She pressed her forehead against her reflection, and the surface of the mirror clouded with frost, obscuring the woman on the other side. She had not found the courage to admit to Anna exactly how close she'd gotten to really being the monster the people had mistaken her for, and that weighed on her mind as well. She felt uncomfortable keeping things from Anna. She longed to be honest with someone, to be who she really was, horrifying weaknesses and all. Well, at least I don't have to pretend to be normal any more, she thought, looking at the flowers of frost that had bloomed in the mirror. That's already more than I ever dared hope.

In the crowd, her eyes had met the gaze of one of the militiamen. While Anna had been describing with vivid detail how loving and gentle the queen was, he had looked at her with a weirdly apprehensive look, and Elsa had realised with a shock he must have been one of the men who had accompanied Prince Hans up the mountain - and witnessed the battle. He knows what I'm really like, she'd thought. He's going to spread the word. Anxious, she'd had the man in question brought to her for a private word, fervently hoping that she could explain herself, express her deep shame about her unfortunate reaction and persuade him to keep quiet about it. But when he'd come in, the man had been trembling with fear, white as a sheet. Do they all fear me so much, she'd despaired, trying to launch into her apology, but the militiaman had beat her to it.

"Your Majesty, spare me, I beg of you! We were so afraid, all of us, horribly afraid and confused, we didn't mean it, we didn't know, I didn't know, Your Majesty, I swear, I swear," he'd howled, throwing himself at her feet. Elsa had been struck dumb. What is he talking about? She'd tried to ask for an explanation, but the man had been nearly sobbing with fear, and it had taken some effort to calm him. Finally, Elsa had managed to convince him that she didn't intend to turn him into an ice statue, and had been able to ask him what he had meant. When the militiaman - Arnesen, his name was, she reminded herself, he was the captain of the city guard, she ought to remember him - had realised Elsa wasn't aware of what had happened, he'd become very evasive. Despite her assurances that she wouldn't be angry and punish him no matter what he told her, he wouldn't explain himself. Elsa had nearly lost her patience and had almost ordered him to disclose everything at once, but had decided to try one last time with sweetness.

"At the mountain, we were all confused and afraid and did things we did not mean," she had cooed, the very picture of compassion and gentleness. "As I am grateful to my people for forgiving the mistakes I made, I also wish to exert the same forgiveness to those who have made mistakes against me." Blushing and muttering, Arnesen had finally told her that while she lay unconscious after the chandelier had fallen on her, the militiamen had nearly agreed to kill her, shaken by all that they had seen. When Elsa's face had gone blank at the realisation of just how afraid of her her own subjects were, he had burst into another stream of apologies. It had taken Elsa some more time to break through the flow.
"I understand, I understand, it's regrettable but we were all afraid, calm down, please. Calm yourself! " She'd hesitated, searching for the right words. "How, did - who all, precisely, wanted to, ah, kill me? The honest truth, now, please." Arnesen had looked at her desperately, his eyes filled with mute appeal. "I assure you I am not vengeful, I simply want to know," she'd coaxed in the gentlest voice she could manage, and he'd finally admitted with a small, trembling voice that they had all been unanimously of the same opinion. Only one man had been against killing her. The only man whose opinion really mattered, the man with the authority and the command. Prince Hans.

She'd managed to smile and thank Arnesen for his honesty and send him away through the haze of her reeling thoughts. So I owe my own life to him, too. Who is this man?

Anna had recounted to her with great detail the chilling plans Prince Hans had revealed to her whilst she lay dying. According to her, the scheming scoundrel had been positively glowing with evil mirth and had delighted in describing to her how he had planned to murder Elsa from the very start, plotting her death behind his smiles.
It bothered Elsa. It didn't make sense. If he had wanted her dead, he could have just kept his mouth shut. He wouldn't even have needed to dirty his own hands. He would have been completely blameless regarding her death, a helpless foreigner facing the united will of the local majority. Instead, he had brought her back to Arendelle. She had awoken imprisoned but unharmed. She remembered him in the cell, pleading with her with apparent sincerity to stop the winter. Why did he do that? If he wanted her out of the way, why not convince the people that the only way to end the winter was to kill her? They would have believed him, and with good reason, she realised, chills racing across her skin. It was pure coincidence that she'd finally found out the way to thaw the frost. At some point, killing her may very well have seemed to be the only way to stop the winter.

In the end, he had tried to kill her. Why not earlier, then? If he truly was so vicious as Anna claimed and had been actively scheming for her death, why was he so courteous with her in the dungeon? Certainly not to please his darling fiancée by being nice to her imprisoned sister, she thought dryly. She couldn't figure him out at all. She didn't know what to do about him. She called up his image, the pleasantly smiling, flawlessly polite, handsome young prince at the coronation at her sister's side. She remembered him out at the fjord, how sincerely heartbroken he had seemed when lying about Anna's death. It had not crossed her mind to doubt him, not even for a second. It was all a guise, apparently, and a good one. But who was the real man behind the perfect picture of a perfect prince? Who are you? What are you really after? She looked at the note at the table again.

On one hand, Prince Hans had conspired abominably against the crown, attempted to kill the queen and treated Princess Anna in an extraordinarily vile manner, and thus ought to be tried in court for deceiving the crown as well as attempted murder and high treason. On the other hand, he had been an indispensable help to the realm in a time of crisis and had saved the Queen's life (and the Queen's sense of self-worth, she thought, remembering the battle), and had there been no charges against him, would have been due her great gratitude and some considerable accolades. So did the deeds cancel each other out? No, the attempted treason was too grave a matter to simply let slide. But his crucial efforts had to be noted in some way, for the sake of justice. Elsa intended to be a just and righteous ruler, like her father, and this matter would not be an exception. So what should she do?

Maybe I should meet with him, she pondered, to officially thank him for his services to the realm. The notion was so absurd it was almost funny. The more she thought about it, however, the better it seemed. Elsa could grant him a request as a reward for the good things he'd done for Arendelle, while he'd still face his punishment for the bad. She would reserve the right to deny the request, of course, but if he came up with something reasonable, surely it was the decent thing to do to grant it? Anna would have passionately opposed, she was sure, but Anna wasn't there. Maybe Elsa could get Prince Hans off her mind for good when her conscience would truly be clear regarding him. She looked at the portait of her father. Kings and queens must be able to rise above their personal feelings and always think first of what's best for the realm, instead of what they'd personally like to do most, he had often told her. Personally, I may have every reason to despise him, she mused, but the kingdom of Arendelle is in his debt, and I represent the kingdom. She straightened her back. The ambassador of Galterre was planning to set sail the next day. Better get it over with. Let us settle the matter.

•••

On her way to the dungeons, Elsa tried to think of what she would say. She should appear firm, regal and distant, she decided, but not too haughty. Or should she show her indignation at him? No, I don't want him to think he's gotten under my skin and get cocky. She expected he would be scornful and angry, maybe even arrogant or insulting. She tried to steel herself. Getting upset would be childishly embarrassing and accomplish nothing, and she did not want to lose control of the frost in front of him. Calm, poised, graceful, in control, that was the way she wanted to be. That was the way queens were.

Her heart started beating faster when she descended to the cell level. The guard on duty bounced up to salute her, and Elsa caught the almost familiar flicker of fear in his eyes, too. What does he think, I wonder? Is he afraid the witch queen has come to kill the foreign prince? It made her nervous. When she glanced down to watch her step, she noticed the hem of her silk-cotton summer gown was slightly frosted with ice. Oh, what does it matter. He knows about me, anyway. As she waited outside the cell while the guard announced her, she felt the snakes of nervousness writhe in her belly. Why was she so jittery? He couldn't harm her. Don't feel, Elsa, not now. Don't let anything show. Calm. Poised. Be the queen, now. The guard got out of the way, bowing, and she stepped in.

Prince Hans was standing up, waiting for her in the shadows with a carefully neutral expression, but his eyes held a slightly surprised look. His wrists were chained to the wall, loosely enough to allow him enough room to move about the cell, but not long enough to reach the door. It's a bit disrespectful, he is a prince after all, she thought, but they had so few guards they couldn't risk him overpowering them and escaping. Besides, with the way he'd been behaving, some disrespect was definitely in order. He looked a little scruffier than she remembered, his hair was in need of a wash and he'd grown a very faint stubble, but even in the dim light of the cell, his general person still held a regal air as he stood with military posture, his head held high, calmly meeting her eyes. He looks exactly like an imprisoned prince, valiant and good. Shows how deceiving appearances can be. Elsa pulled herself up a little. Prince Hans bowed.

"Your Majesty."
"Prince Hans." She nodded back. Formal, then, are we? She drew breath to speak, but suddenly couldn't remember at all what she wanted to say. Her mouth felt dry. She looked at her prisoner, who was intently observing her, his eyes moving rapidly as he took her in. For a while, neither spoke. The air seemed to grow thick and somewhat colder, and she grew desperate to break the silence before the frost would break out and embarrass her. Say something, anything.
"I, I trust you've been treated well?" she blurted out. Stupid. Should I have used the royal plural? Ah, too late. "Considering," she added faintly, gesturing at the chains. His eyebrows crept up and he blinked at her.
"As well as can be expected, ma'am," he answered, slowly. He was wary now, she noticed, trying to figure out why she was here, suspecting a trap. She tried to gather her thoughts. Poised like a queen.
"Good." She cleared her throat. "I, ah, it has come to my attention that despite your grave and despicable offenses against the crown, you have also provided indispensable aid and direction to my people, as well as myself, in their, our, time of need," she managed, her voice trembling faintly. Get it together. She continued with a more determined air. "I have come to personally express my gratitude to you for these services, on behalf of the realm." He stared at her with wide eyes, incredulous. Elsa pulled her chin up and soldiered on. "It is my firm belief that for the sake of justice, bad deeds must be punished as appropriate, but also that good deeds ought to be rewarded. As recognition for your aid, I have decided to grant you a request of your choosing, naturally at my discretion." She countered his stare with her own, feeling refreshingly defiant and slightly smug. You thought I was here to mock you when you're down, like you so cruelly abused my sister at her moment of weakness, no doubt. You thought I would stoop to your level, you cad. Ha! What do you say to that? The Prince looked at her silently, opened his mouth to speak, closed it again, licked his lips. Elsa could almost hear him think. He hadn't been expecting this, that was certain.
"I, ah. Thank you, Your Majesty, for the distinction." He seemed to be slightly amused by the thought and gestured at the clinking chains on his wrists, smiling faintly. "I don't suppose a royal pardon could be considered?" His tone was dry but pleasant.
"No."
"Thought as much," he said, lightly. "May I have some time to deliberate on my request?" His eyes glinted with amusement. It was almost like he was jesting with her. Does he think it's a joke?
"You may. I remind you, however, that you will not stay with us for long, " she tried to reply in the same nonchalant tone. His expression shifted faintly.
"What do you plan to do with me? If I may inquire of Your Majesty." He wasn't laughing any more, though his voice was still soft.
"We, I have decided to leave your fate up to the judgement of your own family, and return you to them, banished and as prisoner, as soon as possible," she answered, expecting him to be relieved, maybe even pleased at the news. Surely he would be, his own family would undoubtedly go easy on him, after all.

His reaction surprised her. He worked his jaw and drew a deep breath. A swift flicker of apprehension - Fear? Couldn't be - passed across his face before he set his features back into a neutral expression. He looked away, swallowing.
"Ah." He drew another, deeper breath. "Naturally." I might be imagining it, but he looks almost miserable, she thought, suddenly curious. Why isn't he happy to return home?

"You do not seem pleased by the news," she ventured. "Are you not delighted to return to your family?" He turned his head around and shot her a contemplating look.
"Families are not always an endless fountain of delight, as I'm sure Your Majesty is well aware," he said quietly after a short while. What on earth does he mean by that? Is it an insult? Is he talking about Anna? He smiled at her, but it seemed forced and thin and did not reach his eyes. Elsa scrutinized him, trying to figure out the man in front of her.
"I do not understand your meaning, Prince Hans," she said. "Would you rather wither in a cell in a foreign land, far from your home and your loved ones?" His eyes flashed at that. "Surely not."
"My loved ones," he muttered, almost to himself. "My dear, dear loved ones." He sniffed. "Evidently, Your Majesty is not well acquainted with my caring family." His smile had a snarling quality to it, now.
"If the thought of their reaction is so unpleasant to you, why did you try to usurp my throne with such immoral treachery?" Her tone was so icy it cooled the air. "You must have realised that it was dishonourable and wrong, and that your attempt might fail. Didn't you think of that before you decided to abandon all honour?" He shot her another, much sharper look.

"I tried to do what I deemed right and necessary at the time." His voice was flat and dismissive. Elsa almost didn't believe her ears, and indignation prickled at her cheeks.
"What was right? You thought that murdering the royal family of a neighbouring country in cold blood so that you could seize the throne for yourself was what was right? That cruelly abusing other people's feelings was necessary?" She heard her voice crack with anger. Without looking down, she knew that the floor was covered with black ice under her feet. Don't get provoked, a thought whispered. Queens didn't lose their temper. Don't feel it. Poised, Elsa. She tried to calm herself. Prince Hans was regarding her with a superficially blank face, but she thought she could sense a sneer beneath the mask, rippling just under the surface. Control yourself. You're a queen. Act like it. The rippling irritation within the Prince seemed to finally break out.

"I might point out to Your Majesty, if I may, that you had unleashed a disastrous curse upon your land and its people, had fatally struck your own sister, and appeared completely unable to control your own powers and revoke the curse when I begged it of you, ma'am," he seethed, with a cutting edge in his voice, "and that at the time, it truly seemed like the only way of ending the devastating winter that threatened to kill all of the crops as well as most of Your Majesty's beloved subjects was, if you'll pardon my frankness, to end you, ma'am." She stared at him, completely speechless and fuming. She felt the frost crackle under her feet again, climbing up her dress. The nerve! He went on, agitated. "I might further point out to Your Majesty, that your behaviour and actions seemed to the uninformed at the time very much exactly like the actions of, if Your Majesty will forgive me, a wicked, evil witch straight out of a story book," Elsa opened her mouth to protest but no sound came out, and he continued intensely, "and I feel confident in stating that most men in my place would have reached the exact same conclusion and taken the very same course of action, considering the information available at the time."

Elsa remembered Arnesen's tearful confession with an unpleasant jolt. Most men in his place. A black, sickening, tar-like feeling started spreading in her gut, extinguishing her anger. Despite their current glib assurances of goodwill, all of the foreign dignitaries had firmly supported Prince Hans' claim for power and his decision to execute her. And it was indeed Elsa who had frozen Anna's heart, almost killing her, it was her own doing, not his. Her thoughts were swirling, making her nauseous. Dear God. He's right, isn't he? Everything he said was true. Is that the way they all see me? As a fearsome witch? But wasn't that what she really was, after all? A failure, a catastrophic failure, a pathetic mockery of a true queen. Exhaustion and misery engulfed her. Tears burned at her eyes, about to break out. I can't. I can't do it, pappa, I'm so sorry. She was suddenly ashamed of herself, crumbling publicly like this in front of the traitor, and glanced nervously at Prince Hans, expecting to see a sneer of contempt on his face.
Instead, she found him looking considerately to the side, pretending not to see her moment of weakness with an almost remorseful expression. He cleared his throat.
"Despite it all," he said quietly, pausing to look for words, "I would like to say that I am very glad you- Your Majesty is still alive."

What did he just say? Elsa couldn't believe her ears.
"You tried to murder me yourself," she breathed. The Prince looked sheepishly at the floor.
"Like I said, I believed it was an unavoidable necessity at the time. Personally, I did not - do not - wish Your Majesty any harm." Embarrassed, the man looked clearly embarrassed, though it was subtle. Liar, she thought. Deceiver. He's trying to trick me.
"You were very clear to my sister about how you thought it would have been a necessity to arrange a little accident for me, to clear the path to the throne." He made a face.
"It was a regrettable exaggeration, uncalled for and in poor taste, I must admit." Exaggeration? In poor taste? Elsa remembered the pain in Anna's eyes as she'd told her of his betrayal, of how he broke her heart. How dare he! Hot fury flamed inside her again, manifesting in sharp spikes of ice around her feet.
"And the way you treated Anna, was that in poor taste, too? Turning your back on your own fiancée who's begging for you to save her life, cruelly tormenting her and abandoning her to die alone, was that perhaps in poor taste, Prince Hans?" It started to snow in the cell, but he seemed completely unfazed in the face of her ire. "She was dying, and you did nothing to help her!"
"Truly, there was absolutely nothing I could have done," he calmly told her. He's shameless, Elsa fumed, absolutely shameless, lying to my face in a situation like this! "In my understanding, Princess Anna was doomed, already beyond all help. She told me that you had intentionally struck her through the heart and that the only thing that could save her was a true love's kiss. Unfortunately, I did not truly love her, so nothing could save her." He looked uncomfortably at the floor. "I let my annoyance at her get the better of me, and I admit I may have, to my shame, behaved in a way that was beneath me especially considering the situation."
"Your annoyance at her? What did she ever do to annoy you? She was in love with you!" He looked at her in a curious, evaluative way.
"Her Royal Highness had repeatedly flaunted her complete carelessness when it came to propriety and the consequences of her actions," he stated evenly, "including agreeing to marry a virtual stranger and provoking Your Majesty into revealing your - condition." Elsa twitched, she might have had a similar thought or two, although she'd rather die than admit it to him. "She had disappeared impulsively into the night when her country most needed her. She predictably got herself in trouble, requiring a personal rescue mission that nearly cost many lives including mine own, when the manpower would have been sorely needed at Arendelle. No-one knew what was going on and both of you had vanished. It was an uncertain, stressful situation for us all, but when she finally returned, she kept thinking only of herself. I simply lost my patience, I'm afraid, and I confess I wanted to teach her a lesson." He twisted his mouth. "Having observed the antics of my brothers all my life, I don't have much respect for royals who completely disregard their responsibilities to their people, Your Majesty." He looked out of the window.

Elsa was completely taken aback. What in the world was going on? The Traitor was criticizing the Princess for not being cautious and responsible enough, and the Queen found herself almost agreeing with him. And had he just criticized her, too? She felt she'd completely lost the reins of the conversation. Perhaps he was toying with her, trying to mess with her mind? She felt exhausted by his presence and the whirlpool of new emotions this encounter was dragging her through.

"Why do you hate us so much, my sister and me, why did you choose us to usurp and murder?" she blurted out. "Why did you come here, really?"
When he turned his head back to look at her, his eyes caught the light from the window. They reminded her of pools of seawater in summer, golden green and deep. He gave her a long, contemplating look, wistful and sad.
"I came to Arendelle to woo you," he said, with a soft and low voice which sent curious shivers skittering across her skin, "Your Majesty." His words felt like a caress, like a feather running along her spine. It was a completely new sensation, and for a while she was speechless, almost short of breath.
Elsa looked at the handsome prince, tall and fair, and it seemed like his presence in the cell grew, the air crackling with tension, as they silently gazed at each other. Her senses felt heightened and her heart was racing. What is this?

Suddenly she saw how different things could have been, felt an echo of a world where she was normal and handsome suitors - him - courted her. Of course. Everyone in the world knew that I was in need of a groom. Indeed, there had been a bothersome crowd of young-ish dignitaries with lapdog smiles vying for her attention, now that she thought of it. She had simply been too absorbed in her own anxieties to spare them any thought and had avoided them as well as she could, but in an ordinary world they'd all have been trying to fiercely out-flirt each other jousting for her favour. And when the prince couldn't get the heir, he went for the spare instead. I see. So practical, so simple. So hungry for power.

She still couldn't understand it. He was already royalty, a prince of a powerful and wealthy realm, handsome, young and healthy. Elsa vaguely remembered that the Southern Isles had an impressive amount of princes, so perhaps he would not inherit the throne, but wasn't that actually a blessing? A royal spare had all the advantages of royalty, without the weighty responsibility of the rule. It was a charmed life, in her opinion. Why in all the heavens would he feel the need to risk everything and resort to treason and murder in order to claim a throne in a small, insignificant kingdom?
"Why?" she uttered, grasping for the right words. "Why were you so desperate for a throne? You're already a prince. Isn't it enough? What more could you want?"
"What more!" he gave a joyless chuckle. "Indeed, I'm sure you couldn't think of anything more to ask. Your Majesty." Elsa was annoyed.
"I, too, was but a princess very recently, and I remember hoping very much I could stay that way forever," she retorted. Too much, you're revealing too much, she worried, but she'd already said it. "It may not have occurred to you, but ruling is not all picnics and pies." His eyes were suddenly ablaze with fierce hatred, and anger twisted his fine features. She nearly took a step back.

"You were always the crown heir, always destined for the throne, you were the future of the realm!" His voice was hoarse with anger. "You were important from the moment you drew your first breath, important and respected and needed, set to inherit it all. People listened to you! People noticed you! Don't you dare pretend you know what it's like, to be, to be but a prince, to-" he caught himself and stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in shock at his own outburst. Breathing hard, he seemed to struggle to control himself, but managed to force his face back into a stiff, neutral expression, clearing his throat. "Forgive me. Your Majesty." He closed his eyes and stood still, lips pursed, his whole body tense.

Elsa stared at him with her mouth open. For a moment, his mask had slipped and she had caught a glimpse of his real self, his true feelings, she was absolutely sure. And he's ashamed of it. She sensed she'd been given the first part of a puzzle, had been shown the key to opening him up and figuring him out - though she didn't hold it yet. Surprisingly, she also felt a stirring of sympathy for him. His reaction had been raw and strong, a burst of feeling broken free. It reminded Elsa of her own outburst, the darkness she'd tried so hard to hold in, the blizzard that had broken out of her control when she'd been provoked. A new thought dawned on her, not yet clearly formed, a faint echo of recognition and similarity with this man. Did the perfect Prince, too, struggle to maintain an image and fulfill the expectations? Was he also hiding a storm of dark feelings, desperate to appear impeccable while hurting inside? Elsa was intrigued.

"It's true I've only ever been the crown heir and don't know any other existence," she admitted, "but the crown comes with a heavy burden of responsibility, and the heir has no choice but to bear it." Prince Hans opened his eyes. His expression was difficult to read, intentionally blank, but his eyes were burning like green flames, holding her gaze and blurring her thoughts. "Sometimes I think that perhaps, being a younger princess would be nicer. Easier, more free, certainly." Too open, too personal. Why does my tongue keep slipping like this? It was most unusual. Normally she was always so controlled, careful in everything she said and did, maintaining tight restraint. It was a necessity. But something in the Prince's presence made her forget herself, opened the way for strange thoughts and feelings to float to the surface and slip out before she could stop them. It was dangerous, he was dangerous, but she didn't seem to be able to stop.
"Anna, at least, seems to enjoy being a spare, so I cannot believe that it is all that horrible, being a royal prince, wealthy and free, the world at your fingertips." Prince Hans drew breath as if to speak, but held it, studying her intently. He started and stopped again, biting his lower lip. Elsa held her breath, waiting for him to decide what he would say. Finally he spoke.

"Forgive my boldness, but Your Majesty's understanding of the wealth and freedom of younger royals may be a little inaccurate. May I ask, for example, if the Princess has any personal assets or estate apart from the crown properties?" It was a vulgar, impertinent question, and Elsa nearly rebuked him. But when she thought about it, she realised that as far as she knew, Anna had no separate private fortune at all, save for some personal items. At some point - when she married, most likely - some property would be appointed to her, but at the moment she had no actual wealth of her own.
"She is a member of the royal family of Arendelle, and naturally the resources of the crown are at her disposal. She is by no means poor."
"At her disposal? Does Your Majesty mean Princess Anna could use the crown's funds for her personal purposes, or for example sell some crown properties on her own if she needed to?" His voice was all soft velvet, hiding daggers behind the excessive politeness. He clearly knew the answer.
"No. No, someone else must approve of all such decisions."
"Someone else, Your Majesty?" He cocked an eyebrow at her. Elsa swallowed.
"Me."
"Indeed, you. As the heir, as queen, it all belongs to you, ma'am, and you alone. Estates, artworks, animals, assets, everything. It's the same thing in my own family, as it is in most royal families. In order to keep the fortune intact through the generations, it all goes to the firstborn, the crown heir. The rest of the royal family are simply mooching off them, living on what pocket money the monarch chooses to graciously give them." He spoke like he was explaining things to a child. It annoyed her.
"I know all this. What is your point? Officially everything belongs to the heir, but of course they share- they have a duty to share the wealth with the rest of their own family and take care of them, to look after their needs and wants."
"A duty." Prince Hans' eyes were gleaming. "Your Majesty is exemplarily dutiful, no doubt, but not all royal heirs share your attitude," he said, through his teeth. Elsa started to finally understand what the problem was. "Sometimes, the heir sees the younger siblings as annoyances and their necessary expenses as a waste of money, especially when there's plenty of siblings needing plenty of things. For the sake of appearances, a certain regal level must be maintained with everybody's possessions, but it's done very grudgingly." He gave her an appraising look. "I very much doubt Your Majesty can imagine how it feels to have to beg for new boots, simply because it amuses your brother to see you humiliated? Or to be forced to hear for days on end how terribly inconvenient it is that you grow so fast and needed new clothes again, feigning gratefulness, while you know your elder brothers just blew hundreds of times more on gambling in one night?" Burning hurt and anger was seeping from his every word.

It was all much too personal, and Elsa had no idea what to say or do. She was sure he would be mortified he'd revealed these things to her when he'd calmed himself, but aside from the bewilderment she felt strangely content to hear them. In some way they connected them further together, these raw reveals, the mutual embarrassment. It was a new feeling for her.
"And you're helpless, you can't do anything," the Prince went on, the bitterness pouring forth with great force from deep within him, "because it's absolutely not suitable for a royal person to work for money, God forbid. You cannot earn your keep, you have no say in anything, but you are blamed for existing, for breathing. An expense, a burden, a nuisance to everyone." Breathing hard, he bit his lip and looked to the wall, trying to contain himself again.

The silence was so heavy it seemed to deafen her, and Elsa was shocked, really shocked. She had lived all her life in comfort and luxury and had never really had to ask for anything. Everything had always simply been there, waiting for her, often before she'd even thought of needing it. Bewildered, she realised she had thought it was the natural way for things to be, if she'd thought about it at all. Could Anna feel the same way he does? Impossible, she's always so cheerful, she's the one who got to be with people, to do things and live more than I ever did, she can't be bitter. Can she? The only time Anna had ever asked for anything was the new sleigh for Kristoff, the ice harvester, and Elsa had instantly granted it. She tried to imagine making Anna squirm and beg in front of her for necessary clothing items, but simply couldn't. As queen and head of their family, she couldn't envision the sort of mentality you'd have to possess in order to do such a thing, to humiliate your own family member who was dependant on you. To blatantly ignore your duty as heir for your own cruel entertainment! The whole thought was throughly disgusting. She cleared her throat.
"I understand your parents are still alive. Certainly they will curb the behaviour of their eldest? An unruly future king is harmful to the entire realm, after all." It felt weird to speak so boldly, but then this whole conversation was utterly absurd from the start. Suddenly a doubt of trickery flashed in her mind. "In fact, aren't your brothers still all princes, dependant on your father, the king?" Why would you need to beg your brothers for anything? Are you trying to fool me again, trying to gain sympathy? Prince Hans gave a long, tired sigh and rubbed his face, deliberating on what to tell her. Royal family affairs were extremely private matters, and she understood his hesitation. She'd surprised herself by having had the gall to ask.

"My esteemed parents," he said, looking past her, "direct their attention mostly to the main heirs, my five eldest brothers. The lesser princes are not given much thought, and our mutual relations are largely left up to ourselves." His voice was resigned and quiet. "I understand it's considered educational for us to have to fend for ourselves. It fortifies the character and toughens one up, you see. However, in order to prepare him for the throne, Harald - I mean His Royal Highness Prince Harald, the crown heir - has already been given financial responsibility for the other princes' affairs," he gave a small, twisted smile, "so that he might learn the responsibility of managing things for so many in advance." What does he mean by "lesser princes"? Trepidation was growing in her chest, but she had to ask.
"May I ask how many of you there are?"
"We are thirteen princes, Your Majesty. I am the youngest." Elsa felt a cold thud in her stomach. Thirteen! It was too many, far too many royal heirs, all in need of titles and positions and lands fitting for their station. Impossible. Even a royal family as wealthy as that would be significantly weakened if they'd divide their properties to thirteen parts. No, the majority of the princes would never inherit anything much from their family, except their prestigious name and royal blood. Even if they took the only respectable course of employment for royalty, the military, and managed to carve out an illustrious career winning skirmishes left and right, they'd still need to marry into wealth and royalty - or at least as high into nobility as they possibly could. But royalty was very hierarchical. The older the prince, the higher in line to the throne they were and thus more desirable as matches. As the youngest of so many, insignificant and poor for a royal, Prince Hans did not stand much of a chance of making a truly good match - unless he managed to charm his way into one. Elsa understood now why he had been in such a desperate hurry to marry Anna. It was still vile and disgraceful of him to deceive and injure her so, but she could sort of understand his motivation.

"You must have felt very lucky to secure my sister's hand so soon." He gave a small dry humph of assent. "But I can't see why you couldn't be satisfied with marrying so well. Why in heaven's name were you so hungry for power you wanted to seize the throne and kill me?" Elsa couldn't keep her voice from quivering. It was folly to think he'd be truthful, and she was no doubt making a fool of herself, but she needed to hear his answer. "The world is full of princes and princesses who never become kings and queens. Why isn't it enough for you?"
Prince Hans looked deep into her eyes for such a long while it was almost insolent. "I supposed I wanted to be respected," he finally muttered to the floor. Elsa blinked, confused.
"Respected? But..." Maybe he meant admired?
"Respected by my family, Your Majesty." He swallowed. "By my father. I wanted His Majesty to notice me and feel pride, for once. I wanted to be able to look him in the eye as an equal, as another king."
"Have you done something to make him ashamed of you, then," Elsa inquired, feeling the same trepidation from before. Now it was his turn to look confused.
"I'm a youngest son, Your Majesty. I don't inherit anything, I don't hold any significant positions, I haven't made any advantageous matches or diplomatic deals or won any crucial battles. I have not accomplished anything or benefited my family in any way. So far, I have been completely useless to them." Useless? "I wanted to show what I'm capable of. Ma'am." He smiled a small, heartbreaking smile. "Not that much, it turns out."
"But..." Not accomplished anything, she thought, remembering how he'd practically single-handedly saved the people of Arendelle, how he'd triumphed at her ice palace. He was so capable and naturally good at ruling and social graces any king ought to be proud of such a son, so good she envied him, but here he stood claiming that none of it was enough for his family unless he wore a crown.

Elsa thought of her own parents, who had always loved her despite her horrifying ailment. She had been a miserable failure as a crown princess, unable to even not be a danger to everyone and control her powers, let alone properly fulfill her duties, but her father had always expressed nothing but love and encouragement to her. He had stubbornly believed in her, even when she herself had not. His love and unyielding support had given her the strength to carry on through the endless darkness, to keep trying no matter what. For a moment, she hesitantly tried to imagine what her life would have been like if her pappa had been a colder man, like the one the Prince described. A distant sire who would only accept you if you were a great success, and coldly expressed his deep disappointment or ignored you if you fell short of the expectations. The idea was so painful she quickly shooed it away. She suspected that had it been reality, she would have taken her own life in shame and desperation long ago. Could such cruel parents really exist?

He's lying, he has to be. But when she looked at his expression, tendrils of doubt and unease snaked inside her. He seemed so resigned, tired and devastated Elsa couldn't bear it, she couldn't help wanting to comfort him.
"But you're so very good at leading, at running a country and managing things! Surely your family must be pleased with you, even if they might not show it."
How in the heavens had she ended up trying to comfort the traitor and bolster his self-esteem? It was truly extraordinary, the whole discussion was surreal. Prince Hans lifted his head, astonished.
"Excelling in theory means nothing to my family, it's the actual position or the done deeds that matter," he said slowly. "May I ask how would Your Majesty know about my ability to run a country?" Elsa almost blushed.
"I, ahem, I found the note you'd left at the library." His eyes widened. "I-I thought it was very clever, very insightful!" Why did she feel the need to explain herself? The words poured out of her mouth before she could think of what she said. "I even executed a couple of your ideas, to be honest, and they worked like a charm!" He looked absolutely dumbfounded.
"Ah. Well, I tried - I always enjoyed thinking about those things, about all the things one has to consider, in case I'd ever, uh, find myself in a position of authority -" He licked his lips. "Ahem, what did you - uh, might I ask which ideas Your Majesty chose to implement?" His voice was brimming with curiosity, though he tried to keep a nonchalant tone.
"The carpenter team and the frostfir deal," Elsa announced with a grin. Prince Hans grinned back at her.
"Good choice. How was the response? Did they take the deal?"
"They almost fought over it!"
"Who did you pick? For which products?" His eyes shone with excitement as he leaned closer, and she felt the thrill of politics, too.
"Hansa, but I left the particulars to be agreed upon later, when I know what we need. In general we're exchanging around two lästs of dry goods for every 20 hundredweights of timber. I made sure there's a clause for Arendelle to back out in case somethings goes wrong," she stated, proud of herself. He gave an impressed nod.
"That's a good deal." He was beaming with open delight at their success. "Just take care, Hansa excels in trade and they're very crafty when it comes to negotiations. Make absolutely sure you've agreed on which trade port's läst variation they'll use, officially and in writing, before anyone ships anything. And try to weigh your timber when it's thoroughly wet." Elsa nodded intently. She hadn't remembered at all that almost every major trading power had their own versions of measurements. It was sound advice.

Then the absurdity of the situation hit them. Prince Hans pulled himself back up, flustered.
"I must apologize to Your Majesty, I forgot myself."
"No, no," Elsa assured, "I thank you for your advice. All of it, the note - it's very helpful to me in my new position," she was babbling and felt like an idiot. He knows very well how badly I need help in running this country and how pitifully our affairs have been managed. I don't need to demonstrate it to him by behaving like a hapless ditz. "I think you are very good at managing the crown affairs," she finished faintly.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, almost bashfully. They both studied the walls for a while. Elsa was completely lost. Never in a million years would she have expected for the meeting to go this way. She felt bewildered by it all, by him, his words, the things he made her feel. It was all so unexpected and bizarre. Maybe she should take her leave before it got completely out of hand.

"Well, I-"
"If I may, I-"
They spoke at the same time. A giggle escaped Elsa's lips, and she covered her mouth. She gave him a nod as indication to go first.
"I wanted to inquire after my horse Sitron, ma'am, if I may," he said, gazing at her with a queer look, "how is he being treated, and what will happen to him when I'm sent back?" Elsa had not even been aware he had a horse, and had to admit she had no idea of Sitron's whereabouts. She promised to find out. Naturally, his horse would go with him. The Prince looked strangely uncomfortable at the promise, but said nothing.

"Well! I thank you again, for your, ah, help. And best of luck." It definitely wasn't very queenly to confidentially plan the country's affairs with traitors or wish them luck in their upcoming sentence. Elsa tried to think of something appropriate to say, some final regal words before he was shipped off to face his punishment, but her mind was buzzing too much. She sighed.
"Please send word when you've decided on your request, Prince Hans." He nodded and bowed.
"I will, Your Majesty. Thank you for the privilege of your company." He straightened his back and hesitated for a heartbeat. "I'm very sorry. For it all." His voice was soft, but his apology seemed to linger in the cell, echoing from the walls.
They stood still for a while, looking at each other in the cool dimness, everything that had happened hanging in the air between them. She felt there was some unnamed tension in the room, something more she should say, but couldn't take it any more and left.

•••

Halfway up the stairs she finally realised what had been so strange about Prince Hans.
There hadn't been a single flicker of fear in his eyes when he had looked at her. Not even when she'd been angry.

Back in her chambers, she paced around like a caged animal, unable to shake the weird nervousness she felt. Instead of settling anything, the encounter had confused her even further.
She felt sympathy for him, and that was bad. The image of the imprisoned prince, downcast and resigned, weighed on her mind. She looked out over the fjord to calm her thoughts, but the sea reminded her of the green depths of his eyes instead. When she saw the ship of the ambassador of Galterre, it's sails glowing golden in the evening light, a peculiar pressuring feeling gripped her chest. What is this? It was most bothersome.

She couldn't remember ever having spoken with someone like that. They had been superficially formal, yes, but she'd felt connected with him in a way she'd never experienced before. She had almost physically felt his presence, his looks, his words. The memory of his voice sent curious shivers down her spine. It was extraordinary.
It's trouble, she thought. He's trouble. This must be how he got to Anna, too, the smooth charm is his deadliest weapon. She firmly told herself she would not fall for the wily tricks of that dishonourable scoundrel. Tomorrow Prince Hans would be gone for good, and it was definitely for the best. She imagined the ship sailing away, vanishing over the horizon with him locked in its brig, never to return. Good riddance. Her gut twisted into painful knots, perhaps she was getting sick. She started to get ready for bed, undoing her hair.

Once back in his own country, the Prince would never receive the acceptance from his parents he craved so much it had almost driven him to murder. The shame he'd brought upon his family was too great. He'd never get another chance, unlike her. Elsa reflected on their respective situations while shifting out of her outfit.

She had almost killed a great deal of people herself, including her own sister. He had almost killed only Elsa, but managed to save the lives of many. The critical difference was that she'd nearly frozen her subjects to death by sheer accident, while his attempt on her life had been fully intentional. That made it attempted murder, and that was why he deserved the harsh punishment. The memory of her blind moment of blood-lust at the ice palace surfaced again, filling her with unease. Wasn't that almost intentional murder, too? But it was crucially different, she told herself. She'd had to do it, she'd tried to save her own life. She had no choice. But didn't Prince Hans think he had no choice but to kill her, to save Arendelle?
Now you're just being ridiculous. She pulled her nightgown angrily over her head.

Dwelling on the hypothetical similarity of their circumstances was pointless. It would only serve to confuse her - to give her uncomfortable thoughts about things she couldn't change, and even more uncomfortably, compassionate thoughts about the traitor. Feeling bad about his crushed aspirations, sad fate and ruined life would be absolutely foolish. So what if he'd be locked up for good, him and his broad shoulders and velvet voice and impeccable manners and dashing competence and damned emerald pool eyes.
Oh drat. What are you doing? Stop it. Right now. She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. In any case, there was nothing to be done about it.

He would be gone, and all that would remain of him would be his note. In a way, it was a shame. It had been wonderful to be able to discuss the affairs of the nation with someone, to share the burden even momentarily. She wished she could run every important move by someone with good judgment and helpful suggestions. Elsa suddenly remembered the advice the Prince had given.
She should write it down, before she forgot. She padded barefoot to her personal little desk, lit a candle, found a pen and scribbled on the corner of Prince Hans' note, to keep the information in one place. Official written agreement on läst type before shipping, weigh timber wet. Good. She stood up and looked at the note, her more ornamental hand next to his precise, more masculine one, complementing each other to form directions to Arendelle's future together.

A tentative idea lifted its head at the back of her mind. No, a thought of sense warned. It's a bad idea, Elsa. He's dangerous and deceitful. You know it. He tried to cleave his way to the throne before, he'll do it again. But people changed, didn't they? Or at least their motivations and goals changed, and their behaviour accordingly. Besides, the situation was very different. She knew to be suspicious of him now, and he couldn't hope to charm and lie his way to power any more. He's still dangerous, caution persisted. You ruined his plans. He will want revenge. He already tried to kill you. You're playing with fire.
But he hadn't really seemed that vengeful at the cell, even though he'd been quite open with his emotions. Elsa remembered their mutual excitement when they'd planned the deal. She'd never felt anything like it before. To let go of the front of determined competence, to be able to weigh the heavy decisions with someone else, to hear opinion and advice instead of the submissive agreement of servants. And he gave such good advice. He's going to betray you, Elsa.

Elsa placed her hands on both sides of the note and stared at it intensely, as if it could give her the answers if she intimidated it enough. She desperately needed someone to help her rule, that was clear. She needed a steward, a counselor with cunning and insight, but also the authority to give her their honest opinion instead of simpering flattery, and the backbone to disagree with her if necessary. Well, he had plenty of cunning, that was for sure. He was good with people and had seen the world, he was experienced with the other nations and their customs and ways of doing politics. He was sharp and understood the needs of a country and was enthusiastic about making a difference. He'd already proven he could rule Arendelle well. Prince Hans was the perfect choice, really.
And handsome, the sensible thought accused, but that was beside the point, and did not influence her opinion of him. At all. He was simply the most suitable person for the job. Apart from the treason and the attempted murder and the emotional cruelty and the cold-blooded deception and thirst for power. She groaned and stomped to the window. Twilight had descended, and Arendelle looked beautiful in the softly translucent summer night.

If only there would be a way to control him, to be sure he wouldn't sabotage Arendelle as revenge, she mused, contemplating her beloved realm. Something sweet enough to entice him to take up the position and honestly try his best, but also something powerful to threaten him, to keep him under control. But what could he want? What could he fear more than his current situation? Elsa turned to look at the portrait of her father again. He would have seen it and known. Pappa, what could a man like that desire?

And then she knew.

•••

Prince Hans looked worn and tired when she entered. Elsa suspected he had not slept much the past night. Her captive was dressed in his grey tailcoat, waiting to go, fidgety and so pale his freckles stood out even in the dimness. He looked openly surprised to see her. Apparently he'd assumed it would be the guards, come to take him to the ship. Elsa managed to smile at him despite being so tense with anticipation it was almost difficult to breathe.

"Good morning."
"Good morning, Your Majesty." He gave her a small bow. "Have you come to personally inquire after my request? I was not expecting such an honour."
"Yes and no," Elsa said, gathering her resolve. "Actually, I have a proposition for you."
"A proposition, ma'am?"
"Yes." She drew a deep breath. "I offer you a position as a steward, as my personal advisor in matters of state." He stared at her with utter astonishment, his mouth hanging open.
"Excuse me?" She looked him steadily in the eye and tried to sound as imposing as she could.
"While remaining a prisoner, you would also make amends for your crimes by assisting me in running the country. You would put your knowledge and abilities to good use, to the service of the nation you so despicably tried to wrong."
"Oh, definitely," he chuckled dryly. "Your Majesty would willingly depend on the advice of a convicted traitor - one who personally tried to kill you, no less?" He smiled tiredly. "I believe you are pulling my leg, ma'am. A most unexpected move, Your Majesty, I must admit. Well played."
"I am completely serious, Prince Hans," she stated. "Traitor or no, your skills in diplomacy would greatly help m- that is, would benefit Arendelle. Undoubtedly you are aware of that." You know very well what a mess we are in and how badly I need help. The smile faded from his face as he studied her intensely, trying to find signs of bluff.

"You," he started and hesitated, a sly smile slowly starting to creep on the side of his mouth, "you mean to say you need me, Your Majesty." She said nothing, and his smile expanded to a grin. "Oh, my. Humbling yourself to ask for the help of the same man who tried to steal your crown, have you killed and broke the heart of your sister? That can't be easy, ma'am." His condescending tone irked her, but she kept her mouth shut. "But I find it hard to believe Your Majesty would be so foolish as to blindly trust me like that. You do desperately need a competent advisor, ma'am, but to choose a proven traitor? I'm fairly sure that placing trust on people who've recently made an attempt on your life is widely considered one of worst ideas a ruler could have, right up there with confiscating property from powerful lords and blowing it all on fashion." He regarded her curiously. "Why me?" She stared hard at him. Can I tell him?
"You do not seem to fear me, Prince Hans."
"Fear you?" Understanding dawned on his face. "No, Your Majesty, I don't," he said softly. "I carried you back from the mountain myself and didn't turn to ice. You do not frighten me." She felt the feather on her spine again.

"Then, do you accept?" Too eager. His expression changed subtly. It reminded her vaguely of a fox, on the prowl.
"Why would I? As Your Majesty pointed out, I will no doubt receive a kinder punishment from my own family. Why would I choose to remain here, not only imprisoned but humiliated as well, far from home?"
"Your efforts would naturally affect the length of your sentence. If you will honestly do your best for Arendelle, I will shorten your conviction accordingly. I also give you my word that you will be treated with such respect as befits your position." His eyes flashed.
"My position as a traitor and a prisoner, ma'am?"
"Your position as a prince of a neighbouring realm."
"And if I should not try my best, Your Majesty, what then? What if I should turn out to give rotten advice, just to see Arendelle driven to ruin?" he inquired lightly.
"At the first sign of sabotage, the arrangement would naturally be immediately terminated and you would serve out your conviction as a full prisoner." She pinned him with a hard look. "I am not a fool, Prince Hans. I'm very well aware you likely harbour a grudge against me and mine, and might seek vengeance. I will be on my guard. It will never be possible for you to try to seize the throne of Arendelle again." He pursed his mouth. "But I believe that the arrangement I propose benefits us both, and sincerely hope that you will see reason and make the right choice. I offer you a chance to redeem yourself, to do some good to balance out the bad. I hope you will take it."
"How exactly would this arrangement benefit me, may I ask, ma'am? I would still be a despised traitor in the eyes of the world, but instead of having failed at a coup d'etat, I would be a prince who failed at a coup and then humiliated himself by working as a servant. I would bring twice as much shame to my family, and for what? Some warm feeling of doing the right thing?" Elsa felt her heart race. Will he bite? She played her ace.

"You forget, sir, that you have not yet made your request. Should you ask it of me, in exchange for your services, I am prepared to let you yourself choose exactly how the whole situation, including the events that led to your imprisonment, will be presented to your family. To the world." Her mouth felt dry. The Prince stared at her, eyes wide, and seemed to have trouble finding his voice.
"You mean you would let me lie to my family about the treason? About being a prisoner? And Arendelle would officially back it up?" She nodded. "But, but that would be no good. The other dignitaries..."
"Gossip and whispers. What do they weigh against the official position of Arendelle?" He licked his lips, a feverish gleam appearing in his eyes.
"You would truly lie about such a thing?"
"Lie? No. But fudge the particulars somewhat? If you will honestly give your best for the kingdom, then yes. I am prepared to give you a second chance, like the one I myself have been given, if you are prepared to truly give your all in exchange."
"You mean it," he almost whispered, "you really mean it." Elsa's heart was pounding in her ears.
"Yes," she breathed. Their eyes were locked together, the air crackling with the tension. I have to take control of the situation. Act in charge.
"I will now leave you to deliberate," she announced in a regal tone, pulling herself to her full height, "but I urge you to decide soon. The Duc du Fourberenard is set to leave within four hours." Elsa turned to leave, short of breath with excitement. She had only taken a few steps when he called after her.

"Your Majesty," his words rang clear in the musty silence, "I accept."

*läst is an old measurement of weight and dry trade goods. It was widely in use before the metric system especially in the germanic and nordic countries, and indeed varied a great deal depending on the harbour. For the purposes of this story it is around 4250 kg when measuring weight, and around 3000 litres or 24 barrels when measuring trade goods.

A hundredweight is a smaller unit of measurement, around 50+ kg. 20 hundredweights would be close to a metric ton.