Chapter Text
i.
To think, just a few weeks ago, Hans had been so excited when he had learned of his betrothal. The last of his thirteen brothers, he had been resigned to waiting for each of his older siblings to be paired off with wives before even hoping for a match of his own. And he would have waited a long time, if his brother Lars hadn't intervened.
Only Lars would give more than a passing glance at the small kingdom of Arendelle, and only he would see the opportunity in its two young and eligible princesses. Only Lars would care about his youngest brother enough to make him a match, and only Lars would have the charisma and wits to pull it off.
And what a match it was. A crown princess. A future queen.
No one but Lars, Hans' sole ally in his entire family, would have thought of it. Not even their father would have cared enough to think of Hans' future. If it were up to him, Hans would have never been paired with anyone, even if everyone else had already been married off. Or, worse, he would have been sent to the Brotherhood of Isles, forced to take a vow of silence.
But no. Thanks to Lars, that wasn't his fate anymore, and at eleven years old, Hans was already on his way to a brighter, better future than any of his brothers could ever hope to achieve. The trip to Arendelle was just icing on the cake, and Hans had been thrilled to spend the winter season away from his family.
If only Anna wasn't in the picture.
Anna, the second and youngest princess of Arendelle. A spare, just like him.
His eagerness to spend the holidays in his future home, to meet his future in-laws, to get to know his future wife, had been dampened thanks to her. Unlike Elsa — who was quiet and reserved, who was poised and graceful, whom Hans had barely even seen since his arrival in Arendelle — Anna was a tornado with pigtails. She ran around the palace without care, always with reckless abandon, always with a grin, and always with something to say.
She was just so talky. And annoying. And wouldn't leave him alone. Everywhere he went, she was always one step behind, yammering in his ear about some story or another. There was no avoiding her — and boy, did he try — and Hans had no choice but to grin and bear it. Especially, as Lars liked to laughingly remind him, if Hans wanted to get in the King and Queen's good graces.
So here he was, acting like the princess' glorified keeper, as Anna pouted and knocked incessantly at her sister's door.
"Elsa!" Anna was saying, and the sound of her relentless knocking made his head pound. "Do you want to build a snowman? We could do it with Hans! I bet Hans wants to build a snowman with us. Don't you, Hans?"
She turned to him expectantly, and Hans gave her a strained smile. "Sure," he said through gritted teeth. "I'd love nothing more."
The sarcasm was lost on her, and she beamed at him before turning back to the door, knocking again. "You hear that, Elsa? Hans wants to play with us! Elsa? Elsa, I know you're in there! Elsaaaaaaa."
Not for the first time that day, Hans bit back a sigh. Elsa was probably trying to enjoy the silence — the sweet, blissful, blessed silence — before coming out to deal with her little sister. Maybe with Elsa with them, Anna would be easier to deal with, and Hans could have an actual conversation with his betrothed.
But the longer he and Anna stood there, waiting, the more it became clear that Elsa had no intention of opening her door. Hans watched as Anna's large grin faltered with each passing second.
In spite of himself, he couldn't help but frown. Since he arrived, he had only seen Elsa a handful of times, mostly during meals where her presence was required. Even then, she hardly said a word, speaking only when spoken to, each reply short but polite. Hans supposed she must be shy around strangers, and he could understand her need to keep to herself, but was it really necessary to lock herself in her room like this? To hide herself away?
Hans knew all about hiding, after all. He just couldn't understand why Elsa would need to. Anna, as draining and irritating as she was, was nothing like his brothers. The King and Queen of Arendelle were nothing like his parents. So why was Elsa not opening her door? Why wasn't she answering at all?
Anna seemed to have given up on Elsa replying. Her shoulders had visibly drooped, and her bright eyes had dimmed as she cast her gaze downward.
"Oh, well," she said hesitantly. "You're probably busy with — uh — the usual stuff, I guess. Maybe next time?"
There was no answer, but Anna didn't wait for one before dropping on her knees and elbows, peeking through the crack under the door.
"Anna," Hans began, "what are you —"
She slipped the drawing — the one she had been so proud of, the one she made while she insisted he tell her about every single detail of his castle in the Southern Isles, about what each of his brothers looked like, about his entire voyage to Arendelle — under the door and got back to her feet, grabbed his hand, then tugged him away like a ragdoll.
"C'mon!" she said excitedly, beaming again. "Let's go to the library! It's got load and loads of books and Papa said they're from all around the world — isn't that awesome? I bet you've got a library in the Southern Isles too, huh? I bet you've —"
"Wait," he interrupted, mind reeling. "That drawing. Your drawing. You gave it to Elsa."
She nodded, not pausing in her steps. "I did! You think she'd like it?"
"Why?"
"Why would she like it?"
Again, Hans wanted to sigh. "I mean, why did you give it to her?"
"Oh. That." She took a deep breath, then, without pausing, went on, "Well, I dunno, I just thought she'd like to see what the Southern Isles looked like, 'cuz, you know, she didn't get to hear any of your stories at all, 'cuz she left so quickly after dinner and everything. And I bet she really wanted to hear 'em too, because she's in her room all day and she never gets to hear the best stories. I bet she's really bored, staying in bed all the time, and I bet she really wanted to hear all about your castles and your ships and your horses and stuff, but she didn't 'cuz — I dunno, 'cuz she's Elsa like that — anyway. I didn't want her to miss out on all the fun, so I made her those drawings so she gets to see 'em even if she wasn't there!"
It took Hans a moment to make sense of her rambling, but when he did, all he could say was, "You've never seen them either."
"Yeah, but I've got you to tell me all the stories! Elsa doesn't have a storyteller like you so maybe we can make her drawings instead. Like in the storybooks." Anna brightened, and he could almost imagine a candle over her head, lighting up with an idea. "Oh, oh, oh! We should make her a storybook, all about your adventures! I bet she'll like that. Do you think she'll like that?"
Hans fell quiet, feeling something stir in his chest at her words. He couldn't imagine any of his brothers doing something like what Anna did and wanted to do for Elsa. If it were his family, they wouldn't even notice his absence, or would have thought of him at all, let alone care enough to make handmade presents and slip it under his door. Sure, there was Lars, and Hans was definitely grateful he wasn't like the rest of his brothers, but Lars wasn't exactly the affectionate, sentimental sort, and he was always too caught up in his books and research to think of much else.
"Yes, I think she will," Hans said after a while.
Anna squealed. "We should get started! I've got all my crayons and pencils and everything and — oh! We should do it in the library! Elsa never goes to the library — well, she never goes anywhere really — but I don't think I've ever seen her in the library. It's the perfect place — I bet she'll be so surprised —"
She went on and on, talking a mile a minute. Hans let himself be dragged along, half-listening, but he couldn't help but smile and nod as he followed. The princess was annoying, certainly, but she was harmless and easily amused. He supposed there were worse ways to spend the holidays than acting like her royal babysitter.
I won't be bored, at least, he thought.
Anna stopped abruptly when they reached the library. Hans had already passed by the doorway, but Anna was staring at the decorations overhead, gasping, an awed look on her face.
"Mistletoe," she whispered, sounding almost reverent.
Sure enough, there it was, hanging above her, almost hidden behind all the other holiday ornaments. Squinting, Hans could see the mistletoe was still full of berries, and they seemed to gleam, almost tauntingly, amid the glittering decorations.
Hans grimaced. "C'mon, Anna," he said. "I thought you wanted to get started on your storybook —"
"Not before we kiss!"
He sighed. "We don't have to, Anna. It's just a plant."
She looked up at him with a horrified gasp, looking so appalled like he'd just done something terribly unforgivable. Like kicked a puppy or destroyed her snowman, or whatever it was that could be considered unforgivable for six-year-olds. "But it's tradition," she said, reproachful.
Hans resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Technically, he could probably just carry her over his shoulder, bring her inside the library, and be done with it, but no doubt Anna would throw a fuss and start kicking and screaming. It wouldn't be worth it.
So, resigned to the lesser evil, he stifled another sigh and bent down to press a soft kiss on her forehead. When he straightened and stepped back, Anna was gaping at him, with wide eyes and pink cheeks, before the stunned look quickly melted into a glare.
"You missed!" she whined. "That's not a real kiss!"
Hans could feel the beginnings of a smile curling at the corner of his lips, but he smothered it with a smirk. "Of course it is."
"Nu-uh!"
"And how do you know what a real kiss is supposed to be like?"
Anna lowered her voice, glancing about her furtively like she was about to tell a secret. "It's s'pposed to go on the lips, over here," she whispered, pointing to her lips for good measure, as if he needed the reminder. "Like Mama and Papa do. Like in the fairytales."
"Fairytales aren't real, Anna."
She stuck her tongue out at him. "Shows what you know! 'Course they are!"
This time he didn't bother to hide his annoyance as he rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I still say it's a real kiss. The mistletoe tradition never said the kiss had to be on the lips."
She wasn't convinced. "How'd you know?"
"I read it. In a book."
"What book?"
"From the library."
Her brows furrowed, and she looked like she was in deep concentration, as though she was debating with herself, trying to fit what she knew with this new information. Then she nodded, self-assured and seemingly satisfied. "Okay, I guess," she said, a bit reluctantly. "But next time you have to give me a real kiss — not a stupid one on the forehead! A kiss like True Love."
"Like in the fairytales?"
"Exactly!"
"You're a bit young for True Love's kiss, aren't you?"
Anna tsked impatiently, grabbing his hand and tugging him inside the library. He was beginning to get used to it. "Then do it when I'm bigger, duh. You have to promise."
Hans wanted to laugh, but she was glaring at him so fiercely, so intensely, that he knew nothing less than an affirmative would sway her.
"Okay," he said, smiling. "I promise."
ii.
Kai had been with the royal family long enough to remember the days when the princesses were as thick as thieves, practically attached at hip. Back then, it was almost impossible to see one princess without the other trailing just a few steps behind.
But when the King and Queen decided to place the princesses in separate rooms, when they decided to close the gates, it was like the whole castle had changed overnight. Gone were the joyous, childish screams and giggling, and what were once two sets of footsteps, running to and fro the hallways, had turned to one. It made the palace seem too big, too empty, too cold, and the day Princess Elsa decided to spend her waking hours in the confines of her room, was the day Kai felt as though a light had been snuffed out in the kingdom, leaving only dimmed smiles and shrouding not just the royal family, but everyone else within the castle, in lonely shadows.
Now, Kai had some rather unfavorable opinions about certain practices that were common among the nobility. It wasn't his place to question Their Majesties, of course, but he certainly hadn't approved when he had learned of the engagement between Princess Elsa and a prince of the Southern Isles. Politics-wise, Kai agreed it was a good match, but for heaven's sake, they were only children.
Still, he remembered how Princess Anna's face lit up when she had first learned that Prince Hans was to spend the winters in Arendelle, and how Princess Elsa would wander more and more outside of her room as the prince's annual visits went on. Kai had to admit that some good had come out of the arrangement, as Her Highnesses had ended up with a playmate and a friend — or, in Princess Elsa's case, someone who was on his way to becoming one, if nothing else. Though she still insisted on staying in her room, she would come out to engage in small talk with him, and Kai had noticed that the prince was the only person she would approach and talk to at royal functions, on the rare times that she did initiate conversations.
Which was Kai felt a bit miffed on the princess' behalf, when he caught sight of Prince Hans slipping away from the ball, carrying a platter of what looked suspiciously like krumkakes. From what Kai could tell, no one but himself and the princess had noticed the prince's absence, and he saw her looking around the room, searching the crowd from her place on the dais.
Why, the nerve of him! Kai thought, affronted. Leaving the princess alone . . . why I never!
Once Kai was certain his presence was no longer needed, he too left the ballroom in search of the wayward prince. The boy needed a stern talking to. He was seventeen now, almost of age, and the ball was supposed to be held in his and his brother's honor — surely he had to know better by now, surely he was aware of how rude it was, to leave the party just like that.
It didn't take long to find the prince in the gardens, but what surprised Kai was that he wasn't alone.
"The whole thing?"
"Yeah, the whole thing! You got it."
Kai felt his eyebrows rise to his hairline at the sound of Princess Anna's voice. Peeking behind the hedges, he found the two royals, giggling over a platter of krumkakes. Prince Hans was without his coat, and it was instead draped over the princess' shoulders, big enough to hide the nightgown she wore underneath.
Kai stepped back in the shadows to give them a bit of privacy, remembering then that it wasn't just Elsa who sought the prince's company during his visits. He recalled how fond of the prince Princess Anna was, always so delighted when he visited and despondent when he left. Kai remembered too how she had moped for weeks when the King and Queen informed her she was too young to attend the welcome ball.
Oh well. . . .
Kai could give them a few moments to catch up, he supposed, before he revealed himself. It wasn't as though the prince's presence was that pressing of a matter, surely. . . .
"So what's it like?" the princess was saying.
"The ball?"
"Duh."
"All right, I suppose. A bit boring."
"Boring?" she echoed, sounding aghast to hear such a thing. "How can it be boring? I mean there's dancing and all those people and there's so much chocolate and food —"
The prince laughed. "It really is, Anna. There's hardly any people my age to dance with, and everyone else is busy talking about trade routes and politics."
"But Elsa's there." There was a pause, and the hesitation in her tone was clear when she continued, "Was she — was she having fun?"
"I don't think she was. She didn't even dance."
"Not even once?"
"Well, one dance. With me. It . . . could've been better."
The princess giggled. "Aww, how romantic."
"It wasn't," the prince said, sighing. "She kept stepping on my toes."
"Elsa? She would never!"
"You don't believe me?"
"You've seen her! She's so . . . graceful and perfect. I don't think she's even physically capable of being bad at anything."
"Clearly, you've never seen her dance."
Another pause, longer than the first, and Kai was just about to step forward to see what was wrong, when the prince spoke again.
"Anna?" he said worriedly.
"Nothing," and Kai could hear the sadness in her voice. "It's just — you're right. I've never seen her dance. She — uh — she never wanted to practice. With me, I mean."
"Oh." Prince Hans cleared his throat. Sounding rather awkward, he went on, "None of my brothers did either. I suppose . . . it's not completely outside the realm of possibility that I . . . may have tripped a couple of times myself."
This made the princess laugh again. "I knew it!" she crowed. "And . . . outside the realm of possibility? Sheesh, Hans, do you always have to be so formal and proper?"
"Someone has to."
"Hey, I can be formal and proper!"
"Sure, Anna."
"Oh, just you wait, when I'm old enough to attend those stupid balls, I'll — I'll be so proper and sophisticated and graceful that you won't even recognize me, and the look on your face will be so —"
The princess stopped so suddenly that Kai couldn't resist sneaking another glance from his hiding place. Prince Hans had placed a chaste peck on her forehead, and was now pulling back to pluck a berry off the mistletoe hanging in the archway.
"Oh," Princess Anna said, turning as red as her hair.
The prince merely chuckled. "Tradition, remember?" he said lightly. "At least it got you to shut up."
She gaped at him. "Why you —"
Kai took that as his cue. He cleared his throat, stepping away from the shadows. "Your Highnesses," he said, bowing.
"Kai!" the princess exclaimed, delighted to see him. And then her face fell, realizing why he was here, and she said, much more dismally, "Kai."
"Now, my lady," he said reproachfully. "I believe it is time I escort you back to your chambers."
"But Kai," she said in whining tones, eyes large and imploring in the way Kai knew well.
"It is past your bedtime, Your Highness."
Next to her, Prince Hans snickered, and she shot him a glare, hitting him on the shoulder hard enough that Kai caught him wincing. Kai turned his attention to the prince then, who gave him an easy, charming smile.
"I take it no one has noticed my absence?" he said, sounding certain.
"I believe the princess has, Your Highness." The prince looked stunned by this. Trying to inject a hint of humor in his tone, Kai added, "That, and the absence of a certain platter of dessert."
"Ah," was all Prince Hans said, his cheeks slightly tinged pink.
It was the princess' turn to snicker, which turned Kai's attention back to her. She made a face, giving a most unladylike groan.
"I know, I know," she grumbled under her breath. "Back to my rooms."
"Indeed." Kai nodded reprovingly. Turning to the prince, he said, "I trust you know the way back to the ballroom, Your Highness?"
"Yes, thank you, Kai," Prince Hans said somberly, looking contrite and properly chided.
And if Kai caught the prince slipping one last krumkake in the princess' hand as she was led away — well, he supposed he could turn a blind eye, just this once.