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Chapter Text

forest of hands

Say ‘yes’ to heaven, say ‘yes’ to me

— Lana Del Rey, Yes To Heaven

i

She visits the river, intending to let her horse drink and rest after walking a long while. Its sides are strapped and weighted with baskets, brimming of vegetation and flowers. Elsa is pleased. Her sister, Anna, is to be crowned May Queen during the festival of the Summer Harvest, and Elsa feels it is her duty as the older sister to collect ornaments; pretty things that will be woven into Anna’s copper hair.

Elsa’s pale hand is stroking her mare’s nozzle when the animal jerks, ears perked and eyes wild with panic. Her own head snaps upwards, alert and frightened.

The edge of Autumnland comes into her view; its leaves bright and crisp. And then, across the water, stands a man wearing a mask. Elsa knows who he is; not his name, but his being.

The humans and fair-folk hold a neutral treaty — an agreement to co-exist side-by-side. Though it is civil to greet each other with politeness and manners; humans are warned of the fair-folk’s trickster nature. 

The fair-folk cannot lie, though, they are allowed to defend themselves if provoked or angered. And because of this, every human is taught how to free themselves in case of danger; carrying iron as a weapon. Hers is hidden behind her glove, a pretty ring curled around a finger.

Elsa stops and the rest is an automatic gesture. She pulls off her hood and reaches for her damp skirts; dropping into a curtsy. She holds that position, ankles crossed and aching but never fleeing away; she doesn’t even lift her glacier blue eyes from the ground.

She can tell from his reflection in the waters that he thinks this is beneath him. There is frustration in his body language; the stiffness of his shoulders, the clench in his jaw, but he bows as he is accustomed.

When she raises her head, Elsa studies him. The sight of an autumn fair-folk is not rare, but it is not favoured. The wolf mask that covers the upper part of his face is as white as his fine uniform; silks and fresh linens too grand to be owned by a common folk. And his eyes, they are green with flakes of gold; like a leaf showing the first sign of fall. 

They do not speak, he does not inquire her name to steal it, but she is curious to know more about him. Why is this young man wandering the very edge of the forest? Especially when it is known that the heart of the Autumn Kingdom lies far South.

I want to know. She thinks to herself. She is curious, but not foolish enough to ask.

She holds her stare for him a second more before she drops into another curtsy to bid him farewell. He returns it, showing a crown of bright hair, as red as the foliage of maple trees.

Then she mounts her horse, and hopes this does not mean trouble.

The people of the Sun occupy the large goahti dedicated to the May Queen. The inside is spacious and a whirl-wind of movement with running feet and busy hands.

“Elsa, you’re finally back!” Anna smiles, holding as still as possible to not let the ceremonial dress fall into pieces; arms outstretched and back bone-straight.

“I wanted to — Oh!” Elsa almost bumps into Honeymaren who’s carrying a basket of clothes.

“Whoops! Sorry about that, Your Majesty.” 

Elsa smiles out of reflex. “No, it’s fine.” Elsa sets her own basket of greenery aside, and Yelena attempts a grin, but her mouth is full of pins. “There’s no need to apologise. No hard feelings.”

Honeymaren nods, then makes her way towards the other side of the hut.

“I wanted to take my time,” Elsa repeats, explaining herself to her sister.

Anna rolls her turquoise eyes. “They’re just flowers, you didn’t have to go all out for me! You pay too much attention to detail! I would have been fine with — Ouch!”

Yelena jabs Anna lightly as if to say, ‘Hold still!’

Elsa hides her curving mouth behind her gloved hand. The moment of happiness lasts for maybe a few seconds before Elsa tightens. Though she enjoys visiting the Summer Courts as much as possible, and loves watching the youth chase after the wild winds and fire salamanders around The Enchanted Forest, she is not a people person.

“Um,” Elsa clears her throat then asks, “How has your day been, Anna? Busy, I take it?” to try to form some sort of easy chatter.

“Yes and no. I haven’t moved for practically forever. Is this what a statue feels like? I’m so bored, Elsa, I — Ow!”

Elsa lets out a hearty laugh.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed. “You have a lovely smile,” Honeymaren comments.

“I — Thank you.” Elsa manages to say. She finds her hands clasping together. There are too many strangers around her, noticing her presence. It feels … odd.

“You must love my misery.” Anna jokes, not noticing the tension in Elsa’s movements.

“Of course not!” Elsa shakes her head. A frown now plucks at her lips. She thinks this is getting awkward. Should she just leave?

“What do you think of my dress?” Anna asks, pulling Elsa back to the present.

Blue eyes take in the form of the still mending cloth and the immediate feeling of being out of her element strikes her. Though Elsa enjoys dress-making, her taste in fashion is far different from the Gákti the people of the Sun are used to wearing.

Anxiety pricks at her skin. She does not want to say the wrong thing.

“It’s lovely.” Elsa says, polite as always.

Anna grins.

Elsa attempts to return it. But a small part of her whispers, I’m no use here, so she says, “We should talk later. You’re clearly occupied.”

“But, Els — Ow! Yelena, please! Stop stabbing me with pins!”

“I rest my case,” Elsa says then pushes the flap of the goahti aside and breathes in the hot air.

The people of the Sun are hustling and bustling; yelling orders, carrying supplies and building festive superstructures. Elsa laces her hands together, blue eyes zooming from one thing to another. There’s so much to do, she wants to help and be useful.

“Ryder,” Elsa calls as she passes by a girl whose long, straw blonde hair is pulled into a braid.

Ryder pauses, his tool held mid-air. “Hello, Your Majesty,”

Elsa waves away the formalities. “Is there anything I can do?”

Ryder hums and Elsa hopes he’d at least suggest something along the lines of “Yelena did say we need more paints,” or "Honeymaren needs a hand in braiding the pole.” but he only says, “No, I think we have everything covered.”

Elsa munches on her lower lip. “Are you sure?”

Ryder nods. “We’re on schedule. There’s no need to rush,” He shrugs before he arranges some woods and blows away sawdust. “Besides,” He adds, just when Elsa thinks she’ll be dismissed. “You’re our guest, we couldn’t possibly ask more from you.”

Elsa shrinks at the true fact, that she is indeed not a citizen here.

“I don’t mind,” Elsa insists.

“It’s kind of you to extend a hand, but you must be busy with your own royal duties.”

Elsa bites her inner cheek. “I suppose you could say that.”

“Do you have a lot on your plate?” Ryder asks, blinking innocently.

Elsa licks her lips. She contemplates on telling a small lie to ease Ryder’s curiosity, and then decides against it. She chooses to not answer his question at all. “I should return to The North Mountain now.”

“Oh, so soon?” Ryder puts down his hammer. “Should I get you a horse? Your ice creatures can’t stand the heat, can it? I wouldn’t want your magic melting halfway through the journey.”

Elsa shakes her head. “No, that’s alright. I quite like taking long strolls. I’ll conjure a ride when I near the Winterland.”

Ryder nods once and Elsa returns it with a curtsy. She turns her heel after that, not wanting to distract Ryder with her small talk.

.

.

.

Halfway through her nature walk, with her duties to Anna fulfilled and her hands free, Elsa remembers her encounter with the redheaded fair-folk. 

Is he still by the river? She thinks to herself.

And then, because there’s nothing else to do but let her mind wander, she can’t help but think of what she will do if she does meet with him again.

Will we speak and befriend each other? Or will I leave him be?

.

.

.

They don't cross paths and she does not come up with a solution.

Chapter Text

forest of hands

ii

The Nokk glides across the ocean in easy strides, the smell of salt attacks her nose and the sprays of seawater soaks her when it gallops past her. Elsa’s been trying to ride the Nokk for ages now, but it has never allowed her to tame it.

That doesn’t stop her from visiting the North beach though. Her curiosity for magical creatures is too great, and the sea is a release from reality for her. Whenever she feels like escaping to a faraway land, she journeys here; the trip refreshes and steadies her from losing herself.

Often, she does not sleep well. Tonight is no different, and so, she stays up for too long; gazing at the horizon, at the Nokk, at the stars.

She ends up dozing off. 

And in her sleep, in her slumber, he appears in her dreams. His white suit stands out in a place where the land is littered with black pebbles and the odour of sea-life is strong. If she were to take him to her icy fortress, there is no doubt that he would blend into the snow like a chameleon.

His mask is nowhere to be seen, and this shocks her to the point of muteness.

He does not speak either. They perform the same elegant dance; curtsying and bowing, staring and saying nothing.

Her duties at The Enchanted Forest is relieved, but she finds her way there regardless.

Elsa tries to relish in the multitude of activities happening around her, because she knows once it’s over, she will yearn for the next festival.

There are times Elsa loves the Summer Harvest more than the Winter Solstice, at least there is room for growth here. The North Mountain relies on her magic of creation. There is not much company in the palace aside from her snowmen, The Voice that sings to her from a glacier in the sea, and the Nokk. They never offer encouragement or even a smile during a particularly difficult ice assembly.

Sometimes she wishes she could run away from her do-nothing duties, but especially from her loneliness.

Her stroll comes to a halt when she spots a familiar brawny mountain-like figure.

“Lord Kristoff, good evening!” She says, curtsying, and then grinning when she notes that Kristoff is as uncomfortable as he always is with such formalities.

Elsa knows that her friend, Lord Kristoff of The Meadows, is cynical despite the flowers in his hair and the moss cape tossed around his shoulders.

“Evening,” He answers after returning her manners with a bow.

“I have to ask you this! Have you ever seen a fair-folk’s face?” Elsa inquires straightforwardly, recalling her dream.

“Why do you want to know?” Kristoff asks back. Though, his tone tells her that he does not think what she’s asking is odd.

Kristoff would rather live away from humans, and the only discussion that sparks his interest is about herding reindeers or ice and snow, but Elsa is an exception. He likes Elsa. He knows that she adores listening to his talks about his beliefs and awareness in other magical creatures. And he knows that she’d turn to him about these things.

Kristoff is known as an expert, after all. He lives with a family of rock trolls, working with their healing magic as well as guiding the Rock Giants who control the perimeters.

“Well,” Elsa draws out, fiddling with her iron ring, the one hidden beneath her glove. “I met one.”

“You ventured into Autumnland?” He stops unloading the festival goods from his sleigh. 

The abrupt action unsettles her. The way he had turned his head had caused the multicolour crystals by his neck to click together and now Elsa concentrates on the sway of the jewellery to not lose herself.

“Um,”

Elsa stares into Kristoff’s sleigh, trying to steady her nerves. The sight of fruits, vegetables and tea leaves calms her. The latter reminds her of moments where she’s sat down and brewed a good cup, the taste reminding her of warm hugs and her sister's laugh.

“No! Of course not! I didn’t have permission to,” Elsa states, then thinks, Not that the fair-folk need permission to enter the other seasonal lands.

Kristoff makes a sound at the back of his throat. “Glad to see you aren’t crazy. You know how the fair-folks can be. Faes are vengeful, manipulative, and easily offended. Forget to bow after they intentionally ignore you during a boring conversation and they'll curse you. Tell them 'thank you' once out of habit, and they'll think you owe them your first-born. They’re best avoided."

Elsa snorts. She enjoys Kristoff's blunt honesty and grounded thinking, just as much as Kristoff enjoys her craft of ice and snowmen and flurries. “I couldn’t help but notice the fair-folk. He was wandering East.”

Kristoff raises a brow, yellow as a ripe lemon or the colour of sunshine. “Do the people of the Sun know?”

“I don’t think so.” She replies. 

Elsa agrees that it’s strange. The autumn fair-folk tend to stay closely knitted together, keeping to themselves. Rarely do they find a need to explore. 

“Should I tell Yelena?” She asks, double-checking.

“It depends on if it’ll make a difference.” Kristoff’s broad shoulders shrug with uncertainty. “The fair-folk are invited to the Summer Harvest, maybe they’re just trying to figure out how to get here. They only visit once every few years and, hey , getting lost in the woods is easier than you think,”

Elsa bites her lower lip and stops fidgeting with her ring. “I suppose so.”

It was a dream that had provoked her, something that she's grown accustomed to as part of her restless sleep.

She was wearing a grand dress that she didn't think she would ever wear in her lifetime and he was dressed smartly. The sky was dark and the lighthouse acted like the sun, strong beams shining round and round in 360 spins.

"Are you scared of me, Elsa?" He asks, his voice a steady hum.

Elsa looks upwards, glancing away. She’s not sure if the lighthouse is guiding lost boats at sea or drowned souls. 

"Should I be scared of you?" Is all she replies, lips detaching from the rim of her cup.

The sea crashes into them, at their seats by the shore near the black, jagged rocks; a spray of water drenches both with sea salt but neither blinks.

He laughs, a clever lit pipe hovers around his mouth. "It depends. Fear seems to rule over your life."

She feels seafoam gather at her feet, cold and clinging as they always are the Winter land.

"It does." She finally admits, voice cracking. Her hands shake but she does not pause. "I wake up scared every day."

“What are you afraid of?”

She doesn’t even need to stop to think; she’s been running on the same fears for years and years despite her need to change , to grow ; but she’s such a circular person.

“Loneliness.” She tells him — and then she wakes up.

Chapter Text

forest of hands

iii

The Voice has woken her up, humming her awake like a reverse lullaby. Elsa has never understood The Voice, she doesn't speak the ancient tongue. But she wonders if maybe he does, when they meet once more on the rocky beach.

His bright hair against the shine of the illuminating moon is what draws him out.

She spots him standing by the mouth of the ocean as she peaks behind a snow-covered tree. Her intuition is correct; his white suit does blend well with the backdrop of her Winter Wonderland.

She doesn't know whether she should step out from behind her hiding place and reveal herself or not — but then the singing stops. Sea water rises, shaping itself into a horse; the Nokk nuzzles its snout into his gloved hand.

“You tamed it!” She exclaims in surprise, her cloak swishing behind her.

The Nokk disappears, melting like ice, returning back to the ocean.

He stares at her, stunned to silence, and that’s when she realises that she’s forgotten to greet him. She’s just about to apologise profusely when he speaks first.

“Do magical creatures need to be tamed?” He asks, looking more perplexed than furious that she would speak to him so informally.

Her face colours. “Well — No. No, I didn’t mean that, I —” 

She’s tongue-tied, unable to finish her sentence. 

Elsa scolds herself; thinking how she’s awkward as she is, but now she’s made it worse. She thinks she’ll land herself with quite a curse. But then, summoning all her strength and courage, she manages to say, “I didn’t mean anything ill. I’m of magic blood myself. Born with it. I, um, I can conjure ice and snow,”

Her hands perform a little dance, and flurries shoot out from her palm. She hopes this is enough to convince him that she means him no disrespect.

"I apologise if I sounded offensive earlier." Elsa utters after clasping her hands once more. "I've always had a natural curiosity for magical creatures, I simply lack an understanding to connect to them."

Green eyes blink at her. “What is your name?”

She pauses, knowing what can happen if he were to get a hold of her name. Oh, the power he could hold over her. He’ll own her soul.

Her fingers curl into fists. She somehow talks without a stammer. “You may know me as the Snow Queen.”

Similarly to how Anna is appointed May Queen, Elsa is appointed as Snow Queen. Though, her land is not as prosperous as The Meadows or The Enchanted Forest. Outside her palace, the wind visits, howling. She has no subjects in this realm. She gets lonely from the lack of company; the Frost Giants never speak, only making their steady way around her grounds.

He introduces himself as Hans. And when she had asked his full name, the corner of his mouth dimples and he replies, “Just Hans.” It makes her wonder if he’s afraid that she’d steal his name too.

Hans becomes her guest, and she tries to make him feel as welcome as possible, persuading him to visit if he ever wants to.

“I can’t help but notice that you’ve been making your way around the realms,” Elsa says, addressing the elephant in the room.

His expression shifts, but she can’t read what he means to convey. “Most fair-folk choose to stay as they are, but I’m … a little different from them.” He explains. “Not to say that I’m unusual, but I find that there’s not much use for me to remain in a constant position. And now that I’ve made that decision, Autumnland does not seem as pleasant and welcoming as it once was.”

“So you made the decision to explore?” She guesses, and he does not correct her. “Do you plan to visit all four seasonal lands?”

“Yes. That is, until I find my own place.”

Elsa smiles, his sense of wanderlust intrigues her. 

She babbles for a bit, filling him with knowledge. She knows how the fair-folk are self-involved, out of the loop from their need to not get entangled with human affairs. The fair-folk would never say this to any creature's face, but they think oh-so highly of themselves, so for one to gain an interest and seek human-related knowledge is otherworldly!

"I know there is not much to see in the North. I'll admit it looks barren, and sometimes I agree that it is. There is not much to trade aside from ice, lumber and fish." She explains, sipping her drink.

He blinks at her, hands folded on his lap. He doesn’t reach for the biscuits or the cubes of sugar for his hot tea. “You trade?” He asks.

"Yes. My truest trade partner are the people of the Sun , " 

"Oh?" He cocks his head.

"Despite the heat, I enjoy their company. Everything in their land prospers, the fields of wheat reminds me of gold." Elsa answers truthfully.

“It sounds like a lovely place to visit,” He utters smoothly.

“You could go if you want to. The Summer Harvest is holding a public festival soon. They’re crowning the May Queen.”

His green eyes lit up. “What about the May King ?”

Elsa shakes her head. “The position is either not needed or it hasn’t been decided yet.”

“I’ve always wanted to be king. Even for a day,” He says, making his statement sound like an off-hand comment.

Elsa grins and jokingly adds, “In that case, I could put in a good word for you. My sister will be May Queen. Our lineage makes these sorts of arrangements a little easier.”

His smile widens, looking pleased.

"Would it be rude of me to inquire about the mask?" She asks, her pink lips hovering over the rim of the teacup.

"Not at all," He replies, his mouth dimpling once more as a response. "Though, there's not much to tell." He adds, sounding sheepish and embarrassed. "My brothers and I tend to look too much alike — the hair, the eyes — it gets a little difficult to differentiate one another. I have such a large family, twelve older brothers.”

“Did you say twelve?”

He nods, chuckling. “Yes. So, you see, the only alternative is to adopt masks to make the task easier."

The knots in her eyebrows bunch together. How strange. She admits she knows very little of Autumnland , only that the royal family kin themselves to lions.

As Anna's coronation date comes closer and closer, Elsa would like to believe that she and Hans could grow closer in friendship too. And maybe from now on, the fair folk would visit The North Mountain more often . At least, she would see other creatures aside from snowmen in her realm.

She had persuaded — insisted — him to visit her more; said something along the lines of "If you are going to linger about in my land, you may as well stay and have a cup of tea." 

Then suddenly, as if it happened all at once — her doors are always open for him. She sees him almost daily in her palace, and when they are not sitting at the open balcony by the seaside, they are taking strolls. He observes her domain with open eyes and curiosity; he inquires questions of the way she rules her frosty land that only consists of snowmen and nothing else.

"My Winter realm holds no people to govern.”

“A kingdom of isolation?” He asks.

She nods, “But, I do have defences. My Frost Giants patrol the perimeter, they are just as capable as the Rock Giants.”

"But what is there to rule over?" He asks, his question as sharp as an arrow to the heart.

She doesn't know how to reply.

So she didn't.

"Are you sure it's alright for you to venture from your realm without anyone to pick up on your duties?" He asks, hiking up rocks and slippery sand.

"Well, I'm already here, aren't I?" She teases.

He guides her towards a beach — a real beach, with white sand and tiny crabs buried underneath. Hans stretches out his arm just as they peek around a rock, stopping her in her tracks.

"Are those ...?" She trails off, her eyes large with excitement.

"Mermaids," He confirms. 

“They’re beautiful.”

“And dangerous.” He warns. “You should fear creatures that are unknown to you. Mermaids have a reputation of drowning trusting fools.”

“And you think you’re an exception?” Elsa raises a brow.

“I know I am. I've managed to befriend one of them after discovering that she takes a liking to shiny things. She knows if she kills me then I cannot feed her growing collection."

They inch closer, enough for a mermaid to grin at them, showing off sharp shark-like teeth. There is recognition in her sea green eyes.

“She tells me that her name is ‘Ariel’,” Hans explains.

“She told you her name?” Elsa gaps.

Hans lets out a laugh. “Do not worry. Mermaids do not have souls, this is the reason they’re always drowning those who do. They’re jealous.”

Then the topic is pushed aside when Hans produces a fork that Elsa had willingly given him on one of his visits to her castle; webbed hands reach out the moment Hans' gift is presented.

"A dingglehopper!" The mermaid exclaims.

"A what ?" Elsa whispers to Hans.

"Did you think mermaids follow the culture on land? They name our trinkets whatever they please," Hans whispers back.

Elsa stares at the wonder of it all. Hans has only been testing the limits of what he can and cannot do for a couple of weeks, and yet, it feels like he’s done more than she ever has.

“Can you do me a favour?” She asks boldly.

He turns to her and smirks. "It depends on the favour."

.

.

.

"Do you enjoy riding, Your Majesty?" He asks smoothly as he offers her a gloved hand to help her dismount the Nokk.

Elsa does not take it, remembering the iron ring around her finger, she does not want to burn him. Hans has done so much for her; introduced her to the other seasonal worlds, and helped her understand beasts and magic alike. The least she can do is not hurt him.

So she gives him a shy smile then waves off his hand, dismounting by herself.

"It's not my favourite past-time." Elsa admits after both her feet are on solid ground. The muscle in her cheek jumps, curving into a tight grin. "My sister, on the other hand, is more fond of animals. She rides horses better than me. She loves exploring, dancing, fencing. Anything that involves taking a leap of faith into the unknown."

She tells him all this because she does not know how — or perhaps she does not want — to talk about herself, thinking that she isn’t interesting enough and that he will find her boring. She doesn't want that, he is an exciting being and he will surely leave if he finds her dull.

"You’re talking about the sister that’s being appointed May Queen, correct?" He asks.

He remembered. She can't help but think.

"Yes," Elsa answers and pulls her hand closer, flexing her fingers when it's out of his sight.

He lets out a hum at the given knowledge. “You mention your sister a lot,” 

“She is my only family, I adore talking about her,” She says to him. It would be selfish to keep Anna's kindness to herself. Elsa thinks Anna deserves to be praised, it is evident by the people of the Sun, they love her.

But then, Elsa twists her hands together. She wonders if he’s fatigued by their conversations. Does he think their talks are dull? She almost asks, but then he says  —

“What else can you tell me about her?”

— and she relaxes, glad he isn’t bored by her babbles.

She finds him charming. He’s good company. But then again, anyone would be better company than the silent creatures in her realm.

She likes him. But she’ll keep this fact — this secret — to herself; hidden behind locked doors and spiral staircases and tall pine trees.

Chapter Text

forest of hands

iv

The Summer Harvest is full of life with their cheer and wines and music. Elsa wears a red hood, a contrast to the white snow on The North Mountain, but the colour is as bright as the festival’s atmosphere.

The forest is bustling with people and activities. It’s hard for her to distinguish who’s a friend and who’s a stranger and who’s human.

"Pardon me," Elsa says, approaching two men with lion masks on their faces.

They turn to her, and she immediately notes the pointed ears. She curtsies, and the men bow back in obligation. 

“Are you part of the royal Westergaard family?” Elsa continues.

“We are,” They speak in eerie unison.

"Do you know a fair-folk named ‘Hans’? Have you seen him?" 

The two stare at her like she's just grown an extra head. Then the pairs of mouths mirror each other in similar grins.

"You know of the fallen prince?" The one on her right asks.

Fallen prince? Hans is your brother? Elsa thinks, looking confused. "Yes, I do. Is he here?"

"We haven't spoken to him for a long while. We're forbidden to. But, the likelihood of him getting invited to such a grand celebration is slim." The one on her left says.

"Why?" She continues asking, feeling a foot stepping back. She wants to leave. She wants to run away.

"He is banished from our land."

Banished? Her heart drops.

Elsa first thinks that she's put on the spot to take a test that she isn't prepared for. Like someone's forced her to listen to these identical twins that's bound — one forced to tell all truths, and the other all lies, and now it's her responsibility to tell who's sincere and who isn't. Except —

Except, all faes are obligated to tell the truth, so whatever they are saying now is nothing but that. They can’t lie. They can’t. Old magic forbids them to.

"What do you think that villain will do tonight, brother?" The one on the right asks.

"Treason?" The other laughs.

"Too broad,"

"What about stealing a throne, then?"

"I could see it happening. After all, the opportunity presents itself."

They laugh, already forgetting that Elsa is there.

.

.

.

Wiping the tears off her face and stumbling through the crowd, Elsa tries to leave as quietly as possible. It seems like a big joke to her, people dancing and cheering while she is having a breakdown.

She bumps into a chest as solid as a mountain. "I, I'm sorry, I wasn't —"

"Queen Elsa?"

Elsa looks up. "L — Lord Kristoff, forgive me, I —" She curtsied but a hand to Elsa's shoulder stops her. 

"No, there's no need for that. Enough with the formalities, I'm your friend." Kristoff says, then notes her wet lashes. "Hey, are you okay? You look upset, tell me what's wrong."

She shakes her head, disregarding the festivities. "No, there's no time to explain. I — Please. Take me to Anna. Take me to her right now. I have to see her."

.

.

.

"Elsa!"

Anna tackles her sister into a big hug before remembering her formalities, then she takes a step back and curtsies.

Elsa curtsies back, then looks at her little sister from head to toe; Anna's skin is now sun-kissed, healthier from all that good Summer Harvest food. The crown of flowers and ornaments Elsa had gathered for Anna sits on her head.

"I'll leave you two alone now."

"Wait, Kristoff —"

"Ooohhh, Elsa," Anna says, pulling Elsa's attention away from an already shrinking Kristoff. "Just when I thought my big day couldn’t get any more exciting, I have big news to tell you!"

Elsa raises a brow to Anna's statements but doesn't get a word in before the strawberry blonde continues.

"Come on!" Anna chimes and motions her hand out to someone.

He appears in plain sight, extracting himself from the blending of bodies, only his wolf mask a betrayal of his disguise. His gloved hand takes Anna’s freckled one; the gesture is gentle and almost loving.

"It's you." Elsa gasps, addressing him.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” The way he says it is so sinister, a contrast from the awkward shy greeting she received from Ryder weeks ago.

"Oh, isn't this great?!" Anna says before giggling.

Hans and Anna laugh, looking happy as they trip over their fumbling words.

"Anna," Elsa tries to say, her voice weak and as soft as whisper. It's not that she's afraid of saying her sister's name in front of a fae, all names that pass through her lips are not their true names, but — she does not trust Hans. 

She doesn't know if she can.

His eyes take hold of her state. He advances forward. “My dear, May Queen, I would like the pleasure of dancing with your sister, I hope you do not mind.”

Anna blushes pink. “Oh, of course!” 

“Now, just wait a minute —” Elsa begins but it’s too late, Anna is already curtsying Hans good-bye, and he too is following her cue.

When Anna leaves, Hans smirks, takes Elsa’s dainty hands and begins dancing to the strum of violin strings. 

Elsa waits for Hans to pull away, for him to howl and exclaim at the pain. And then she realises the iron ring she usually wears is forgotten on her dresser, left during a hurry of costume change.

She's too shocked to fight, moving her feet mechanically.

She forgets that he's not human; that there is a long history of lore of what his folk do — lead wandering travelers astray, whisk babes from cradles in the dead of the night, steal names and tell pretty half-truths.

He does not eat human food like her. Does not sip wine, or sugary sweet syrup, or the flavours of tea during their chats. His gloved hands never once hovered at his cup's handle, only resting on his lap, away from her view like a concealed weapon.

He may not have a need for food or even sleep, but he must hunger for some kind of desire. “I’ve always wanted to be king. Even for a day,”

“You —” She does not finish her sentence.

His brothers' words still echoe in her head, piercing her heart. Does Hans truly want to rule Anna's land? 

Would he take it by force? Or, will Hans go for a more traditional route? Has he already proposed? Is that the news he and Anna were so eager to tell her? Elsa won't have it. But it's two against one.

Hans could twist her words, use his status as a fair-folk. She's been meaning to return Hans' favour of helping her befriend the Nokk for some time now, but would he ask her to let him marry her sister and become May King?

And Anna. Fear strikes deep in Elsa's chest. There is no need for anyone's blessing if this goes through. Anna is Queen of this realm, anything she says is final.

"Is something wrong?" Hans asks after a moment. He holds her close as they sway to the lull of the music.

Elsa doesn't reply, she doesn't know what to say.

He spins her gracefully, but her mind is still occupied, tilting with confusion. He leads her around, dancing until they are at the edge of the woods. Until they are away from the hustle and bustle, and under pure moonlight.

"Where are you taking me?" She asks, realising their distance from the crowd.

"Forgive me," He says. "I had to lead you here."

"Why?"

She braces herself, expecting the worse. But he only dips his chin forward and whispers into her ear.

"You forgot to curtsy my brothers good-bye. You broke a fair-folk rule, Your Majesty."

She feels her chest tighten. Oh, she did do such a thing! She fled without thinking! "I, I didn't —"

"Be it, unintentionally, you've offended the royal family." He warns. "You must go away now."

What?

"If my brothers receive word that you are the Snow Queen and that your sister is the May Queen, they may haggle for something far more than they deserve."

Like what? She ponders as they stop swaying.

"You have to go now."

"Hans —!"

"I have to go too. I can't stay here," He says suddenly, letting go of her trembling hand. He steps away, as if shrinking into the darkness.

She feels as if all the oxygen has left her lungs. "You can't?"

He shakes his head. "Go." He tells her.

He looks into her eyes. She stares back, getting nervous. She stares and stares and stares until he himself has become the shadows.

"Go."

Then the spell is broken, and she swallows, realising her surroundings and the situation she's in; alone in the woods.

What is she doing standing still? She should be fleeing into the night now. She should journey back to her safe domain. She should —

This is as far as she gets before the twins appear before; lion masks menacing and frowns curving.

The twin on the right clears his throat, "A meeting is called at Autumn Court, and the Snow Queen is obligated to attend."

"What for? I apologise for leaving without bidding good-bye earlier. It wasn't intentional, I —"

"It's not that, Your Majesty." The twin on the left says.

"... Then?"

"Autumnland has summoned you to court on the grounds of housing a criminal in your Winter land."

Chapter Text

forest of hands

v

"Did you know?" Rudi says, the one who often stands on the right, with lighter eyes, a shade of blue. It stands out among the fall colours. "Did you know the thirteenth prince had committed treason and was hiding out in your domain?"

Elsa shakes her head as they guide her towards a portal to their realm, to a circle of toadstool mushrooms, acting as a fairie ring.

The twins stay by her side, boxing her in, arm in arm. They will not let her escape.

"What did you think was going through our brother’s head when he persuaded you to let him into your palace?" Runo asks. He's recognisable by the scar above his lip.

"He … He didn't persuade me." Elsa confesses. "I told him he was always welcomed at The North Mountain."

"Why?"

She stares at her feet. Then her hands.

"I thought him as my friend. H —!" She can't say his name. It's more than just four letters strung together into a syllable. It means so much more to her. "... He made good company." Elsa manages.

"Friends? With you? A human?" Rudi asks, bewild.

'You don't know him.' Elsa wants to say, but she doesn't either. 

Hans shows, but never tells. He's good at interacting and charming creatures; it is what he is good at. But, is that all she knows of him? He never talks about his worth. She doesn't know his favourite colour or his preferred food or his hobbies. They don't even know each other's true names.

Is there even trust?

"Did you think you could impress a fair-folk, Snow Queen?" Runo asks, his tone mocking. "Did you dazzle him with your frozen wasteland?”

Elsa frowns at this, stung by his jeer.

"We fair-folks are so different from mere humans. We could never do such a thing." Rudi states.

"Do you want to know some backstory on our littlest brother? What his life was like before his punishment? Before the fall? We'll enlighten you," Runo adds without pausing." That villain was tasked to govern and our kin listened to him! He had just as much power as all the other princes. He was comfortable, and then he became unwanted. So unwanted that he fell into your lap."

"He must have been desperate," Rudi quips. "Do you know what it feels like to be ostracized by your own kin? To be ignored by the nameless elderly and children? Never pausing to look, much less greet someone who was once so highly ranked? Oh, how he must miss managing our fae district and our people!”

The twins spoke simultaneously. It's as eerie as them speaking in union.

"You can't be certain of that." Elsa tries to argue.

"Think about it. To have the free will to choose otherwise is out of the question. Do you think he would desire such a cruel fate, Snow Queen?" Runo says her title mockingly. 

"I —"

"Can you not envision it? I would not be surprised." Runo continues.

"Your name does justice," Rudi speaks. "You are the queen of snow, not people. What would you know? If I were my brother, I would rather not rot in a land of pure ice. What is there to conquer? What is there to earn?"

"Your fortress is not his home. It never will be." Runo says, spitting out fighting words. His mouth twists, making his scar more prominent. "We fair-folks know where we belong; above humans and trolls and other magical beings. We have glamour and we bear gifts for those who deem worthy."

"You cannot provide us a place where we can call home, a place where we can thrive and improve ourselves while having subjects of our own — not when you're so careless. Befriending a fae, what a silly fantasy! Are you so eager to uproot the life you have and trade it for a small high? Are you aware what we can do?”

Elsa wonders what else the twins will shame her for as they look at her with aghast expressions? They've already threaded on her leaving her duties unattended and wanting to walk away without a moment's hesitation. They're very on the nose, and it stings.

She wants to hurt them back; reach forward and slap the two. But their words hold some truth.

A lot of truth, actually.

"What will happen to me?" She whispers.

"From what you've told us, you are guilty and an ally to our brother."

Elsa presses on, braving against the churn of her stomach, "What will happen to my realm if I'm punished for this crime?"

"It is a frozen wasteland," It hurts just hearing them say it. "Who would look at the lonely The North Mountain and yearn for its return?"

"You're cruel." Elsa bites out.

"No, we speak the truth."

“Get some rest, Your Majesty. Your hearing will be tomorrow morning.”

.

.

.

She sits behind cell bars made of winding branches. She wants to break out of this pathetic excuse of a cell.

But, she can't.

Customs and fae law hold her in place. Her powers are not as strong here either. If she was back in her Winter land, it would be a different story.

“Lonely, Snow Queen?”

A flash of green meets her eyes, and Elsa immediately knows who’s addressing her from the shadows.

“Explain yourself, Hans.”

He wants something from her. She knows he does. Why else would he be here, if not that? She can tell that he’s starving, but she doesn’t know what he’s hungry for. Hungry for power? For opportunities? Or is it, the other kind of hunger?

She walks towards him, dry leaves crunching under her feet. 

When her hands grasp the wooden bars, she licks her lips, suddenly thirsty. She's never asked about him, didn't feel entitled to — on the accounts that she's never really talked about herself — but now … 

There is so much doubt on her end. Elsa wants to hear him speak, Hans hasn't even told his side of the story yet.

"Did you really commit such an extreme lawless act and land yourself banished?” Elsa asks.

"Do you think I wanted to be exiled?" Hans asks back, avoiding answering her.

"Your brothers told me of your crime! Fae do not lie." She reasons.

He doesn't answer her then either.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She continues, trying to hold his gaze. "You didn't speak a word of it, instead you hid this from me and stayed in my land. Why?”

"I had nowhere else to go. Did you expect me to wander all the seasonal lands as a criminal? It would have been better keeping my title to myself.” He finally speaks. "Though I've already been banished, I am continuously punished. The fair-folk will not let me rest. They will find any excuse to brand me as treacherous."

“Are you … confessing?” Elsa presses on. “Did you really do it?”

She waits for him to say more.

"It is not an interesting story." He says after a sigh. "I was exiled for going against my father’s wishes. The King has always been ill towards a human's ability to create, he didn't want the other fair-folk to crave it. Do you know why the Autumnland King does not extend his hand personally? As fair-folk, we pay a price for our immortality that humans could never understand. Humans create, we cannot; my father envies that. And yet, we need human creation. We need them to build our palaces and our grand furniture, our decorations and our toys.”

“Are you telling me that you … got punished for creating?” She can’t imagine anyone condemning her for her ice magic.

“Yes,” He nods. “I hated the monotone lifestyle so I taught myself to build a small raft based on the books we kept in our ancient libraries. I hoped to build a grand boat one day and outshine even the creations of the most skilled; one that will survive the stormy sea and its abuse. Unfortunately, I got caught. My father and I fought, I almost took his head off and he banished me."

“Why should I believe you?” Elsa says before she can stop herself.

He shakes his head. “You know our nature as fair-folk."

"I do. And that is why I'm aware that they don't have to tell the whole truth either,"

Her question is met with silence.

She wants to write this whole night off, shut her eyes and go to bed. Tomorrow will drag on. Tomorrow will be harsh.

However, can she really toss this chance away? She feels like she's already ruined her sister's coronation by being called to court, it can’t be for nothing.

“Hans?”

He raises his head, and now he truly resembles a wolf. 

She releases her grasp from the bars. She suddenly wants to put some distance between her and the fae. "Were you thinking of sailing away? Did you know that you were always going to leave your people?” She asks.

His gaze flickers, but stays on her. "They aren't my people, they are my father's, and then they will be my oldest brother's. I am the thirteenth prince. Was, anyway. My lineage to the throne will only expand as my brothers bear children of their own."

All is quiet.

"Why are you here?" She can't help but ask.

He stills.

Then he takes off his mask.

Elsa's eyes travel up the hand to an arm then a neck then a face. He had freckles, high cheekbones that could cut someone's heart out and a pointed nose. These new features are foreign to her, but those damn green eyes — she knows them anywhere.

Is he allowed to do that? Is the mask not a permanent reminder that he is an outcast?

A strangled sound slips out of her mouth.

He lets out a chuckle. “The night of the Summer Harvest isn't just special because of the crowning of a new King and Queen, it's also the night magic expands itself.”

She blinks at him, still dazed.

“Shall I make you a trade?” He asks her but does not expect an answer. 

“A … trade?” She echoes.

He nods. “Yes, you’re familiar with the process, aren’t you? You tell me you often trade with your sister, the May Queen.”

“What will the terms of the trade be?”

“I will help you escape tonight and earn you back your freedom; an Autumn Court hearing is no small feat. The fair-folk have likely already deemed you guilty, do you wish to spend the rest of your life behind bars?”

“Of course not.”

“Then what say you? Won’t you tell me your name?” He asks softly. 

She stares at him for a long time, not knowing how to reply. She feels like time has suspended itself, and then she says:

“Why do you need my name?”

“It is powerful magic that I need to unbind you from this place; a name is exactly that.” He explains.

She rubs the sweat gathering on her palm against her red cloak then glares at her surroundings. “You still have not told me what you want in return for assisting me.”

“I don’t —”

“Tell me,” She says quickly, then adds, “Please.”

“Very well,” He agrees. “The truth is ... I wanted to build a ship to venture into the unknown and find a place for myself.”

“To rule the place? As king?”

“Perhaps,” He smirks. Then shakes his head, as if banishing the idea. “What’s important for this to go through is your ability to create. You can conjure a boat out of ice, and I can guide us, persuade any creatures or mermaids from sinking us.”

This feels like a long dream and something tells her that; if she were to disrupt it, if she were to wake up, then she’d miss him deeply.

“So … we will help each other disappear?” She asks, the words leave her mouth as she grasps at this new reality. Her hands clench at her cloak once more. It takes everything in her to not overthink. "Where will you take me?"

"Our friend, the Nokk, has told me a place where we can go. You're familiar with Athohallan?"

Her face twists. "The ice glacier?"

He nods. “It is a portal to a new world.”

“What about my sister?” Elsa asks. “Didn’t you plan to marry her?”

This time, it was his turn to look shocked. “I met her four hours ago.” 

“Yes, but — You asked about the position of May King.”

“I was curious, but I don’t want to govern the people of the Sun.” His brows knitted together. “What made you think of such an absurd idea?”

“I recall how excited my dear sister was after she met you. She was smitten.”

“I had given her a gift, a coronation present.” He explains.

“She accepted it?” Elsa’s eyes grew, wide with panic.

“Why wouldn’t she? Fair-folks are so rarely generous, even to royalty.” 

That is true, but it also means Anna could now owe Hans a favour if he wishes it. She could be in debt to him. However, with one look, the slow smile Hans has on his face tells Elsa he means no malice. 

“I gifted the May Queen with an enchanted mirror; one she could use to communicate with you. I reasoned that, with her new busy schedule as queen, she’d have less time to see you. Your sister was delighted at the idea.” 

Elsa’s hands clasped together, relieved to know she can still contact Anna in some magical way. But then Elsa realises the reasoning behind it is odd. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“Well, I was planning to whisk you away tonight regardless. The Summer Harvest is an event where doors are opened, and opportunities are given.” Hans states, mask still in hand. “It would have been easier talking to you at the Enchanted Forest if I had not noticed my brothers. And then they brought you here, and … well,” He gestures to the cell and the fae magic binding her. “It is what it is.”

"What made you think I’d leave with you, even if I wasn’t under such circumstances?”

"I could tell that you were not content with your position as Snow Queen. You looked awfully lonesome, and I could tell that you wanted to find your own place as well. You have a strong love for wanderlust, you do, I know it. If you didn't, then you wouldn't have joined me during my wandering days.” He insists then says, “Who knows what Athohallan has in store for us? It could be a new world, like the one the sea-folk live in. New languages, new sights, nothing to hold us back."

.

.

.

“Now, will you tell me your name?”

They run off into the night; to the cold beach, where the ground gleamed, shining under the moonbeams. Their running feet kick against slippery pebbles, but they do not fall. Their hands are trembling but connected and linking. The moon is above them, and The Voice sings.

She conjures their boat, clear and sturdy and strong. As he climbs in, her blue eyes toss one last glimpse at her icy palace on The North Mountain. This will be the last time she will step foot in her realm ever again.

He calls out her name. Her real name. And catches her wrist in his hand, pulling her back to the present. “Are you ready?”

She nods, then climbs in as well, ready to experience this adventure together. The last trace of the two are a bright red cape contrasting against the dark night and a fox mask left by the shore.

end