Chapter Text
Dear Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles,
I hope this letter finds you—
In a gutter, your pride soaking up the sewage of your city.
—well. You may be surprised to find this letter addressed to you, as it surprises me just as much to be writing it. I find myself unable to lighten the burden of my thoughts without bidding you any words of farewell. You were taken into custody—
and rightly so, as you tried to behead me at my weakest, when I truly wished for death, you despicable cretin.
—quite suddenly, and I did not have a chance to face you before you headed back to your home and your own personal punishment. While I have regretted the lack of parting words with you in person, I now find myself writing this letter to you out of an unquestionable need for my own peace of mind.
I am not one to take pleasure in bestowing grief on anyone. You are—
the one exception.
—not exempt from this. While the grievances you have laid against my sister and I shall never be forgotten, I—
can hold a grudge against you until I take my last breath.
—cannot withhold my necessity to forgive. Over these past few months, I have found it is not within my heart to hold grudges against mistakes that were made out of desperation, blind arrogance, or the all-consuming greed that may foster a home within the spirits of—
only the weakest of men.
—strong and weak men, alike. Whether you are strong or weak is—
not even in question, you manipulative, scathing coward.
—not in my ability to judge, and I am certain you will face trials which will determine who and what you are, and who and what you decide to be.
I want it to be made very clearly. Whatever demons you may face—
and I hope they are many.
—I, Queen Elsa of Arendelle, shall not be one of those demons. What you have done to my sister and I was treacherous, conniving, and evil. Yet, instead of breaking us apart, it has made us realize our strength and our endless love for one another. You have shown me what it is to overcome fear. You have played a role in building the enduring authority of my kingdom. I would be lying if I said I was not grateful for what you have brought to light in the nature of these events—
but I am not a liar.
—and I mean this, in the coldest part of my soul and the warmest chambers of my heart.
Be well, Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles, with wherever the rest of this life takes you.
Sincerely,
Queen Elsa of Arendelle
Dearest Queen Elsa of Arendelle,
You were right. I was surprised to see a letter addressed to me from the Queen, herself, though I'm sure, not surprised in the way you think. I'm surprised it has taken you three months to put ink to parchment, to finally collect your thoughts into a form of coherency that was both beautiful and, unfortunately, counterfeit.
Up until now, I found I had a deep, begrudging respect for the reigning Queen of Arendelle. I've wondered time and again over these months what your punishment for me would be. Frostbite? Freezing and thawing my heart, over and over until it burst in my chest? Impalement by icicles? All would have been approved by each of my brothers, with the utmost support of my mother and father.
Yet, you decide on forgiveness. You must know this forgiveness is an impertinence. How dare you believe me to want it? You write as though it would be a gift, a key unlocking one of my shackles. Perhaps it will surprise you that your feelings toward my staged coup of your kingdom never entered my mind. It has never been a burden to me. Have you forgotten that I'm the irredeemable, manipulative, handsome, and unwanted thirteenth Prince of the Southern Isles? Nothing you can say or do will leave me begging for your mercy. In fact, your mercy is the last thing I want. The only thing I wanted from you was your kingdom, but I showed you my crux of a hand. I fail, Queen Elsa. Being the lucky number thirteen, that is what I am destined to do, and that is what I will do for the rest of my life.
Your letter was riddled with lies. The words in it were pretty, and I suppose they made you feel better once you sent the letter off to find me. I know self-serving actions when I see them, Queen. You meant not one word of what you spent weeks developing.
You did mean the frost on the edges of the parchment. It was a nice touch. Next time, use your ice and your honesty. The lies are a waste of time—both yours and mine.
Yours truly,
Prince Hans Westergaard of the Southern Isles