CHAPTER 3

Prince Hans just received terrible news: Arendale's emergency food storage would only last for three more weeks. He frantically sent letters to the nearest allied kingdoms, including the Southern Isles, requesting non-perishable foods such as grains, legumes, hardtack (a kind of durable biscuit), salted meats, dried fruits, and pickled/brined vegetables. He had also requested charcoal and firewood, as they were (literally) burning through those resources faster than they could harvest them. He ensured to keep the source of the emergency as vague as he could but emphasized that if the Arendale's allies wanted to prove their loyalty, now was the time.

Hans had avoided the use of his name in these letters, opting to sign with, "The Queen's Royal Advisor" and stamped each one with the Arendale royal family crest. He altered his signature, so no one could recognize it.

There was another significant issue. The water surrounding the port was frozen over, making it difficult to extract goods from merchant ships. His men had to walk back and forth on the ice, lugging goods onto crates and pulling them with a rope across the ice. The use of horses on solid ice was out of the question. They needed sleds pulled by reindeer and who else possessed the experience and resources other than the currently unemployed ice harvesters from the mountains? Hans sent a letter to the only ice harvester union in Arendale, "The Union of Icemen" immediately.

Hans did not breathe a word to Elsa about any of this, not the frozen port nor the food shortage. The last thing he needed was her stirring up a storm and derailing their efforts any further. He had to keep her happy and hopeful, even if that meant filling her pretty little head with gilded lies. He was able to convince Kai to instruct the servants to do the same. And he refused to allow a single dignitary–especially the Duke of Weselton–anywhere near Elsa.

The dignitaries were currently residing in the east side of the castle, watched over by guards. They were allowed to send letters to their kingdoms on one condition: they make no mention of Elsa's powers. This was simple for most of the dignitaries, who proved to be quite civil. Hans had their letters carefully inspected, most just claimed a mysterious winter curse had been cast over Arendale (some even blamed the trolls) and they needed a new ship (their ships had been parked close by the harbor and thus, frozen).

Of course, The Duke of Weselton had been the most resistant to cooperation. He had his letters rejected three times and each time, he made no attempt at improvement. For the first, he spared no effort to hide his disdain for the queen, alluded that she was some sort of sorceress, and openly admitted she was the reason why he was trapped here. The second letter seemed exactly what Hans had wanted but upon close inspection, a cipher was revealed with the first letter of every paragraph spelling, H-E-L-P-M-E. And the third was a drawing of Elsa, done in angry ink pen strokes, resembling a monster with sharp teeth and claws. Hans was certain that one was done just to piss him off. He would have been baffled by the Duke's foolishness had he not been used to it by now.

"If you do not cooperate, I will convince the Queen to sever all ties with Weselton," he said to the Duke.

"That doesn't scare me, little prince, the Duke said, mockingly. "After you prevented my guards from adequately dealing with that horrid witch-queen, Arendale remains a frozen wasteland, void of any precious tradable goods." He raised his chin and waved him away, "Weselton is no longer invested in the affairs of a doomed kingdom."

"This kingdom isn't doomed, this winter is temporary," Hans spat, "Once the Queen learns to control her powers, you will regret soiling the relations between Arendale and Weselton!" Hans was fuming now, so much so that the Duke took a step back, "So go ahead! Write whatever you desire. I will be sure to send an accompanying letter describing how you ordered your guards to assassinate the Queen! I'm certain the King of Weselton will be happy to hear how his Duke is capable of treason."

The Duke froze, staring at him incredulously. His wrinkled face contorted into an expression of indignant fury, and he pointed a trembling finger at him.

"Why you–!" He let loose a plethora of profanities, calling Hans all sorts of vulgar names, and even accused him of trying to woo the Queen so he could marry her and become King. While the Duke was thoroughly stupid, he had his moments of intelligence.

Hans patiently observed his meltdown with perfect stoicism. Mirroring the Duke would be of no advantage to him now. Once the Duke had mellowed down, Hans replied coldly, "Are you done?"

The Duke's cheeks were ruddy red and he was panting quite heavily. He took a deep breath and regained his composure. He placed his hands behind his back, stood tall and proud, and tried his best to look every bit like the gentleman he could never be. He raised his chin and refused to meet his eyes. He spoke, unable to hide the utter disdain in his voice, "For the sake of Weselton, I am willing to send a letter withholding the accounts of what has transpired here. I ask you, Prince Hans, to do the same."

Hans smiled, but it was more of a smirk. "It would be my honor, Duke."

—oOo—

Hans hummed contently as he made his way down the hallway to the library. He passed by a mirror and stopped to examine himself, ensuring he looked perfectly dashing (he always did). When he reached the door, the guard allowed him inside, without a single word exchanged between them.

Elsa was reclining on a sofa, a book in her hand. What a sight she was, with her doe-like eyes and lily-white cheeks painted pink. A rush of excitement passed through him. The Queen of Arendale…waiting for him. He would be the envy of his brothers. It was a shame she wasn't wearing the same dress she had worn yesterday, the one that looked like blue gossamer. Although, if he was being honest, it wasn't so much the color he liked…

When she saw him, she quickly changed her reclined position, sitting like a proper Queen, hands in her lap and shoes upon the floor. Hans bowed deeply, "Good morning, Queen Elsa."

"Morning, Prince Hans," she looked hesitant and cautious, regarding him like a wolf in her sanctuary.

She stood up, poised and elegant, and clasped her gloved hands together.

Hans blinked, a little taken aback. "Gloves, your highness?"

She averted her eyes, as if to hide her shame. He took a few steps towards her, and she stiffened, which stopped him in his tracks.

"My Queen, is there something troubling you?" he said, as tenderly as he could.

She bit her lip. "I suppose I'm a little nervous."

"About being alone with a gentleman?"

She shot him a glare. He laughed, chiding himself for his impulsiveness. "Please, I mean no offense. I'm only trying to lighten the mood."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure there are other ways to lighten the mood without insulting me."

"Again, my apologies," he bowed, but the smile never left his lips. She was so serious!

She raised her chin and looked down at him, dissecting him with her eyes, as if she was a doctor and he was a cadaver. He should have been disturbed, instead he was amused, excited even. He would gladly sprawl on a laboratory table if she commanded him to. The promise of becoming king was looming ever so closely to his desperate, outstretched grasp.

"Yesterday, you said that you could teach me how to control my powers," her eyes held a challenge in them, "You must think very highly of yourself, Prince Hans."

Hans was stupefied. He hadn't expected such hostility. Was she testing him?

"You're mistaken, your highness. I made no such claim, I simply offered to help–"

"Follow me," she said, sternly.

He followed behind, feeling oddly foolish. She led him to the other side of the room and looked up at a family portrait of two little girls, one blonde and the other ginger, and their parents who stood, poised and graceful above them. Hans' eyes drifted immediately to the King, dressed in uniform, a glittering gold crown upon his blonde head. A well-built, handsome man with a long, slender nose and a small mustache above his upper lip. For a long moment, they observed the painting silently alongside each other, her face guarded and his skewed toward admiration.

"My father thought he could help me control my powers," she held up a gloved hand, "with these. He told me, conceal, don't feel. For a while, it worked," her face grew solemn, the lines of misery beginning to crack through her mask, "But, like all good things, that must also be taken from me."

The sudden respect Hans had for the King of Arendale seemed to diminish. Perhaps he only looked noble.

She turned to him, eyes damp, "I appreciate your generosity, but you cannot–"

"Your father was wrong."

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"I mean no disrespect, I'm certain he did what he thought was best, but I believe it was a mistake for him to treat your gift as if it were a curse."

"It is a curse!"

"Do you remember your ice palace? It must have taken you a day, perhaps hours to construct it."

The memory of witnessing it firsthand appeared in his mind, accompanied with the sound of horse hooves trotting on snow and the murmur of awe and fear from his men as they approached it.

"A few minutes, actually," Elsa smiled, wistfully. He looked at her, impressed. She looked delighted, in her own shy way, but that expression quickly yielded to shame, and she could not meet his eyes.

He laughed. "No, don't be ashamed! It was an architectural wonder, a fine piece of workmanship. I imagine you up there, chiseling ice like a sculptor or laying foundations of ice like a constructor with only a wave of your hands." He paused to catch his breath; he had been rambling on excitedly. "What I'm trying to say is this: your curse can be a blessing. You can create beautiful things," he held her gloved hands in his own. "Anyone with the power to create can also destroy. You can create that palace and you can destroy it too. You can bring winter and you can end it."

"How?"

"Practice," Hans said, sternly, "You should have been taught how to use your powers, not hide them away. That's what I intend to do." He came closer, until they were but a breath apart. He spoke, almost in a whisper, eyes searching hers imploringly, "Become the antithesis of everything you've ever known. Rise like a snow phoenix from cold ashes."

Gone was the snow queen, in her place stood a little girl, looking up at him in wide-eyed awe.

"You think I can do it?"

"I know you can."

There was a long silence before the queen returned. She raised an eyebrow, feigning skepticism. He gave her a playful grin, knowing he had already won her over.

She pulled back her shoulders, looking like a wind-up doll preparing for her performance. "Shall we begin, Prince Hans?"

He smiled. She smiled back, albeit a bit shyly. This was going well. He had secured her trust but now, he needed to prove he could deliver.

"Of course, please sit."

She did as he asked, much to his elation, but was met with disappointment when she settled on the farthest side of the couch. He resisted the urge to sigh. Didn't they just have a moment?

Well, now that he had her under his tutelage, he wasn't going to let her keep her distance so easily. He scooted closer towards her, much to her visible discomfort. He felt the temperature in the room drop. Thankfully, he had worn his jacket.

"May I?" He said, gesturing to her hands.

She nodded. He took her gloved hands in his, feeling how cold they were even through the cloth.

"Your hands…are they always cold?"

"Yes."

"Without gloves, does everything you touch turn to ice?"

"Yes."

"Even when you aren't frightened or nervous?"

She hesitated, looking down at their entwined hands. For a while, she said nothing.

"Queen Elsa?"

Her ocean blue eyes seemed to turn gray. "I always am."

He blinked. Oh…so that's why she ran off to the mountains.

He caught sight of a glass of water on the table beside the couch. He took it and placed it in her hand.

"Try freezing this."

She gave him a wary glance and took off her glove. She pointed her index finger to the glass and instantly the water froze.

"Unfreeze it," he said, quickly.

Her eyes flickered to his own. Hans realized it sounded like an order.

"Please?"

She frowned. "I can't."

"Try," he said, gentle and encouraging, although his patience was waning, "You've done it before, remember? With Anna? Close your eyes. Concentrate."

She closed her eyes and furrowed her brows. Agitation crossed his face. He knew what would happen. She'd open her eyes, look at him with that sad lovely face, and proclaim that she couldn't do it. Of course, he knew that she could. He saw her do it firsthand, melting the ice off him and thawing a frozen Anna (although the thaw did not reach the ice in her heart).

He thought about what he had deduced earlier, back on the fjord, that her powers were linked to her emotions. When she saw Anna's body, she must have felt despair—that was what nearly froze him to death. When she heard Anna's heartbeat, what had she felt? Relief? Hope? If negative emotions were the catalyst to freeze then positive emotions must be the counter-catalyst…

He beamed in excitement. "Your majesty! Think of Anna!"

Elsa glared. "Yes, I am aware I need to help my sister."

"No, what I mean is: try thinking of Anna as you hold this glass, think of happy memories of her. Think about building a snowman with her—"

Tears came to Elsa's eyes and threatened to fall. Oh. Perhaps that was too sensitive of a subject. He placed his hands on her shoulders to comfort her, trying not to wince at the sudden cold emanating from her body.

"Please, once more," he said, tentatively. He prayed to God this would work. Arendale was counting on him.

Elsa nodded and closed her eyes. When she opened them and stared down at the glass in between her hands, she immediately looked back at him, a grin lighting up her fine features.

He understood now.

Love was what would end this winter.