Chapter Text
“Bring him to me,” Elsa said, sitting in the conference room, the council gathered around her.
"Your Majesty, he is already being prepared for departure to the Southern Islands. Our French colleagues will take care of him. We have already discussed this and..."
"And we are grateful to our French colleagues and will be in their eternal debt, but Princess Anna and I still have something to tell him before their departure," she insistently interrupted the adviser's objections. "Guards, bring the prince!"
It's new for her to speak to the council in such a tone. Perhaps it's because they've been managing the kingdom's affairs for the past three years before she took office. Dealing with criminals, among other affairs, was their job, but now the responsibility for delivering Hans to his homeland fell on her shoulders, and she thinks she deserves to speak to him one last time. Of course, mentioning Anna wanting to see him too is just for added reassurance. The more people believe in me, the better for me, Elsa thought to herself, already feeling panic creeping up to her throat; it was becoming difficult to breathe.
You are no longer an insecure recluse, you have a responsibility to fulfill, pull yourself together at last, lest they eat you alive in this very room!
One of her advisors even snorted, deeply offended by such scandalous behaviour, and wanted to object, but chose to remain silent.
I can't stand this, she panicked. Breathe, you need to breathe deeply.
"Prince Hans is here, Your Majesty."
That was Kai, her family's servant. He had served her parents faithfully, and now he served her.
"Bring him to me." He had a vacant expression, as if he was impartial to anything that was happening around him."Excuse us."
"As you wish, ma'am."
Kai never questioned her competenc—too many times he found her alone, among piles of books, studying. Once, after the death of the late King and Queen, she lingered in the library for an unusually long time—more than two days, all staff could not do anything about it as she refused to open the door—trying to lose herself in the textbooks, the wonderful worlds of her favorite novels, in the rhymes of poetry so beloved by her mother. Though this never worked out for her really, not completely. It took him several hours of persuasion to let him in, and then they spent the same amount of time simply talking.
It was so long ago, but it feels like yesterday.
"What an honor, Your Majesty, being regarded before I leave. Honestly, I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. It is all so rather upsetting, really." Hans grins, looking at her with his typical pride and haughtiness, as if he hadn't been forced to kneel before her by the guards. She wrinkled her nose at the comment.
“Prince Hans, I find it challenging to assume someone would behold any acknowledgement towards yourself to inform you that you will be brought home by the French embassy, and reunited with your family early tomorrow morning."
"How generous of them."
"Apparently, you bear a common history that I am not aware of which serves their interest to help you."
"I'll tell you about it sometime when you invite me for tea." Hans flashed her a grin. "Though something tells me I won't see Arendelle anytime soon."
"Not only will you not see us anytime soon," she propped herself on the table attempting to make a point, "I'll make sure you never set foot on Arendelle's port again. You're not welcome here."
"At least Your Majesty is supported here again. Your people have obviously welcomed you with open arms after our little incident, so I must take my leave."
"Yes, as you have well noted, my people are kind at heart with peaceful intentions towards their queen, and I am very glad—" Elsa was soon rudely interrupted.
"Peaceful, you say? Oh, Your Majesty, don't be so naive," Hans said, performing some silly finger-sward play. Doesn't anything at all bother him in this room, she wonders. "While you were gone, the people here had such a hard time contemplating your amicability as a newly discovered sorceress that if my squad hadn't gone after you, they would have come after you with pitchforks, rest assured. An angry mob, a turned on you mob, is capable of doing horrendous things. Be grateful to fate for your salvation, especially—"
"You so modestly call yourself my savior? You seem to have forgotten yourself."
"There is no need to remind me of my place, thank you very much. My point is that while Your Majesty was unable to fulfill your royal duties, my team provided the necessary security and temporary shelter for your people in the circumstances we resided. Such things could never be forgotten."
“Someday, over a cup of tea, as you say, we will definitely thank you for your highly valued contribution,” Elsa continued to walk circles around the room along the long table, heading towards the fireplace, which was still giving off heat. Now that summer had returned, it was of no use.
Hans dropped the remaining tension in his shoulders. "Why am I here, Your Majesty?" He didn't even glance in her direction, showing apparent disinterest towards her movements. He remained motionless on the other side of the room, the heavy cedar doors still behind him, his head and shoulders slumped, stiff under the weight of the manacles, the chains stretched from his neck to his wrists.
"This is your last chance to repent before the trial begins obviously."
"You want me to apologize?" He exhaled sharply, almost laughing. "Wait, let me collect myself, I already have a speech prepared. Just a moment," he cleared his throat, pausing deliberately, taking his time. "Oh, just one more thing. Would you please call for Anna? I have a few words for her as well. If you don't mind." He was staring at her, provoking, his face flushed with a sudden surge of energy. He had perked up a bit and now looked a little more cheerful. Elsa still had her back to him observing his reflection, unable to turn.
"You are behaving like a child."
"So the legend says. Did you think I'd fall at your feet and beg for forgiveness?" The tone of his voice was no longer so cheeky. "Don't make a victim of yourself and me the villain, please. Otherwise, hang me right here, maybe in that lovely corner over there," he nodded slightly to her left, on the opposite side of the windows, "so you don't have to worry about being responsible for my return home. You won't hear any remorse from me, because I don't consider myself a criminal. I did what I thought was right."
"You'll drown in your lies if you keep this up I fear," she finally turned to face him, keeping up weariness evident in her voice. "Necessary for what? To carry out your insidious plan to usurp my crown? You wouldn't even be afraid to get your hands dirty. Anna has already filled me in on the details. Leave it alone," she said, waving her hand lightly in his direction and heading toward the window. All this was more overwhelming than she thought it would be.
"Ah, well, since you already know everything, then I'm afraid we have nothing more to talk about."
"This is my claim to decide when there is and when there is not anything to talk about," she hissed—then restrained herself, her lips tight. "Don't you even want to know what awaits you when you get home? Your father, King Christian, painted quite a graphic picture of his ideas for what could be done to you."
"I'm curious, could you give me a few examples? I would be happy to hear about them, if you would be so kind."
"I won't bother," she said with a devilish smile. Somehow it brings her joy just toying with him. "Time will tell."
"You know, you're right, Your Majesty. Time will put everything in its place. God knows how much more it will take for you to lose your grip on reality again. Once a sinner, always a sinner. And do you know what will happen then? Then you will come to me." Although her face was barely visible from his angle, he could tell from her sharp exhalation, how she just rolled her eyes—he saw her doing so once when attending the ball. His tone was indulgent, patronizing. "Oh yes, you will. Even if not literally. You will remember me. And you will cry bitterly and wish for what was supposed to happen a week ago had happened and you wouldn't have to relive that whole nightmare. Because then you won't just have your miserable self to deal with, you'll have the whole kingdom looking out for you, and I wonder if love can then melt the cold and save the day?"
Shut up, please, shut up.
"You are right."
"Sorry?"
"You're right. You're not a criminal, Hans, you're a monster, unworthy of redemption. Your ego is so great that you can't see the real world beyond the one you imagine, where you're a great, righteous vigilante with great convictions. But the world isn't black and white at all. And you're not the main character here. And as for my kingdom, it's no longer your responsibility to look after it. Better take care of yourself; you still have a lot to endure. Try to find something to do in the meantime, that's my advice." She vented at once, being a little short of breath.
"I see. In your world, I am a bad person and must be punished. But you haven't answered my question. How could love melt the ice when there's none left in our hearts?"
"As long as a person lives, there will always be love in their heart. It just can't disappear, unlike my patience." She turned toward the door. "Guards! Take the prisoner to his cell." A commotion spread in the corridors, and Elsa turned her gaze on him. "We are done."
"And you are incredibly lucky: after everything that has happened, you are loved, I'm even a little jealous." His voice is even, but his words are a little rushed, his time running out. "That's a pity that Princess Anna did not join us, so for the lack of audience I address my next question to you." The doors were swinging open, the palace guards grabbed him by the arms and began to drag him toward the exit. "Tell me, Queen, how did it feel when you realized that everyone around you began to see you as a monster?"
Don't be the monster they fear you are. She suddenly felt nauseous from the whirlwind of emotions, her fingertips began to tingle unpleasantly, her body suddenly became unbearably heavy and she wanted to sit down.
The doors slammed shut, and a ringing silence descended upon the room. There was no rustling from the corridors, no shouts from the courtiers strolling in the square just outside the window. Though there were likely sounds, they couldn't reach her, she couldn't perceive them in general: her head throbbing, the ringing in her ears so persistent, it was too loud and too quiet at the same time. His question hung in her thoughts, like the paper with her coronation oath she hung above her desk, looking at it every time, reminding herself of the possible disaster she wanted to avoid at all costs. Avoiding disaster appeared unfeasible. At least I'll be able to avoid Hans's company, finally.
Why did he tell her this? Wasn't the grief he'd brought her and her sister enough for him? Or did he simply want to have the last word for himself? Let it be so, puffing with displeasure, she resigned.
After all, however unpleasant this conversation was, she did what she planned and can now continue with her business. Though the feeling of closure never came.
"I saw the ship of the French delegation this evening unmoored from our port,” Anna mentioned in a casual tone at breakfast, “this hassle with the guests is finally over, especially when some of the guests were so…”
"Unpleasant?"
"To say the least! Totally unpleasant individuals." Anna started to drink her tea furiously. She suddenly frowned and twisted her face: the tea was still hot. "That came out wrong: they were not all unpleasant—truthfully I had a great time being around them, making new acquaintances and everything—got to know a few of the citizenry even—lovely people, the things they shared!—"
Elsa merely grinned at her sister's stammering. "I feel you."
These breakfasts have been going on for a week now, ever since Elsa brought back summer and opened the gates to the kingdom's inhabitants. For her, such ordinary things always brought her anxiety, so accustomed was she to solitude. Back in the day, even on major celebrations, she wouldn't even go out to see her family, let alone share feasts with them at the same table, even if the festivity was attended by no more than ten people: the royal family and their closest servants. The gates were closed by order of King Agnar thirteen years ago, and of course whatever traditions they had carried that involved large gatherings had to be abandoned.
So even now, with only Anna and Kristoff for company, she sometimes caught herself yearning for solitude. The next moment, she was convinced that things would never be like before, and she honestly didn't want them to be like before. Those were dark times for her, filled with fear and a feeling of being on the edge, anticipating void and nothingness. If she had the power to change the past, to avoid that unfortunate childhood incident, she would do so without a second thought. Perhaps the hardest part was the limited time she spent with Anna. Their father insisted that the sisters spend little time alone, only in the presence of a chaperone and under the supervision of their parents. But as Elsa became older, she realized she had less and less control over her abilities, and the chances of history repeating itself grew.
"What are your plans for the day? I was thinking of going out into town, perhaps you'd like to join me?" Anna looks at her with such hope, as if she could never get enough of her sister's company.
"Sorry but I have loads of work to do now. It feels like everything in the kingdom has been at a standstill for the last three years, and even the most basic things were left unattended. But I think I'll be free by this evening," Elsa added as she saw how little by little her sister grew sad but in an instant her expression brightened, already suggesting something they could do together. "After the evening meeting, I need to go to my chambers to pick some stuff. Meet me there or else I'll likely forget and get back to work, no offence." She got up.
"I'll take care of it,'' Anna cheered. "If you don't show up, I'll come after you and snare you from your office," Anna added, elbowing her sister in high spirits.
How I wish things would always be like this.
“I will do my best.” The memory of the evening on the day of her coronation overtook her as she walked towards her office, taking her leave after breakfast.
Three weeks passed, and there was no news from the Southern Isles. It wasn't that Elsa was waiting or anything yet she was certain her role in the trial entitled her to be kept informed at leat. She didn't even know whether the prince returned home or if an accident had occurred en route. Perhaps it was time to let things go and finally move on.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
It was Kai with letters on a silver tray—the daily mail.
"Thank you. Is everything as usual today?"
“Essentionally, Your Majesty,” she raised an eyebrow in confusion—something was off. “But there is a letter from the Southern Islands.”
She seemed to no longer be listening to him, fussily sorting through a pile of envelopes, looking for the very one sealed with the stamp of one particular kingdom.
"Where is it?" Kai held out the envelope he'd been holding under the tray for her. "It doesn't have the royal seal of the Southern Isles on it," she amused.
“I dare to assume the letter was not authorized by His Majesty." She frowned, reading some overtone in his suggestion.
"Thank you, Kai, I'll figure this out by myself," Elsa said, hinting that he may be excused.
"As you wish, ma'am. I'll be nearby if you need anything."
Another good thing about Kai is that he promptly understands hints and doesn't need to be told twice. She should give credit to her parents for carefully selecting the palace staff, especially the closest attendants.
She already had a letter opener in her hand to access the message and find out who wrote it, if not King Christian. However in the envelope she only found a small scrap of paper, completely different from what the envelope itself was made of: so worn out, tattered, and greasy stains of unknown origin. She gently unfolded it. It was brief: there was only one phrase in it, not written in ink but with coal or something, Elsa thought, in a clumsy handwriting, very angular, as if the person had not written but scratched out every letter, forcing some coloring from the item.
Her face immediately fell—there was no doubt who sent the message.
I'm still waiting for your answer.
H.
“The nerve of you,” she muttered, gritting her teeth. “Go to hell!” she finally delivered her verdict.
She had no time to correspond with the prisoners, nor any desire for it at all. So Elsa stuffed the paper back into the envelope and stuck it into the bottom drawer of her desk; somehow, the thought of simply throwing it away didn't even cross her mind.
"Well, Your Majesty, I have no bad news for you, you're fine," said their family doctor, Heinrich Bartels. "It's your nervous system's reaction to stress, in a bit overstate, but I don't see anything pathological here. If it bothers you too much, I can prescribe some tonic," he handed her a small bottle, "alkaloids, a maximum of two drops before bed. Don't overdo it."
"Thank you, Dr. Bartels."
"Just Heinrich, Your Majesty." He smiled at her, content. "I've been looking after your family's health for a long time, after all; we are not to address each other as strangers."
"We can always count on you. You are a very dear friend to our family."
"Glad to be of service." He paused briefly, looking down at his bag, deeply in thought. "And as a friend, please bear in mind some of my advice." He started warily, but she was fine, wasn't she? Had he not just said it himself? She shrunk in her comforters, wide-eyed. "Take better care of yourself. Your journey as queen has only just begun, and you still have many great things to accomplish, so it's crucial not to be ignorant of your health lest oppress your well-being."
Elsa merely nodded, her countenance blank as she absorbed his words and as to not seem impolite she half-smiled at the doctor for she appreciated his considerateness and attentiveness/ Then Dr. Bartels took his leave.
What peace can one get hold of here? she argued. My coronation was an utter disaster; I lost my family—for a moment but still!—and almost lost my life! If I am, as a queen, having my every day like this I don't know what to think.
Hans wasn't sure anymore, nevertheless by his reckoning he'd spent more than a week in the dungeons of his father's castle. He hadn't expected a warm welcome for the only thing he believed might be warm there is weather that time of year; to be honest, he'd expected to be hanged the very day he arrived. Now he wondered what the king had planned for him; if not execution, then perhaps he'd devised something even more vile, something more merciless, and…
Nonsense! He doesn't care enough, he thought. They'll probably just let me rot in here like some abandoned ill-bred animal.
Although it was summer on the islands, the forty feet underground dankness of the dungeon was maddening. The clothing allowance Hans had been given upon arrival served no exceeding purpose; he could have used at least some kind of blanket to warm himself up—his erratic pacing was no longer helping.
He sat, hunched over, his jaw already starting to tremble, hands so cold that when he clasped his palms, it felt like they weren't his own anymore.
I won't last that long here. Think!
The door to his cell was thick; he'd likely be hard to hear if he tried to speak to the guards. And who would listen anyway? His boring whims wouldn't bother anyone.
Well, whatever.
He doubled up even stronger upon the stone platform that served as his bed, lying on his side. He started screaming at the top of his lungs, until his forehead rang from the vigor. His hysterics lasted for quite a long time, and with each new breath, his strength waned, and his hopes for reaction to his crazy performance dwindled.
An excruciatingly long ten minutes passed, and then Hans heard fuss outside the door. The jingle of keys, the creak of the door latch, and two guards burst in, accompanied by his brother, Victor—the twelfth prince, five years his senior.
"What the hell are you doing?!" He shouted as the doors collided behind him. "Grazing your throat, setting all the guards on edge. What do you need?"
"Hello, brother dearest. Oh, I feel so bad," Hans groaned, faking pain, rolling over onto his back so his twisted countenance could be seen, "but I daren't ask for much..." He raised his gaze sharply to meet his brother's. "Just a fur blanket and a little fire would be nice. Otherwise, I simply won't live to see the trial! You know I don't handle the cold very well."
He rose up on his hands, swung his legs over the side of the bed and was now sitting sideways to the door, alert and expectant.
"You shouldn't be comfortable here, you're not just chilling here. But so be it, you really are needed alive... for now." Though his words were intended to be wounding, he failed to suppress a chuckle. "Expect a guard with everything you need by evening."
"Thank you, brother!" Hans's tone had brightened, and he bowed his head in relief. Victor had a mind of his own, just like Hans; he knew better how to use his brains—he wouldn't be like his other brothers, act like a cowardly hypocrite, trying to please their father and meet curtain expectations just to be recognized as a good boy. "You've always understood me better than anyone else, and I'm so glad to see you now."
"As if anyone but me cares. Ever since you were left here, father hasn't said anything about what will happen to you, or even if anything will happen at all. Though I caught him and Alexander in his office twice, discussing something in raised voices."
"In raised voice? Huh, that's hardly about me then," Hans concluded, relieved.
"Not at all. I assume they're talking about you behind everyone's back regardless of what everyone's saying. Despite your crimes, you're our brother, and believe me: the others have never had such a low opinion of you as you think. They won't forgive your sins, but they don't want you dead. Father, though he tries not to show it, is in an uneasy state. He's offended by your behavior in Arendelle and has sent the queen several letters of apology and offers to mitigate things a little. But I believe nothing good has come of it: Queen Elsa intends to cut off trade relations and any other ties with the Southern Isles. You can only imagine how this has perturbed him."
"My only regret is that I could not witness his reaction with my own eyes. A woman her age so unequivocally dismissed all his attempts to improve the standing as a decent monarch of an old nation in her eyes."
"The time for jokes is over, Hans. If I were you, I'd repent and beg for forgiveness. Father intends to accept whatever the court decides in your case. And the others will be forced to comply."
"I don't want to die." Hans threw up his hands. "I've done too much to have even a little bit of power in Arendelle. And you know what, Victor? I liked it. This is what I've wanted my whole life, it's more than I could have been offered here."
"If you hadn't gone on that trip, you could have been promoted to Admiral." Victor countered.
"And that would be all I could ever achieve! I was born into a royal family, the blood of our noble line flows through my veins; Alexander will be king one day, and how am I any worse than him? The only difference between us is that he knew from birth what awaited him; he was prepared to rule from the very beginning. I have been preparing by myself: I studied more than my teachers gave me, trained for the army—they didn't accept me, bummer!—then for the navy. But that's not enough, don't you understand? I can do more, I want more!"
"None of this will be possible for you when you stubbornly ignore the fact that you're now a traitor in a foreign land and do absolutely nothing to be pardoned. Come now to your senses, Hans! There are so many other things in the world to immerse in; power isn't obtainable for everyone, even with the greatest desire and commitment to drive you. There are things you simply cannot control, and you need to accept that. Get over it. Find something else to do."
"It is truly endearing: everyone suddenly knows more than me what I need." He huffed in recognition. "Anyway, brother, I'll think about it. Thank you for your concern."
Victor leaned on a stone wall, hand clasping on his chest. "It truly saddens me to see you here. I'll try to persuade Alexander to at least convince my father to move you to your own quarters. In the meantime, try not to make things worse. Behave appropriately, do not attract unsought attention."
"Don't forget my request, big brother!" Hans called after Victor before the heavy oak door was firmly locked again.
Before the nightfall, as Victor had promised, the guards brought Hans his blanket, a tray for setting a small fire, and some firewood. Apparently from the palace reserves, thought Hans considering neatly chopped wood.
Warming his hands over the heat of the flames, Hans was content with the warmth that gradually spread through him—he felt immensely better; his strength's slowly returning. When he had to face the Arendelle winter, albeit created artificially, he had a hard time coping with the constant chills. When he prepared for the journey, it was summer, and he hadn't even thought to pack warm clothes; the palace there was also unprepared for the cold, warm clothing stowed in storage.
The mission to the North Mountain proved the most difficult. His squad wasn't prepared to transport three people—the Weselton guards and the unconscious queen—on horseback alone, thus he had to carry her home in his arms, riding on horseback. I saved her life back then, God knows what those two scoundrels would have done to her, knowing their reputation. The Duchy of Weselton was small, but it had its own organized system and its own quite unconventional policy: some of its prisoners had the opportunity to serve their sentences not in the penal colony, but in the army although under harsher conditions.
Those who arrived with the count for the coronation ceremony had long served in the army and were obviously trusted confidants, but who knows what they really had in their twisted minds. He had overheard from the Arendelle guards about their escapades with young ladies back home, so, having a little freedom away from home, nothing would stop them from having an insulting affair with a young woman. One thing was feeling repulsive to a person but letting things like this happen was another matter to Hans' believing; this was just utter repugnance.
His last conversation with her came flooding back to him. She hadn't answered his question. That was quite curious, he thought. He remembered her advice then. An idea struck. You want me to find something to occupy myself with, huh—that's easy. Hans reached into the inside pocket of his jacket—he was wearing the same clothes he'd worn to the coronation reception—and found the scrap of paper the guard had slipped him back in Arendelle, offering him a light. He wasn't used to smoking, but the piece of paper remained.
He had to sacrifice a piece of brushwood that was burning near the pile coal-black wood, carefully pushing it out and letting it cool. He left a message for Elsa on a piece of paper. He already knew how to draw Victor's attention and convince him to indulge him with this tiny request; all he had to do was wait until morning.
"If I'm going to spend the rest of my life in this place, at least I'll have a little fun," he grinned, looking with satisfaction at his work. He'd enjoyed toying with people's emotions since childhood, as soon as he'd learned to sense the connection between his actions and the reactions of others. Perhaps this was the fault of his family, which, to put it mildly, paid him almost no attention: his upbringing was entrusted to nurses and tutors, then to teachers; his older brothers weren't interested in him—the difference between some of them was more than fifteen years. But that's life, and he is who he is.
That morning, the letter was handed over to the post bureau. Hans and Victor made a bet: if the Queen responded, Victor would allow Hans to correspond with her and provide everything necessary to seal the letter himself, without informing any of his brothers or father. He himself was curious to see where this eventually would lead.
Four weeks had passed since Elsa received Hans's letter. That evening, Victor decided to visit Hans and remind him of the bet he had won.
"Laugh all you want. I wasn't hopeful or anything anyway," growled Hans.
"Yes, another Westergaard who didn't get the Snow Queen's attention." Victor grinned like a chessy-cat. "And I had such high hopes."
"You've always loved gossip. Not a single palace drama has ever passed you by."
"What else am I supposed to do in this pit hole? You know as well as I do what it's like to be one of the youngest here."
Suddenly, the door to the cell burst open and a guard burst into the room, tripping in his haste and nearly falling to his death on his weapon. "Your Grace, I've finally found you. You asked me to report to you first if there was any news from Arendelle." He hurriedly extended an envelope to Victor.
"Impossible," he drawled, chuckling as he uttered each word with satisfaction. "Look what we've got here. Seems like you've won. Who would have thought," he timidly opened the letter, so obviously savoring the moment—time for new intrigues.
Hans was already on his feet, the chains too short to reach where his brother stood. "Hey, nothing's bothering you? I got the letter, it's mine, give it to me!"
"Wait a minute!" He paused, reading the letter, his smile slowly breaking out again. "Ho-ho, brother, what did you tell her that she's so worked up about?" He continued reading, snorting to himself, barely restraining himself from bursting into laughter. "I like the way she expresses herself."
Suddenly his face dropped, showing no emotion.
"What is it?" Hans asked cautiously.
Victor turned sharply toward the guard who had delivered the letter and sternly asked him if there were any more letters from Arendelle. As it turned out, there was another one, addressed to the king and marked urgent.
"Here, take a look," he finally handed the letter to Hans who snatched it irritably and started reading, standing rooted to the spot, motionless, his attention focused only on the letter. "It looks like she sent a reply to your father regarding your case. Do you know what that means?"
A rumble could be heard in the dungeon corridors—someone was approaching them. Alexander entered the cell, followed by four guards. He turned to Victor, not the least bit surprised to see him there: "Father is gathering us in the throne room." He turned to the soldiers accompanying him, nodding toward Hans. "Fetch him, he's coming with us."