A/N: Thank you so much for your support ^^ I was scared to actually publish a story chapter by chapter.
Grab your wine and crackers because there is a bit that's rather cheesy. I'm a sucker for a sappy love story, so these things are going to pop up now and then.
It wasn't a ship, it was a floating palace. Absalon, the royal flagship of the Southern Isles, was larger than any other ship in the harbor. Its mainsail emblazoned with the family's coat of arms: three blue passant lions with nine red hearts on a gold shield. Anna stood in awe as the gangplank was lowered and King Anders and Queen Adelaide descended, their clothes shining brightly in the midday sun. Anna curtsied to the pair, "I am Princess Anna. It's a pleasure to meet you both."
"My dear, the pleasure is all ours," Queen Adelaide smiled warmly.
"Please, the coach is this way; the staff will unload your luggage."
Elsa walked the halls making sure the rooms were ready for their last guests, not counting Kristoff's family who would be more comfortable in the gardens than in the castle, "Queen Elsa," Kai said startling her, "I'm sorry, your majesty, I didn't mean to frighten you, but Princess Anna has arrived with guests from the Southern Isles."
"Thank you, Kai," Elsa walked to the entrance hall feeling as though her stomach had become a butterfly garden. She took deep breathes to calm herself, straightened the ice blue dress she certainly hadn't worn for him, and smiled kindly as she turned into the large room and greeted King Anders and Queen Adelaide, "I'm so glad you could come."
"Nothing could have kept us away," King Anders said returning Elsa's smile.
"Was Prince Hans unable to come?" she asked puzzled.
"He refuses to leave the ship," Queen Adelaide said apologetically, "he said something about refusing to dirty your kingdom with his boots, or something of the like," she sighed, "He can be so dramatic."
Elsa scowled and mumbled under her breath, "We'll see about that," she marched past the three of them, stopped, turned and asked, "What is Hans' full name?"
Hans had known the Absalon was a large vessel, but sitting in Arendelle's harbor it was embarrassingly so; it dwarfed every other ship in size and ostentation. As soon as his parents departed he went back into his cabin, removed his olfactorily offense hat and great coat, and sat down at his desk to go over the provision reports. He was jarred from his chair when the entire ship jerked causing books and papers to fly everywhere. He clambered to his feet and burst onto the deck to find what could make the behemoth move like that docked in a harbor. He didn't have to wait long for an answer; "Admiral Prince Hans Gregor Albrecht Brynjolf Westerguard!" yelled a familiar voice.
He ran to the gunwale at the tip of the bow, "Queen Elsa?"
"Why are you refusing to disembark?" Elsa crossed her arms under her chest. Anna, Queen Adelaide and King Anders stood behind her sharing uncomfortable glances.
"I refuse to soil your lands with my footsteps, your majesty."
"You will come ashore and accept my hospitality."
"I'm afraid I must politely decline."
"No part of that was a request."
The ship rocked again causing him to hold the gunwale to prevent himself from falling. He looked down to see ice had surrounded the vessel and was now creeping up the hull. "Is this really necessary?"
"If you wish to be unreasonable, I will be as well."
He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Fine, but my uniforms are in no way presentable and that is all I was permitted to bring with me."
"Leave them, I prepared for that," she said with a triumphant grin. He descended the gangplank in dark blue trousers with a gold stripe along the outseam, his signature black leather dragoon boots, a white high collared shirt, buttoned waistcoat striped in shades of blue (with a blue silk handkerchief folded into a pocket square in his left breast pocket), a red cravat and his ever present white gloves. Without a coat he felt almost nude; the only time he went willingly without a coat or gloves was out at sea where the restriction of movement they caused could be dangerous, or when he was alone. Logically he knew clothing would in no way protect his heart, but he preferred to hide beneath multiple layers; the less he was wearing the more vulnerable he felt. "Now, if you'll follow me I will show your parents and you to your rooms," she walked ahead purposefully leaving a faint trail of frost in her wake.
Queen Adelaide pulled on her husband's arm causing them to fall slightly behind Anna, "It is terrible," she said softly, "If only he had never had the damnable glass in him, I believe they would make each other very happy."
King Anders patted his beloved wife's hand, "I believe so too, but the past cannot be undone. She is a remarkable woman and will find a husband that will adore her. Hans," he sighed, "I don't know if he will ever forgive himself enough to find love."
He opened the wardrobe in the room and was surprised to find it full of clothes that were not the clothes he had brought with him; trousers, shirts, waistcoats and cravats in an assortment of colours, high collared white tailcoats with different colored linings and collars and multiple pairs of white gloves. What surprised him most were the dress uniforms complete with hats, "how did she…?"
"Admiral Westerguard, dinner will be served in the dining hall in half an hour," A voice announced through the door.
"Thank you," he yelled back. There was no way he would go to dinner smelling like he just left battle, so he pulled out a pair of trousers, a shirt, waistcoat, tailcoat, and pair of gloves; all fit him, albeit a little snug in certain places. He tied his cravat, tucked in the pocket square he removed from his previous waistcoat, and found himself staring at his own face in the mirror. In some ways he was still growing accustomed to it. He recognized himself now, but wasn't thrilled with what he saw. He made no secret of his disdain for his freckles. He also felt his hair, unlike Anna's coppery locks, was almost unnaturally red and would never part perfectly in the middle, his ears too big, his chin too long, his cheeks and nose too wide, his lips too thin, and his oversized eyes the colour of infected mucus. He flopped back on the bed and stared up at the canopy, he had confidence in his abilities as a commander and his skills as a fighter, but that was it. He knew he had the defining sailor's swagger in his walk now, too many scars, and a flair for the dramatic. He got too emotionally into novels, and generally wore his heart on his sleeve. There were aspects of the mirror's influence he almost wished he could have kept, but the memory of what he did last time he walked these halls immediately made him regret his thoughts. A glance at the clock told him he would have to continue his bout of self-loathing at a later time.
Dinner was what he had expected. He was seated far from Elsa, as his rank in comparison to other attendees dictated. He was in no mood for small talk and much to his relief he was surrounded by people more interested in talking to the other people around him. As soon as everyone was permitted to leave the table he found his way to the castle gardens; the other guests either remained to continue their conversations or retired for the evening.
He stood with his hands folded behind his back staring up at the star-filled sky and missed the view from the deck of the Stjerne. A navigator by the name of Thorfinn Skov had taught him to navigate by the stars. Skov had insisted that he could never know when his sextant would be broken; Skov had also told him to always keep a hook pick in his boot in case the sirens chained him, a habit he had ingrained in him due to the fact Skov would make him produce it every time he saw him and would randomly shackle him to his bed in his sleep forcing him to learn to use it. He missed the sea, things made sense out there. He didn't have to be Prince Hans, he was Admiral Westerguard. Admiral Westerguard fought pirates and saved shipwrecked sailors and civilians alike; he had never used an innocent woman's affections for his own personal gain, nor taken advantage of a sister's grief to try to end her life. He sighed and resigned himself to the fact he was going to be miserable that evening.
"Beautiful night," a soft voice said from behind him.
He turned to find Elsa walking towards him, her entire being seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, "Indeed it is."
"I missed you at dinner."
Hans couldn't hold back his smile, "Seating rules cannot be helped, your majesty."
"So, is it this side?" she asked with a swift jab to his right side.
He side stepped away from her, put his hands on his side and grimaced, "Yes," he responded through clenched teeth.
"Good," she said before turning and walking back inside.
Normally having stitches removed, clean clothes, and a bath would be enough to put him in a good mood, but he still found himself under the fog of the previous evening. He righted the desk chair, piled books and papers on the desk and began to mindlessly straighten various objects in the cabin. Elsa confused him. She had made it clear that she wanted him there, or at least that's what he had thought until she had punched him and walked away. He shelved the books, "I shouldn't have come," he mumbled to himself, "I should be out at sea, protecting the waters from pirates, rescuing those who need it," he sighed as he sat down at the desk, "running from what I don't want to face."
When he finished sorting the papers, going over the reports and returning the cabin to its proper order, it was midday and his stomach told him it was time for lunch. He found himself reluctant to leave the comfort of the ship, even if his cabin did have the faint smell of gunpowder seeping from the uniforms he kept shut in the bureau.
Elsa hadn't seen him since last night and she felt he at least deserved an explanation, but with so many dignitaries wanting to speak with her regarding one subject or another she didn't know when she would find the time. Most of the day was booked to either discuss trade agreements or military alliances, and she doubted dinner would go any better than last night's. She didn't know how she was going to explain it anyway. Yes, she could tell him she was angry, but she couldn't entirely explain why she was angry. All she could hope for was that he wouldn't ask.
For the first time in two days Elsa finally had a moment to herself. She sat on a bench in the gardens enjoying birdsong and the warmth of the sun, a flash of white caught her eye. He stood with his back to her holding his gloved hands behind him as he always did. Something about him made her feel playful and the thought of walking up to him and offering an explanation was entirely overridden by another thought altogether causing her mouth to move into a wicked grin.
The force of impact moved his head forward, sent his flaming hair flying, and it was cold! He turned quickly to see his assailant trying to hold in her laughter only to end up chortling.
"You would attack an unarmed…" he was cut off as the second snowball hit him in the face, and she laughed harder, "You do realize, your majesty, this means war?" he declared with an insuppressible smile, as he took off after her. Elsa picked up her skirts, kicked off her shoes, and ran laughing through the trees. He followed the train of her dress as it glided over the ground; several times he almost caught her only to slip on an icy patch she left, "You're cheating!" he yelled as he picked himself up off the ground.
"No, I just have a tactical advantage," she said as she ducked behind a tree, froze his boots to the ground, and took off again. He shook the ice from his boots and crept through the underbrush in the direction she had gone, his movements silent; Skov had taught him to hunt and hide because he could never know when he was going to end up shipwrecked and would have to hunt his own food, or hide from cannibals.
She was easy to track from the disturbances of leaves her silk gown left in its wake. From his vantage point he could see her clearly now, but was certain she couldn't see him. Her dress was pale pink and brought out the colour in her smiling lips and rosy glow in her cheeks, the beams of light that broke through the leaves lit up the platinum braid coiled on her head as if it were made of stars; he could have stared at her for hours, but knew that if he didn't move quickly she would. He came up behind her and seized her hand; she startled, lost her balance and pulled him with her as they tumbled down a small hill. They ended up in a laughing heap with him beneath her, she sat up on his thighs, and he propped himself on his elbows. She quickly grabbed a stick and held the tip of it lightly to his throat, "It appears I have handed the esteemed Admiral Westerguard his first defeat."
"And what are your terms, Supreme Commander of Arendelle?"
"I will only accept unconditional surrender," she smirked.
Hans pretended to give it thought, "From you, I eagerly accept those terms," He looked back up at her with a sly smile. Her braid had come down in the tumble now hanging over her bare shoulder and loose sections of her platinum blonde hair framed her smiling face. He had never seen anything more beautiful and when his eyes met hers his smirk shifted into a small dreamy smile. In that moment he knew he was hers.
The feeling that ran through her when her gaze met his soft peridot eyes was more intense than anything she had felt before. She wanted nothing more than to entwine her fingers in his red mane and press his soft lips against hers. She focused herself and moved to sit beside him, "About the night before last…"
"Think nothing of it, I probably deserved it," he sat up and began gently plucking leaves from her hair.
"How are you healing?"
"Very well, the stitches were removed yesterday."
"You take your own safety too lightly."
He chuckled, "So I've been told on many occasions."
"How do you plan on returning that to me if you go off and get yourself killed?" she asked as she leaned towards him and poked the left breast pocket of his waistcoat.
"I…uhh…" his eyes widened and he stammered, her sudden close proximity causing him to falter, blush, and sincerely appreciate the fact she was no longer sitting on him. She stood, dusted herself off, and walked back to find her shoes. If she had been any other woman he would have sworn she was flirting with him, but that just wasn't possible.
Hans could not remove the smile from his face for the rest of the day; he was the life of his section of the dinner table regaling everyone with stories of adventure and triumph. After dinner he managed to catch Elsa as she walked to her quarters and stopped her in front of her room, "Do you believe you'll have any free time tomorrow?" he asked trying not to sound too eager, but he was sure he was failing.
She smiled at him and suppressed a giggle, "I like to spend time in the library after tea, and I suppose I wouldn't mind company." He stood with a goofy smile as she closed her door.
Elsa couldn't make sense of what happened. She could plot out the sequence of events, but that really didn't help. She knew she liked being around him; he was witty, intelligent, lively, kind, and some of the ways he looked at her made her knees weak. The handkerchief she was still trying to convince herself that she didn't know why she had given it to him, or why it made her feel good that it wore it over his heart every day. She had seen girls flirt with men before, but she couldn't be flirting, she told herself, as none of them had pelted men with snowballs or demanded unconditional surrender after tumbling down a hill. She never anticipated reading letters would make her life so complicated.