Chapter Fifteen: The Chase
The Woods of Arendelle
May 3, 1813
"Pull over. We rest here for the night," Hans ordered.
Elsa looked at him as if she was about to protest but said nothing. He could see from the dark circles in her eyes and the gauntness of her expression that she was just as exhausted as all of his men.
They had been on the constant move since dawn on these little winding roads and he would have ridden all night if it were only up to him so he could reach the Arendellian capital faster. However, he knew that it was more prudent for his men to be well-rested for the battle ahead. With a few hours of sleep, they can still resume their travel before daybreak and arrive at the capital by mid-morning. It was cutting it close for Anna was to be married to Marshall Baujeu by noon.
He watched for several minutes as his men set up makeshift tents and started cooking fires to prepare their supper. Once he was satisfied, that all was well, he wandered away from the camp and sought solitude aided only by the distant northern lights and the moon. The golden orb hung large in the sky tonight. Its light reflected on the flowing river ahead partly hidden by reeds. He made his way towards the riverbank and sat down at the edge as he listened to the constant murmur of flowing water.
The sound reminded him of the waterfall on the evening he proposed to Anna. He couldn't help but berate himself again for being a stupid fool. He had the gem at the palm of his hand on that night and he let her go out of his selfishness. He wondered what could have been if things were different. If he had just kissed her that night when her heart was frozen and she begged him to save his life would he have changed things?
She would still be frozen and perhaps all of Arendelle would be too because I didn't love her then and she doesn't love me. Perhaps she never will. And yet I will still keep caring for Anna and protecting her in any way I can even if she will never feel the same way. It's my penance for hurting her so many times.
The dirty pamphlet the Duke of Weselton's men found had triggered an uncontrollable rage he never thought he would ever feel. He had prided himself on his self-control. Years of abuse in the Westergaard household had taught him to manage his emotions, especially in company. And yet that one image of Anna sent him into a frenzy that he would be willing to commit murder in front of Elsa and be hanged for it. He knew there were dirty rumors about the Arendellian royal family, but he didn't realize how bad it all was until he saw that pamphlet. Whoever created them wasn't just a disgruntled citizen who wanted to make fun of the royals as a way of getting back for being neglected. This was someone who wanted to destroy their reputations so badly to erode public trust.
Lord Ragnar told him Elsa reacted to the pamphlet in a surprisingly calm manner, which made him realize this wasn't the first time she had seen something like this. He expected that she was also a victim of such vicious pages. She probably had it even worse for the international newspapers had referred to her as a sorceress and a witch. Those were loaded words that would certainly be so much easier to render into gruesome visual images. The way people reacted to Elsa in Mjosyndi was certainly proof of it. Young Tommy Thomson said he suspected Elsa's former husband and his cronies were behind the pamphlets for they stopped appearing shortly after Knudsvig's house arrest. Yet, Hans noticed something that didn't add up. If the goal was just to discredit Elsa so the Northern Isles would not accept her as their Queen Regent, why was Anna also being attacked this way?
The most logical reason Hans could see was that it wasn't the Northern Isles lords behind it, but France. The French had been elbowing for marriage with Anna to take control of Arendelle while imprisoning Elsa. What if their endgame wasn't just to use Elsa as a weapon they can control, but also the subjugation of Arendelle itself? France could have funded the Purification League to establish dissent within the Arendellian villages and to discredit its existing monarchs. Marshall Baujeu will marry Anna to establish his legitimacy then at a certain time when she was no longer useful (perhaps after she had given birth to his child), he could divorce her, publicly accuse her of adultery, witchcraft, or both, and then have her legally executed.
It was so easy for Hans to put the dots together for it was similar to his designs on Elsa just years earlier. He shuddered now to think of it. Maybe he didn't plan it to be as awful as that but the fact that it crossed his mind to dispose of Elsa if she turned out to be unmanageable made him no less culpable.
He wondered how Anna was faring. He worried constantly about her and more so in recent days. She wasn't the kind of woman to simply submit to this marriage to the French Marshall, especially since her husband was still alive. As she appears to be compliant to Emperor Bonaparte's wishes as announced by the French newspapers, Hans could only imagine that she had been heavily coerced. Baujeu was most likely using her children as leverage. If he was or if he hurt Anna in any way, Hans was going to make that Frenchman pay.
"You're thinking of Anna."
Hans was startled by the accurate remark. It was Elsa who spoke. She stood behind him bearing a bottle and a package wrapped in cheesecloth that he knew was their supper for tonight. He was surprised that she had voluntarily come over to bring him food.
"How do you know?" he asked.
"You have a look," she said. "It's like you want to kill someone. I figured you have your sights on Marshall Baujeu or whoever it is who is forcing Anna to marry him."
She hit the mark again. "Am I that transparent?"
"No, it's just that I feel the same way. I'll do anything to protect my sister."
"In that, we are in complete agreement."
She sat down next to him and put down the bottle and food but didn't touch it. He focused his gaze onto the river instead so he wouldn't look at her and add to the already uncomfortable silence.
"Why do you love her?" she asked.
He was startled by the question. He didn't expect her to just dive right into that topic so bluntly. He figured she was asking it because she wanted to catch him in a lie about his feelings for Anna. Well, he was going to have to disappoint her. However, he couldn't reply for several seconds as he didn't quite know the answer to her question at all.
"I just do," he settled for saying. "I don't know why. I don't exactly have much experience in love. You probably have a better experience and an explanation for it."
"You're being evasive," she mocked. "You just threw the question back at me."
"I am being honest."
He waited for her to scoff at him or challenge his declaration, but she didn't. The silence between them stretched even longer that he wondered if she had left him. He snuck a glance and saw that she was still there, just staring at the river like he was.
"I suppose it doesn't matter what I say," he offered. "You don't believe I love her. I won't hold it against you. I will just let time and my actions confirm that."
"I look forward to seeing it," she said but it was without conviction.
Hans decided not to call her out on it. Instead, he grabbed the bottle she put down earlier and opened it. He took a swig of it and was surprised it was brandy and not wine. It was just what he needed on this cold night. He savored the burn of the alcohol down his throat and took a second gulp of it almost immediately.
He caught her staring at him and his instinct was to offer the bottle to her but he hesitated.
"I would share this but there are no glasses," he remarked.
"I don't need one," she replied. She took the bottle from him and drank straight from it. He felt something tingle within him at the image of her drinking into something that just a moment ago touched his lips.
"Here," she said as she opened the package of food and laid it out. There was a bit of dried meat, cheese and some bread and fruit on it.
"You also forgot the cutlery, your majesty," he teased. He expected her to feel insulted and perhaps leave him. However, she remained seated.
"I don't need cutlery either." She reached for the meat, tore it with her fingers, and ate it without ceremony. She then reached for a pear and bit on it, spilling a bit of juice that dribbled down the side of her chin that she daintily wiped with her index finger.
That gesture sent his blood pumping and he reached for the brandy bottle again. However, the moment he brought it to his mouth, he remembered Elsa had her lips on the same spot a short while ago. Involuntarily his tongue licked the edge of the bottle's opening as he imagined what it would feel like to actually kiss her and not just do it through a shared bottle.
He shook his head to clear it, disgusted by his impulses even as he felt a growing heat within him at her presence. He knew what it was. It had been there the first instance he saw her on the day of her coronation. The memory of it wouldn't go away even after he had sought to bury it with years of compounding resentment and anger over what happened to them.
He could still picture it in his mind and remember the trepidation he felt when he stepped inside the palace walls with an armload of crocuses...
Arendelle Castle
July 6, 1805
Hans slowly paced his steps, aware that he should not call attention to himself. It was not difficult for the workmen that were preparing for the coronation were far too busy in the kitchens to notice him. His companions, the florists' young daughters whom he convinced to let him tag along to make deliveries in the castle, had been too busy in setting up their bouquets to notice that he had stepped away with a pile of purple and white crocuses. He navigated through the narrow service hallways easily enough. As a boy, he was used to figuring out the little-known paths used by the servants to escape his brothers. The castle of Arendelle, he realized had similar little hidden passageways where servants could go from one room to the next without being seen and it led straight back to the outdoor kitchens.
As he walked the passageways, he braced himself with what he might find if he encountered the soon-to-be-crowned Queen Elsa.
He had rehearsed his introduction to her so many times yet he still felt his palms sweaty with anticipation. In his mind, he would play the gallant gentleman who would sweep the young reclusive queen with his gentleness and the impression of his worldly-wise ways.
He had often wondered what she looked like as an adult. Certainly, she would be no beauty even if her three-year-old portrait indicated so. He had come to terms with that. All infants were adorable, but very few grew up attractive as adults. Princess Elsa's lack of public appearance would certainly indicate she would not be among the minority that would retain their beauty. He had steeled himself to meeting someone very plain at most, or a hag-like creature at worst. Perhaps she was a cripple or blind. He could deal with that. He would be the perfect guide for her if she had a physical disability. He could be the support system she will need, the mouthpiece to connect her to her people. That would be an advantage as that would allow him to be the public figurehead while she was left out of sight: an enigma of a monarch with a bit of mystery. It was a narrative almost too easy to paint.
Or maybe she was just socially awkward due to some facial disfiguration. That was also manageable. He could train her to work on her social abilities while flattering her of her inner beauty. She will come to see him as a mentor and savior from her miserable, lonely existence. Secretly, he had hoped for this. They would have something in common then and perhaps he would also find some hope of loving her. A love match between two rejects. There was a certain romantic notion to it that appealed to him.
God-forbid that she was mentally insane. That would be the most difficult of circumstances of which he knew only one path to take: put her away, where she can hurt no one but only after she had produced an heir to secure his claim. He shuddered at the thought of having to be physically intimate with someone like that, but he might still be able to swallow it unless she was a murderous lunatic.
The final theory he had about her was that she was dead and the woman about to be crowned today was a replacement fielded by her council so they can continue to exert power behind their puppet. If such was the case, he knew he had to either take his chances in unmasking the deception while trying his luck with her younger sister, the next in line to the throne. There was a grim possibility however that if this final theory was true that the younger daughter of Agdar was also dead and was replaced by another fake princess. If that was the situation, he would have to try getting in the good graces of the council members themselves and find alliances among them so he can stay here and find a way to have his own piece of Arendelle.
Giving up is not an option, he told himself as he took a quick guess in entering a large door that emitted a sliver of light in the crack underneath it.
It led to an empty hallway inhabited only by paintings and several suits of armor. It was brightly lit with sunlight from the wide-open windows. He could smell the fresh scent of borax from the heavy drapes and the carpets. Obviously, the staff had everything washed and cleaned for the Queen's coronation. Everything was in perfect order. He wandered aimlessly about for several minutes, taking in the scope of the castle interiors. It was not as opulent as the castle he lived in in the Southern Isles. Certainly, it was smaller and the paintings were not much of value. There were no grand master collections here. He would know. His father prided himself on owning and bragging to guests his collection of finely crafted and expensive objects from paintings and sculptures to food, wine, and books. It was so ingrained in Hans' and his brothers' minds from early childhood that they were taught to identify valuable pieces of art as part of their education. It was a useful skill, he supposed, used by his brothers in the past to identify which noble woman had enough financial means when they set her as a target for matrimony or as a clandestine bedmate for political purposes. He found himself doing it now. From what he could see Arendelle did not hold much when it came to possessions, at least not enough to hold the interest of his brothers. Yet he found a sense of peace in these rather plain halls. He could picture this as his home, a place that could be away from the political machinations and abuse of his brothers.
This was meant to be mine. This is where I belong.
He found a staircase and stealthily went up the steps to the upper floor where the more private apartments of the royal family should be located. At the main landing, he was greeted by an unexpected sight that made him pause.
It was a portrait of King Agdar and his family. He stood formally to the right while his wife sat to the left, a cheerful red-haired infant in her arms. Right in front of her stood her eldest daughter in a blue dress, her hands clasped together in a shy, innocent pose. He had seen this portrait before as a sepia reproduction in an old Southern Isles newspaper years earlier when the Arendellian royal family was featured in the society column prior to the devastating diplomatic break with the Southern Isles. It was, however, the first time he had seen the original in vivid color.
He stared fondly at it for a long moment as he recalled playing with the man in the portrait. The sting of what could have been cut at him once more and he imagined himself in that portrait, perhaps standing in that space between king and queen as the proud firstborn son wearing identical regalia as the monarch.
I will have my place here, he decided. Perhaps one day there will be a family portrait like this and I will be there where King Agdar once stood.
He heard the sound of footsteps and he scurried away to hide behind the drapes near a suit of armor right across the portrait. He watched as a woman with her back turned to him approached the portrait and stopped right in the place he was standing just moments before. She had platinum blonde hair arranged in a formal bun around her head. She had a svelte figure and her hands were encased in white gloves. He noted her dress, it was deep green and embossed with a crocus design on the skirt. She wore a purple cape over it made of good quality wool and silk. He decided immediately this was no servant but a noblewoman who may be useful in helping him get access to the Queen later if he played his cards right. He was about to call out to her when she spoke.
"Papa?" she said to no one as she continued to look at the painting. "That day has come. I wish you were here now."
Hans felt his heart pound at her words. What luck! This woman was Queen Elsa herself! Who else would call out to a portrait of King Agdar and refer him as "Papa" with such tenderness but one of his daughters?
He was certain this was Elsa and not Anna. The evidence was right in front of him. Agdar only had one blonde daughter based on the portrait he was facing. This woman is blonde so there could be no mistake.
So she's alive, not a fake replacement. She's walking so she's not a cripple. She's talking so she's not mute and she appears not to be blind. Of course, she still might be hideous behind that beautiful head of hair.
He caught a sniff of something in the air that was not there before. It reminded him distinctly of the fresh scent of the woods on a winter's eve when he used to escape on lonely nights from the Southern Isles palace as a boy. It took him a moment to realize it was Elsa's perfume.
My God, she even smells like a wonderful memory! If her face was pock-marked and riddled with pustules, I'll still be happy to take her.
He straightened up, heaved a breath, and stepped forward.
"Your majesty?" he called out.
Her posture stiffened to a jolt. That was the last thing he noticed before something like a strange cold wind hit his face. He couldn't exactly tell what happened next. He assumed he tripped on the edge of the drapes and that was what sent the suit of armor to come toppling down on him. With lightning reflexes, he managed to avoid getting knocked over by the heavy steel but he ended up in an ungraceful heap on the carpet surrounded by his scattered flowers.
"W-who are you...?" the woman asked.
Hans felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment. He prided himself on being graceful and calculating in his movements. Of all the scenarios he had imagined himself meeting Elsa, this was never one that came to mind. Nevertheless, he was determined to salvage what remained of his dignity and forced himself up.
"Your majesty, I apologize—" he began as he looked up.
He could not go on. He had seen her face.
She had blue eyes as clear as sapphires, pale skin—flawless except for a healthy smattering of freckles across her perfectly formed nose that gave her a youthful almost mischievous glow. Her oval-shaped face complemented her rosy lips almost heart-shaped in their innocent pout.
She was perfection.
She was a goddess on earth.
And she might be just an apparition of his concussed brain.
Maybe that suit of armor did hit his head after all.
He stared at her, mesmerized at the idea that he was probably dreaming or dead. Either way, he decided he did not want to wake up or get resurrected.
She was staring at him too, her face which at first registered shock slowly morphed to wonder.
"You..." she gasped almost breathlessly. "It can't be... A-admiral Jorg..."
She mumbled the end of the word under her breath that he wasn't able to discern it. Hans had a strange feeling she was recognizing him somehow. Why she would do so was a puzzle to him. It did give him the confidence to get up from the floor.
"Your majesty, forgive me for the intrusion..."
The moment he spoke her expression changed to one of alarm. She swiftly moved backward. "Stay away!" she shouted.
He ambled forward. "Your majesty please, I only came..."
"NO! STAY AWAY!"
The intensity of her cry surprised him and he stepped back half a foot. She moved three times that distance away from him and he realized this situation needed to be diffused immediately.
"I won't hurt you," he said with as many soothing tones as he could muster. I apologize if I startled you. I've come as a diplomatic envoy..."
He paused as something like a chill seemed to tingle his skin and he shivered. The would-be queen suddenly stared at her hands then back at him, her eyes grew large and alarmed. "Don't come any closer!" she ordered. Hans was even more confused at the urgency of her tone for he had not moved at all.
"My Queen, I wish no ill will. Allow me to—"
"NO! STAY AWAY!" she screamed before she turned and bolted down the empty hall.
Hans felt the panic rising at the pit of his stomach. This was not how he imagined meeting her would turn out. He had to fix whatever error he made with her before it escalated into a diplomatic nightmare that can further ruin his chances. He was at her heels in five seconds flat as his long legs carried him faster against the skirt-clad monarch.
She paused as she reached the end of the hall where a single closed door remained her only escape. She fumbled apprehensively at the doorknob but seemed to have a difficult time turning it.
"Please your majesty, allow me to explain. It's all a misunderstanding!" he pleaded.
She turned to face him, though one of her hands continued to fiddle desperately on the errant doorknob.
"What are you doing here? The gates don't open until a few hours!" she demanded.
"I mean no ill intention for my early arrival," he deflected the question. "I come officially from the Southern Isles to honor your—"
"LEAVE! NOW!"
The doorknob had given in to her fingers and she slipped into the room faster than he could get a word out. She slammed the door hard and he heard the lock click into place. The sounds of strange cracking seemed to emanate from behind the door and he was horrified to think that perhaps the young queen-to-be was breaking fragile objects in the room.
She's having a fit without a valid reason? Could it be she's insane?
His worst fear was coming to fruition. Queen Elsa may be mentally unhinged! Or worse it could be she was just as haughty and selfish as his brothers who thought other people were too insignificant beneath her to even warrant simple courtesy. Either way, he saw his dreams of ever marrying her crumble to dust.
She may not be someone I can endure to live with. I may be escaping the purgatory life in the Southern Isles only to move into hell. I should have seen the signs early on. Three years of pursuit and nothing! I need to get out of here now before she sends in guards and throws me out. Best to plan another strategy to save whatever dignity I have left for another time.
The Woods of Arendelle
Present time
"Another time…" he mumbled to himself as he continued to watch Elsa eat silently. There never was another time. He had met Anna just hours after that encounter and it set their fates on a course that were entangled forever.
He thought of Anna. Pure-hearted, joyful, and innocent Anna. A rush of affection came over him. Their relationship had always been easy, simple. It had none of the complications of his fiery almost maddening interactions with Elsa.
I love Anna, he decided. That's what love is, isn't it? Uncomplicated and self-sacrificing. What I feel with Elsa is definitely not that. Half the time I want to strangle her. The other half I want to pull her into my arms and—"
He dismissed the dirty thought in his head before he could even form it. He couldn't deny he was in a rather uncomfortable situation.
I'm in love with one sister while in lust with the other.
"You're not eating," she remarked.
He made to grab a chunk of cheese in an effort to contradict her but she had reached for it the same time as he did. His hand ended up on top of hers. That contact with her skin sent tingles down his spine. When he looked up to meet her eyes, she had the same look of wonder when they first met years ago.
He saw something tiny and white fall across his eyes and he felt the cold of it when it landed on his nose. It was a snowflake and there were more falling on his head.
Elsa suddenly looked frightened and withdrew her hand. The little rain of snow on his head abruptly stopped.
"I-I'm sorry. I was reaching for the cheese," he said.
"Cheese… of course…," she stammered. "You can have it… you can have all of it..." She suddenly stood up that Hans was startled.
"I'm sorry if I offended you…" he began.
"No, it's nothing…" she contradicted as she backed away from him in a manner that was all too familiar.
"I should go…"
Then she was running away from him. Again.
There wasn't a door this time for her to hide behind but there were plenty of reeds and she disappeared into a curtain of it. Hans considered chasing after her but he realized she would probably feel threatened by the gesture just as she did the first time they met.
Then he heard a tiny shriek and the sound of something falling.
"Elsa?" he called out as he bounded towards her direction.
"I'm fine. I just tripped on a stupid rock!" she called out.
It didn't matter if she just tripped. She could still be injured and he wasn't going to stand idly by while she was in pain. He desperately searched through the tumble of wild vegetation until he found her. She was lying flat on her back cushioned on tall grasses, her skirt pooled up to her thigh which exposed her legs and knees. When she tried to sit up, her skirt rode even higher and showed him more skin. She saw him immediately and hurriedly pulled the fabric down to cover herself. But he had seen enough. He looked away and focused on her face.
"Are you alright?" he offered his hand to assist her up but she didn't take it. She got up on her own and didn't seem to have been hurt in any way.
"I'm fine," she muttered with as much dignity as she could. "And no, I don't need assistance General. Thank you."
He let her go and didn't even dare to watch her disappear back into their camp. He focused his gaze on the river. Yet even without her presence, he couldn't stop unseeing the image of her lying in the reeds, disheveled in the moonlight, with the skin of her legs glowing invitingly. He couldn't help imagining how it would feel to touch her knee. Would it feel as smooth all the way up her thigh as he kissed her?
Hans shook his head but it still wasn't clearing the vivid images playing in his mind. That uncomfortable warmth inside him was only growing even more despite the shame he felt for even thinking of her that way.
Desperately, he chucked his shoes and ripped off his uniform until he was left in his underclothes. He ran then dived headfirst into the freezing river, wishing the cold water could eradicate the madness the snow queen just stamped on his stubbornly lustful mind.
Author's Note: Hans' flashback to his first meeting with Elsa was the first part of this story I wrote which was when I started writing Forgiveness and conceptualizing Hans' reasons for desiring a place in Arendelle. I wanted to explore the idea that Hans had been attracted to Elsa right from the start and it never really went away, he just suppressed it. Now that he's in close contact with her, it's resurfacing and causing havoc to his sanity.
I think you can all guess by now where the romance aspect for this story will end up, but there's still a long way to go before we get there and Hans and Elsa will take some time before they can get their act together. Maybe I should send Lord Ragnar more often to help them move it along.
I do adore all the feedback I am getting from all of you and those responses do help me keep going on this story so thank you so much.