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Chapter Text

Queen Maren walked through the seemingly infinite halls of the castle, turning to the small room that held her youngest son, Hans. peeking through the small crack of the door, the Queen was pleased to see he was sleeping soundly, his reddening hair shining in the light of the pale moon from the gabled window. After the door closed, Hans’ eyes popped open, alight with relief. Casting a mischievous grin to the door, the smallest prince got out of his bed and changed from his pajamas into a cloak. It was a cold night in the Southern Isles.

Sneaking out of the castle was an easy feat for Hans. Being the smallest, he had a fair knowledge of the hiding places in the vast castle. Besides, it wasn’t always easy to hide from twelve constantly angry brothers. Reaching his normal nightly route, he made a right turn at an ancient suit of armor, a left at a painting of his Mother's coronation, a look of concern seemingly following him wherever he went. Sliding down the marble banister, Hans reached the door that led to the wine cellar. Opening it with a small motion of his hand, his bare feet stepped on the cold stone floor. But Hans didn’t mind a bit. He never got cold.

Walking past the tall racks of wine, the Prince reached the spot he was looking for. It was always the thirteenth shelf to the right. At least, Hans thought it was. Walking to the end of the aisle, he reached for a lantern, and lit it with a flicker of his fingers. Light illuminated the stone walls and the thin black cracks that webbed between them. Placing a bare palm on the damp rocks, steam crept from between his fingers at the stones dried out. Hans smiled as a layer of rocks fell at his small feet to expose the once sealed archway, a large cloud of mist spilling into the cellar. No wonder the servants said the thirteenth shelf was always rotting. Walking over the crumbled grey stones, the young boy walked out onto the castle hunting grounds, lantern in hand. “Kristoff?” He let out a stage whisper in the seemingly endless grassy field.

After a moment, a meek voice rang back. “Hans!” A small blonde boy ran up to the Prince, his blue shirt damp from fog and dew, the ragged cloak he carried offering little protection.

“There you are!” Hans dropped the lantern and hugged his friend with small arms.

“Come on,” Kristoff smiled and let go. “Do the magic! Do it!” He laughed, barely able to contain his excitement, the triangular gap in his white teeth showing.

“Well,” Hans smiled modestly. “Alright.” The Prince took a deep breath and ran his hands over and under one another in a spiraling motion as the blonde boy leaned towards the pale hands, his brown eyes glowing in amusement.

Suddenly, a flicker of red appeared in Hans’ hands, the dull red flame growing bigger with every second. It floated a full two centimeters above the palm of his hand, the fire gaining different color shades with size, the dark brick red soon becoming a brilliant orange ball of fire in Hans’ outstretched hand.

“Wow…” Kristoff exclaimed at the fireball, knowing full well that it was real from the heat radiating from the bright flame, his face beginning to glow in the crackling light.

“That’s nothing!” Hans laughed at his friend’s expression. In an instant, the flame grew ten times its pall-mall ball size. With a slow connection of his hands, Hans threw the fireball high in the air above the clearing, orange shadows illuminating the walls of the palace, the fog suddenly disappearing as heat radiated from below. “This is amazing!” Kristoff nearly shouted across the grounds, but Hans shushed his excitement. Shrinking the fire back to normal size, the shadows fell back to where they were, and Hans’ mischievous smile returned.

Kristoff, who now shared the same smile, knew exactly what Hans was thinking. He rushed into the nearby woods with the young Prince trailing behind slowly, the dry leaves crunching under the two boys feet. In minutes, Kristoff had two armfuls of beechnuts, the smaller ones escaping his grasp that the pair ran back to the field. “You ready?” He called out after planting himself about fifteen feet away from the thirteenth prince, Hans’ back turned, preparing to ‘fire.’

“Yeah.” Hans giggled, a glowing fireball materializing in his hands.

“Go!” Kristoff called and threw a hazelnut high in the air, and Hans turned around, his power poised and ready. In an instant, the fire shot through the air and hit the nut, blasting its blackened shell far into the forest behind them. “Throw another one!” Hans shouted out and held both hands out with glowing embers flurrying around his fingers. Kristoff laughed and sent not one, but two nuts sailing through the air. The prince shot two blasts to combat them, the scent of toasted nuts filling the air.

“Again!” Kristoff called and tossed four more into the air, and Hans tried his best to hit them, but could only catch three, the fourth one landing on the grass. But Kristoff kept laughing and threw four more, and Hans realized he couldn’t hit all of them. “Wait!” He called out, the fire blasts coming slower and more sporadic with each second.

“Stop! Kristoff-” Hans’ tried to plead over Kristoff’s laughter, but the boy didn’t hear him, and threw even more, the total reaching seven beechnuts in all directions. Hans saw they were all coming down towards Kristoff.

“Kristoff!” Hans pulled all the energy he could from his powers and conjured the same fireball that he’d cast high in the sky, spreading his pale hands out to expand it even more. Right as the nuts were only a few feet from his best friends head, he sent to fire straight at the targets, sparks and smaller flames trailing behind like a comet's tail. A deep rumble coming from the solid mass of heat.

The fireball flew straight across the field and in an instant, blackened the nuts with so much heat, they turned to solid ash, the black powder raining down on Kristoff, who had not escaped the heat. A rogue flare collided with his shoulder, the brilliant flame smouldering through the fabric and flesh. The force pushed Kristoff backwards and jerked his head sideways, a red glowing line blooming in the veins of his exposed arm. It spread, his veins illuminated like blood red tree branches. A look of fear and shock crossed Kristoff’s face, and his brown eyes rolled back in his head and the boy collapsed in the grass, the white blisters flourishing on his red shoulder.

Hans’ mouth dropped open in a scream, and the thirteenth Prince ran tripping over his slippers to his friend, dropping to examine the injury. But it was worse up close. His eyes fell to the blistering wound, blood dripping onto the dry grass. Hans wished he’d paid more attention in his apothecary lessons, wished he’d been given healing powers instead of fire powers, wished he had never left the castle. But now wasn’t the time for ambition, it was time for action. He let out a shrill cry, tears streaming down his cheeks at his silent friend. “Mommy! Erik! Anyone!!” He called out, the echo reaching far into the surrounding forest. After a moment of waiting, Hans heard bounding footsteps, and turned his hazy gaze to the castle, and saw his mother, the Queen, and two of his older brothers running behind her. Erik, the heir to the throne, reached Kristoff first, taking his small head in his large hands, turning it side to side delicately, as if too much movement would cause more damage. Thomas, the sixth Prince got down on his knees took to examining the arm and shoulder, blood drying on his fingers. But Queen Maren hugged Hans, and gripped his shoulders. Looking into his eyes, holding the fear and anxiety that matched her coronation painting.

“Brother! What happened with this poor boy?” Thomas turned his littlest brother, beads of sweat coming down his forehead and brown bangs, his fear magnified through thick glasses.

"We were just playing.” Hans said sadly looking over at Kristoff,

“You call this playing?!” Erik gritted his teeth in anger.

“Erik! This was obviously an accident.” Maren hissed and left one hand on her youngest son protectively.

“But mother,” Thomas chimed in and began to cover the bloody wound with part of the ragged cloak. “These powers of his are getting out of hand.” He frowned and put a hand on Kristoff’s wrist. 

“I suppose you’re right.” Maren looked at the child's limp body.

“Well, he’s breathing. But he needs a doctor.” Thomas released a sigh of relief. The Queens mind raced, trying to think of a solution. 

“I know where we need to go.” She looked into the forest as the sun began to rise over the treetops.

“What on earth is going on with his hair?” Erik asked holding Kristoff’s head up.

“What?!” Maren gasped and looked with Hans behind her.

All four people stared in shock at the peasants blonde hair, a streak of gray appearing in the wave of bangs. Thomas pushed the damp fringe up and felt his forehead. “He’s burning up! Mother, where do we need to go?” The sixth prince asked with an urgent tone in his voice.

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Queen Maren leafed through the personal archives of her family history, looking desperately around for the book. Finding the dusty novel, she wiped it off with her nightgown sleeve, flipping to the leather bookmark and ancient Danish, tearing the faded map of the valley off of the binding carelessly. In ten minutes a small troop of three horses was racing through the worn forest paths of the Southern Isles Orchards. The leading one, a stout horse with buttermilk hair groomed short, named Kraftig carried Erik. The second one carrying Maren and Hans, her favorite pony Hasselnød, and the last one holding Thomas and Kristoff, who was wrapped in a soft blanket. On the bouncing mare, Hans’ nervousness tripled. The thirteenth Prince hadn’t the slightest idea where they were going. Heat radiated from his small body and Maren hugged his waist tight, the other hand guiding the reins.

“It’s alright, Hans.” She whispered in his ear and brushed a tear off his blushing cheek. But that reassurance wasn’t enough. Sparks flew from his hands like a smouldering book, a thick trail of smoke painting an easily visible line from above the forest like a winding trains smokestack. The tears kept flowing, quickly turning to a steaming vapor. The Queen hugged him tighter, trying to kept strong for her youngest son. The horses galloped into a large clearing, exposed stones jutting out of the rocky ground. Maren took a closer look at the faded parchment map. It depicted a group of rock-like trolls, siphoning a misty substance from the head of a fallen soldier.

It was well known throughout the region that trolls existed, and were well sought after for their magical abilities and healing powers. Legend had it that they stole children from their parents, though this theory hardly held any water, it became a popular bedtime story with imaginative caregivers. Queen Maren hardly believed this herself, but wasn’t sure what to expect when they reached the Valley of Rolling Stones. Through her years of history lessons, she knew there were troll colonies are far north as the Kingdom of Arendelle, and as far south as Corona. Rumors of what they looked like passed through crowded taverns and dark alleyways in the full light of the moon. The one she heard was most common was a stout creature, its face sharp and jagged. The Queen of the Southern Isles bit her lip and gulped, pushing any fear to the back of mind, then dismounting Hasselnød with a now quiet Hans.

She could only imagine the guilt he must have been feeling.        

Erik and Thomas tied the horses to one of the trees by the clearing. Thomas held a still limp Kristoff in the crook of his arm, the other hand on his dagger, only in case. While Erik, still on alert, removed his sword from its scabbard with a small scraping sound, drawing it in a threatening position. Though Hans was feeling unimaginably horrible, he rolled his small eyes at his eldest brothers arrogance.

“Please,” Erik called into the small, amphitheater-like valley. “my brother, there was an incident.”

A small bit of worry entered his once authoritative tone as Erik’s gaze fell to the limp peasant boy. Lowering his sword after a moment, as if having lost hope, he heard a deep rumbling from the earth below them. The horses bucked and whinnied, kicking against the reins that bound them. Hans hid behind his mother’s blue skirt, his small fingers toasting the fabric, looking out at the valley as the hundreds of grey, pumice-like stones began rolling towards them in a somewhat… unified manner.

Thomas and Erik backed away to their mother, sharing a shocked expression as the rocks came to a stop in a near perfect circle around the group. After a moment, the rocks began to unfold, showing large white eyes, bulbous noses, and shocked expressions of

“It’s the Queen!” several of them bowed. But the new appearance didn’t seem to bother Maren. She had seen her fair share of strange things. Suddenly, a rock troll a bit larger than the others rolled through a small clearing in the seemingly infinite crowd. He had an elderly looking face, a buck tooth coming above him bottom lip. A grassy mane grew from his head like wild bullrushes.

“Your majesty,” He tapped his staff on the ground, and the last few trolls quickly bowed to the Queen. “Where is the legendary child?” He questioned looking around for Hans. She led Hans from his hiding place behind her, a look of pure fear plastered on his face. “Young Hans, I presume.” The king bowed. Hans looked confused. The troll king was only a few inches shorter than he was, but what did he mean, ‘legendary’?

“Your excellence,” He indicated Thomas.

“Yes, sir?” The prince stammered.

“The boy, please.” The king beckoned at the limp shape that was Kristoff, and the teenager lowered to one knee, leveling the injured boy to the trolls height. “Now, your Majesty, was the Prince born with the powers, or cursed?” He asked peeling away the bloodstained cloak to reveal the injury.

“Born. But nothing like this has happened before.” Maren tried to keep her calm demeanor.

“Something it definitely going array with his powers.” Erik chimed in putting a hand on his mothers shoulder, sliding the sword back into its scabbard. The ancient troll placed a bulky hand by Kristoff’s injured shoulder, a glowing green light filtering onto the wound, and it meshed into the same pale, milky white skin as the rest of him. It had seemed so much worse, Hans thought looking over at his best friend.

But the troll wasn’t done. Cradling the boys head in his hands, he moved the same hand to Kristoff’s forehead, and suddenly, a milky fog coming out of what Hans could only assume was his mind. It showed the countless hours Hans and him had spent playing together; in the gardens, the courtyard, and the hunting grounds, collective smiles on the both of them in every memory, as well as one more similarity. As well as fun, every memory that showed the youngest Prince, there was a sickening red tint that grew in each memory, expanding from Hans to envelope the entire picture. Hans gasped.

“It’s just as I feared.” The old troll said wisely. “This boys memories are becoming tainted.”

“Tainted?” Maren said, her calmness dissolving like arsenic powder in a water basin.

“Yes. When stuck with fire such as what your son possesses, they carry a great danger.” He sighed. “The heat can corrupt and twist the memory, leaving it a complete mess.” Hans was shocked. His power, destroying his best friends happiness? The thought made him so nauseous he began releasing dry heaves, smoke and embers glowing and sprouting at his fingertips.

“Hans, listen.” The Queen hugged him. “This was only a misunderstanding. They can fix it.” She cast a nervous glance at the elderly rock troll, who nodded.

“I can,” The troll said reassuringly. “But it won’t be easy.” He finished.

Maren bit her lip again, releasing her grip to look into the creatures brown eyes. “Do what you must.” She said sadly looking at Hans and the the child in front of him. The troll pulled the reddening pictures far from Kristoff’s head, expanding them with both arms.

“I recommend, that we remove any memories involving magic, and anything magic related from here on out. Any reveal could destroy his personality, leaving him a fearful shell of who he once was.” The prince watched in shock as with a wave of his hands, the memories red faded ever so slightly with a change in the flames.

Every fire that Hans ever created in Kristoff’s memory was being snuffed out like a candle, the blasts from his hands turning to a statuette, the balls of fire being chucked turned to feather stuffed balls and a branch appearing in young Kristoff’s small hands. The brilliance of it was rather stunning to everyone. As the final memory was altered to normal, the troll king pointed out, “Don’t worry, I’ll leave the fun in them.” He said as if that fixed everything before shrinking the thoughts back to a smaller size, and waving the now white haze into Kristoff’s mind, and a small smile formed on his face as if he was experiencing a beautiful dream that he didn’t want to wake from. “He’ll be alright.” He looked at Hans and smiled.

“So this boy,” Thomas questioned picking Kristoff back up. “He won’t remember Hans’ powers?”

The troll king shook his head. “If not that, I’d need to erase Hans completely.” He frowned. “Listen to me, Hans.” He walked to the side and beckoned for the prince to follow. “Your strength will only grow. Your power over heat and fire is strong, but it can be tamed.” The king materialized a haze of an orange, grown Hans silhouette with a blue Kristoff at his side. “The bond you share, with the people you love, is your only chance at taming the fire.” The Hans shot blasts of orange from his outstretched hands, and a smoky blue crowd appeared to be in awe from the creations. “But,” The troll continued with a wave of his hands, and the fire glowed red, consuming the crowd, tiny hisses and screams coming from the drawing. "Fear is a powerful enemy. If you lose these bonds," Hans’ eyes opened wide in fear as the fire turned the Kristoff apparition red, consuming him as well. "They will destroy us all." The troll said ominously before the flames enveloped the grown Hans in a final burst of smoke wisps, a sharp cry emanating from the flames.

Hans gasped and clung to his mother, realizing the weight now set upon his tiny shoulders.  

The Queen looked down at him, offering all the comfort she could in a smile. Then she broke the gaze. “Well, I’m sure he can learn to control it.” She offered a hopeful smile.

Erik broke his silence. “But until he does, we can’t take any chances.” He said casting a glance at Kristoff, the smile still on his red cheeks.

“Mother, he may be right. Next time, this boy…”

“Kristoff.” Hans mumbled from the folds of Marens dress.

“This Kristoff, or anyone, may not be as fortunate.” Thomas said grimly.

Maren nodded. “Then I suppose we need more precautions. We’ll close the gates.” She offered.

“Reduce the servants and staff.” Erik offered. “Limit his contact with strangers, and all but family.” He continued. “Keep him away,” He looked at the sleeping child. “From anyone and everyone he cares about.” He pursed his lips. “Even Kristoff.”

Chapter Text

In time, six days to be exact, Kristoff awoke from his dream. It wasn’t exactly normal, to say the least. All he remembered about it was playing with Hans, but the memories he’d kept seemed… different, somehow. A part of them was missing like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle that had fallen in between the couch cushions. The boy woke with a start, gripping the covers of his bed firmly with both hands.

“Kristoff?” A gruff voice called from the hall. “Are you okay in there?” At first, he didn’t remember exactly where he was, then as a face appeared at the open door, he recognized the voice immediately, his father, Henrik.

“Yeah, I-” He stopped as propped himself up, incredible pain overwhelming him. The covers fell past his exposed chest, a thick bandage wrapped around his right shoulder. “Papa, what happened?” He asked as Henrik walked in and sat on the side of his bed, a candle in hand, his navy blue gatki expanding with the deep breath he took.

Obviously, whatever happened, it wasn’t good.

“There was an accident Kristoff. You got second degree burns, only through a miracle did you live.” Tears rolled down his father’s rosy cheeks, sadness gathering in his deep brown eyes. Henrik was a near exact copy of Kristoff, the only physical difference being a rich crop of dark brown hair and a goatee with only a faintest streaks of grey. The man leaned over and hugged his boy tight, as if letting him go would make him disappear. Kristoff understood, after all, Kristoff was all Henrik had. His mother and father were once part of a Saami tribe that migrated to the Southern Isles. But soon after Kristoff’s third birthday, Gidda fell ill and passed on, leaving Henrik a near broken man with nothing but a small cabin on the outskirts of the city, an ice-cutting business, and Kristoff.

“But I’m here for you. And that’s all that matters.” Henrik held his son’s shoulders and gazed into his brown eyes.

“Where’s Hans?” Kristoff looked out the door to his small room, expecting the young prince to be there as well. Henrik gulped, pursing his lips slightly, and dropped his gaze, as if unable to reveal some horrible tragedy. He knew that look. “Papa, tell me.” Kristoff squeezed his dads hand softly.

Henrik set the candle down on the nightstand beside them, and held an official looking piece of parchment in his large hands, taking an old pair of reading spectacles out of his gatki pocket. He slipped them on, cleared his throat, and began to read.

“Dear Sir Henrik Bjorgman,

I regret to inform you that your son has been injured on the royal hunting grounds of the castle. And while we were able to heal him, he will be no doubt disoriented when he awakes. My youngest brother being involved, we request that young Kristoff must stay away from prince Hans for his own safety.

Sincerest Apologies, Prince Erik of the Southern Isles”

Kristoff’s mouth popped open in shock as his father handed the paper to him, the light of the candle glowing through the paper. Kristoff closed his mouth and began to read and reread the letter. He didn’t want to believe it, but the official seal of the Southern Isles read otherwise. So many questions raced through his mind. Why did Hans want to end their friendship? Was it something he had done? And what did the eldest prince mean, ‘for his own safety’? Kristoff handed the letter back to his father, who sighed and frowned at the parchment, obviously as oblivious as Kristoff was. Folding it back, Henrik slipped it into his pocket and kissed Kristoff on his forehead, pushing the blonde fringe out of the way.

“Go on,” He got up and smiled. “You need to rest.” Henrik picked up the candle and blew it out, the flickering flame dying quickly, leaving a small trail of smoke rising from the wick.

Kristoff pulled the covers up to his neck, looking at the dripping candle with saddened eyes as Henrik walked out of the room. Observing the candle, Kristoff couldn’t help but think of Hans. Something about this didn’t feel right. The flame of the wick was snuffed out like their friendship, and it hurt Kristoff to think that the thirteenth prince didn’t want to be with him because of who he was. Hans was never about status, he thought. But maybe he’d changed. Maybe they just weren’t destined to be friends, Kristoff thought and closed his eyes, trying to keep the memories of the times he had with Hans there to greet him in sleep.

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Elsa fiddled with her dark brown braid in her dirt encrusted fingernails, trying to undo it with little hope. Her hands ached from the work she was doing. But after all, chopping wood wasn’t an easy feat for someone her size. Coming from a long line of lumberjacks, little Elsa was expected to take the trade up as well, which she didn’t mind. Lots of people in the Southern Isles needed firewood, lumber for building, and for the cargo ships that made the chain of islands a rather wealthy union. Sighing, the girl looked over at the small,  reindeer calf she had found, its miniscule horns popping up in little brown knobs in front of his ears. He wore a goofy looking grin and had a playful look in his brown eyes.

“Come on Olaf. We have work to do.” She beckoned the creature with a gloved finger, the other hand picking up the small hatchet.

At the moment, Elsa didn’t belong to a group that cared for her. There were other lumberjacks out there, but most passed right by her like a bush on the side of a road. And besides, she enjoyed being alone. Well; mostly alone. Olaf had been by her side ever since her parents died. Elsa didn’t really remember who they were, but found Olaf next to her the next morning after her parents were gone, sleeping peacefully with his grey fur coat covered in ashes from the campfire. The two became fast friends after that.

“Born of earth and mountain streams with natures hands combining,” Elsa began singing softly, Olaf trailing behind her as she looked for a good sized tree.

“This wooden force both thick and thin has a hardened heart worth pining…” She continued, a little louder as she found a healthy looking oak tree, and steadied her hatchet with both hands.  

“So strike-” Elsa swung the blade at a weak looking spot, but toppled backwards as the blade just bounced off the trunk, not leaving a mark. Elsa got up, dusted the leaves and dirt from her cotton shirt, rolling the purple sleeves to her elbows. The girl then moved the axe to the other end of the tree, Olaf following her around. “So strike-” Elsa again swung her axe at the tree, the iron blade chipping through the bark. But pulling on it, it was stuck in the wedge it created. Groaning, Elsa put both hands on on the handle, her brunette braid swinging behind her like a rope.

“Come on!” She grunted, pulling at the tool with all her strength, bracing a leg against the tree to dislodge it. After about ten minutes of struggling, she was getting nowhere. Taking a deep breath, she picked up a wedge like piece she’d whittled in her spare time, and jammed it into the crack that held the axe, still pulling at the implement.

Taking a small mossy rock off the ground, she was about to begin pounding the wedge into place when the rock moved. Elsa was dumbfounded, and took a closer look at it. Upon close inspection, she saw the rock unfolding like a book, and in seconds a small troll was in her hands, it’s white eyes the size of dinner plates. A look of fear crossed both of their faces as Elsa decided to speak.

“Um, Hello.” The girl said sheepishly blushing with a small wave, the troll continued to stare. “Can I help you?” She almost chuckled at what she was doing, but put a hand to her mouth.

The small troll suddenly jumped from her hand and ran, well; rolled off, the dead leaves flying in all directions. Elsa watched as the rock disappeared into the distance, a confused look on her face. She had never in all her life seen an actual troll, at least; not a live one. Trolls, when dead, turned to the solid rocks they looked like. Elsa had regularly stumbled on a few in her years of forest living, always placing a bunch of wildflowers next to the statues.

Turning her attention back to the axe, the wooden wedge now on the ground and cracked, Elsa grumbled and gave the trunk a sharp kick with her heel, and with a thick clunk, the axe slid out of the tree and landed at Elsa’s feet. Smiling to herself, she bent over to pick up the blade when suddenly, Olaf bucked and slammed into her rear end, the girl landing on the reindeer's back with a grunt.

“Olaf! What was that for?” She tried scolding, but almost immediately regretted it after the young buck peered up at her in a pathetic manner. “Alright, fine. What do you want? An apple?” Elsa dug in her pants pocket and pulled out one of the two apples she found, holding it over Olafs head quizzically, as if tempting him. The fruit was ripe, red, and fairly clean, and also the better looking of the two. Olaf swerved his head up, trying to reach it and chomping his teeth at the prize-winning fruit.

“Unh, unh, unh,” Elsa lifted the apple away from him. “Wait.” She pulled a small paring knife from the leather pocket holster around her waist, dicing the fruit in half and throwing one to Olaf, who lunged forward to catch it, causing Elsa to topple off and into a nearby puddle, mud splattered all over her. Blowing a strand of brown hair from her face, she groaned angrily and Olaf walked over, and bit the second half of the apple from her clean, outstretched hand.

“Thanks buddy.” She said sarcastically, as the reindeer swallowed the fruit and licked her face, cleaning the smudges from her rosy cheeks. Elsa stood up. “Fine, but the next one is mine.” She said in an assertive tone, wagging her finger at her friend, to which Olaf licked her again, and the stern face melted into a warm smile.

“So,” She said picking up her hatchet and placing it in her bag, "Where should we go now?" Olaf stamped a foot in the direction the little troll had gone. “I don’t know. We probably shouldn’t intrude.” Elsa frowned and mounted the small reindeer. But as usual, Olaf wasn’t listening.

They bounded through the trees, following the path to the trolls colony…  

Chapter Text

Henrik grunted as he loaded the heavy blocks of ice onto the cart, the sun beating down on him as Kristoff tried to hoist a few of the smaller bricks to the bed of the cart. “Kristoff, it’s fine.” He wiped his forehead off with a rag. “You don’t have to help.” He chuckled as his son struggled under an ice chunk bigger than his torso, barely able to lift it past his knees.

“No! I. Wanna. Help!” He grunted under the weight and Henrik chuckled at the boys stubbornness.

“No you don’t.” He smiled and picked up his son and the ice block with seemingly no effort.

“Yes I do!” Kristoff moaned and put the cold brick down on the cart, the slick ice slipping back with the rest of the cargo with a crunch. Henrik smiled and hugged his son close, the two of them laughing.

“Well thank you.” His father carried Kristoff to the front seat, and his son let out a big yawn.

“Go to sleep,” Henrik whispered. “You can rest until we get there.” He kissed his son and smiled, but as he pushed the blonde bangs out of the way, he noticed something. A streak of whitish-grey dominated a lock of his once blonde hair. “What’s this?” He focused his gaze. It was the exact color of his goatee tips. “I’ll have to discuss this with the Queen.” He said putting his hands on his hips and walking back to the ice to load the shipment before it could melt in the hot summer sun.

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Henrik and Kristoff strolled through the market of The Southern Isles, the scent of fish and salt spray wafting through the air. They were taking a short walk after tying the horse and cart to a post. “I’ve missed this place. Certainly has changed.” Henrik looked around the tudor-like buildings, colorful signs hanging from every one of them. The pair hadn’t been out in a few weeks, Henrik preferring to stay home with Kristoff until he felt better, and when leaving, staying within the small ice ponds around the cabin, and only for an hour or less.

“Papa, where are we going?” Kristoff asked as they turned a corner by a lumberjack depot.

“To the castle my boy.” Henrik chuckled as they took another turn to the castle, the rather tall hills encroaching the stone palace.

“But I thought-” Kristoff tried to point out, but Henrik stopped him.

“Only on business son, just for that,” He looked up at the large towers and gabled roofs, and let out a small gulp. “And nothing else.”

He squeezed Kristoff’s hand tight, looking around the busy stalls and shops. They would be able to buy enough to live off of with the payments of the Queen for his ice. At least, anything they couldn’t make themselves. Wealth was never really something he cared about, but he was beginning to doubt the princes words in the letter. Though Kristoff seemed fine, his mind began wandering back to the gray lock of hair his son now displayed. It was just hair, though. What ill will could come of that?

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When Henrik and Kristoff walked into the large throne room of the castle, the throne and room was empty. “Kristoff,” He got down on both knees. “Wait here, I’m going to look for a guard.” Henrik looked down at him and patted his shoulders before walking out of the room. Kristoff frowned, knowing that it would be a while before his father returned.

“Well, I guess I know what I’m looking for.” Kristoff said looking up the marble T-shaped staircase. As long as he was here, he wanted an answer from Hans.

Walking up the stairs, he made a right where he heard voices. The boy saw an elderly woman trying desperately to pick up what looked like sheets, her gray hair frazzled like her nerves. Kristoff ran over to her and helped her scoop up the fabrics and another voice rang out from down the hall.

“What happened?!” A teenaged boy in royal looking garb ran up to them, anger hardening on his red face. Kristoff guessed from the features he must’ve been one of Hans’ brothers.

“You there! Explain yourself!” He pointed to the elderly servant, who curtsied and began to stammer apologies like her life depended on it. “Your excuses are nothing woman.” The prince looked coldly at her, and her wrinkled eyes opened wide with fear. Kristoff looked sternly at the taller man, and and placed a comforting hand on the old womans shoulder.

“And you!” He turned his brown eyes to Kristoff. “How dare you not show respect to the royal family.” He sneered at the seven year old as if imagining the horrible punishments he could inflict on him at that very moment. “Bow!” Kristoff reluctantly complied, the old woman curtseying again. “Now, since I have not seen you in the castle yet, I’ll be lenient. Twelve demerits.” He flashed the punishment so quickly as if having done this many times before.

“Your Majesty,” Kristoff started. “I’m not a servant here. I’m simply here with my father delivering ice.” He pointed down the hall.

The prince looked bored. “You’re trying my patience. You should know lying comes at a price. Twenty demerits.” He responded coldly. Kristoff rolled his eyes, but the prince wasn’t done. “I need you to take these to prince Hans’ room, or consider your employment options. Your choice.” The teenager observed his fingers silently, waiting for a response. Kristoff, not wanting to endanger this old womans job, began picking the linens back up, and the servant leading him down the hall.

“You don’t work here do you?” The elderly woman said after a moment when the were far away from the snobbish prince. “No. I just wanted to help.” Kristoff grumbled. The servant stopped walking.

“My dear, you did what I’ve been too afraid to do all my life. I’ve never been able to stand up to Prince Alexandar throughout my life as a servant, and I’m proud of you.” She smiled at him, revealing the gaps and missing teeth she possessed. Kristoff raised an eyebrow.

“But I didn’t do anything. I just didn’t think he deserved our respect, the way he talked to you!” He ranted as as they turned the corner, the bed linens in hand.

“Well, you helped me. And for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.” She said to the child as they neared a crossing, a gabled window to their left.

“You’re welcome…” He trailed off, not knowing the servants name.

“Gretta.” She offered. “Where is the father you mentioned?” Gretta asked looking at Kristoff, his hands piled high with sheets.

“He’s probably looking for the Queen.” Kristoff responded.

“I haven’t seen her all day. She said she had business to take care of.” The old woman said as they reached the crossing, setting the fabric in a basket. “Well, I should be getting back to work. Look for another servant when you want to go.” Gretta said wiping her hands on her skirt. “Thanks.” Kristoff smiled as the elder walked back the way they came.

Looking at the doors in the hall, Kristoff saw a familiar face walking towards it, a frown on his young face. He immediately recognized it.

“Hans!” He called running down to hall, eager to see his friend, completely forgetting the letter.

But Hans looked at him sadly, and opened the door to his room, casting one last glance at Kristoff before closing it quietly.

Kristoff stared, confused. He felt something was missing, and the memories entering his head again. He wasn’t going to get the answers unless he tried, but now obviously wasn’t a good time...

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Elsa and Olaf raced through the forest, following the small trolls path to wherever it led. Though Elsa had been reluctant to intrude on the little troll, especially after the fright she had given it, she felt truly alive and interested in whatever lay ahead. Olafs tongue hung out as the pair reached an amphitheater like clearing, covered with splotches of moss.

The two glided to a stop at the first step, Elsa dismounting and looking around. “You’re sure this is the right place Olaf?” She asked her reindeer with a waver in her voice. Olaf nodded and followed his owner to the center of the circle, his hooves clicking on the stone.

Suddenly, there was a low rumble, and Elsa tried to keep her balance as a wave of stones came rolling towards her and Olaf. keeping her fear inside as the rocks came to halt around her and Olaf. Looking at the seemingly endless crowd, her blue eyes opened wide in fear as every rock began to unfold in a similar manner to the baby rock troll, all of them having bulbous noses, grassy hair, and a few having glowing crystals hanging around their necks and wrists.

She gazed out on the crowd and held a hand to to her mouth, preparing to face whatever consequences there were for trespassing. But to her surprise, most of them just looked, well… bewildered. Murmurs came from the crowd of rocks like: “It’s a human!” “It’s a girl!” and “Is that a reindeer with her?” Elsa gasped in horror as they all started to move, but stifled a scream as they made an opening.

Nearly stepping out of the gap, a larger rock troll rolled up to her, his kind eyes and grassy mane far longer than all the others. He spoke with a rather soft voice. “Is there anyone here,” He addressed the group. “That would like to take this beautiful girl in as one of their own?” The chief asked indicating Elsa and Olaf.

Several hands raised up, but the troll king looked around, calling up a motherly looking one and her companion. Elsa was confused, to say the least.

“Bulda, Cliff, can you care for Elsa responsibly until she is of age?” The wise troll asked the pair, and they nodded.

“Of course! The poor dear has no one to look after her, so I’m sure we’ll do.” Bulda smiled at Elsa, who was looking scared out of her mind. Just how was it that the chief knew her name? “Come on dear, you’re not alone anymore.” Bulda called to her and Elsa’s face broke into a smile.

“Maybe this is a good thing.” She whispered as the two trolls hugged her and Olaf in their rocky arms.

Chapter Text

Over the months, Kristoff and his father made several deliveries of ice to the palace. But each time they entered the royal court, Kristoff would sneak off the the hall that held Hans’ room. Whenever there, he would spend the entire visit trying to persuade his friend to come out to see him, or at least open up the barrier between them.

“Hans?” He would always call his name in a pleading manner, before giving a sharp three knocks to plead his case to a door, and hopefully, Hans.

Sometimes, there was no response at all, but when he did happen to receive one, it was always something like “Go away.” In an annoyed tone.

But this did nothing to hinder his efforts. As a result, the first question out of his lips was: “Do you wanna go and play now?”

And so it went on and on until it was time to go, Henrik scooping him up with a heavy heart. He couldn’t bare to tell Kristoff why Hans wasn’t responding. After the second delivery of ice, he managed to get ahold of the Queen, and wanted answers.

“The boy is desperate your Majesty.” Henrik told the Queen, who sat at her desk, her hands folded in an authoritative manner.

“I know, the servants hear him singing everyday.” She looked at the mans sad brown eyes.

“My Kristoff,” Henrik continued as Maren twiddled her fingers as if thinking of a solution. “He doesn’t have any other friends. They’ve been that close for years. What happened to sour that bond?” He looked on, wanting an answer, a solution, anything. It pained him to see his pride and joy so depressed. Maren stood up, her deep blue dress straightening with her posture. As hard as this was to watch, she couldn’t help but feel incredibly guilty for her actions. Was closing Hans off the right decision? Her mind recalled the trolls warning.

“These bonds you share, with the people you love, are your only chance at taming the fire…” The deep, grovely voice echoed in her head.

“The injuries Kristoff retained were the result of a serious problem. My youngest son was-” Maren stopped, thinking there had to be another way to tell him. After all, one doesn’t just blurt out ‘My son has fire powers!’ and not expect to see shock and fear, but there was no other option. “Bestowed a gift.” She finished and took a deep breath, hoping that was enough, but Henrik only looked on for elaboration.

“The gift is Pyrokinesis, or, in short, power over heat and fire.” Maren said as calmly as possible as the look of interest on Henriks face turned from interest to fear and utter bewilderment. Millions of questions and horrible visions entered his mind.

“What?” Henrik asked breathlessly, as if unsure of what he had just heard. “How is that possible?!” He asked in amazement. The Queen shrugged.

“If only I knew. He was born with them. It could be me, it could’ve been his father, I simply can’t say.” She looked out the gabled window that viewed the sparkling harbor.

“What sort of effects could you deduct from something that powerful hitting my boy?” Henrik asked grimly, assuming the worst would befall Kristoff in a matter of days.

Maren again, shrugged, not wanting Henrik to know of the tainted memories. “Again, I have no idea. All I can say is that the only negative repercussions young Kristoff will face is strange looks from the barber for that streak of gray in his hair.” Maren explained what Henrik was already aware of.

“But what of his friendship with Prince Hans? What do you recommend we do about that?” Henrik stood up to face the Queen, who was hardly intimidated by the enormously muscular man looming high above her like the North Mountain.   

“I can look into a way to block the powers, to keep them in. If it shows results, and promising ones at that, they’ll be back together in good time.” Maren assured the ice harvester with a hopeful stare.

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Hans looked out the window at the sparkling sea, the world outside seemed so close, but he could never feel it. That was, until he could control his powers. That image of Kristoff’s face, the pure look of shock and sadness. This was all his fault.

A knock sounded at the door, and Hans groaned.

“Go away Kristoff!” He called, refusing to let the guilt reach him by looking at the door.

“It’s me.” His mother’s soft voice sounded through the white door. “I’m coming in.” She said, and in a moment, a key clicked in the lock, and the door pushed open slowly to reveal the Queen in her blue floor-length dress that was embroidered with deep African Violets. Hans turned to face his mother, his knees perched on a chest by the window.

Pressing his bare hands to the windowsill, Hans felt the heat encroaching the room. Suddenly, smoke began to rise from the wood, the white paint toasting to a beige. Hans gasped and ripped his hands away from the window with a horrified look in his brown eyes. Maren smiled understandingly and hugged him, placing both hands on his shoulders and focusing on him. Hans snuggled into his mothers shoulder, the heat dissipating quickly.

Releasing him after a moment, she took out a wooden box from behind her, an excited look entering her green eyes. “I have an idea.” She said enthusiastically.

“What is it?” Hans asked, as if this surprise was the answer to world peace. Maren chuckled and slid the cover from the box.

Hans’ smile turned into confusion.

Inside the silk lined box was two pieces of soft looking, yet wrinkled fabric, the color a shade of dark grey, black lines entwining up the length of the glove. They were beautiful, and expensive looking. But Hans saw the problem quickly.

“Mother, I’ll burn through these. Gloves won’t-”

But Maren placed a finger to his lips. “These,” She held up Hans’ left hand and slid the glove over his arm. Surprisingly, it felt comforting, like his mothers hand with him at all times. Her guiding hand no less. “Are special, like you.” She picked up the second one and Hans put it on willingly. “They were a special delivery from the trolls. They can block the magic.” Maren whispered happily.

Hans decided he may as well try to prove it. But he concentrated his strength, thinking hard to himself of a crackling fire, trying to make at least sparks or smoke appear. He opened his eyes from his thoughts.

Nothing happened.

A small smile appeared on both faces, knowing this was a solution they could both live with. Hans hugged his mother, a flood of relief washing over all the stress he held. “Now, you can play with that Kristoff boy without hurting him.” The Queen said standing up and going to the door.

But Hans was suddenly reminded of the horror he now faced. Kristoff. Alive yes, but was this really enough? He wondered.

The temperature began to rise in the room, beads of sweat started rolling down both his and the Queens faces.

“Hans? What’s wrong?” Maren turned back to her son and looked down at him.

The prince tried taking deep breaths, his hands tucked in front of him. His thoughts wandering to worse and worse things. What if this would only work for a week? He couldn’t trust himself not to hurt his friend again!

“Hans! Hans!” Maren ran up to him and held him tight, the heat beginning to dissipate from his mothers touch. In a moment, everything was fine again, except for Hans, who was now sobbing uncontrollably into the Queens breast.

“I can’t! I just can’t!” He wailed into her dress, tears staining the silky fabric. Maren frowned helplessly. Until Hans could truly control his gift, there was nothing she could do. The reality stabbed at her heart, tearing her up until the tears streamed down her pink cheeks. Hans was becoming more powerful, and it would take more than just gloves to stop that…

Chapter Text

With Hans’ powers still too unmanageable, he spent every day inside his room, the heat creeping up the walls of his gilded cage. “Come on. Keep it together.” He whispered to himself trying to make the hot air disappear.

“You can do this.” Hans tried to calm himself as another knock started at his door. “It can’t control you.” He whispered and suddenly, a soft voice filled the air.

“Do you wanna go and play now?” It sang at his door. Hans recognized Kristoff’s singing voice immediately. Of course, his first reaction was to tell him to leave him alone. But at the moment, a human voice was rather comforting. He hadn’t left his room in over two weeks, his mother coming by with the occasional servant to deliver his three meals.  

And even then, it didn’t feel like genuine talking besides the words 'How are you feeling today your majesty?'

The voice started again after no response. “Come on! I know you’re there.”

Hans cast a glance at the one thing separating him and his best friend. It was just a door, after all. But the fear of harming him kept Hans far away from the opening, where he couldn’t do damage.

“I never see you anymore,” A clunking noise sounded, like Kristoff had thrown his back against the door, and was sliding down to the hardwood below.

“Come out the door,” Kristoff sung, looking under the small gap of the door, and Hans stood back, trying not to be seen.

“I’ve looked for you everywhere!” He ended on a high note before disappearing for a minute. Hans was relieved, and yet, saddened to think of Kristoff practically wasting his life outside his door, asking the same question every day. But Hans didn’t have the heart to answer properly, remembering the trolls warning.

“Any reveal could destroy his personality, leaving him a fearful shell of who he once was.” Gee? Hans wondered. Who did that sound like?

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His bottom on the floor, Kristoff looked around at the vast emptiness of the castle ballroom, grumbling quietly. For being the biggest room in the palace, he seemed to be the only soul there. Looking quietly at his draughts game, he wished Hans could be there to do it with him. He didn’t even like draughts! It had always been Hans’ favorite, so now he was stuck sitting there, waiting for him to come out after a promise to let him win.

But it didn’t look like Hans was coming.

Moving his hand to one of the wooden chips, he made a move, and crossed his arms, as if Hans could somehow move the piece from God knew how far away.

Not seeing any point in continuing the game, Kristoff closed the board, the wooden circles clicking and smashing into each other. He started singing again.

“We used to be best buddies,” He looked at the paperboard, and frowned. “But now we’re not. I wish you would tell me why!” Kristoff cast a glance to the large doors before falling back onto the hardwood floor in a defeated manner.

Kristoff went back Hans’ door, again ready to ask the same question. “Do you wanna go and play now?” He sung.

Thinking for a moment, he pressed his lips to the keyhole. “We can do whatever you want…” He talked through the opening. Right as he thought he heard a sound from the other side, his father came around the corner.

“Kristoff? It’s time to go.” He said placing a broad hand on Kristoff’s shoulder.

The boys smile faded, turning to a pathetic frown. Henrik gripped his hand softly, leading him away at his own accord. “Okay.” He admitted defeat for the day and followed his dad before casting a final look at the door, as if something had happened in the seconds he had turned his back. But the door was still closed. “Bye.” Kristoff said, barely audible as they walked down the hall…   

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Hans was moved that even though it was clear that they couldn’t be together, Kristoff still made the effort to see him. But in another way, it only made him more worried. What would happen if he opened the door? Would Kristoff hugging him make him belch out fire? Wait, that would actually be really cool, Hans thought and smiled. But that smile faded at the thought of just what sort of damage it could do to anyone. Fire was dangerous in any way, shape or form. He had to quell it before his temptations to let Kristoff in got the better of him.

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Years passed through the kingdom, four years to be exact. New inventions came into the little chain of islands with more profit than ever. Hans and Kristoff changed as well. And Kristoff, still optimistic at this point, tried even more to get Hans out of his room.

Kristoff ran up to the door and gave it a brisk, hard three raps, pleading his case to the solitary prince.

“Do you wanna go and play now?” He sang to his friend with a jubilant tone.

When there was no response, Kristoff tried again, utilizing a new machine his father bought for him with the stipend of ice deliveries, calling it a boneshaker. Kristoff had never ridden it before, but want him and Hans to give it a try. Of course, he was a bit apprehensive to do anything with it. After all, who would want to ride something called the ‘boneshaker’?

But his curiosity peaked at the thought that something so amazing would make Hans come out. So he mounted the machine at what he thought was the seat. (In reality and common sense, no one would ride a bicycle on the handlebars. Or standing no less.) As the bicycle rode by the door, Kristoff tried again. “Or ride my bike around the ha-a-a-a-lls!” The last part turned to a scream as the vehicle began its descent down the t-shaped stairs.

The bike landed at the last carpeted step, its front flipping upwards, catapulting young Kristoff forward into the waiting arms of and old knights suit with its arms held in front of him. He sighed and crossed his arms, knowing Hans hadn’t moved from his room…

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Hans opened his door a crack, looking down the hall and stairs at his friend, fear in his eyes. He had heard a crash, and now he saw Kristoff in the arms of a suit of armor, his hand positioned above his head dramatically. He heard singing again.

“I think some company’s deserved from you,” Kristoff sung from his perch.

Hans frowned, closing the door at his friend. Who did he think he was to demand attention?! He scoffed and crossed his arms in a similar manner to Kristoff, his gloves heating up in his hands.

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“I only hope that you haven’t got the flu!” Kristoff looked back at the door. It was still closed. He groaned and picked up the bike. What else was there to try?

“It getting pretty lonely,” He walked to one of the sitting rooms, flopping down on the purple carpet, his arms spread out like he was stretching.

Kristoff crawled over to the grandfather clock, his black breeches pressed against to bleached wood. “All these empty rooms…” He sung to himself, focusing on the golden pendulum that swung back and forth, back and forth. At this point it was the only thing that was moving in the entire palace, much less the small study. The preteen bobbed his feet to the motion of the clock.

“Just watching the hours pass by…” He frowned softly at the clock and clicked his tongue to the rhythm.

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Thomas and Erik walked up the hall to Hans’ room, a book of stories in the youngers hand. They hadn’t seen Hans since Johns fifteenth birthday. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Erik said bluntly as the two men turned the corner. Thomas straightened his reading glasses.

“Erik, you may be the heir, but that doesn’t mean Hans doesn’t matter.” He sighed at his eldest brothers disdain.

Erik looked at the sixth prince, a sincere frown on his face. “I care. I just didn’t think it’d be this long. Johns birthday was three weeks ago!” He exclaimed dramatically. But Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that crap. You know as well as I do we are the only ones outside of Mother that witnessed…” He trailed off for a moment as a servant walked by with a tray in her hands.

“The accident.” he finished when he was sure the woman was out of earshot.    

Thomas sighed, still unresponsive as he knocked on Hans’ door with Erik behind him. “Hans? It’s us.” He said calmly slipping the key into its lock.

When there was no response, Thomas turned the key and pushed the door open, only to see his youngest brother cowering in the corner of the room, the red diamond wallpaper peeling and curling as the hot air radiated around the boy like a heat lamp, wave-like distortions floating around Hans’ body.

“It’s getting stronger! I can’t stop it!” He cried as Thomas dropped the book and Eric sprinted over to his brother, trying to help him when Hans shouted. “Stay back! I can’t be touched!” He wailed as steamy tears rose from his eyes. Thomas cast a fearful look at his older brother, who sprinted out of the room to find the Queen, wherever she was.

“Hans, listen to me. The only thing you can do right now it calm down. Fear will only make it worse!” Thomas held out his hands to protect himself from the heat.

A sharp cry came from the small preteen, a glowing red light filtering through his gloves like a pot of molten copper. Thomas ducked as a ball of fire flew from Hans’ hands, filtering through the gloves somehow. The adult screamed and threw the basin of water from Hans’ dresser at the fire, beads of sweat rolling down both faces at the fire was extinguished. Queen Maren and Erik dashed in, fear taking hold in the small bedroom as Erik observed the blackened spot where the fire barely reached.

“Hans, please,” Maren tried to reach him through the waves of heat, her bun falling to her shoulders in blonde tresses from the heat. “You can control it. I know you can!” She pleaded as Hans continued to shrink into the corner.

“No! Please, I don’t want to hurt you!” Hans whimpered as Maren continued to brave the heat, the wallpaper around the youngest prince beginning to blacken and flake around him in ash and embers. Both brothers backed away and prepared for the worst, Thomas taking stand behind the tall armchair, but Erik stood defiantly behind his mother, trying to reach Hans before irreversible damage could be done.

“Stop!” Hans lashed from his corner, and suddenly, the heat disappeared, the redness faded from his hands, and all seemed calm in the little room as Maren looked sadly as her youngest son, her lower lip trembling as Erik and Thomas joined her, each placing a hand on her shoulder comfortingly.

Hans could only watch their disappointment like caged hamster, his heart beating faster than it ever had in his life, a sickening feeling welling up in his stomach. What could stop him from this? It had been five years since he was warned, and all these practices seemed to yield nothing! All three of them walked out of his room with heavy hearts, knowing that this problem couldn’t fix itself... 

Chapter Text

More time passed, and the kingdom of the Southern Isles only grew, as well as Hans and Kristoff. With one difference.

Both boys were seventeen at this point; and after years of disappointment and lost chances, Kristoff had given up.

There really was nothing more to say. He had tried everything he could think of to get Hans’ attention, but every single time he’d gotten the same answer. Hans made that quite clear every week they had visited the castle that he didn’t want to spend time with Kristoff, so as far as Kristoff was concerned, the friendship was a childhood phase, and something he grew out of at this point.

Henrik and Maren were both getting older, gray streaks of hair appearing more prominent. They both knew, (although Henrik still held out hope,) that there wasn’t any reason in trying to get the two back together. They had simply drifted apart.

And besides, Kristoff didn’t really have the time to socialize. He had an ice business and a father to care for. Henrik wasn’t as strong as he once was, and couldn’t be as active as before, so Kristoff only saw it fit he help.

Besides, ice was cold, like Hans.

Even though their friendship had ended, Kristoff still remember the times he spent with the thirteenth prince. The days spent in the gardens, the courtyard, the royal hunting grounds, all of them still as he could remember, like they were frozen. It made him smile when he thought of the fun they’d shared, lost to time.

Hans on the other hand, wished he’d accepted friendship over isolation.

The teenagers powers only grew stronger, as the troll king had predicted. The Queen was shocked to find out that his power over fire had gotten through the gloves, and figured it was just that they were too small. A new pair was ordered from the trolls, and Hans eagerly put them on like a child holding onto a security blanket.

“Thank you,” He said after flexing his fingers to stretch the fabric. “Mother.” He said under his breath, still unable to lose the incredible guilt. He’d pushed the one person who could help him even farther away. Hans ran a gloved hand through his bright red hair, messing it slightly, relieving some of the stress for the moment.

“You’re welcome.” Maren said sincerely and walked out the door, remembering Hans didn’t like being touched.

Although fear still rested inside of him, he wished he could have told Kristoff about everything.

But as much as Hans wanted too, that wasn’t an option.

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Winter came fast to the city, and Kristoff bounded down the hall to congratulate his father, a small smile on his face as he reached the master bedroom of the cabin, where Henrik was preparing to go on a two week journey south through the woods for a delivery to Corona. Just a day earlier, the Queen named Henrik the Official Palace Ice Deliverer. Whether or not that was a real title, he couldn’t say, but the iceman certainly wasn’t complaining.

Henrik wore a wide smile, gray breeches, a dark blue gatki with red and green strands running down the edges like a true Saami. On his broad chest rested a silver medal with a snowflake gilded onto its shining surface. Kristoff chuckled and wrapped a hand around his father. “You really clean up good Papa. Fannar is saddled and ready, when you are that is.” Kristoff jerked his thumb towards the back gourds where the old horse gazed on the lush, green vegetation. Henrik pulled his son into a tight hug, remembering the days when he was but knee high. He marveled at the wonderful man his boy had become, the only remains of his past was the gray streak of hair and a blotch like scar on his right shoulder.

Looking at Kristoff now, you could see the resemblance to the boy that was once so small he couldn’t wrap his arms around his fathers waist all the way. Henrik sighed. Those days may have been over, but he was glad to remember them.

“Thanks son. Now,” He put a large hand on Kristoff’s shoulder and looked into his eyes. “You’re sure you can take care of the place while I’m gone? The roof needs to be prepared for leaks, the goat needs to be fed and milked, and-” Kristoff lifted his fathers hand away with an equally sized one and a smirk.

“Papa, don’t worry, I can handle this.” He assured Henrik and hugged him tight.

“And besides,” Kristoff let go of his dad and shut the leather satchel that contained his things. The rest of the supplies were loaded on the sled. “I learn from the best.” He smiled and Henrik looked touched as he picked up the satchel, walking out to the dark wooden sleigh, Kristoff trailing behind as the snow began to fall over the rural area.

Henrik got on the sled, picked up the reins and gave them a snap as Fanner trotted off, the sled pulling behind him. “Goodbye Kristoff! Take care of the place!” Henrik called from the bench.

Kristoff waved from the door. “I’ll see you in two weeks! Good luck!” Kristoff yelled as the sled's runners slid along the ground faster and faster until Fannar, Henrik, and the sled disappeared into the distance…

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Hans stood the foot of the t-shaped stairs, fear growing in his mind. Queen Maren was going on a fourteen day journey to the Duchess of Weselton for diplomatic reasons. It was going to be a long two weeks. Each one of his brothers stood besides him, in order of age. Twenty eight year old Erik was at the foot of the stairs, following in succession to Hans at seventeen by the door. The twelve voices silenced as Maren descended down the staircase, her violet traveling cloak trailing behind her. As the queen reached Erik, the eldest gave a curt bow to his mother, and she nodded and walked on to William, who repeated the motion, and so on until she reached Hans, whose fearful gaze had not left.

He bit his lip as he bowed, desperation in his voice. His mother rarely went on journeys of any kind until today.

“Do you have to go?” He pleaded to Maren, who looked at him confidently and replied. “You’ll be fine Hans.”

As soon as the Queen walked out the exit to her ship in the harbor, a chorus of teasing laughter erupted from around eight of his brothers.

“Little Hans, afraid mommy won’t come back?” Alexandar sneered. “Afraid to be invisible?” John joined in. Erik crossed his arms, discontent at his younger brothers jabs.

Hans flushed a pale white. He was afraid... afraid of burning the palace down.

Erik marched up to the intersection of the stairs as the eleven other princes began to argue about what should be ‘done’ with the smallest and therefore, weakest of them. He brought two fingers to his lips and let out a high pitched whistle that echoed across the hall like they were in a courtroom.

“Brothers!” He called down on the group, and everyone went dead silent. “Fighting over this won’t do you any good. Hans may be sensitive, but-” His voice was cut off by the boys started arguing again, two of them closing in on Hans, who was backing into the corner like a caged animal.

“Let’s make him invisible until Mom gets back.” Alexandar smiled evilly at Hans, picking him off the floor by his jacket collar like a five year old.

Hans had no choice but to comply. After all, Alexandar was a full foot taller and had had access to sunshine, and sword fighting lessons. Hans was a pale, white, teenager with a reasonably fit body, but lacked the one thing every one of his brothers knew. Hand to hand combat.

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The thirteenth prince awoke in darkness, the only light from a golden line shining in his eye. Hans tried to move around, but couldn’t. He remembered where he was.

His seventeen year old body was jammed in a small, empty wardrobe.

He gave a sharp push at the door, but it stopped after a few centimeters, a jangling sound coming from outside. Hans grumbled, the doors were chained shut. “This is new.” He groaned and kicked again. He wouldn’t put it past any of his brothers to do this, especially Alexandar.

But chains?! This was going too far. The prince felt the stress rising within him, like bubbling lava. Erik and Thomas didn’t know where he was, and Hans knew there was a chance he wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon. But it wasn’t that that worried him. What would happen when he got out? Hans had never been alone with his brothers for more than a full day without Maren having to intervene. What would happen to him now that they had a whole two weeks alone with him?

Hans shivered at the thought of it.

He felt the fires welling within him, the heat escaping his body. The writhing pain grew in his heart, he felt the glowing light leaping from his heart. Its sharpness dug inside him like a peasant gutting a pumpkin. The glowing grew more red with each second, smoke slowly filling the cabinet.  Suddenly, he felt the pain and heat subside, the smoke and glow dissipated like a dying candle.

He felt his powers release somewhere. But where?   

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Henrik and Fannar rode along in the forests outside of Corona, the night wearing on as the crickets began their song, humid mist surrounding the winding path.

But just as suddenly as the sounds began, they stopped, as if by an unseen force.

Fannar stopped, a small whinny coming from his lips.

“Fannar,” Henrik asked the creature, stroking his soft mane with a gloved hand. “What’s wrong?” He looked down the the horses fearful eyes.

The horse bucked and the humidity seemed to be replaced by pure heat, but is wasn’t a comforting heat, such as a hearth. It was a burning heat, like a fourneau oven. Beads of sweat rolled down the man's cheeks and he held the torch out towards the forest, an eerie glow coming from the end of the path like the glowing sunrise.

“What? It’s the middle of the night!” Henrik wondered aloud and Fannar stepped back in an apprehensive manner.

Henrik could only look onwards as a huge fireball flew towards the pair.

The adult ducked out of the way at the last second as the fireball struck the treeline around him and his horse, the bright orange flames creating an unbreakable ring around Henrik, fear in his eyes as the burning heat closed in on him, thick black smoke covering up the dark skies and stars of the moonless night.

“Kristoff! No!” He shouted up at the sky, wishing that something could save him. He couldn’t lose Kristoff. Not now. Not before he returned, not after he’d promised to be back.

Tears fell with the sweat as the fire drew nearer. There had to be a solution. There had to be.

But there wasn’t.

All the man could think of was the memories of his boy as smoke clouded his watering eyes, blisters broke out on his skin, and the pain became too much and Henrik blacked out...  

Chapter Text

The news of the Queen’s death left shock waves around the kingdom. People cried, dressed in dark colors, and flowers were spread through the wind by people that set them outside for the late royal.

It wasn’t hard to deduct that the ship had sunk. There were records of a fierce storm in Arendelle, and the neighboring Western Isles. Besides that, the Duchess of Weselton sent word that the Queen had yet to arrive after a week of absence. At first it was assumed the ship was pushed off course, but that was disproven when no record of the royal ship or the Queen in any other kingdoms in the area.

But the one that was hit the hardest was Hans.

The thirteenth prince had lost the last person he truly trusted and loved. The one woman that could fan the flames, keep him safe, keep his powers hidden, was gone. He spent the twenty days before the funeral in his room, embers and sparks permanently suspended in the smoke filled room. John and Alexandar joked Hans was turning into a dragon, what with the smoke wisps seeping from under the door.

He couldn’t afford to take the chance to even attend the funeral. His powers, at the moment were controlled by his sadness. And that worry and stress of unleashing it in public mourning kept him from leaving the room, until he could calm down.

At the moment, Hans wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t bear to even remember her last words to him. “You’ll be fine Hans.”

If she wasn’t dead, Hans would have laughed at the irony.

His powers left him anything but fine. He’d lost everything that mattered to him, his dreams were burned to ashes, his hopes scalded by fire. What was left for him? It wasn’t like he could just give up. His brothers hated him enough at the moment. How would Alexandar, William, John, any of them react if he removed the gloves and revealed his power? It wouldn’t be good. That’s for sure, Hans thought to himself. Erik and Thomas were the only actual witnesses of what he could do.

It tore him up that he had to keep the secret, but he understood the dangers pressed against him. Erik would be King, he could still be a prince, but what would happen to him, anyone he knew, if he made one wrong move?

The people of the Southern Isles, would they understand? Or would he be helping them light torches to burn him and his family at the stake?

His brothers? The chance that even three or four could understand was slim to none, any bigger number would be impossible. They were all dare he say jealous, because the Queen spent all her time with him, and not them.

He sat against his door, blinking the tears away as he held his emotions deep within…

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Kristoff sat in the tall grass outside the wooden cabin, a cold wind blowing through his blonde hair. He stifled a tear, biting his lip as he buried his head in his knees. An unbearable shadow had kept over the teenager and his cabin in the past few days.

Because Henrik was never coming back.

After the three weeks passed without a sight or sound from his father, Kristoff assumed he was simply running late. But after running over any number of possible scenarios in his mind, Kristoff feared he was lost, hungry, injured, or worse.

It was a lot worse.

After setting out with a lantern in hand and a satchel of water and food, Kristoff made it a fair distance following the dry tracks of the sled runners. Reaching far into the forest, his heart began to hurt when he saw the blackened trees and smoke on the sides of the path.

Making his way down to the end of the tracks, he looked around. Fannar was nowhere to be seen, but what else he saw was gruesome.

Henriks lifeless body was being torn to shreds of flesh by a small pack of wolves.

Had Kristoff been any younger, he would have screamed and ran. But seeing his fathers helpless body at the mercy of the wolves made something inside of him snap.

Kristoff let out a low growl, and lunged at the leader of the pack, taking the creature down to the dirt road. The animal thrashed under the mountain man’s grip, savagely trying to bite him, golden teeth bared. Rage boiled inside of Kristoff as the teenager grabbed the animals neck with one hand and punched its snout with the other, the impact causing the ferocious creature to shrink back with a high pitched whine.

After a moment of holding the wolf lay dead under Kristoff’s grip of its neck, the two others dashing off, realizing this was a fight they couldn’t win. Kristoff went over to his dads body, and took off his cloak. He got down on one knee, wrapping the corpse in the fabric, and hoisting it into his arms, ignoring the scent it carried.

But as he picked up Henrik, a sharp metallic clinking from his father’s neck. Looking closer, he moved his hand to the item. It was his fathers silver medallion, the snowflake encrusted on it in near perfect condition, its only flaw being a few drops of dry blood.

It had survived intact. Why, Kristoff didn’t know, but he didn’t care.

“I guess silver doesn’t repel wolves…” Kristoff exclaimed as he remembered the old tale his father had told him. This was the last piece Kristoff had of Henrik, and he was beginning to cry, but stifled the sadness. He had more pressing matters at the moment.

The trek back to the cabin was a nightmare, but worth it. For the night he kept his fathers body inside the ice shed, the cold kept him safe until the next morning. He had tried to sleep that night but couldn’t, the memory of his father still haunting him. The man that cared for him, refused to leave his side, loved Kristoff with all his heart, was gone. There was some comfort in the fact that Henrik would at least get a proper burial, but Kristoff knew it couldn’t compare to his papa still being at his side.

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Digging the hole, building the coffin, finding a neighbor or customer to read the eulogy was the hardest three things young Kristoff had ever done in his life. In the end, he managed to sell enough to get a decent rock as a headstone, and a young woman from down the road who was a nun to read the eulogy.

Kristoff dressed his father for the reunion with his mother, unable to suppress his emotions any longer, he broke down as he tightened the vest around Henriks broad chest, knowing he would never get to see anything beyond what was. He wouldn’t see his daughter in-law, his grandchildren, his family whole again. Kristoff would have given anything to keep him alive for just one day longer, to try to nurse him back to health the way he used to do to Kristoff, to just hug him one last time.

But that wasn’t possible, he thought to himself. Best to get this over with and bury the grief. He thought as he loaded the body to the same cart he once sat in, and wheeled him to the gravesite in a clearing of the fields that legally belonged to him.

The young woman Kristoff hired was dressed in a black dress and vest, her ash brown hair covered by a habit of matching shade. Kristoff provided the milking stool to stand on while she read. Something in her tone of voice said she had never spoken in front of a crowd, despite the fact that the only creatures in sight were the goat and Kristoff.

It was a short one too, which was understandable. It wasn’t like there were any others to say something on Henriks behalf.

And now Kristoff sat in the field where his fathers grave laid, the coffin lowered, the earth filled in. He could think of only one person who could help him through this…

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Kristoff gave three sharp knocks on the familiar door, frowning to himself.

“Hans?” He asked through the wood, unsure what to try to get the prince out. He hadn’t done this in years.

He remembered his old tactic. “Please,” He sang. “I want to see you.”

Kristoff gulped, not believing what he was saying. Seriously, what kind of teenager sung to a prince through a door?! He sighed, not thinking of a better way to get his point across.

“I know we both lost someone dear…” Kristoff lowered his brown eyes to the floor.

“But you know better, and I know it too. I really do need you.” He lifted his gaze back to the door, all his hope aimed at the possibility that the door would open.

“I need you here…” He frowned as tears welled in his eyes, the pain of all the rejection he’d felt over the years stung like an ice pick being driven deeper and deeper into his chest.

“I only want to see you,” Kristoff cast a pleading look at the door, and bit his lip. “But it was in vain.” He choked up on tears and pressed his back to the bedroom door. There was no response from the prince.

“What can say to you?” He pleaded to himself, salty tears rolling down his cheeks as he slid to the floor, his blonde fringe falling over his forehead.

“Do you wanna go and play now?” Kristoff nearly slapped himself for saying something so stupid. Hans didn’t respond then, he wouldn’t now.

But Hans heard everything. He wanted more than anything to go out and comfort his friend. But he couldn’t. He could only watch as the smoke and sparks froze in midair all over his room...

Chapter Text

Three Years Later…

Time passed rather quickly in the Southern Isles. Like a lazy weekend, what seemed like only months passed before the people realized that not months, but years had gone by.

Coronation Fever had spread through the chain of islands like wildfire. Erik had, after three long years of consideration, agreed to take the throne with his new wife, Katharine. They had met in a tailors in the city, after the prince had managed to tear his jacket on the rim of an apple cart. The woman who'd fixed him was a peasant, but Erik didn’t seem to care about status, believing true love was at work. The day his brother told him exactly that, Hans just rolled his eyes.

After all, there was no such thing as true love.

Years and years of isolation only kept Hans’ fear alive, knowing that in his heart, there was no way to free himself from the gilded cage that was the castle. He hoped that one day though, he would be able to.

But it didn’t look like that was going to happen anytime soon. Erik had actually made a specific request of Hans, asking him to ‘keep his gift’ away from his new bride. Not in a rude manner, but it still hurt Hans all the same.

After all, who could blame him? He wasn’t one to be loved. He practically destroyed everything he touched.

Hans awoke after a sleepless night, his mind focused only on what he could do to keep from ruining his eldest brother's big day. He slipped out of his four poster bed, changing into the outfit laid out for him. A wine red low-standing collared shirt, grey breeches, a black morning jacket with a small medal pinned to the breast. On closer inspection in the mirror Hans read what it said.

“The family crest?” He mumbled looking at the nickel background behind the engraved symbol of a blooming African Violet. Erik had always wanted to change that, but Katharine wanted to keep it. Though not originally from the Southern Isles, the African Violet grew rather well in the islands, it being able to survive the wilting heat of summer without losing a single pedal.

The thought of the flower led back to his mother. Her dress was the exact shade of that flower.

And it tore him up inside.

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Kristoff walked beside his steed, holding the reins lightly as the animal pulled the cart of remaining ice for palace delivery. “Come on buddy. We’ll get there soon and you can rest, okay?” He comforted the horse, who had whined softly out of nowhere. “You’ll be fine Fannar. You’ll be fine.” He frowned at the horse. Somehow, his horse Fannar had managed to escape the fire and come back to the cabin, much to Kristoff’s surprise.

It wasn’t like he didn’t need the help. Taking over his father’s ice business was hardly easy. There were lakes to visit, saws and picks to buy; Fannar’s survival had saved him from going bankrupt by having to buy a new horse.

Passing through the city, small tote flags decorated the frame of every building and banners flying the African Violet, and Prince Erik’s silhouette hung everywhere. It was like a draping blue line that led straight to the palace. Through the vines that were the Southern Isles gossip chain, Kristoff learned that the gates would be open to the public for the first time in twelve years. Kristoff himself, however, wasn’t very impressed. He had spent nearly his entire existence inside the decorated and infinite halls of that palace.

Kristoff hadn’t been in years. He preferred to stay to local business for a while, not wanting the memory of Henrik or Hans to distract him from his work. But he also heard that the thirteenth prince would appear in public.

The last prince of the Southern Isles had been a subject of gossip and rumor throughout the islands. Hans hadn’t been seen by the general public since his birth. Some said he was a recluse, others said Hans was adopted, and a dark few said he was actually dead, and the Queen never wanted to make the announcement. Kristoff had been in the palace all his life, but couldn’t answer any of these rumors himself; save for the last one, and even then he wasn't sure.

The irony made him laugh.

“Well, I still have the ice to deliver.” He smiled as he passed a bunch of stalls and carts selling ‘coronation mementoes,’ which was literally any array of normal objects and trinkets that had the word 'coronation' on them. There were many colorful characters in the street that day. Men gutted and cooked local fish and sea life, woman sold gorgeous colored cloaks and scarves for the winter season, children ran and danced in the square as a group of people began to hoist and erect a large pinetree in the center of the plaza. He gritted his teeth as he pulled out his personal invitation to the ball. He had received one, and yet wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go.

But it could be his last chance to see Hans.

Kristoff was thinking about leaving the Southern Isles for an adventure. As some sort of shove off before settling down to find a nice woman to start a family with. But he wanted Hans to be the first to know, because he still wanted a chance to know what happened, like an itch that haunts you until you find the answer.

“It couldn’t hurt.” He sighed and looked over at the palace, where dignitaries and peasants walked side by side. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

Kristoff had money to spend from his ice, and he needed supplies for home and hopefully, abroad. Over a few hours, he had gotten a new suit to wear for the coronation ball, some climbing equipment, and furs for the late winter blizzards. But by far, the strangest experience he had seen was when he was buying firewood.

The seller was a thin girl with milk white skin and deep brunette hair that was plaited in a single, long braid over her shoulder. She wore a white collared shirt under a violet jacket and a blue scarf, grey breeches, and a black alice band let a wave of chocolate colored bangs come down over her forehead.

She was leaning back into a large reindeer Kristoff guessed was hers, a flawless hand placed on her hip in a sassy manner. If Kristoff hadn’t known any better, he would’ve mistaken her for a customer.

“Hey, need some wood?” The girl said as Kristoff approached her, getting up from her pose and stretching.

“Yeah.” Kristoff said observing the piles of wood around them, two piles stacked right to the top of his head.

“Well,” The girl began. “We have cedar, oak, pine, beech-” She listed with her fingers, counting off all the kinds of wood she had in stock.

“Just firewood, I’m not building furniture.” Kristoff stopped her and chuckled. This girl obviously knew her lumber. The girl looked somewhat hurt, but nodded and went over to one of the piles that held large, thick logs.

“How many?” She offered.

“A dozen.” Kristoff replied.

A low whistle escaped the woman's lips. “Really? Preparing for the winter aren’t we?” She formed a small smirk.

“Yeah. I don’t come to town that often.” He said with a raised eyebrow as the wispy girl lifted six logs the size of wheels of cheese with no effort at all.

“You have a sled? A cart where I could set this?” She asked from behind the huge stumps of wood.

“Yeah…” Kristoff replied breathlessly and jerked his thumb to his cart and horse.

She set the logs down on the bed of the cart softly, brushing her hands on her pants as Kristoff just stared. How was it that a girl that looked as white and delicate as a porcelain statue do this with any help? Kristoff asked himself as she pulled a bright red apple from her jacket pocket, biting into it with a loud crunch.

“That’ll be thirty.” She held out her other hand as the reindeer walked over and made a grab for the fruit, but Elsa moved her hand out of the way at the last second so the creature only chomped down on thin air. Kristoff dug into his pocket and found the bag of coins he’d divided into thirties, and handed her one. “What’s your name?” The girl asked walking over to the table besides the piles of lumber, dumping out the coins to count them.

“Kristoff. You?” He replied following her over to the table as she separated the jingling metals.

“Elsa.” She said bluntly and brushed the coins back into the fabric bag. “Well, this checks out. I’ll see you around.” Elsa stuck the bag in her pocket and walked over the the reindeer, and began to… talk to it. In a sort of voice, like she was speaking for the reindeer. No matter how creepy that was, it was still kind of adorable.

“Thanks!” He called and walked towards the docks to look at the enormous ships pulling into harbor. Mounting Fannar, he gave the reins a shake. He had places to be.

Suddenly, a girl with a black corset and a green, bateau style dress came sprinting down the docks, an emerald brooch around her neck, her strawberry blonde hair tied in a bun. “Fannar! Woah!” He jerked the reins upward and the horse bolted forward instead of stopping. The girl was actually singing, with her eyes closed and a beautiful smile, obviously excited about something.

“Nothing’s in my way!” She sang as the Fannar slammed into her. Kristoff immediately hopped of the horse, fear filling his eyes. The young girl had been knocked into a little rowboat that was sliding off the dock and towards the water. Fannar stepped one front hoof on the stern and leveled the vessel to the dock like an anchor.  

“I am so sorry… Are you hurt?” He asked as she lifted her head up from the thrashing she had received.

“No, I’m fine… I wasn’t looking at you; your horse I mean.” She blushed and sat on the bench of the boat and grabbed Kristoff's hand. The girl flashed a dreamy smile, and stood up.

“Oh,” She stopped as if suddenly realizing that the sky was blue. “Princess Anna, of Arendelle.” She stammered and tried to curtsy, but just ended up smiling.

Kristoff’s mouth dropped open, bowed, remembering what happened the last time he chose not to follow orders from a royal. Fannar, following his master, lifted his hoof and bowed his head, causing the rowboat to topple backwards towards the bay, making Kristoff fall right to Anna’s feet. He cast a warning look at Fannar, who quickly stamped his leg back to the boats deck, flipping Anna on top of Kristoff.

“This is awkward,” Anna said and sat back up, helping Kristoff up.

“No, I’m awkward.” Kristoff offered. “It’s my fault, I should have-” Kristoff cut her off. “I’d like to apologize to you, Princess Anna, for Fannar, my horse. He’s just not as bright as he used to be…” He trailed off as the animal seemed to scowl at him.

Both of them stared into eachothers eyes longingly.            

Suddenly, a ringing sounded in the distance. “Noon,” Anna blinked out of her stupor. “Prince Erik’s Coronation. I’ve gotta go!” She stepped around Kristoff and Fannar, practically tripping over her own feet as she dashed off the the castles cathedral.

Kristoff sighed, and felt the ground drop from under him as Fannar took his hoof completely away from the boat, flipping it into the water with his owner as some sort of animal revenge.

Kristoff didn’t care though. After all, a trip around the globe could wait another day…

Chapter Text

A soft chorus of Vuelie filled the musky air of the church, the plainly dressed men and women stood on the wooden balcony above the main doors.

Hans stood at the foot of the rug at the altar, a look of fear hidden from the crowd of dignitaries facing his back. His twelve other brothers stood in line of succession to the stained glass windows, Katharine on the opposite side of Eric and the Bishop, a soft smile on her young face. She was, Hans had to admit, the picture of beauty. She was thin, tall, and had silky ash brown tresses of hair with a tiger lily pinned to it. Katherine was dressed in flowing white silk robes and matching gloves, a silver cross hung loosely around her neck. When one saw her, it gave one the impression of a guardian angel, someone who could always help when she could.

Erik was, at the moment, the only one at the altar without a form of headgear on, Hans and his brothers wearing coronets of varying sizes, and Katherine wearing a diamond tiara on her head. But that would only be for a few moments until the reading was finished.

The church was made entirely out of wood and fabric. Really just a giant tinderbox. If his powers got loose now, they would all be dead in an instant. He felt the eyes of a hundred people staring into him, analyzing him. He drew a breath and gripped his fists hard as the Bishop held the crown, a golden band with white pearls at the points. The eldest prince bent forward, and the holy man placed the crown on top of Erik’s head.

He righted his posture, an apprehensive look on his face. The Bishop held out the velvet pillow, on it, the sceptre and orb. Both solid gold, the sceptre was dotted with pearls and gilded buttercup lucines, while the orb had a delicate tip in the shape of a resting conch, more pearls dotting the perimeter. Erik took first the sceptre, then the orb, turning to face the crowd of dignitaries and kings, trying to keep a calm face.

“King Erik, of The Southern Isles.” The bishop finished. “King Erik, of The Southern Isles.” The crowd chanted in unison. Erik released a sigh as a wave of applause and cheers of ‘Congratulations’ sounded throughout the church. He set the objects back on the soft pillow, and cast a suggestive smirk at Katharine. It was over. His brother was now King, Katharine was Queen, he was still a prince, but at least he was safe.

At least for the moment.

Erik walked over to Hans and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, brother.” He smiled at him. “What for?” Hans raised an eyebrow. “For keeping calm.” Erik looked down at Hans’ gloved hands. He took them both calmly, holding on tight. “Mother would be proud.” the King hugged his youngest brother.

“You did good Erik.” Katharine walked over and kissed her husband. “You did good.” She smiled as the church began to empty out. “Well, we have a ball to go to. We don’t want to keep the dignitaries waiting.” The King chuckled. “You’re right, let’s go. Hans? I assume you want to come with?” The Queen offered to her brother in law.

Hans shook his head. The last thing he wanted was more time with people.

Erik looked uneasy at the idea as well, but Katherine didn’t seem to notice.

“You’ll be fine, Hans.” The Queen said taking his gloved hand. The use of those four words made Hans sick to his stomach. Those words still haunted him, no matter how much he tried to get rid of them. He bit his lip and felt his hand warming in Katharines. But it wasn’t a natural warmth. It was a sinister, hellish warmth.

“Katharine, my love, I think Hans wants to rest.” Erik piped up, but his bride smiled. “Nonsense!” She said. “A little party will keep you awake. Come on.” She walked off and beckoned for Hans and his brother to follow.

Erik cast a warning look at his brother, his once relieved green eyes now staring darkly at his brother like a slug he had found crawling in his breakfast. He took Hans’ shoulder and gritted his teeth. “Hans,” The new King scowled. “Stay out of trouble, or so help me I will-”

“Come on! We haven’t got all night!” The Queen's voice called from outside. Erik groaned, and flashed his eyes at Hans before stomping outside to his wife as Hans was left to contemplate the new threat looming over his head…

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Kristoff watched the dancing on the ballroom floor, the twenty couples performing a dance to match the jubilant tone of the occasion. Of the groups of dancing, Kristoff could point out at least eight of the men were Hans’ brothers, and Hans was yet to be seen, as well as the King and Queen. His suit was a black jacket and breeches with a grey collared shirt and a mauve scarf around his neck. It was a cold evening in the Southern Isles.

He had considered joining in, but being busy with his ice business didn’t leave him much spare time for his neighbors parties, and therefore, left him without the knowledge of dancing.

There were many beautiful women there, but Kristoff kept his eye out for the princess he’d met.

Instead, he got a shock.

A stout old woman with a mascara job worthy of a circus clown walked up to him and curtsied, her enormous hoop skirt refusing to bend with the motion. She was garish, to say the least. Her gray hair, if he could call it hair, was piled high above her head so it measured at least a full foot. There were more bows and ribbons on her head than the bunting in the ballroom, and her nose stuck out like a sore thumb. Or a broken thumb.

“Hello handsome!” She squeaked in a voice so desperate and unladylike it almost made Kristoff cover his ears, but he could tell this woman was aristocratic, probably of some royalty. He hoped he could just step into the crowd to lose this withered old crab, but she was on him before he could get away.

“Hello,” Kristoff forced a smile. “I, am the Duchess of Weselton.” She curtsied again, but her giant hairdo was revealed to be a wig, as it shifted on her head and the hideous woman straightened it with her gloved hands. Kristoff desperately looked for a way out, but saw nothing.

“May I offer you a dance, my valiant knight?” The duchess asked politely. “Ahh,” Kristoff tried to think of an excuse. “I don’t dance, ma’m.” He said shyly. The woman cracked a smile, and the millions of wrinkles on her face appearing all at once. “Nonsense my dear! Two minutes with me and you’ll be dancing for your life!” She cackled at Kristoff and grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the dancefloor.

Kristoff was trying the entire time not to go into hysterics. Apparently the duchess knew less about dancing than he did.

What this old prune called ‘dancing,’ was a series of movements that vaguely reminded Kristoff of some sort of method one tries to use to communicate with an alien. For all he knew, this woman was an alien. It made him feel slightly empowered until the Duchess grabbed his arm and spun him round, his eyes seeing stars from the speed he was going.            

“Like a flamingo flying!” She complimented her own gawdy dancing as people started to stare, the Duchess stepping on Kristoff’s feet with heels like mallets.

Thankfully, the song ended and Kristoff managed to get away, sure that one of his arms was wrenched out of its socket by that ‘dancing.’

Suddenly, the royal announcer, Simon, cleared his throat and held his hands behind his back as Erik and Katharine walked to the raised platform that held the tall thrones for the King and Queen. “May I present,” He called across the ballroom. “King Erik, and Queen Katharine of The Southern Isles.” Simon bowed to the royal couple, and the chorus of bows began, ending at the back doors that led to the balconies. “Prince Hans, of The Southern Isles.” The announcer stated as Hans was led to the stage, a sad look in his brown eyes.  

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Hans looked out at the crowd for anyone that could get him away from his brother and back to obscurity. He didn’t want to be anywhere near his brother at the moment, much less a large party.

Then he saw Kristoff, standing to the side of the buffet, mooching a piece of carrot cake from the dessert table. The music and dancing began again, and the couple's again paired up, dancing the waltz. Hans cast a glance at Erik and Katharine, who were being introduced to the Duchess of Weselton, who quite irritated that Simon had mispronounced the name ‘Weaseltown.’ He managed to walk off towards Kristoff, who was now sipping a glass of wine the same shade as his collar.

He made his way next to the iceman, who seemed to be scouting the crowd for someone in particular. “Looking for someone?” Hans asked him, and the man’s head jerked towards Hans and opened wide in shock. “Yeah.” He responded after a moment, allowing Hans to get closer. “You clean up well,” The prince folded his hands in front of him, caressing the soft fabric of his charcoal grey gloves. “So do you.” Kristoff looked warmly at the other man. A moment of awkward silence passed between them, both avoiding eye contact. Kristoff broke the silence and loosened his mauve scarf. “It’s warmer than I thought.” Hans bit the inside of his cheek. It was warmer, whether from his powers or from the blazing hearths of the ballroom, he didn’t know.

But he hoped and prayed it wasn’t the first.

He nodded, unsure what to say next. He hadn’t actually talked to Kristoff in twelve years, and now he just expected things to go back to the way they were? There was no mistaking it, they had drifted apart. And yet, there was hope.

Kristoff felt rather uneasy about this whole conversation, but his opportunity was right there for him. Right in front of him. Who was he to waste it? Running his rough fingers through his blonde hair, and began to talk.

“So, um,” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’ve been thinking of something.” Hans nodded. “I’m leaving the Southern Isles for a trip.” Kristoff’s gaze shifted back to the floor. Hans eyelids drooped curiously, drawing a low breath. “A trip?” The youngest prince asked. “Yeah, I wanted to see the world before I settle down.” Kristoff smiled softly at his old friend.

Hans frowned. Kristoff was leaving? Though part of him was relieved, another side of him was broken hearted. He was glad Kristoff would be a fair distance from him yes, but a life without him entirely? It felt like it would leave him with an empty heart. It was so confusing, it made his head spin. “Why?” Hans asked breathlessly.

Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “Because I’ve never seen a life outside of this.” He crossed his arms. “This, place.” He exclaimed. “I want adventure, something new.” He bit his lip at the thought of his wasted childhood, his wasted life.

“But there’s adventure here.” Hans spread his arms around the palace ballroom, as if proving his point. Kristoff shook his head, looking at Hans pathetically. “Coming from the prince who knows nothing outside of the palace.” He asked Hans.

Hans’ mouth opened in shock. “I know more than you could ever remember.” He left Kristoff with a cold stare.

Kristoff scoffed and walked off. Hans was keeping more from him, and if he wanted that, who was Kristoff to question the prince?

Chapter Text

Kristoff walked away from the thirteenth prince, his memories striking hard through the barriers he had erected. If Hans wanted to be that way, he could.

“Woah, woah, woah!” A woman toppled backwards in front of Kristoff. Acting on instinct, he grabbed her and scooped her up. He took a closer look at the girl. It was the princess of Arendelle, Anna. “Hey.” She smiled up at him with her large blue eyes.

Kristoff surfaced a grin. “Hey,” Anna chuckled lightly. “Nice to see you again.” She blushed. After a moment of staring, Kristoff put her down, and the princess kept smiling as the music started to play again. Kristoff thought to himself for a moment, then took both her hands.

“May I offer you a dance?” He indicated the other couples as they entered a delicate spinning. “But,” she started, but Kristoff stopped her. “I can’t dance either.” Kristoff answered for her. Anna grinned understandingly, and they began an oddly perfect waltz, Kristoff taking the maidens waist and Anna taking the icemans shoulder.

“We’re doing it!” The princess giggled and Kristoff ran a hand through her strawberry blonde hair. “Yes we are.” He agreed and she leaned her head on his broad shoulder.

The pair spent the evening together, dancing, talking, sharing laughs, every moment bringing them closer. Anna and Kristoff spent some time on the balconies outside the ballroom that looked over the sea and the small islands in the distance. The pair sat on the soapstone railing, telling each other about themselves.

“Wait. You have no family?” Anna looked at him sympathetically, taking his hand in her small one.

Kristoff shook his head, taking the silver snowflake medal in his hand and squeezing it. "This," He took it off and handed it to Anna. "Was my papa's. He delivered ice to the palace. It's really all I have left of him." He frowned as the princess traced her finger over the delicate gilding, before handing it back to Kristoff. They smiled, the light of the ballroom casting a shining glow on the grey strand of hair on his head. Anna hadn’t noticed it before then, and showed a perplexed look.

“What’s this?” She asked Kristoff, stroking it softly. The man brought a hand to her wrist and politely brought it down to his lap. “My papa said it was stress. I’m a hard worker.” He preceded to tell her about his ice business.

“You harvest ice? Arendelle has a big thing for ice harvesters. You’d fit right in if you wanted to.” She offered.

Kristoff laughed. “Actually, I was thinking of taking a trip around the world. Arendelle would be a good first stop.” He looked out at the moon's reflection over the sparkling sea. Anna followed his gaze, then walked her fingers on the balcony up his arm.

“I wasn’t thinking of it as just a stop.” She looked at him in a pleading manner. Kristoff raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” He asked as her kind smile turned to a frown, and he realized what the princess was offering.

She was asking him to come back with her to Arendelle.

He thought about it for a moment. It didn’t sound like a bad idea. He really liked this girl, princess or not. She made him feel all strange inside, gave him something he knew he hadn’t felt in years. Love.

He could tell from the way she looked at him, Anna felt the same way.

“Well, maybe. I’ll tell you after you reveal something about yourself.” He pointed at her.

Anna giggled. “Well,” She took a deep breath. “I am the only daughter of King Agdar and Queen Idun, to inherit the throne, but can’t imagine for the life of me ever being in a position of power. I’m as clumsy as they come.” She said with a truthful smile.

“Really? You seem like a good ruler to me.” Kristoff admitted to her. “Why? What makes me so special?” The princess asked sadly. The iceman hugged her, and held her hands softly, moving a strand of strawberry blonde hair out of the way of her face. “Because you are a wonderful girl. A kind and compassionate young lady. As long as you’re who you are, you’ll be perfect for the throne.” Kristoff drew her lips inward, and in a second, they were kissing.

“Listen, can I just say something crazy?” He proposed. Anna laughed. “You know me.” And with that Kristoff stood up, backing to the open doors.

“All my life has been a series of doors to my face,” Kristoff sung and slammed the double doors shut, walking back to his lover. “And then suddenly I run into you...”

Anna stood up and started to sing too. “I know just what you mean, because,” She indicated the islands behind her. “I’ve never had siblings or even a true place,”

“And maybe it’s the party talking, or the beautiful view.” Anna walked two fingers up Kristoff’s broad chest.

The iceman placed both hands behind his back and the princess giggled, placing a hand to her mouth. “But with you,” He sang. “And with you, I found my place.” Anna sung with her man.

Kristoff grabbed her hand and tugged her to the table, jumping up on top of it and taking the princess with him. They sang together in harmony. “And it’s nothing like I’ve ever known before!”

The lovers ran up the spiral staircase to the top of one of the towers, pushing open the stained glass doors, singing in duet. “Love is an open door!”

Anna knew Kristoff had taken the other side of the circular walkway, she spread her arms to the sides of the balcony. “Love is an open-” But Kristoff grabbed her from behind and he finished the line for her. “Door!”

They hopped across the tall roofs to watch the stars. “Life can be so much more,” They sang.

“With you!” Kristoff pointed to Anna’s chest.

“With you!” Anna laughed and grabbed Kristoff’s muscular arm for support as they reached another gable.

“With you,” He pulled her close.

“With you!” The princess laughed and kissed him on the nose.

A dignitary walked out onto a nearby balcony with a pipe to smoke, and Anna and Kristoff hid behind a stone chimney to avoid being seen like two children stealing cookies from the kitchen.

“Love is an open doooor…” They sung softly to avoid being heard.

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“I mean it’s crazy!” Anna said as they watched a shooting star fly across the dark sky. “I know, we practically finish eachothers-” Anna cut him off “Sentences.” She finished for him. He moved closer from his perch, still unsure what to say.

He had never met someone who thought so much like him.

“Anna, I-” He began, but his voice cracked. “What?” She asked looking into his eyes. “It’s just that, I’m not royalty. I’m not special. Why do you like me?” He asked the princess, and she just smiled. “Because, you’re like no other man I’ve met before. You’re sensitive, kind, caring, something a duke, prince, or king I’ve met never was...” She kissed him on the cheek to show her endearment.

“Listen,” Kristoff felt silly asking so soon. But the coronation would be over tomorrow, he might not get another chance. He held the silver medal close to his heart, and leaned towards her. “I want to be with you for as long as I can. Anna, will you marry me?” He held his hand out to her, wishing he’d thought to bring a ring.

She smiled, taking the golden band off her finger and giving it to Kristoff. “Yes!” Anna threw herself at his arms and kissed him.

And with that, Kristoff wanted to tell the world. But first, the person he most trusted.

Chapter Text

Kristoff and Anna weaved through the tight crowd of beautifully dressed dignitaries, looking for Hans in particular. After all, he may as well know.

He led the princess behind him, and saw Hans standing by the buffet table where he last saw him, but this time, the prince had a warm smile on his face, as if finally relaxed. “Pardon me,” Kristoff said to the people in his way, carving through the immense crowd to get to Hans.

“Excuse me, Hans!” He called out from behind a portly man, and Hans let him and Anna through, the warm smile remaining, even after their sour experience hours earlier.

“It’s me again.” Kristoff stumbled over his own words, wishing it wasn’t so hard to talk to the thirteenth prince. “I’d like to introduce Princess Anna of Arendelle.” He indicated the bubbly girl, who curtsied and smiled, “Your grace.” She nodded politely.

Hans nodded and Kristoff continued. “Hans, I’m sorry for what I said,” “No, no. I was wrong Kristoff.” The prince started holding up his gloved hands in an apologetic manner. Kristoff tried to finish what he was saying but Hans stopped him.

“You deserve to go where you want. I just was concerned that you were making the decision rather hastily.” Hans finished with the same warm smile.

“Yeah, well,” Kristoff started to sweat, rubbing his hand to the back of his head. “About that.” He started uneasily. “Plans tend to change when you meet the girl you’re going to marry.” He rambled on.

The happy look Hans once held was replaced by a face that showed visible confusion and concern. His cooper brown eyebrows stitched together and his mouth opened slightly.

“Marriage?” He asked, rather taken aback by the news, the shock still fresher than a fish freshly caught.

“Yes!” Anna squealed and pressed her head to Kristoff’s shoulder, who couldn’t look any happier himself, except for the time that he-

“I wanted to ask for your blessing, because I trust you.” Kristoff peered into Hans’ bewildered eyes.

Well forget his thought on Kristoff being hasty. He must be out of his mind! Hans thought to himself and squeezed his fists tight as the bewildered face fell to one of concern.

“I’m sorry. I’m confused-” He started.

“Well of course I’ll need a few days to plan the ceremony; wait where would we have the wedding?” He asked his fiance, suddenly thinking of a million possible places they could go for a romantic wedding. “I could get us a chapel; or wait! The farm you have sounds like a quiet place,” She thought for a second. “Wait, we could get married here!” The princess perked out of her three seconds of thought. “That, is a perfect idea!” Kristoff laughed happily, getting more perky and bubbly than his fiance.

“Hold on-” Hans tried to slow them down. But Kristoff and Anna continued their conversation more with each other than him.

“Where would we live? Would we live on my farm?” Kristoff suggested. “I wouldn’t mind.” Anna thought again for a split second. “Wait, my parents wouldn’t want that! You could live with me, I’m sure!” She offered and wrapped her arms around Kristoff, who nodded jubilantly in agreement.

“Stop!” Hans held his hand up to silence them and raised his voice slightly. Kristoff and Anna looked surprised at Hans’ sudden outburst. “No one is getting married, especially here.” He tried to explain as calmly as possible.

“Why not?” Kristoff’s happiness darkened like an oncoming stormcloud.

Hans took a deep breath, and bit the inside of his cheek. “May I speak with you, alone?” He eyed Anna. “No,” Kristoff said just as shocked. “What you can say, you can say to us both.” Hans tried again. “Please. As a friend.” The pair grew silent.

“You heard my answer once Hans, I’m not changing it.” Kristoff looked worried.

Hans looked at Kristoff painly. “Fine.” The prince lowered his eyelids in a regal manner. “You can’t marry a girl you just met.”

Kristoff and Anna both stared in shock as if just told the entire realm was going to explode in five seconds. The princess snuggled closer to Kristoff, whose face was turning red as a tomato.

“And why is that?” He almost immediately took it back, knowing how stupid that response was.

“Because love doesn’t work that way, Kristoff.” Hans chuckled at the notion.

“And since when hasn’t it? Look at the King!” The man exclaimed indicating the King and Queen who were gazing into eachothers eyes lovingly. “It’s true love!” He raised his voice in shock.

“Kristoff, there’s no such thing as true love.” Hans rolled his eyes.

Kristoff looked as though Hans had told him Santa Claus didn’t exist. He scoffed, his brown eyes sinking deeply into sadness. “Why can’t there be?”

“Kristoff from a friend-” Hans started to reason, but Kristoff cut him off.

“Well that’s food for thought! Since when are we friends?” The iceman raised his voice in anger.

“I’m sorry,” Hans matched his tone. “I thought you wanted my input on this marriage!” He wagged his index finger in Kristoff's face, people were staring now at the pair.

“Well not if you’re going to criticize my choices. I thought you’d be happy for me!” Kristoff scowled at the other man. “You need a dose of reality.” Hans frowned deeply at the blonde.

“And you,” Kristoff pointed at the prince and jabbed his chest. “Need to have a heart!”

Hans’ mouth dropped open, then the shock merged to a solid and deep scowl. He rolled his eyes again. “You asked for my blessing, but the answer is no.” He said, defeated. “Now,” He took a deep breath, wanting to get away from this man quickly and avoid losing his cool. “If you’ll excuse me,” He started to walk towards the doors.

Kristoff was floored. Letting go of Anna, he followed Hans’ walk quickly. Who was this man to say there was no such thing as true love?! Hans was keeping something from Kristoff, and he didn’t like it. He was playing with fire now.

“Hans, no! Wait!” He grabbed the prince's hand, and the charcoal gray glove slipped off into Kristoff’s large hand. Hans’ face flushed white as flour, and he turned around and made a desperate grab for the piece of fabric, but Kristoff pulled away threateningly. “Hand over the glove!” Hans pleaded, and by now the entire ballroom was staring at them both.

“Hans, please, please, I can’t lose you anymore.” Kristoff clasped both hands together in a sorry and pathetic motion, his brown eyes brimming with tears.

Hans bit his lip, his gloved hand now on the door handle. He looked at Kristoff, his only friend. He looked at Anna, who was behind Kristoff with a small hand on his muscular shoulder. His gaze shifted to the guests and dignitaries, confusion forged onto the many hundreds of faces. Then, he looked at the King and Queen, Erik was shooting daggers at his brother.

A change of heart now would be a death sentence.

Hans didn’t respond, clicking the door handle. But Kristoff came closer. “What did I ever do to you?” He begged.

“Enough, Kristoff.” Hans replied annoyed.

“No, why? Why do you shut the world out?” Kristoff motioned to the crowd.

Hans let go of the handle when he saw Erik storming through the people in an angry manner. “Why do you shut me out?” Kristoff indicated himself.

King Erik was twenty feet away from him, his face bright red. Hans felt the heat rising high within him, the fire blazing through his heart, the smoke began to escape from his free hand, the door handle began to melt under his fingers.

“What are you so afraid of?!” Kristoff’s angry voice tore through Hans. Erik was ten feet from his youngest brother. Everything was closing in, every eye was on him. The thirteenth prince squeezed him eyes shut, trying to suppress the power he wielded. But it wasn’t enough.

He gritted his teeth, turning to face the crowd, beads of sweat dripping down his white face.

“I said Enough!!” He spread his free hand through the air. But with it came an unintended problem. A wave of red flew from his bare hand, the blazing fire releasing from his palm, the flames creating a crackling barrier around Hans.

Pure bewilderment filled almost every face in the ballroom. All except Erik, who brought a hand to his face, like he realized that he had left his crown somewhere other than his head.

“Hans.” Kristoff said breathlessly, staring at the prince in shock as the fire began to die to smoldering ashes and smoke, the wooden floor of the ballroom blackened to a crisp. “Sorcery!” The Duchess of Weselton exclaimed. “I knew there was something amiss here…” She looked at the last prince with beady eyes. Hans grabbed the door handle, bringing his gloved hand to his heart as he pushed the door open and ran out of the party…

Chapter Text

Hans dashed through the halls of the palace, a thick trail of smoke and sparks flying behind him. He had set his power free, he let go. All the training and management he had gone through to keep everything he cared about safe was ruined. All those years of rules, restrictions, isolation, had been in vain. All because he couldn’t control his emotions.

The prince’s thoughts turned to Kristoff, the one friend he had, completely in shock. His life was over as he knew it. And yet, he thought, it could have been a lot worse. Hans could have shot a giant fireball, the wall of fire could have gone forward farther, scalding the entire first row of people to ash.

But it wasn’t like it could’ve gotten worse.

He could think of only one place the guards wouldn’t find him, outside. Bursting through the doors of the courtyard, the loud applause of hundreds of citizens began as his face appeared from behind the door. “It’s Prince Hans!” A few of them called, and a series of shouts of congratulations and cheers sounded throughout the infinite crowd of peasants in the main courtyard.

Forget it. Hans thought. It could always get worse.

He dashed down the steps and the crowd cleared a path, but soon he found himself surrounded by an unbreakable wall of people; people he could hurt. He couldn’t keep the horrified look from his face, and ran straight into an old man and his children, who bowed and smiled. “Prince Hans!” He said graciously. Tears ran down the prince's face and he turned, running down another opening. He ran straight into the concerned eyes of a woman holding a baby.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Your Majesty, are you alright?” She asked Hans as he realized he looked fearful. The prince brought his bare hand to his mouth, backing up to the large pine erected in the courtyard. He hadn’t noticed it before, but pressed both hands to the tree trunk, trying to back away from the crowd.

But wood burned.

Bright orange flames climbed up the tree, the pure heat radiating from the tree as it blackened and crisped. The crowd stopped clapping, the cheers quickly replaced by gasps and screams. Hans stared at the burning tree as the flames reached the tip, before exploding a cloud of billowing smoke and ash into the black sky.

“There he is!” The duchesses shrill voice called from the steps, Erik beside her with a face of concern as two guards appeared next to her. “Stop him!” She shrieked and pointed at Hans, who now was backing away farther from the crowd and the burning tree.

Hans held his hand up in a pleading motion. “Please,” He called from where was stood. “Stay away from me,” The guards came closer. “Stay away!” The prince pushed his hands forward, unwillingly sending a large fireball straight at them. The men dove out of the way, the flaming sphere passing them with only inches to spare, and hitting the wooden balcony above the front doors, setting it ablaze in an instant.

The duchess and Erik barely got out of the way as the balcony buckled and collapsed where the pair once stood, the embers and sparks glowing bright from the rush of oxygen. Hans released a choked sob and the crowd now parted, afraid as he was as the elderly duchess shouted and straightened her tall wig, which was blackening from heat. “Monster! Monster!” She pointed at him as the guards got up from their position and started follow Hans, and were soon lost in the crowd.

“Hans!” Kristoff appeared at the door, Anna by his side. He wasn’t about to lose the prince, as shocked as he was. Stepping over the fallen dignitary like a discarded piece of confetti, the pair raced through the crowd, following the two Weselton guards at the quick pace.

Hans reached the stone walls of the courtyard, the guards and Kristoff gaining on him. The prince cast a look behind him. He was out of options. He backed against the stones, pressing his hands to the icy wall. Suddenly, steam began to rise behind him as the soapstones dried out. He realized a way out. He turned to face the thirty foot wall, spreading his arms wide over his head as the stones not only fell, but melted into a fiery orange lava, leaving a hole big enough for him to escape through the barrier.

“Wait, please!” Kristoff called as the guards stopped at the puddle of bubbling magma, but he jumped over the three foot pond, taking Anna with him.

The prince ran down the beach, the sand flying underfoot. Hans looked behind him, Kristoff and Anna still following him. He wanted to stop, to give in. But he knew that wasn’t an option. Stopping meant going back to be burned at the stake. There was nothing left for him at the palace he once called home.

Hans dashed towards the sparkling ocean, realizing that he was on an island. And besides, fire didn’t mix with water. Stepping into the salty water, he saw steam rising, clearing a path around him, leaving a white film of salt on the sand. The prince took a deep breath, looking out at the islands around him. He had a way out.

And he wasn’t going to waste it.

Hans took two stepped farther, the steam rising to the point where he was literally walking on water. He broke into a sprint, the steam and salt crystals flying behind him. The waters parted and evaporated from the heat, the ocean frothing and bubbling. “Stop!” Kristoff called as the waters settled for a moment, trying to follow Hans until Anna stopped him, foam washing over their shoes and stockings. He fell to his knees in defeat, reaching out across the waves as Hans ran across the boiling water, the seas calming at Hans reached the shore of a neighboring island in the distance.

“No.” Kristoff breathed as Anna looked out at the sea, her blue eyes widening in fear. Kristoff looked up at his fiance, whose face turned pale as a sheet as beads of sweat begin to drip down both of their faces. “Look,” The princess squeezed his shoulder. “The water.” Kristoff’s mouth dropped open in bewilderment.

Whatever Hans was doing, it was having quite the effect on the sea around them. The frothing and bubbling water boiled off, draining the vast body of water in seconds, beaching all the marine life and ships in the harbor. Fish and crustaceans flopped in the hot sand, struggling for oxygen in the dry air. The colossal wooden ships began to tip over without water to balance them, the sickening cracking sound of splintering wood echoed across the hollow cavity of sand and rocks.

“We can’t follow him now.” Kristoff looked at the valley of burning hot sand, which was as rocky and steep as the cliffs he’d seen in books. “He’s gone.” The man admitted defeat as a warm breeze blew past his face.

But wait. Kristoff thought. It was the middle of winter!

“It’s getting hot out here.” Anna fanned herself with a hand, looking around at the last foot of water disappeared from the bay.

“Something is very wrong here.” Kristoff said looking around the drained body of water, the moon casting a soft glow over the sandy beach.

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The couple walked back to the castle, both now well aware of the heat gathering in the courtyard. The townspeople looked up in shock as the stars and moon began to disappear, the light blotted out by thick, black smoke in the middle of a once clear night. “What’s happening?” A few questioned, peering into the darkening sky. Many people were, at this point, shrugging off their jackets and coats, sweat dripping down their steadily reddening faces. However, the duchess was practically hysterical.

“The Prince has cursed this land!” She shrieked as Erik tried to calm her down. “My lady, Hans wasn’t trying to harm you.” He tried to console her by placing a hand on her shoulder, but she jerked away. “I’ll bet this whole family is full of sorcery! Stay away from me!” She squeezed behind two guards like two muscular shields. Kristoff sighed from where he stood. “Ma’m, this isn’t Hans’ fault. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen!” He said through gritted teeth.

Behind him, he heard snorting from Anna, and he could see why. The enormous amount of clown make-up was beginning to melt off of the duchess's face like candle wax.

Kristoff stood tall in the crowd. “Tonight was my fault! I pushed the prince, and that’s why I must go after him! To bring him back, to stop this heatwave.” He called out to the villagers. Anna’s face flashed with concern. “Kristoff no, I can’t let you do this!” She snuggled close to him like a child to her father.

“And I also have to object.” The King piped up from his bitter silence. “It would be pointless of you to risk your life for my brothers wrongdoings.” Kristoff walked over to him, and stared at him deeply. “Your majesty with all do respect, I’ve known the prince all my life.” He untied the mauve scarf from his neck and tied it around his waist like a belt. “I think I’m perfectly qualified to bring him back.” Erik, not seeing any further reason he could disagree, nodded, but did so slowly.

“Fine, but as a precaution, I’ll send a party of guards-” “No. You need them here to take care of the city.” Kristoff stopped him. “Besides, Hans was afraid when his… gift, caused this. I doubt sending a troop of men with swords and crossbows will do any good.” He indicating the clouds above them.

“I’ll go with him.” Anna spoke up from her pathetic silence. “No way Anna. It’s too dangerous!” Kristoff grabbed her shoulders. She just stared at him defiantly. “I don’t have a choice do I?” Kristoff broke her gaze after a good minute.

“Nope. Looks like you’re stuck with me Bjorgman, so get used to it.” She kissed him on the cheek. “Bring out the horses!” Anna called waving a hand high in the air like a flag. “Um, Anna, I think I’m fine just taking Fannar.” Kristoff crossed his arms. “I know. I had him brought to the stables for the night.” She pointed out as Hans’ horse Sitron, and Fannar were led to the couple. “Let’s ride!” Anna said enthusiastically as she climbed onto the steed.

Kristoff couldn’t help but grin at his fiance. It was so cute when she was feisty. “Alright, hang on.” Kristoff mounted Fannar and just the reins a shake. “You’re not worried are you? About Hans?” She asked as the two horses trotted across the bridge and through the city. “Of course not. The man was scared out of his mind. I’m sure we can get him back.” He smiled softly as the horses went off into the night…

Chapter Text

Hans walked through the hot night air, his arms crossed halfheartedly. Everyone he cared about knew his secret, he was truly alone. The last vestige he had of any of them was the nickel metal, shining in the light of his hands.

Kristoff, Erik, Thomas, Katharine, everyone of them was shocked as could be. The duchess, calling him a monster, Erik, the look of disappointment. All of those horrible visions burned through his mind quicker than his power.

Fire was crackling around him, trees and grass set ablaze by his curse. He’d caused all this destruction, all this torment.

And what was it for? In the end he’d failed at hiding the fires from the people he’d loved most.

And yet one major question seared through his mind. What now?

It wasn’t like he could release his anger, and then suddenly just go back home. He’d left a blackened impression on every guest and resident like a branding iron. Any attempt to return would be a death sentence. In fact, he would have been surprised not to see a bounty price over his head. There was nothing left for him there.

He sighed, and thought of one way to comfort himself. “The fire glows bright in the darkness tonight,” He sang and continued walking. “Not a soul, to be seen.” The prince looked around the area, knowing there wasn’t anyone or anything for miles.

“A dimension of desolation,” He looked behind him. “With a prince, on the scene.” Hans cast a defeated look to the ground. “My soul is burning with the heat it’s held inside,”

“Couldn’t keep it in, even though I tried.” The prince held a hand to his heart.

Hans felt something inside him snap. It was a small crack, but bloomed into a full blown split. Then he realized what it was.

It was his will.

He’d tried all his life to keep it hidden, to stop the spread. But it was in vain.

“Can’t let them in, won’t set me free,” The prince thought back to his years of isolation.

“Be the good one, as they’d expect you’d be.” Hans thought of who he was, born with a curse he didn’t want, or know how to use.

“Conceal, don’t feel, don’t show your glow…” He brought his hands to his heart, letting the warmth envelope his body. He looked at his last gloved hand, it’s power hidden like a mask. This was what was holding him back. “But now they know!” He grabbed the grey fingertips and ripped the fabric from his hand, letting it sail into the smoke filled sky.

He brought his hand into view, feeling the heat and sparks gather into a small fire burst. “Let it glow,” He sung smiling at the beauty of his flame, the brilliant light vanishing without fuel or will to keep it bright. “Let it glow!” Hans’ smile grew wider as he released a second blast from his other hand.

Holding his hands in the same spinning motion he had done when he was a child, he conjured and attracted three small lumps of gray and white ash with a hot breeze in the form of a small speckled snowman, with charred sticks as arms, and a dogwood branch with fresh blossoms sticking from the top of its pear-shaped head. “Can’t hold it back anymore!” He finished the beautiful creation with a carrot nose that stuck over the lip.

Hans smiled sweetly at the work of art and walked on, sure of what he could do. “Let it glow,” He shot a stream of sparks and smoke from his fingertips, looking up at it.

“Let it glow,” He repeated the motion with his other hand.

“Don’t turn back to slam the door!” As the embers and sparks began to fall back, he spread his arms wide to stop them, letting the glowing sparks fall right to the ground.  

“I don’t care,” He shot a stream of fire from his hands, the glowing heat crackling in the air. “What they have to say…” He shot another blast to the other side, the brilliant scarlet flames spreading to many directions.

“Let the flames rage on…” He felt the comforting warmth wrap through his black jacket, pushing it from his shoulders. Hans lifted his arms free from it. “The fires never led me to go astray.” He flashed a small smile as a near tropical breeze sent the jacket flying into the smokey sky.

The prince continued to walk, looking around the flat expanse ahead of him, leading to a tall hill that seemed endlessly steep. “It’s funny how some distance, makes everything seem small,” Hans sang turning around to view the islands below him. “And the fears that once surrounded me, can’t get to be as tall!” He laughed and ran up the hill, as if that would vanquish any doubt he still held.

He came across a vast expanse of cliffs in front of him, and knew with what he could do, nothing could limit him. “It’s time to test what I can do!” He looked at the small ledge in front of him, and threw his hands back.

“To break the limits and head through!” He sang and threw his hands forward, thinking of an elaborate staircase to climb over the cliffs as it flew from his hands, materializing out of what was once just air to a glassy black ash, compacted to a material harder than granite, yet bushy and puffy like sheep's wool.

“No good, no bad, no rules for me!” Hans ran towards the half formed staircase, looking down at it happily. He stepped onto the first step, the black woolly texture melted into a glass like obsidian. Hans expressed awe at the transformation, the small smile spreading into a wide grin. “I’m free!” He sang.

Hans gazed up the staircase and broke into a sprint up the first ten steps, his magic ten steps ahead of him and materialized more and more steps to match Hans’ pace. “Let it glow,” He spread his arms like wings across the railings to make them as flawless as could be. “Let it glow!” He sang at the steps grew in front of him. “I can see through the wind and sky!” His eyes squeezed shut as the steps flew farther and farther ahead of him according to his mind.

The young prince reached the top of the dry cliff, throwing his arms high to complete the creation with a flare of red and orange fire whirling through the air. “Let it glow!” He sang louder than ever, wanting the whole world to know he’d released his power. “Let it glow, you’ll never say goodbye!” Hans ran up to a raised mound of earth, “Here I stand,” he sang and stomped his foot down in the ground. The glow of  molten lava grew beneath his foot, shaping into the form of a dodecagon.

“And here I’ll stay,” Hans looked and turned on the twelve sided shape, which was beginning to fade from the glow and harden into shining black basalt. “Let the flames rage on…” He grinned and raised his hands, the foundation of the building again glowing, but this time leaving the rocky bases where it hardened. The black foundation grew high above the ground, Hans guiding the reins to the future of its construction.

The walls grew higher and higher around him, tusk-like arches forming with the flash of his hands, a thin layer of permanently glowing magma suspended in the walls. The glowing orange lines entwining around them in delicate geographical patterns. “My power worries those who dwell below the ground!” Hans ran his hands around the line of his floor, a shining star made of magma glowing in the encased center of the ground.

“My heart is spiraling in molten furies all around!” The prince held his hands high as an origami like roof folded over his head in a flash of bright light, the individual embers arranging themselves in perfect harmony.

“And one thought materializes like a fiery blast!” A brilliant chandelier of magma dripped into existence from the highest point of the ceiling, the blob of molten lava bubbled and bloomed into bulbs of bright light, ending with a final shower of sparks over Hans.

Hans stopped, the creation of his new home complete. Now all that was left was himself to change. “I’m never going back,” He tore the medal from his red collared shirt, surveying its beauty, its flawlessness, it’s perfection.

Everything he wasn’t.

“The ghast is in the past!” He cupped the medallion in his hand, concentrating all the heat he had. The African Violet dripped and distorted as the hot metal melted in his hand, the molten nickel not scalding him a bit. “Let it glow!” Hans threw his hand down, the molten material sliding off like oil from a pan.

“Let it glow!” The prince ran the same hand through his copper brown hair, the bangs messed over his forehead. Hans clasped his palms tight, taking them above in the same motion he’d raised the palace high above the earth, a maroon red glow rising from his black shoes, encasing them as his powers swirled around the prince gracefully. His breeches glowing red as the heat rose within him, transforming his clothes to something more fitting. 

“And I’ll rise like the Satan’s spawn,” The light reaching his collared shirt, bright orange sparks and smoke cascading off the glowing lines. “Let it glow,” He looked down at his hands as the bright light flew down his shoulders. Hans threw his right arm up as his power ran up to his wrist, then did the same to his left. “Let it glow!” His sleeves were complete.

The prince shrugged his shoulders, and a grey transparent cape materialized behind his as walked to the new balcony. His tenor voice echoed through the large palace. “That reject boy is gone!” Hans walked out the open doors of his new castle, the scarlet glass doors shining around him. The smoke began to clear, revealing the morning dawn and shining sun. “Here I stand, in the light of day!” He held his head high in the rising sun.

“Let the flames rage on!” The prince threw his hands high, the heat cascading from the gorgeous palace from where he stood.

He looked out at the world in front of him, so beautiful, so wonderful.

So better off without him.

Hans cast a smile at the distant islands, a small grin reaching his face. “The fire never led me to go astray.” He walked back inside and slammed the doors shut, leaving the world just as silent as it was…

Chapter Text

Anna and Kristoff led their horses through the dry grassy hills of who knew where. Their sparse knowledge of The Southern Isles geography left them at a disadvantage to Hans, who grew up on lessons of this sort of thing. A warm breeze blew past the clearing they had reached.

“Are you sure you know where he went?” Anna asked Kristoff from her position ten feet away.

Kristoff sighed, unsure how to answer the question. In truth, he had no idea which island Hans had gone. It could be weeks before they happened to get to the right one. He’d figured the sudden lack of an ocean separating the islands, and any strange pyromaniacal stuff from a telltale area would give him a clue.

But so far, all it did was get them lost on one of hundreds of beached islands.

“I’m sure he’s here somewhere.” Kristoff lied, unwilling to admit Anna had been right. Anna just cast a look of hopefulness at Kristoff and they rode on as a new dawn rose. “Well,” Kristoff looked at the rosy pink sky. “At least the smoke's gone.” Anna smiled from where she sat, observing the glorious rising sun as heat began to set in, sweat dripping down both faces.

“What’s that?” Anna peered into the distance, an orange glow appearing in the distance. “I can’t say.” Kristoff replied as the horses continued the ride. For some reason, Fannar was acting very apprehensive. “Come on buddy, we’ll get through this.” The man stroked the horse's ears softly to comfort it. The heat wore on without end, the lovers reaching a clearing to rest.

“Kristoff, do you smell something burning?” The princess looked around nervously at the trees around the empty, dry ground. “I do, you think it could be the meat?” Kristoff sniffed the air, but it didn’t smell like meat. It smelled like wood, and lots of it.

“Watch out!!!” Anna screamed as a glowing mass of heat and flames flew right at Kristoff, who managed to get out of the way just in time before the fireball sailed past him and into one of the dry trees, causing a loud crack as the tree burst into burning splinters. “Kristoff! No! are you alright?!” Anna ran over to her fallen companion, who nodded and sat up. “We’ve gotta get out of here!” He exclaimed. But it was too late. The fire had encased the pair and their horses in the clearing with a ring of solid flames, like a cage.

Suddenly, Kristoff gripped his medallion, remembering how Henrik had died in the same fashion.

Both faces glowed in the light of the flames, certain they wouldn’t be getting out alive. Then, Kristoff noticed something. An opening, a full ten feet from them. He looked over at Anna, who was closing her eyes from the smoke billowing around her, ashes falling to the dry grass around them. Kristoff picked his fiance up, kissing her once on the forehead, and ran over the opening, her horse and Fannar behind him as the crackling heat grew. Kristoff placed the still princess on the horse’s back; whispering something into its ear, and the beast, along with Fannar, galloped through the opening just as the flames covered it up, completely trapping Kristoff in all it’s burning glory. “Find them.” He breathed one last breath before collapsing onto the ground, and closing his eyes to see Henrik and Gidda embrace him in death…

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Elsa and Olaf stepped over the burning logs, a deep frown on her face. This entire forest was completely ruined. “This isn’t right, it wasn’t even thundering out.” Elsa exclaimed at the unnatural conditions of the weather the evening before. It had suddenly began to get warmer and hotter in the dead of winter. That itself was unordinary enough, but then she saw the bay. The entire area was dry as a bone, for absolutely no reason!

Flipping her braid over her shoulder, Elsa shed her winter jacket, leaving her in a violet long sleeved shirt that clung to her frame with sweat. Rolling the sleeves up, the woman stepped over another ashy log, thinking only of the time she was younger. This was the same forest she once called home, resting in the caves, playing in the now dry lake, climbing these very trees. It broke her heart to think she would be long dead before this destruction would be, like her, a distant memory.

“Come on Olaf, let’s go.” She took an apple from her pants pocket and used it to lead him on. Her blue eyes flashed with the thoughts of her family, the rock trolls. Surely they’d be fine. After all, they knew the surrounding area almost as well as she did. Elsa smiled hopefully at the thought.

Suddenly, the two reached a clearing. The yellow grass scattered with ash, and a body. Fear filled the girl as she and Olaf ran over to the fallen man, who was face down in the dirt, his expensive looking suit covered in soot and embers. He also had a mane of long blonde hair. Elsa, with no effort, flipped him over to his back, pulling the paring knife from her pocket, she held it under the man’s nose when it hit her. This was the exact men who’d bought a dozen logs from her the day before. What was his name? Cristopher? Elsa thought to herself as the shining blade clouded with the man’s breath.

He was alive. Burned and comatose, but alive.

“Olaf, get him onto your back.” Elsa stood up and motioned to the full grown reindeers large antlers. The creature snorted and did so, his tongue hanging out playfully. A small smile came to the lumberjacks face. She deepened her voice slightly into a tenor's voice for Olaf. She loved speaking for him, interpreting what the playful spirit couldn’t say himself.     

“Where are we taking him Elsa?” She said in Olaf’s voice.

Cristopher now laid on the furry back of the reindeer, his chest rising and falling steadily. “Don’t worry buddy. We’ve seen people in his state before.” Elsa took the knife and sliced the fruit in half, holding it out to Olaf as a reward for listening to her, then taking a bite out of her side and grabbing the reins to lead the reindeer forward as he chewed slowly. “We’re just gonna take him along with us, then back when he wakes up.” Elsa offered the emotional creature an answer.

Suddenly, a clinking sound came from the ground. Elsa turned and looked down. It was a silver medallion, untouched by the destruction around her. It was gilded with a silver snowflake in the center, and would fetch a hefty sum if she chose to keep it. But snowflakes weren’t her thing. And besides, it probably belonged to someone. What amazed Elsa was that it had survived at all. Most metals, especially precious ones, melted at half the temperature forest fires burned at, but then again, this wasn’t a normal forest fire.

Leading Olaf through the charred forest, the three went to the little hideaway where she stored her cart. (Thankfully undamaged) And set out and up the mountain to the trade depot. Elsa needed supplies for her journey south, and knew of someone who could get her a good deal for the cash she had…

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Kristoff awoke to the bumping of a cart, and flask of water beside him. He saw a pale girl hunched over him, her eyes twisted in confusion, blazing in the light of a torch. It was hazy, dark, but he remembered nothing about it. All Kristoff could recall was Fannar and Anna being carried far away from a blazing fire, and just barely reaching his mother and fathers soft embrace before being pulled away, much to his annoyance.

He’d really hoped to see them, at least once.

But that wasn’t what happened, apparently, and now, here he was, his bare back propped against a bundle of cloth, as a familiar face stared down at him. “Elsa?” He questioned to the woman, who smiled sweetly and helped him to sit up. “Thank God” She sighed. “I thought you’d never wake up.” She propped herself on her knees and picked up the flask of water.

“Here, you need to have some.” She handed the gruff man the flask, and he began to drink. “Thanks.” He said after a moment, wiping his mouth with his wrist, and handed it back to the girl, who gave it a quick shake to feel how much was left. Thankfully, there was still a fair amount. “So,” Kristoff propped himself up in the cart to Elsa’s height. “What happened?” He asked and looked around him. The night sky dotted with stars and a bright moon. The smoke must’ve passed, he thought.

“Why don’t you tell me? I found you on the ground this morning, a little dazed, a bit burned, but responsive, for lack of a better word.” She shrugged and sat down at Kristoff’s height; huffing a breath of air like a braying horse. Kristoff tried to recall what he could. His memories never seemed to be in the right place. “Well, I remember going out to the woods with Anna, but there was a wildfire. I just remember sending her off on her horse to get help.” He sat up and noticed he was bare chested. “Where’s my shirt?” He raised an eyebrow at Elsa, whose eyes opened wide as if remembering something herself. “Funny thing about that, actually.” She chuckled halfheartedly, rubbing the back of her head like Kristoff always did.

“What did you do to it?” Kristoff asked bored, knowing she likely sold it for the water.

“Well that depends.” Elsa shrugged her shoulders indifferently. Kristoff was perplexed. “Huh?” He asked somewhat bewildered, wondering what she meant. “Do you want the bad news, or the even worse news?” The girl asked bluntly. “Bad.” Kristoff said, not really wanting to hear either. Elsa sighed. “Your jacket and shirt caught on fire, which is why you may not feel very comfortable on that side of you.” Kristoff shifted, suddenly noticing the incredible pain from his back. “What’s the worse news?” He grunted after a moment, settling back to where he had been.

“Check your hand.” Elsa pointed to his right hand. Kristoff held it into the light. There wasn’t any hideous burns or scarring. “It’s just my hand, Elsa.” He said plainly, turning it in front of her. “Nothing’s missing?” Elsa held up her own smaller hand, indicating the silver band on her ring finger. Then Kristoff realized what was wrong.

His wedding band was gone. Kristoff bit his lip and set his hand down, defeated.

“Where is it?” He asked avoiding eye contact with the lumberjack. “I had to trade it for something to use on those burns. It was either that,” Elsa lifted a sort of necklace from her neck, and handed it to Kristoff. “Or this.” He knew what it was, and was suddenly glad she had traded the ring over it.

It was Henrik's medal, still flawless as ever.

“I figured the gold may have been worth more, but I can replace it.” Elsa slid the medal back over her neck. “No,” Kristoff stopped her hands as they hung it halfway down her head. “That’s mine.” He started to reach for it, but Elsa pulled away. “How can I be sure? You weren’t wearing it when I saw you last.” She held tight to the circle of silver. “Because it was tucked under my jacket like it always is!” Kristoff tried to bend forward and snatch it, but Elsa’s eyes flashed and she threw her arm out over the edge of the rolling cart, holding the snowflake medal by the ribbon it hung from, the silver shining in the light of the torch.

One movement of her fingers would be the end of it.

“No!” His voice cracked as Kristoff nearly threw himself at the shining object. “Please,” Kristoff reached as far as he could, but it was still a full arm's length from Elsa. “I can’t lose that!” He begged as tears brimmed at his eyes. He couldn’t lose his father. Not now.

Elsa pursed her lips, her harsh demeanor shifting to a small smile. She kept her arm where it was for a moment until she was sure Kristoff wouldn’t snap her neck to get it, observing it in the light of the torch. She and Kristoff released a sigh. “What’s so special about this thing anyway?” She rubbed her fingers on the medal like a lucky statue. “It’s just a snowflake.” Kristoff bit his lip. “It was my father’s. I always have it with me, because it’s all that’s left of him.” He held his head in his knees, the tears drying on his ashy breeches, the mauve scarf still tied tight to his waist.

Elsa raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?” She asked looking over at him. “Yeah. Why would I lie to someone who’s currently nursing me back to health?” Kristoff lifted his head up, putting both hands on his knees and trying to lean forward, but cringed at the pain. “Listen, I’m sorry. But no one’s ever cared to have me, and anyone who did is long dead. I’ve been swindled out of enough things in my life. I guess it’s just instinct.” Elsa played with her chocolate colored braid and smiled softly, handing the medal back to Kristoff.

“Trust me, you’re not alone in that.” Kristoff slid the piece back over his neck, realizing that he still didn’t have a shirt on. “Hey, you don’t have anything for me to wear in there do you?” He asked pointing at the seat of the cart. “Let’s have a look…” Elsa bent over the bench of the cart, raffling through the bag of clothes. “Nope. Guess you’re just gonna have to wait till we get to Oaken’s.” She sighed and looked ahead, even though there wasn’t point. She and Olaf had been to the trading post more times than she could count, and had an on-off friendship with the owner whose namesake graced the sign by the door.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you something there.” She smiled at the mountain man, who stretched out and yawned as the cart raced through the forests to Wandering Oaken’s Trading Post.    

Chapter Text

“Here, distribute the water.” Erik handed one of the guards the key to the water cellar. They would need it to get through this heatwave. King Erik and Queen Katharine had the entire city on alert, ordering them to cover open water supplies, go into their basements, and keeping the castle open for the general public. Katharine had been a great help through all of this, keeping the public calm and content in the face of something so abnormal. “Everyone!” He called out to the scattered populace. “The castle's basement is open. There’s ice, water, and food down there in rations!” He waved over the now silent crowd. “The Southern Isles are in debt to you your Majesty.” One of the castle guards bowed as he walked past.

“Momma, look!” One boy yelled as two horses dashed through the main gates of the courtyard where everyone was, a limp body over one of them. They both were frantic, braying and whinnying as the crowd parted to let them through, albeit hastily. Erik ran up to the first one, it’s mane messed and covered in ash. “Fannar?” He looked at the fearful eyes. The horse had been delivering ice to the palace for as long as he could remember. It was once Henrik’s, now Kristoff’s, but this horse was without its rider. The Queen went over to the other horse, the limp figure pale and covered in a similar grey ash, her dress stained with burns. “Princess Anna,” She covered her mouth in shock as two guards ran over and lifted the princess from where she laid.

Erik gazed deep into Fannars brown eyes, knowing immediately what must’ve happened. “There was an accident Katharine. One man is gone, how long will it be before another must die?” He indicated Anna. “Get her to the doctor!” Katharine ordered and the two guards ran off, the girl in hand.

“I am forming a group to search for prince Hans, and I need volunteers!” He waved a hand through the air, and immediately ten palace guards were at his side. “And if possible, Kristoff.” He looked at Fannar, who was being led over to the royal stables. “Erik, no!” Katharine reached out to him and grabbed his shoulder as Kraftig, his horse, was walked over to the King. “Katharine this isn’t open for discussion. Hans is my brother. I see it only fit I find him.” He mounted the stirrup and kissed his wife on the forehead. “Well then I’m going with you-” “No.” Erik held up a hand to silence her. “You need to stay here, to take care of the kingdom.” A tear rolled down her cheek, but she nodded and backed away. “Your majesty?” A shrill voice called from behind him. “I shall offer two my personal guards for your expedition.” She indicated the two eerily silent guards, who scowled at Erik with such anger and indifference he thought they would burn holes through him.

The guards knew their orders. The duchess had spoken to them about ‘ending the heatwave by any means necessary.’ It was pretty obvious what she wanted. Honestly, the men couldn’t have cared less what happened, just as long as their boss would stay away from them. With the increasing heat, the Duchess of Weselton was becoming even harder to look at than normal. One guard had quoted that she looks like a melting statue of wax, which was painfully true. As a result, the pair packed extra bolts in their crossbows.

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Kristoff awoke with a jolt, he head slamming the back of the cart where he rested. “We’re here!” Elsa called from the bench where she guided Olaf the rest of the way after the reindeer came across a falling tree in the road. “Up and at’em, Sleeping Beauty!” She rapped her knuckles on the rail of the sled by the man’s head. “Thanks.” He stretched and stood up, climbing over the side of the vehicle and landed on the grass by Elsa, who was now digging through her bag of clothes. “Here, catch.” She blindly threw a cloak at his face, which hit it’s target. “What’s this for?” Kristoff tried it on. Elsa turned to face him, then jerked her thumb at the sign the stood outside that read “No shirt, no shoes, no service!”

“I’ve never broken that rule myself, but this guy can be pretty tough about his rules.” Elsa nodded as Kristoff tucked the fabric tight, creating a fitting cover that showed his muscles cleanly. He struck a small pose, and Elsa rolled her eyes. “Charming.” She uttered and walked towards the little hut.

The bell clinked as Elsa stepped inside, Kristoff following behind. The cabin was made of cedar logs, some for the walls, others carved to make the floor they stood upon. A healthy, warm glow came from a lantern hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the depot well for a dark night. The column in the center supported a roof, and gave one the illusion of an elegantly carved banister. Around the floor of the shop, there were numerous shelves stacked high with a nice assortment of gear that felt like a trading post. There were wooden statues, cloaks, normal clothes, ropes, tools, bridles, books, and even an assortment of decorative holly for Christmas.

On the wall by the counter, there were small paintings, and a carved reindeer with a painted red nose. A man easily twice the size of Kristoff with a build like a mountain sat behind the counter. He had straight tufts of brown hair combs into a thick mustache and sideburns, a large nose, rosy cheeks, and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed in a woolen sweater, suspenders not visible beneath the counter, and a short, rounded skullcap partially covering the bald spot on his head.

“Hoo-hoo!” He gave a small wave from the counter. “Big vinter blowout!” The giant said in an enthusiastic tone.

“Hey Oaken. How’s business?” Elsa smiled at the man, looking around at his supplies. “Ah,” He shrugged. “I bit slow. It’s a real scorcher in December, ja?” The giant man chuckled deeply at the strange weather. “Certainly, my friend.” Elsa nodded in agreement and took a sack of apples from one of the shelves as if Kristoff wasn’t there. “Listen, my friend needs something for this weather. Can you help us out?” Elsa grabbed a hatchet from another shelve, placed the items on the counter and pointed back at Kristoff, who had yet to move from the door.

“Vat does the man need?” Oaken looked over at the blonde, who was observing the many trinkets around the shop. “A shirt; something light.” Elsa pressed her arms onto the wooden counter, her attention on the clothes. “That vould be in our summer department.” The friendly shopkeeper indicated the sparse supplies for summer weather, including a few shirts and pants, both mens and womens, a picnic basket, a barrel of water, and sunscreen Elsa guessed he’d invented. Oaken was always rather crafty when it came to inventions.

“Fine, how much?” She picked up the clothes and the sunscreen, leaving the rest. “That’ll be forty.” Oaken looked over the few objects taken. “What? Oaken, that’s thirty.” Elsa exclaimed surprise at the price increase.

The gentle giant shook his head. “See, that’s no good. Supply and demand have a big problem here.” Oaken indicated the lack of summer equipment. Elsa scowled and stared into his eyes. “Alright, you wanna talk about a supply and demand problem do you?” She crossed her white arms set leaned over the counter. “I sell wood for a living!” She eyed the door where her empty cart sat, and Kristoff walked over, a look of discomfort on his face.

“Elsa,” She took a hand and put it over his mouth. “Quiet, I got this.” She continued to stare at Oaken, who folded his hands like whatever Elsa was doing was a game. “Please, for a friend.” Kristoff clutched his heart, remembering those same words from Hans. “Elsa, you’re a good customer, but I can’t spare these.” Oaken frowned. “Why not? Thirties all I got. Help me out here.” She tapped the wooden countertop with her fingernails.

Oaken sighed. “Thirty will get you this,” He placed a large, beefy hand on the bottle of sunscreen and the clothes, and pushed the other things back. “And no more, but I will throw in a visit to Oaken Fridge.” He motioned to the large door that held the trade depot’s refrigerator, which was being turned into a method of keeping cool. “Hoo-hoo! Hi Family!” He called to the group of people inside. Five people, one a muscular yet stocky man that was Oaken’s husband, appeared at the window and waved back. Elsa waved and flashed a small smile at the group. Despite not being able to have any children of his own, Oaken always took in anyone he could, the result being four children to look after.

Elsa had almost been one of them, but preferred to keep to herself.

“No,” She bit her lip and thought for a moment. “I need the hatchet and the clothes. Besides that I’m down to my last two apples, and you know how Olaf can get.” She pointed to the window, where Olaf had his wet nose pressed against it like a puppy, his eyes alight with joy. Kristoff sighed and walked out, bothered that Elsa wasn’t listening.

Elsa looked around, and took something from her neck. “Here. This should be worth more than ten coins.” She groaned and looked away as Oaken observed the object. It was a silver medallion with a gilded snowflake on it. “And it vill!” He smiled and stuck the valuable under the counter, its shine casting a bright shadow in the light of the store. “Thanks.” The woman scooped up the objects in her arms and started to walk out, grumbling to herself. “What a crook.” She mumbled, but suddenly heard a creaking noise. she turned and saw Oaken rising to his full height of eight foot two, a hurt look on his face. “Vat did you just call me?” He looked over at Elsa, who suddenly felt very afraid of what she’d said…

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“Bye bye!” Oaken smiled as he threw Elsa out onto the front lawn, the projectile landing face first in the dirt by Kristoff’s feet. She spit topsoil from her mouth, brushing her hair with her free hand, the objects in the other one. “You know, if you’d let me speak,” Kristoff helped her up and took one of the shirts, a low v-neck in a shade of dark teal. “I’d would have paid for you. I had the money.” He slipped it over his head as Elsa continued to dust the dirt from her dress, Olaf walking over to lick her clean. “Stop it Olaf! I’m fine.” She straightened her brunette braid, pulling it over her shoulder, standing up as she did so. “Well, I should be getting you home.” Elsa pointed back at the cart, but Kristoff shook his head.

“No, I came out here because I know how to stop this heatwave.” He ran a hand through his blonde mane absentmindedly as Elsa took one of the apples from the satchel and bit into it, the reindeer named Olaf taking the rest with a single chomp of his jaw.

“Really? Well good luck with that.” The lumberjack laughed off the flash of arrogance.

“Well I know you need this heatwave to end, or you’re gonna be bankrupt in a week.” Kristoff pointed out, to which Elsa looked down at her hatchet sadly, knowing the gleaming piece of metal would probably be getting sold for a jar of lutefisk. “True.” She said under her breath so only Olaf could hear. “But just what are you planning to do?” She asked stepping behind the reindeers furry body to change into the clothes she’d bought.

Kristoff pondered that question. He didn’t really have a plan at the moment. Putting two hands into his breeches pockets he felt something incredibly soft brush against the fingers of his right hand. Removing the digits from his pocket, he picked up the fabric and pulled it with. It was Hans’ glove, wrinkled and warm, but still intact.

Elsa stepped back out from behind Olaf, now dressed in a violet Queen Anne vest with a bluish-black long sleeved shirt, a long black jacket tied to her waist. “Nice,” Kristoff released a low whistle. Elsa rolled her eyes. “Seriously? I know you have a fiance.” She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows.

“I was just being observant.” Kristoff smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “I know.” Elsa flashed a small smile at the iceman, taking her braid and twisting it into a french bun, tying it in place with the alice band ribbon. “But back to your so-called plan.” She held up her fingers in air quotes on the word ‘plan.’ “Well, I found this.” Kristoff held the charcoal grey glove up.

“A glove.” The lumberjack raised an eyebrow.

Over the next twenty minutes, Kristoff preceded to tell Elsa about the thirteenth princes powers over heat and fire.

“Wow, I thought that was a myth.” Elsa got into the cart bench, patting the opposite side for Kristoff to join. “I never knew.” The iceman exclaimed as Elsa lit the torch and took hold of the reins. “Well you were there,” She grunted and sat back down. “Tell me,” She gave the reins a whip, and the cart lurched forward as Olaf started a slowly quickening gallop up the hills.

“What caused the prince to go into a fire frenzy?” Elsa held the reins in one hand and looked to her guest for answers.

“Well, that was sort of my fault.” Kristoff rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I was telling him about taking a trip around the world; you know as like a shove off before I settle down.” Elsa nodded understandingly. “And he got all… I don’t know, defensive.” Kristoff pushed the blonde fringe from his eyes, the warm wind blowing into his face as Olaf picked up speed.

“That doesn’t sound like anything to get-”

“I’m not finished,” Kristoff cut her off. “So anyways, I meet this girl, Anna, we shared some time together, and she wanted me to come back with her to Arendelle.” He started rambling and Elsa bit her lip. “And then I proposed because I didn’t want her to leave without me.” He started gesturing. “But then I went to Hans; but he was really irritated because I’d just met her, and he said he wouldn’t bless the marriage!” Kristoff exclaimed in shock at the notion that Hans wouldn’t accept his engagement to Anna.

“Wait.” Elsa held up her hand to stop the man. “You’re saying you just got engaged to someone you met that day?” She exclaimed shocked. “Yes, but-” Kristoff answered.

“Hang on! You mean to tell me you just got married to someone you met that day?!” Her mouth dropped open as if she were the only person with the last bit of sense on earth. “Yes, pay attention.” Kristoff rolled his eyes. “But the thing is, he always wears gloves, so I thought what’s the big deal, maybe he’s just a neat-freak!” He held both hands in front of him like they were dirty.

“Didn’t that father of yours ever warn you about strangers?” Elsa was perplexed.

Kristoff pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “Yes,” He frowned. “But I wouldn’t call Anna a stranger.” The iceman rolled his eyes. “Really?” Elsa scoffed.

“Go ahead lumberwoman, try me!” Kristoff smiled arrogantly.

“What’s her last name?”

“Of Arendelle.” He said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“What’s her favorite food?”

“Chocolate.” Kristoff sighed happily.

“Parents names?”

“Adgar and Idunn of Arendelle.”

“Girdle size?”

“What? She doesn’t wear one as far as I know. Why would that matter?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You really don’t know anything about her, do you? What if you hate the way she is in bed? What if you hate the way she snores all the time?” Elsa tried to reason with him.

“Huh?” Kristoff questioned her. “All girls do it.” She offered a small smile and went back to the reins. He sighed, bothered she didn’t share his point of view. “Look it doesn’t matter if it’s true love.” The iceman huffed.

“Please,” Elsa brayed with laughter. “There’s a difference between love and lust, iceman.”

“Oh really? What makes you an expert?” He rolled his eyes.

Elsa thought for a moment. She herself was a complete novice when it came to relationships, never actually having more than one or two. And they were beautiful, but both had their own ideas of fun. The first was into hunting, and the second was simply taking advantage of her virginity.

Elsa gave up on dating after the second one.

But the trolls that took her in understood her isolation was what caused these problems, and assured her she’d find love one day soon. Until that happened, Elsa was perfectly content being alone with Olaf.

“I’m not the expert. My family is.” She offered after a moment of thought.

“Really? You have family, who are love experts?” Kristoff tried to sound out the idea.

Elsa nodded, but looked out ahead as Olaf had suddenly slowed down. “Not buying it.” The man smiled confidently, but she shushed him.

“No, I want-” But Elsa shushed him again, this time stuffing an apple into his mouth like a roasted pig.

There was a low howl over the warm night air, the sound of paws scraping the dirt echoed off the walls of the cliff they were riding by. The lumberjack held the torch out into the evening, gripping the brace of the cart with her other hand. About thirty feet from the cart, there were seven pairs of glowing eyes in the darkness, illuminated only by the moon.

“Wolves.” She said breathlessly, knowing they were probably out hunting for reindeer. “Olaf, go!” Elsa grabbed reins and gave them a jerk, sending the reindeer running as fast as he’d ever gone in his life.   

The wolves were only too happy to join in.

Chapter Text

“Wolves?!” Kristoff gulped and remembered the day he’d found his father, being torn to shreds of flesh by the very same creature.

“What do we do?” He asked as Elsa grabbed the torch and held it over the side of the cart, the fires streaking behind them like a brilliant orange flare.

“We?” Elsa grunted at she bent out over the dry road, the wolves slowly gaining on the bouncing cart.

“I have to help!” Kristoff argued, but Elsa raised an eyebrow.

“No! I don’t trust your opinions!” She waved the torch wildly, and some of the wolves backed up to the rest of the pack.

“Excuse me?” He put his broad hands on his hips.

“Who on earth marries someone they just met?!” Elsa shot back as a wolf gained to the bench, nipping at her other arm.

“It’s true love!” Kristoff shouted and grabbed a log of wood and swung the blunt wooden object at the biting wolf. It connected with it’s target, a sharp whimper emanating from the creature as it fell back into the crispy grass with a crunch.    

A look of awe surfaced on both faces, but the moment was cut short by a large wolf jumping and clamping down of Kristoff’s forearm, pulling him from the carts bench with a scream of terror from Elsa. She threw a length of rope out after him, and the man just barely managed to grab onto it, now being dragged behind the speeding cart headfirst.

“Christopher!” She shouted in fear and waved the torch around wildly. Kristoff grunted.

“It’s Kristoff!” The mountain man was cut short by a wolf grabbing onto his leg. He yelled out in pain as the yellow teeth sunk into his leg, his black breeches not doing him any protection. Kristoff held on for dear life has another wolf grabbed his other leg, pulling him back from the rope, the jerking nearly pulling the rope from Elsa’s strong grip.

Bangs soaked in sweat, she pulled hard at the rope, pulling Kristoff closer and closer. Olaf looked back and his brown eyes opened wide, running even faster than before, his hooves clapping against the road in a near hypnotic manner.

Elsa dragged the braided twine over to the back of the cart, tying it steadfast. “Hang on!” She called back to the near comatose man, blood staining the grass and clay a brilliant scarlet. She grabbed a large barrel, hoisting it over her head with one hand, holding the torch in the other. Elsa huffed and light the empty barrel ablaze, holding her hand incredibly steady for a bumpy cart going at fifty miles an hour. “Watch out!” She yelled and Kristoff lowered his head as she threw the flaming barrel at him and the wolves, the large object sailing over his head, and colliding with the furry creatures, forcing them to let go of the iceman.

A low moan came from Kristoff as Elsa continued to tug the rope, pulling the muscular man back to the safety of the cart. The wolves were still gaining on them, apparently having recovered from the attack of a flaming barrel.

“Kristoff!” She hoisted him over the wall with no effort, and setting him down on the wooden floor. Elsa was flabbergasted. How often would this man be injured?! Looking over the bridge of the carts front, her eyes opened wide in shock at the sight of a ginormous canyon in front of them, the thick grey cliffs looking blue in the light of the moon. “Get ready to jump Olaf!” She cried from where she stood. Pulling Kristoff onto Olafs furry back, she ripped the knife from her belt, grabbing what she could as the cliff drew nearer than the pack of wolves.

With a quick motion of her hand, the rope tethering the cart to the reindeer was severed. “Jump Olaf!!!” She yelled at the cart slowed down slightly without something pulling it, but it would still gain some considerable distance after it went over the edge.

Olaf bounded over the final inch of rock, springing his muscular back legs for as much propulsion as possible. Dirt and grass flew with him as he lept across the canyon, Kristoff gripping tight to his fur as the world grew dizzy. His stomach lurched into his throat as Olaf landed in the grassy field by the edge of the cliff.

Elsa screamed as she struggled to jump from the flying cart, her braid flying behind her as she hopped from the bench just as the cart began to drop down from its flight. Her chest smacking hard into the dirt and topsoil, she started to slide back into the cavern as a loud crash came from the bottom, presumably her cart.

She felt the grassy dirt slipping and crumbling beneath her, and she began to panic, grabbing wildly onto the tufts of dead grass like a lifeline. Right as Elsa was about to loose her grip, a hatchet buried headfirst into the dry ground, a rope attached to the wooden handle. “Grab on!” Kristoff called from the ahead, seemingly fine after nearly losing his leg, the blood no longer coming from the once seeping wound. “Pull Olaf, pull!” He groaned as he tugged at the rope, walking backwards up the raised ground of the cliff until Elsa was a good ten feet away from the edge.

She looked down the side of the cliff, the scattered remains of the broken cart in a brown pile of planks and miscellaneous objects. Unfortunately, the torch Elsa had left on the sled caught onto the wood, burning the entirety of her life into ashes. She cursed, and looked sadly at the smouldering wreckage. “And I just payed it off, too…” She groaned and Kristoff walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll replace your cart;” He offered.

Elsa just frowned and rolled her eyes, walking over to Olaf and stroking his ears, to which his tail began to wag. “My entire life was in that cart.” She mumbled to the reindeer.

“This whole thing has destroyed my livelihood! I don’t even have a way to get back home to my family!!” Tears rolled down her reddening cheeks. Kristoff avoided eye contact, even though he wasn’t to blame. She buried her face in Olaf’s fur, sobbing quietly at the thought that her life was over in the course of three, long minutes.

“Elsa, I’m sorry.” Kristoff walked over and tried to comfort her, but Elsa stopped, and took a breath. “No.” She stopped him after only a moment of heartbreaking despair. “You didn’t cause this.” She indicated the cloud of billowing smoke rising next to her from the burning vehicle.

“But I understand if you want to… part ways.” Kristoff looked incredibly guilty, and then walked off in some random direction.

Elsa looked back at the rubble that was once her job. Olaf nudged her from where she stood, grunting understandingly and nuzzling her face to lick the tears away. Sometimes Olaf just made her feel good, despite being a pain sometimes. “Of course I want to ‘part ways.” Elsa left more air quotes. “This whole ordeal has cost me everything.” She patted the reindeers soft brown hide. She saw the pathetic look in his eyes and surfaced a small smile.

“But he’ll never make it back on his own!” Elsa imitated the joyful creatures voice in the same manner she always did.

“You know what? I can live with that. We don’t even know where we’re going.” Elsa exclaimed and picked some of the dry grass from her hair, the french bun having fallen right back into the same frazzled braid it had been before.

“But you won’t get your new cart if he’s lost…” Olaf lowered his lip pathetically.

Elsa groaned. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. 

As much as Olaf was her friend, sometimes she wished she didn’t understand reindeer better than people. But then again, he was good for advice. Even if that advice was from her voice.

“Hang on! We’re coming.” She sighed and led Olaf forward to follow Kristoff.

“Really?” He called back a bit too enthusiastically. He must’ve realized this and added: “Sure. Why not? I could let you tag along!” Olaf bounded up to the ice cutter like a long lost family member, his tongue lolling out and tuft tail wagging playfully. Elsa rolled her eyes, and followed the mountain man into the dark night…                        

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Kristoff and Elsa trekked through the dry forest for hours, the night wearing on until the moon reached high into the sky, bathing the crispy grass in a soft, pale light. Talk between the two relatively minimal until they reached a small creek that had yet to dry up.

“So, what are we going to do tonight?” Kristoff asked the lumberjack as she began to refill the flask with the precious water. “Well I was hoping we could find some shelter.” She said before stooping low to get a drink.

“Yeah,” Kristoff nodded as Elsa drunk. “That sounds good.” He smiled at her, and squeezed his medallion. But when he did, it felt grainy, soft, nothing like the medal he was used to.

“Elsa?” He narrowed his eyes as the young woman stood up, her braid hanging low into the water, her face perfectly illuminated by the moon.

“Yeah?” She stood up straight as Kristoff removed the medal from his neck. “This isn’t my medal.” He gave her a cold stare.

She looked confused. “What?” She brought her hand to the circular disk. Kristoff frowned darkly, peering into her ice blue eyes, his lips pursed.

“This is made of wood. You had it last.” Kristoff tore the fake from his neck, the ribbon snapping as he observed it. “It was like you didn’t want me to find out.” His voice slowly rising in anger as Elsa shrunk back in fear.

Kristoff had to respect that even if it was a fake, it was a very good fake. It was exactly like his in nearly every way, with a silver lined paint covering the chiseled snowflake in exact detail. Why would she go to such lengths to create such a perfect fake? Kristoff asked himself.

“Kristoff, I can explain.” She bit her lip, turning red as a tomato. “You’d better.” He squeezed the wooden chip harder and harder until a loud crack came from his hand, the fake medal splitting in two.

“I-” She began, but Kristoff cut her off. “Did it make you feel good to swindle someone?! To-”

“But I meant to!” The lumberjack huffed. “I made that to get the supplies and fool Oaken! I must’ve gotten them mixed up!” She threw her hands up in defense of herself.

Kristoff broke the harsh stare, looking down at the dry grass sadly. “Well how am I gonna get it back?!” He asked desperately.

“Well it’s not like I can go back and admit it!” She threw a pale hand beside her. “Really? ‘Cause that sounds like exactly what you have to do!” Kristoff grabbed her outstretched hand and shook it violently. “Well what am I supposed to say?!” She spat back. “ ‘Hi Oaken! Listen, sorry I tried to swindle you out of a piece of fine silver! Can I just have it back?’ ” She imitated her own voice in an irritatingly chipper way.

“Then what do you have to say for yourself? That thing was all I had left of my father!” Kristoff roared at her. “I’m sorry!!” She flipped her chocolate colored braid behind her angrily, running her hands through her hair, straightening the out of place strands.

Kristoff narrowed his eyes, squeezing her arm hard in his large hand. “You are going to fix this, like it or not.” He glared. Elsa nodded quickly, tears brimming at her eyelids.

“I will.” Was all she could say as Kristoff pursed his lips, his blonde fringe growing damp with sweat…      

Chapter Text

The small barn Elsa had found the pair was hot, stuffy, and reeked of goats. But it was still shelter, and at the moment, it looked like the best option they had. It was about eight feet high, built of aging balsawood, patches of dry rot dotting the walls like a bad case of chickenpox.

Elsa lay on the itchy pile of hay next to Olaf, who was curled up in a neighboring pile. She smiled softly at the reindeer, his large brown eyes glowing in the light on an old lamp that sat behind the pair, casting a golden shadow upon the wall behind them in the small stall that was theirs.

Well, it wasn’t technically theirs. But it was rather easy to assume it was abandoned, since there wasn’t a cabin, house, or anything else around for miles.                            

Kristoff had agreed he’d sleep outside, though in a tone that made Elsa sick to her stomach. She still felt incredible guilt for losing his medal. The guilt stuck to her like the small blanket of hay that was bound to stick to her back, but at least that could be brushed off.

This couldn’t.

“You know, I wish I’d never picked him up.” She grumbled to herself and shrugged off the purple vest she wore, pulling her braid into a bun once more to avoid getting more hay on her hair.

“But he’s gonna buy you a new cart… Maybe even a sled!” Olaf said enthusiastically. “Maybe,” Elsa sighed. “But unless I get that medal back, I’m guessing the deals off.” She crossed her arms after rolling her sleeves to her elbows, choosing to be hot rather than hot and itchy.

“He’ll forgive you! He knows it’s an accident!” She imitated his tenor voice again, arguing with her conscience. The girl bit her cheek.

“But so was the sled. God Olaf,” She covered her eyes in shock. “Why are you so optimistic?! Don’t you remember the last time I fell for that trick?” Elsa looked off into the distance, recalling the experience as easy as if it had happened ten minutes ago.

She’d thought Andrew was different.

The eighth prince of the Southern Isles was a well known womanizer, his sorted affairs well known throughout the castle and the kingdom, much to the Queen’s dismay. He had, when Elsa turned seventeen, left the castle for an adventure. She had ran into the man, who was covered in a ragged cloak, in a tavern. After buying her a few drinks, he tried to seduce her, to which a mildly drunk Elsa couldn’t refuse. After a few minutes, he was getting rather handsy with her.

But after a moment, Elsa snapped up from her trance, and slapped him across the face.

He had said such wonderful things, such kind things, what she had wanted to hear, only to find out it was all a ruse. The prince had said it was an accident, but she didn’t believe him.

And here she was now.  

“Yeah; that Drew.” She rolled her eyes and suddenly remembered her lute, one of the many things she’d lost. But who said she needed one?

“Reindeers are better than people,” She sang sweetly to Olaf, who smiled at her. “Olaf, isn’t that true?” She chuckled.

Olaf leaned his head over, his large antlers swinging to her in a playful manner. “Yeah, people are lousy and always will cheat you,” Elsa mimicked his voice. “Everyone of them’s mean!” He fluttered his eyelids. “Except you!” He smiled baring his white teeth.

“Thanks, buddy.” She ruffled the fuzz on top of his head lovingly.

“But people smell better than reindeer,” Elsa nodded her head at Olaf, who rolled his eyes. “At least, I would think I’m right.” She chuckled as the reindeer started munching on hay.

“That’s once again true, but it’s easy for you.” Olaf nodded, and Elsa laughed at his pathetic face. “You got me. Let’s call it a night.” She smiled at her friend.

“Goodnight!” She said in his voice. “Make sure the dark stays bright…” Elsa trailed off and yawned, stretching on the hay before placing her hands behind her head.

Suddenly, her lulled state was ripped from her as the stall door burst open, a man’s head peeking through the opening. “Nice duet.” Kristoff smiled at her and Olaf. “Oh.” She sighed and sat up. “It’s just you.” Elsa took her hands out from behind her and rested them on her chest. Olaf smiled and his tongue lolled out, panting.

“Can I come in?” He asked after a moment. Elsa nodded.

“Listen,” Kristoff squatted down to her height. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. It’s just that I-” Elsa closed her eyes and held her pale hands in front of her. “Not this again, Kristoff. Look I already spent enough time thinking this over-”

“And I’ve spent enough time moping about it.” Kristoff cut her off. “I’ve been holding onto it for too long anyway.” He sighed, and continued after a moment. “I used to wear it as a symbol, that I could be as good as he was, because my ice business was all I had left.”

Kristoff moved over to the lumberjack, and wrapped a large arm around her fragile shoulder. “But I realized that when I kept, it,” He looked at her and smiled. “I was only keeping the pain with me.”

“And I’m sorry for the way I acted.” He leaned over and hugged Elsa, and stroked Olaf’s fur.

Elsa stared, surprised he’d been able to let go so easily. From the way he had acted when she kept the medallion hostage, one would think she was threatening to drop his firstborn child under the wheels of the cart. She raised her eyebrows, and looked over at Olaf.

“Also,” He took something out from behind him. It was a burlap bag, the very same one that had the apples in it. “Eat up. I saved them.” He tossed the sack at Elsa, who caught it easily.

“Thanks.” She looked up at him and took one from inside the bag, raising it to her lips for a bite, then handed it over to Olaf, who finished it with one bite.

“Welcome.” He yawned and walked out the door.

She bit into another red apple absentmindedly, contemplating what had just happened. If he could let go, what was holding her back?    

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Anna awoke with a start, her eyes popping open to reveal the dark room around her. The room itself was made of light wood, parquet floors, and had a purple rug that stretched to fit the size of the area comfortably. The last thing she could remember was Kristoff helping her onto his horse.

“Oh my God, Kristoff!” She shrieked and sat up straight, only to feel a sudden chill enter the room. A slightly older woman entered, her ash brown hair glowed in the light of the many wall candelabras. She wore a diamond tiara, had green eyes that vaguely remind the princess of her party gown, and a slim, yet tall figure. A white silk dress with shortened sleeves graced her body, a bright orange tiger lily pinned just above her right ear like a woman of the tropics. A small frown was plastered to her face, which was blushing with beads of sweat.

“You’re awake.” She said after a moment of silence. “Who are you?” Anna asked looking up at her. “Queen Katharine!” She realized after a second of thought. “My God, I’m so sorry, I-” “No need. I’ve only been of this title for twelve hours and still feel like the peasant I was.” The regal woman taking an armchair opposite the lounge chair Anna rested in. But through this initial shock, there arose only one question.

“Where’s Kristoff?” She squeaked and looked over at Katharine, who leaned over, her hands positioned on her knees.

“Kristoff, has yet to return.” The queen sighed. “There are speculations that he may not ever return;” She paused for a moment, and took a deep breath. “Alive.” She stood up as Anna released a small sound that sounded like a mixture of whimper and a cry.

“You, however, know where he was last.” Katharine walked over to the fallen princess. “I-I-don’t remember where we were! There are thousands of islands out there!” She stammered and indicated the window that viewed the beached and dry harbor. The queen folded her hands in front of her, releasing a breath. “But only one of them has your fiance on it.” She said following the princess's gaze.

Anna thought for a moment, running her hand along her chin in deep thought. “There are only two creatures that know the way there and back, your Majesty.” She said remembering Fannar and Sitron.

“Then to the horses, we shall go.” Katharine gave a curt nod to Anna, and walked out to find the noble steeds...

Chapter Text

Kristoff, Elsa, and Olaf reached a clearing, the full force of the heatwave seeming to subside where they stood. The clearing itself was gorgeous, the rocky ground completely flawless, with a few jagged stones rested like a row of broken teeth. The sunrise, fed by the numerous wildfires, glowed a healthy, blazing orange, the clouds and smoke parting like curtains to reveal it. There was no noise, no movement, no darkness. “Wow.” Kristoff stared at the beauty around him. “I never thought this heat could bring something so… beautiful.” He paused as Olaf basked in the sunlight, prancing around like some sort of enchanted pixie.

“Yeah.” Elsa followed his gaze. Despite the fact that she had no future should his plan fail. Sometimes it was easier to forget about it.

A small voice sounded from somewhere. “I agree, totally. But it’s so orange. What if it were green? Or pink? Or maybe black?” The little voice droned on for a moment before speaking again. “No, wait, there’s too much of that already.” It giggled. Kristoff and Elsa turned around, and saw a small speckled creature walking towards them.

It was barely knee high, had coal black irises that glowed in the sunset, twigs for arms, and a dogwood branch with two blossoms in full bloom it the middle length. It was shaped like a snowman, yet oddly not like a normal one. The shape consisted of three speckled balls, the bottom two patted into what reminded Kristoff of chunks of coal, and a head shaped like an upside down pear. A buck tooth protruded from a massive overbite, and the mouth was curved into a playful smile.

But it talked.

“Am I right?” The voice sounded like a ten year old girls as she held her twig arms up to the both of them. Elsa screamed at the sight of it, and closed her eyes as she kicked the head. It flipped before landing right in Kristoff’s arms, who looked shocked at it when it smiled. “Hi!” It said completely chipper as if it hadn’t noticed where its body was. “You’re creepy.” He said and tossed the head back to Elsa, who gulped when she caught it.

“I don’t want it!” She wailed and threw the head back at Kristoff, who tried to reason with her. “It’s just a head!” He said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.  

“Please don’t drop me!” The little snowgirls head pleaded as they continued to throw the head back and forth like a hot potato.

“There’s the body!” Kristoff grimaced and threw the speckled head back at its body, which was wandering with its twig arms held up. The head collided and fell backwards into the dirt, then stood back up. Unfortunately for it, the head had landed upside down on in the body.

“That’s-” The happy face dissolved into one of confusion. “Wait, wait. What am I looking at? Why are you hanging upside down like bats?” She asked shrugged her twigs, the dogwood branch smooshed in between her neck and head.

“Hang on one second.” Kristoff frowned and turned her head back up to the right position. Now at his height, the little sculpture smiled. Holding his hand up, he noticed the little snowgirl left a fine film of white and black ash on his fingers. “Thanks.” She said. “Now, I’m perfect!” She did a little dance. Kristoff chuckled at the little ash sculpture, noticing that she was missing something. A large gap took up her face where a carrot nose should have been.

“Well, almost. One second.” He held up his index finger and looked around for the familiar sprouts, seeing a few grouped on the outskirts of the rock. Elsa nodded, walked over, and tugged the orange vegetables from their dirt tomb, slicing the roots off with her paring knife. Dusting them off on her breeches, she bent down to the ashgirls height and shoved the carrot right into the perfect place where a nose belonged.

But she pushed the carrot a bit too hard, because it went right through the head, and poked the end, leaving a tiny stub coming from her face. “Yay! I’ve always wanted a nose! Look at it!” She cheered and felt the tiny orange point.

“Here, let me fix that.” Kristoff breathed through his teeth and pushed the carrot back to normal length, the point becoming far more prominent.

“Wow! I love it even more!” She exclaimed awe at the giant carrot protruding from her face. “You’re okay?” Elsa smiled apologetically. “Are you kidding? I am wonderful!” The little ashgirl squealed from in between them. “Okay. Let’s start this over.” The sculpture nodded at the three of them, Olaf now staring, mouth agape.

“Hi, I’m Ashley, and I like warm hugs!” She introduced herself with a little bow.

Something inside Kristoff’s mind clicked. He remembered Hans and him once built a snowman out of ash, and pretended to dance with and court it. It was really sad, now that Kristoff had thought about it, but he never remembered having more fun in his entire life! And besides, she was a splitting image of the exact little ‘Ashley’ they had made all those years ago.

“That’s right! Ashley!” He smiled at her stupidly.

“And you are?” Ashley raised her head and twigs. “Oh, right. I’m Kristoff, that’s-” “No, no, let me guess!” She cut him off before he could introduce Elsa.

“You look like a Diana!” She said enthusiastically. Elsa couldn’t help but laugh. “No, I’m Elsa.” She chuckled at the adorable guess at her name.

“And you look like an Olaf!” She waddled over and snuggled close to the reindeer, who graciously accepted the dusty, yet warm hug. He sneezed as Ashley backed away to Kristoff, who cleared his throat. “Ashley, did Hans build you?”

She nodded. “Yeah, why?” As Elsa, whose curiosity got the better of her, took one of the twigs from her arm, and began examining it. “How does this work?” She mumbled when the stick slapped her on the cheek.

“Because we need Hans to bring back the winter.” Kristoff said plainly as Elsa stuck the twig right back where it belonged. Ashley gasped, and clapped her stick hands together with a little squeal. “I love winter! The cold snow, the short days, oh, and those harsh winds!” She explained all the things as if they were presents, each one bigger and better than the last.

“Really?” Kristoff asked in a joking tone. “I’m guessing you don’t have much winter experience do you?” He remembered all the ash this creature left floating in the air.

“Nope! But sometimes I fantasize about what it’ll be like when winter does come.” She sighed romantically at the thought.      

“Homes abuzz, kids will be dressed in fur and fuzz, and I’ll be happy because I know that it’s winter…” She began singing.

“A scarf, round my neck, my ash nice and warm from an all day trek, probably as rosy as I could expect from winter…” Ashley visualized waddling through a soft dusting of snow with a pink scarf around her neck, that was, if she had one.

“I’ll finally see a perfect storm, cover up the blazing sun!” She sung. “And find out what happens to flakes of ash when I have fun!” She giggled at the thought of a cool breeze blowing past her.

Geez, talk about scattering ashes. Kristoff thought and tried to smile at the happy spirit’s complete obliviousness to the dangers of her dream.

“And I can’t wait to see, what my buddies will think of me!” Ashley smiled at the thought of a bunch of ashman just like her. “Just imagine how much hotter I’ll be in winter!” She shuffled in a little broadway dance.

“The cold and the hot are both so intense, put’em together it just makes sense!” She continued her little broadway dance.

“Summer’s a nice time with swimming a must, but put me in winter and I’ll turn to-” Ashley paused as she reached a pile of sand dunes on the beach. “A happy Ashley!” She squealed.

“When life gets rough I always hold on to my dream,” She imagined a cup of hot chocolate in her twig hand. “Just cuddled by a blazing fire letting off steam...” Ashley snuggled in a patched blanket. “And the air, it’ll be cool, and we’ll all be enjoying a yule!” She imagined a snow covered ballroom.

“When I finally see what my life is like in winter!” Ashley sang and opened her eyes to see the warm skies, but her smile remained.

“I’ve got to tell her.” Kristoff said and crossed his arms, but Elsa punched him in the arm. “Don’t you dare!” She whispered harshly.

“In winter!” The ash sculpture finished on a high notes that could’ve shattered glass.

“Now come on! Let’s go bring back the snow!” She giggled as Elsa and Olaf followed the prancing Ashley. Kristoff could only stare ahead. “Someone’s got to tell her.” He said breathlessly, and followed the group out of the clearing…

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“So you’re not at all worried, about the plan I mean.” Elsa walked beside Olaf as Ashley led the way through the blackened forest, charred chunks of wood and solidified ash in sharpened points sticking out like rose thorns.

Kristoff brayed, looking around at the spikey nightmares that were once trees.

“No,” He said. Though that couldn’t be farther from the truth.   

He was terrified that Hans could have caused all this destruction. Yet despite the evidence, Kristoff felt unsure that someone as soft as Hans could create something like this on purpose. The prince, until his isolation, could hardly pick up a fork unless the tines were dulled to the point where it wasn’t even a fork anymore.

But since then, Kristoff had no clue.

“It’s just that, how do you even know he wants to see you? The prince probably left for a reason, you know.” Elsa pointed out as the group walked around a fallen tree, charred black and covered in more spikes that a section of barbed wire.

Kristoff thought for a moment.

“Hans left because he was afraid.” He said plainly. “I think most people who leave for the forest want to be alone.” Elsa clarified.

“Nobody wants to be alone…” He said. “Well, except maybe you.”  Kristoff rolled his eyes at her, and Elsa scoffed. “I’m not alone. I have family!” She said, cheeks turning red.

The iceman remembered what she had mentioned of her family, which was practically nothing. “Okay, okay.” He yielded. “If they're family, tell me about them.” He put both hands on his hips. “Maybe later. After the kingdom is saved, after I start up my business again, and after I fly over the moon.” Elsa smiled sarcastically.

“I knew it.” Kristoff smiled confidently. “Well, I don’t feel comfortable sharing that sort of thing! Geeze, why do you care anyway?” Elsa furrowed her brow.

“Hey guys!” Ashley’s voice sounded from up ahead. “I found a staircase!” Her chipper voice called to them.   

Kristoff, Elsa, and Olaf ran through the forest, following the sound of the ashgirls voice. In an instant, the found themselves in a rocky clearing, a black, glass like staircase leading to a large and beautiful palace that was made of the same material. “Woah.” Both of them said as Olaf’s mouth dropped open in shock.

"Well,” Kristoff gulped as sweat began to pour down his face. “Here goes nothing.” He sighed.  

Chapter Text

Kristoff walked up to the tall doors of the palace, Elsa and Ashley behind him. He had finally gotten here to do what he had set out to do. But even so, he was here. Hans was here. But what was he supposed to say? He didn’t even know how these powers the prince had even worked. How would he end the heatwave if his plan failed?

There was only one way to find out.

He held a fist to the door, a scarlet red glass-like material. It was so beautiful, so flawless, God, what was he doing here?

Kristoff took a breath, and knocked. But this time, instead of silence, the door actually opened. He released the breath in a contented sigh. “It opened.” He smiled. “That’s a first…” He walked into the threshold with Elsa and Ashley starting to follow, but he stopped them. “You’d better stay here, Elsa.” He reasoned putting a broad hand on her pale shoulder. “Why?” She asked like a seven year old who was told she couldn’t enter a candy store.

“Well because you know what happened with my engagement. I don’t think he wants to see another girl near me for a while.” Kristoff recalled how Hans had released a wall of flames in front of him.

“You heard’em Elsa,” Ashley started to waddle through the door, but Kristoff got down to her height. “I need you to stay here too. Just to be safe.” He looked into her pathetic black eyes. “Just give me a minute.” He added and Ashley seemed to perk up just a bit, a small smile appearing.

Kristoff walked through the door, hearing Ashley and even Elsa counting down from sixty like two kids playing hide and seek. As he stepped inside, he was embraced by a warm feeling inside of his heart. In the center of the circular hall, a wide U-shaped staircase wrapped around the walls in front of him, and a fountain of grey vapor smoke sat between the two flights of steps. Above him, there was the light source, the hot sun blazing outside through the glass roof, a chandelier hanging as a decoration in the center of the dome shape.  

His jaw dropped open in shock and awe. This place was more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. After a moment, he looked down down the ceiling at the balcony and saw a familiar face.

But the rest of him? That was a different matter altogether.

The former prince was a far cry from the man he’d known at the coronation. His copper brown hair was messy and dusted with a hint of black ash dusting every few strands or so. The outfit he’d once worn was replaced by a smoky grey vest shielding a scarlet undershirt that bared a long neck that went down mid chest, exposing a triangle of skin that was toasted a slightly more healthy shade than the sickly pale man he’d once seen. A darker shade of red dominated the under seam of his pants, which were rolled at the ankles, leaving blood red bands that sharply contrasted with the black the rest of the pants were. The smoky grey vest connected to a cape that was the same shade and transparency as the obsidian around them swirled around Hans’ back like a sparkling pieces of glass that reflected in the light of the dome.

“Kristoff?” He said looking down at the other man, his brown eyes reflecting in the glowing hall.

“Hans,” Kristoff stared at him and walked up to the banister to observe the outfit at a different angle. “You look great.” He gasped at the transformation. “And this place,” He indicated the black, glassy walls around him. “It’s amazing!”

“Thank you.” The prince nodded as if observing the beauty for the first time. “I never knew what I could truly do with my gift.” He smiled at his craftsmanship, almost wishing his brothers were there simply so he could look down on them. After all, how many of them had been able to build a palace in the course of three minutes, with no previous training or building materials?

“Listen, I’m sorry for what I said, if I had known-” Kristoff took a step up the staircase and Hans’ wall of comfort dissolved like sugar in tea. He took a step back and held his hands in a crossed position. “No,” He shook his head. “You shouldn’t be apologizing. But you should be going.” Hans looked at the billowing fountain and the smile faded from his face to a regal gaze.

“What? But I just got here.” Kristoff took another step up the black glass steps and Hans took another step back. “But you belong back home.” He placed his hands on the railing of the landing.

“So do you!” Kristoff put a hand on his heart.

“No, Kristoff. I belong up here. Where I can be who I am without hurting anyone!” He indicated the palace around him.

“Actually, about that, see-” But Kristoff didn’t get to finish before Ashley’s chipper voice echoed in the tall palace. “It’s been a minute!” She giggled and ran across the shining floor, a small trail of white left in her wake. “What’s that?” Hans looked down at his creation.

“Hi! I’m Ashley and I like warm hugs!” She smiled and ran to Kristoff, who got down on one knee to be at her height.

Hans’ mouth dropped open. He looked at his hands like they were made of solid gold. He could create life? If this was possible, imagine the possibilities! He could make a world of creatures just like her! That would be cool. He thought to himself as Ashley held her hands in front of her, smiling in a shy manner. But one thought came to his mind. How was that even possible? There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but decided against it.              

“Ashley?” Hans questioned similar to the way Kristoff had. “You made me, you know, during your little song?” She looked up at the prince, who continued to stare in bewilderment at her. “And you’re… alive?” He fought to keep from going down there to have a closer look. “Um,” She pressed a twig hand to her ash body. “I think so. I can’t tell. Is this what it’s like?” Ashley started turning in circles, trying to get a look at the rest of her small body until Kristoff stopped her, her little black pupils spinning round in her eyes.

“She’s just like the one we built when we were younger.” Kristoff hugged her soft body, leaving a film of white and black ash on his fingers. Hans smiled. “Yeah.” He held his hands by his heart.

“Hans, we were so close. We can be like that again!” He tried to reason with the prince.

But with that, his comforting smile vanished.

His brown eyes flashed in fear, remembering the early morning sky glowing with the fires from his once small hands. The instant Kristoff was hit with that rogue flame, his life was changed forever. All because he wasn’t careful enough. All because he was stupid enough to reveal his powers.

And now it was happening again.

Hans felt the fires blazing within him, like his bones and organs were made of driftwood. He wanted nothing more than to be with his friend. But it wasn’t an option. He knew it, but Kristoff didn’t, and never could. All the hardships he had faced, he had pushed through for him. How could he trust himself not to hurt Kristoff as he once had?

“No. No, we can’t.” Hans recoiled and backed up to the archway that led to another wing of the palace. “Goodbye Kristoff.” He said and turned to the arch when Kristoff stopped him. “Hans, wait.”

“No!” Hans couldn’t face him, not with so much at stake. “I’m trying to keep you safe!”

What? Kristoff thought. “Safe?” He asked coming up the steps as Hans walked through the arch and started up the stairs, refusing to answer. Kristoff scowled, and followed the prince up the black steps.

Hans reached the top hall landing, tucking his hands on his upper arms, trying to comfort himself as Kristoff followed for an answer. “Hans, I want answers.” The iceman crossed his arms and frowned.

“Answers that I can’t give! You can’t stay, you’re not safe here!” Hans ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep his stress down.

“I’m not safe back home either,” Kristoff knitted his brows together. “What?” Hans finally turned around, this news striking him harder than a hatchet.

“You didn’t notice the fact that there are tropical breezes in the middle of December?!” Kristoff motioned to the steps he had just come up. “No, I haven’t even been outside!” Hans stared at his hands in horror. When would this curse stop taunting him?!

“But,” Kristoff dug into his pocket. “I think we can fix this.” He pulled the charcoal grey glove out.

Hans felt a flashback, remembering the day his mother had came up with the same idea. But those hadn’t worked. Now, here was Kristoff, handing him something that he had abandoned and given up on.

“Where’s the other one?” He asked. “Gone.” Hans said wryly. “I let go, Kristoff. It’s time you did too.” He stared at his friend coldly.

“Why can’t you try it?” Kristoff held the glove out to the prince. “Because it won’t work!” Hans rolled his eyes.

“Just try it!” He thrust the piece of fabric at him, and Hans scowled at his friend. “Fine.” He slipped the glove on, trying not to cringe at the hideous cover over his hand.

After a moment, Hans broke the strange silence. “Did the heatwave stop?” He asked in a sarcastic tone of voice. Then, before Kristoff could admit to the fact that his plan had failed, Hans concentrated the heat in his gloved hand, wanting to prove just how ridiculous the idea was. The charcoal grey glove ignited at the palm, the fabric smouldering in his hand. The entire glove was in seconds, reduced to ashes before Kristoff could stop him. The icemans jaw dropped at Hans’ last vestige of concealment was fluttering away in the warm breeze.

“Please. I know we can work this out.” He looked at Hans with hopeful eyes. Heat began to rise in the room, sweat running down Kristoff’s face. Ashes began to blow around the prince as fear and pain welled up inside him. Everything he tried, all he could do; what good was it all if he couldn’t stop this heatwave?

And now Kristoff wasn’t listening to him.

The heat grew inside of the prince, the fire scorching his soul. “You can do this!” Kristoff shouted over the howling gusts of wind, the smoke and ash swirling faster and faster around them. Those words only added fuel to the fire, keeping the pain and horror alive. "I can't! I can't be free!" Hans said as all the barriers began to break. The heat felt encroaching, the flames licking at his skin, burning through. "You will!" Kristoff tried to move in closer. 

“I CAN'T!!!” He shouted at the ash and smoke disappeared into thin air. Hans felt the flames tear through him, ripping free from his emotions in physical form.

But he wasn’t fine.

Because the one thing he heard was a stifled groan from Kristoff…  

Chapter Text

Hans turned to face Kristoff, who had both hands to his chest like it was being crushed under a large boot. He gripped his chest as an eerily familiar red glow began to run through his veins, the lines flowing through him faster until his entire face was red as a ripe tomato. He squinted, trying to subside the blinding pain.

What had hit him?

It was like nothing he had ever felt before. A hellish warmth encroaching his body, sweat pouring down his face. Then, suddenly, he felt the burn fade, leaving him helpless to the point where he couldn’t stand. He crumpled to the ground, barely able to stick a hand out to break his fall. The basalt floor scraped into his skin as he opened his eyes.

Hans stared at his friend, knowing all too well what had happened. He’d let his emotions get the better of him, and now Kristoff was going to pay the price. He’d struck him with his powers once before, but to cure it required something Hans never wanted to think about. He let out a small gasp and whimper, bringing a hand to his face to cover his mouth.

Elsa and Ashley ran into the room, the former helping Kristoff to his feet and casting a curious look at the prince before Kristoff could shrug her strong grip. “Elsa, I’m fine!” He cast an uncomfortably angry glare at Hans.

A hundred thoughts raced through the prince's mind, but he couldn’t answer any of them.

“Who’s this?” He struggled to speak at the horror of what he had done. But before anyone could answer Hans stopped them. “It doesn’t matter. You need to get out of here!” He backed to one of the walls, trying to keep his fear at bay before he hurt someone else.

Smoke began to pool at the groups ankles, the heat in the room reaching the temperatures of a confectionary oven. The walls and windows seemed to drip and bend, like they were melting. Elsa and Ashley stared up in awe at the transformation going on around them. “Kristoff,” Elsa said with a hint of fear in her voice. “We should go.” She barely finished before the iceman spoke in defiance, apparently oblivious to danger around them.

“No Hans,” He stared right ahead. “I know there’s another way!”

“How?” Hans gritted his teeth. “What power do you have to stop this torment? To stop me?!” He looked close to tears. “The glove failed, what more can you do?” The prince questioned him and started to turn around, unable to bear the sight of Kristoff now that he had harmed him.

Kristoff huffed, wanting to walk over and slap some sense into Hans. “Hans, I’m not going anywhere!” He stood defiantly and crossed his arms.

Anger and fear seethed through the prince. Why couldn’t he just get rid of these three now irritating and uninvited guests?

Wait, Hans thought. He could.

Ashley was a spirit of his happiness and joy. If he could create life, what was stopping him now from creating something everything royal needed? A bodyguard? He focused his powers, trying to picture something that could get rid of Kristoff and his friend without hurting them. What came out was nothing like he expected. “Yes, you are.” Hans breathed angrily.

Ash and smoke whirled around in between Hans and Kristoff, the ash forming a solid body with stocky legs, a broad chest, and arms like tree trunks. It had dark, hollow eyes, and a small frown on its large jaw. The three of them could only stare up in awe at the enormous ash creature, it’s shadow looming over them.

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“Don’t come back!!!” The giant monster roared, lifting Elsa and Kristoff up in its two arms. It threw them both down the stairs that stretched over the abyss, sliding down the flawless black steps to where Olaf waited. They landed next to him, standing up and looking in awe at the colossal creature before them. “Watch out!” Ashley’s tiny voice echoed across the canyon, and in seconds, she flew in three pieces down to earth to be caught in Kristoff’s large arms.

He glared up at the monstrous figure, its eyes hollow and empty. His heart hurt as he felt a considerable amount of rage boiling inside of him. How could Hans hurt Ashley? She was the kindest soul he’d ever met!

Hans wasn’t here, but his bodyguard lackey was.

“It is not nice to throw people!” Kristoff snarled as Elsa brought a palm to her forehead. “Kristoff,” She muttered and put a hand on his shoulder just as the large ash sculpture began to turn around to go back inside. “Just let it go.” She breathed angrily at him, but he wasn’t listening.

“Hey!” He shouted and started to run after it. “I’m talking to you ugly!” Kristoff shook his fist and dropped Ashley on the the ground like a forgotten toy.

Elsa just rolled her eyes at the iceman’s pathetic attempts to insult the giant, but her mouth opened in a scream as the ash monster reared its misshapen head, its eyes suddenly glowing red like a blacksmith’s kilm. It released a low growl and the four of them watched as the monster began to grow at least another five feet, black coal spikes protruding from his ashy complexion and igniting as the roar became louder and louder. Kristoff and Elsa took a cautionary step back, Elsa grabbing Ashley’s twig hand and taking another step back, but found that it detached too easily.

“You guys go, I’ll hold’em off!” Ashley said in a way that was far too chipper for her to be taken seriously. “Uh, Ashley? You’re sure?” Elsa looked down at the puny creation.

But by the time that had happened, Kristoff was pushing Elsa along with Olaf bounding down another path. “Come on, we can talk this out!” Ashley tried to reason with the monster before being kicked like a football far into the forest ahead as Kristoff and Elsa reached a large hill.

They jumped and slid down at as the giant reached to same hill, bounding down it like an olympic athlete. The pair reached the bottom, running through the same charred forest as the monster struggled to follow them, choosing to knock down the burnt trees like matchsticks. Suddenly, the iceman ducked behind one of the trees, giving it a hard shove.

The tree, too weak to resist, toppled over with a loud crash. The ashman didn’t notice, and slipped on the log, flipping onto his back with a loud groan. “I got him!” Kristoff shouted, unable to contain his elation as he caught up to Elsa, who stuck out a hand to stop him before he could tumble over the large cliff in front of them, a few chunks of earth falling into the seemingly endless abyss.

“Woah.” He exclaimed and looked down, barely able to see the bottom. “This isn’t good.” Elsa ruffled through her satchel. “I only have one rope here, and you probably have the best climbing experience.” She shoved the length of rope into his arms, looking down fearfully. “You’re afraid of heights?” Kristoff asked as the seemingly fearless lumberjack shrunk back from the edge.

She gulped, and nodded.

“Well now isn’t the best time. I think I hear the hothead coming!” He tied the rope to his waist, and then Elsa’s, (The latter with a great deal of difficulty) and tying the other end to a rock besides them. “You go first.” Kristoff picked her up and almost threw her over when she clung to him like a cat above a bath.

“Hey,” He looked into her ice blue eyes and pursed his lips. “I need to guide the rope.” Kristoff then handed her the small hatchet. “Throw it back when you reach the bottom. I’m sure you slung an axe before.” He nodded and set her down. “What if it breaks?” She held the length of rope in her hand and gave it a sharp tug.

“I’m not going to let it. You can trust me.” Kristoff said focusing on the forest behind them, which was beginning to tremble from the monsters huge footsteps.    

Elsa closed her eyes, took a breath, and dove off the cliff, her bun coming undone with the braid sailing behind her like the tail of a kite.

Her screams echoed in the cavern, but they stopped suddenly as the rope ran out of length, nearly pulling Kristoff over the edge with her. He felt the rope go slack, causing him to fall forwards into the earth as his heart sunk.

Slack only meant one thing in climbing.

But right as the he looked over the cliff, the small hatchet sailed upwards, embedding itself in the ground right in front of his brown eyes. He released a small smile and jumped from the cliff, grabbing the axe and holding tight to it when a tree suddenly sailed off the cliff past him. He ducked as a loud roar shook the rocks above him and the rope was yanked up from above.

Kristoff found himself staring into the glowing eyes of the monster, a solid frown on its face. “Go away!” It roared at him, covering the man in a thick coating of ash and smoke. “Oh, I will!” He sliced the rope the connected him to the monster, the weight dropping from below him as he fell free from the giant's grip.

He fell down the cliff and braced for a hard landing, but felt nothing as he came to sudden stop. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at Elsa. “You know, you’re way too strong.” He breathed a sigh of relief as Elsa set him down taking the hatchet and smiling smugly before giving it a snazzy twirl and stuffing it back in her satchel.

“Um, not to be hasty,” Ashley’s voice called from somewhere next to them. “But I’m feeling a little lightheaded; literally!” She began to panic. Her head was separated from her body, which was running around wildly with its twig arms thrown out of horror.

“Hang on;” Elsa grabbed her branch hair and pulled her head from the earth, connecting it back to her body in under a minute. “That’s better.” She giggled and tucked her head into her body to be safe.

“Are you okay?” Kristoff walked over and and put a hand to Elsa’s head, to which she brushed some of the ash away from it. “Yeah. You did good Bjorg-” She cut herself off as her mouth dropped open in shock.

Because Kristoff’s blonde hair was turning gray…      

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Hans took deep shaking breaths, trying to keep calm despite what he had done. There was an eternal heatwave over the kingdom. The sea had dried up, fires were burning through the forests, there were probably angry mobs coming to hunt him down like Frankenstein's monster, and he had struck Kristoff with his powers.

Again.

Heat seethed through his mind, the thoughts becoming  a jumbled mess. He shook his head, pacing across the basalt floor of the palace. Hans bit his lip, holding his hands close to his chest, trying to force the fear he felt deep beneath him.

What would happen to him? To Erik, to Ashley, to Kristoff? He thought and took another deep breath, trying to recall just what could help him, if anything. The elderly troll king flashed through his head, his warning still there and safe after years of pain and fear.

“The bond you share, with the people you love, is your only chance at taming the fire.”

He shook his head, wishing he had thought of that before materializing a bodyguard. “You can’t let it control you.” He breathed and held a hand to his forehead, brushing the bangs from the flushed skin. The prince looked into his hands, those horrible hands. Once he’d been proud of what he could do, but now he felt only grimace at the sight of the palace he’d made. It was a symbol of his fear. It was a disgrace.

He was a disgrace.

“Don’t let it show.” He grunted, trying to keep calm as the black walls began to glow a dark scarlet. “You can do it!” He gripped his palms into fists, reaching the other end of the room and turning back.

Hans felt the lump rising in his throat, his stomach lurching inside as the final words of the king entered his mind like a soft whisper, growing louder and more prominent until it was blaring in his ears like a church bell.

“Fear is a powerful enemy. If you lose these bonds,” His mind flashed with the memories of the troll valley, Kristoff limp in Thomas’s arms, his mind being turned a blood red shade because he was struck with his curse. But this time, the body was frozen in it’s state like a statue, the skin flashing a sickly gray. Thomas dropped Kristoff unceremoniously into the ground, a sickening sound coming from the statue as it broke open, white ash spilling onto the rocks. “They will destroy us all…” The old voice echoed inside of him as he tried to shake the horrible realization.

They were all going to be dead, scorched and burned to ash unless something stopped him. But that something had to be himself. He had to control it.

Hans released a breath and shook his hands in fear. “Don’t feel. Don’t feel.” He shook his head as tears brimmed on his eyelids. “Don’t feel,” He threw his hands down in anger, the obsidian glass cracked in the burst of near volcanic heat. The sound of splintering rocks filled the tall room as the rocks grew more threatening and pointed in his direction. “Don’t feel!” He broke his silent mantra and stared up at the walls in horror at they glowed red once again, the spikes growing closer and closer as the black glass splintered in webs of cracks all around nim.

The prince gasped, remembering how dangerous he was, the duchesses shrill cries booming through him. “Monster! Monster!” She shrieked.

That was what he was. There was no denying it. He was a monster.

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong?” Kristoff asked at Elsa’s shock. Elsa blinked out of her trance, and pursed her lips. “Nothing.” She said in a tone that suggested something was very wrong.

“You hesitated.” Ashley’s little voice popped between them.

“I did not! It’s just that-” Elsa stopped at Kristoff’s face, the blonde looking at her, desperate for some kind of conformation. “Kristoff, I’m not quite sure how to say this, so I’m going to whisper it to Ashley so she can get it out into the open.” She took a laboured breath, and leaned down to Ashley, whispering something in her ear. The ashgirls eyes opened wide.

“Your hair’s grey?!” Ashley shrieked and pointed at Kristoff in fear. In truth, it was dark out, and the little ashgirl had no way of telling the difference at such a late time of night. Kristoff brought a hand to his locks of blonde hair, running his fingers through it. The one gray streak in his bangs had become far more prominent, and had spread. “What?!” He shouted in shock and looked around desperately for a mirror to see if it was true.

“Here.” Elsa handed him her hatchet, the blade still a silver chrome as it was when she had purchased it. Kristoff grabbed it and stared at his reflection. What was happening to him?

“We need to get you to my family.” Elsa said after a moment of horrific silence. Kristoff handed her the hatchet, and started sweating. “The love experts?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Elsa started walking. “Yeah, that. They’ll be able to fix this.” She nodded with Kristoff, Olaf, and Ashley following behind.

Elsa looked ahead in fear as she followed a well worn path to the trolls home, knowing the route practically by heart. She had seen them perform healing magic hundreds of times before, Bulda and Cliff educating her in the ways of magic the trolls possessed. It was interesting to watch Grand Pabbie easing an arrow or dagger from a person like a child pulling a silver dollar from the sand, watching a number of colored hazes appearing in their rocky hands as they healed great wounds in ten seconds flat. But one she had yet to actually witness was something of this magnitude. And although Bulda had told her about it like an old legend, it sounded perfectly feasible based on what she knew the trolls could do. Flipping her braid over her shoulder, they walked on into the night.

Elsa, as she had matured, still saw the trolls at least every week, if not every five days. Bulda had been correct. She was without a guardian, and she was definitely right in the fact that they would do as parents. The two trolls cared for her far better than she had expected, giving her clothes, food, and all the love she or Olaf could ask for. Bulda had soothed every fever, Cliff had taught her how and where to find the best herbs and mushrooms for remedies that required nature's hand. The four of them lived very happily, advice being given when needed. By the time she was twelve, they were giving her ways to beat puberty and the inevitable changes that came with growing up. At thirteen, they assured her she would find love in an unexpected form, and by age fifteen, they gave her a cart they had received as payment for healing a wealthy nobleman.

After her first failed relationship, Elsa came back to her adoptive parents to reveal just what had happened to her. She had met a huntsman for a neighboring kingdom named Pedar. The man was tall, had a short mane of dark brown hair the same shade as her own, striking green eyes that matched the shade of the conifer trees. He had a kind heart, goodwill, everything she could’ve asked for in a man. After courting for seven months, he agreed to take her on one of his hunting expeditions. The trip had started out well enough, Elsa setting traps and Pedar putting his bow and arrows to good use. But everything went to pieces after Olaf escaped and ran into the forest, Elsa unable to follow.

It took two hours of wandering before they found him sleeping with a female reindeer, and because Elsa was behind him, the hunter saw the pair as simply another kill. Elsa only just managed to shove him out of the way, sending the arrow high into a neighboring tree. It did alert the sleeping pair, who popped one eye open before the female fled and Olaf glowered at Elsa and Pedar. She ended the relationship after five minutes of fighting.

Of course, she didn’t think much fighting was needed. He had wanted to shoot the one thing that had mattered most to her.

One of the few things Olaf never expressed was if he had any illegitimate calves he didn’t want to talk about. Elsa understood that, and refrained from bringing up the ordeal around him. Still, the idea interested her.

Now, the odd group walked through the forest to the familiar clearing that held the trolls, the stars shining clear on the beautiful night, with ominous dark clouds barely forming on the horizon. Ashley laid on top of Olafs soft back, keeping warm and staring up at the beautiful constellations. “Look Olaf,” She pointed at one bright star and stretched her twig arms. “The sky’s awake!” She yawned.

Kristoff and Elsa trekked ahead. “Okay, we’re almost there.” She said casting a quick glance at her companion, who looked like he had a faint red glow. “What’s wrong?” She asked placing a hand on his cheek. “What do you think?” Kristoff asked as Elsa tugged away, blowing on her hand like she had just touched a burning iron skillet. “Ouch.” She exclaimed and looked at the tall man curiously. The lumberjack considered her options.

“Hang on,” She took the satchel and opened it up, taking out her paring knife and stuck her other hand out to stop him. “Hold still.” She muttered and got down on her knees, cutting the long breeches to knee-length. Kristoff breathed a comfortable sigh as the fabric fell to his ankles before kicking the two tubes of black fabric away. “There we go.” Elsa dusted her hands on her own pants, perfectly content at the length they were at.

“Also,” She took Kristoff’s shirt and sliced the length of the v-neck down to his chiseled abs, practically rendering the fabric a jacket. “You know,” Kristoff held his arms up. “If you wanted me shirtless you just had to ask.”

Elsa stared up at Kristoff from her bent back position. She shivered in the hot air. “Ugh. No thanks.” She rolled her eyes and walked ahead as Kristoff stared at her with his brown eyes.

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“Okay, so, about my family…” Elsa started after a long awkward silence.

“When I was a little girl, I had seen them all over the forest. It was just me and Olaf, and then… I found one one day when I was chopping down a tree,” She looked at the ground sadly. “And I followed it when it ran off.” She began looking around at the tall rocks around them. “When me and Olaf got there, they just appeared, and took us in.” She smiled at the memory.

“Really?” Kristoff asked. “Yeah. They were the best family a girl could ask for.” She chuckled lightly. “Of course, they’re a bit overbearing, loud,” She trailed off. “And really heavy, I mean like really heavy and-”

“Elsa, they sound fine.” Kristoff stopped her babbling with a large hand.

“Well, it’s just that they’re not, well… average.” She shrugged her shoulders. “What family is?” Kristoff snorted. “Good point.” Elsa frowned.

“Here we are!” The four of them reached a clearing, Ashley now choosing to walk on her own. In front of Kristoff was a vaguely familiar place. Tall rocks sat around the edge of a large amphitheater that looked like remnants of some lost society. Moss and tree roots encroached the stony ground with hundreds of moss covered rocks that laid scattered around it, some big, others small, all looking nearly exactly alike. “Meet my family!” Elsa laughed and walked into the canyon, Olaf bounding around and sniffing the rocks like a puppy.

“Hey guys! Long time, huh?” She smiled and waved like some celebrity.

Ashley and Kristoff stared at the pair. “Um, Elsa?” He looked at the giddy brunette with an unfortunate look on his face. “She’s crazy!” Ashley let out a stage whisper to the mountain man.

In that moment, Kristoff wondered if Elsa’s isolation left her to talk to rocks. She did talk to a reindeer…

“You know, this has been fun, but I’m gonna go…” Kristoff flashed a hopeful smile when Elsa broke her stride. “No, Kristoff, wait-” But before she could finish, a low rumble came from the area. The hundreds of rocks rolled and tumbled towards the center, forming a perfect circle all around Elsa and Olaf. The trees and smaller pebbles vibrated as the stones came to a stop, Elsa indicating the whole ordeal like a magic act.

The hundreds of mossy rocks opened like pill bugs to reveal stubby legs and arms, bulbous noses, large eyes, toothy grins, and tufts of green grass growing from their heads. They all wore woven grass outfits, many with flowers and lengths of crystal hanging from their necks. One of the women shouted: “Elsa’s home!” And another one of them rolled right to Elsa and pulled her down to the ground, picking bits of grass and ash from her hair, fussing and muttering.

“Baby, you’re hair! Hang on, let me undo this-” Her rocky fingers reached for her braid and tried to undo it when Elsa chortled and held up her hands in defence. “Mom, stop! I’m not a baby anymore!” She tried to stop her mother but just started laughing.

“Nonsense. In fact, this outfit is filthy! Here, take off your clothes, I’ll wash them.” But here Elsa stopped her. “No, no, I’m gonna keep my clothes on.” She brushed the motherly troll off. “Listen, I appreciate the welcome back, but I need to see Grand Pabbie.” She looked around for what sounded like an elderly troll. Ashley ran up to the group, giggling and forgetting her initial shock. “Hi Elsa’s family!” She said to one of the smaller rock children and it stared at her blankly.

“He’s napping.” One of the younger ones said, apparently eager for attention from the lumberjack. “But look! I grew a mushroom!” It turned it’s back and pointed to a small whitecap growing from its mossy back.

“I earned my ice crystal!” One of the other ones said, confidently holding up a glowing blue crystal the size of a pinkie finger.                                       

“I passed a kidney stone.” An older troll held up a yellow, round, kidney shaped stone.

“Catch me Elsa!” Another jumped into Elsa’s arms, and she caught it with ease. “You’re getting big!” She pretended to grunt.

“Trolls.” Kristoff breathed. “Trolls!” He smiled, realizing what they were as his memory returned to him. Suddenly, every pair of eyes turned to him, mouths a gape. They blinked twice in unison, Elsa rolling her eyes and smirked at him.

“She’s brought a man!” The motherly troll shouted out to the crowd. The next thing he knew, Kristoff was being picked up and rolled over to the opening where Elsa and Olaf stood. “This is that huntsman you were telling us about, isn’t he?” The female winked at her adopted daughter. “What was his name, dear?” A male troll appeared next to the mother. “Pedar, but-”

“He’ll do nicely for our little girl, eh, Cliff?” The mother nudged her husband. “That he will, Bulda.” Cliff nodded. “Let’s have a look.” Bulda grabbed Kristoff’s head and tugged him down to her height. “Bright eyes!” She looked into his brown eyes. “A nice nose,” Cliff pulled the large nose up a bit to view up the iceman's nostrils. “And strong teeth!” The female opened his jaw and viewed the white teeth like a horse.

They both let him go and began blabbering away about a wedding to plan like Kristoff had done with Hans, only now realizing just how irritating it was. “Elsa, what’s going on here?” He looked over at his companion, who was now being pulled down by a group a female trolls. “I’ve learned to just roll with it.” She managed to say before she was drowned out by the group of females congratulating her on the non existent wedding to a man she’d dumped.

They both managed to pull away from the group and Elsa spoke up. “Alright, that’s enough. Mom, we need to see Grand Pabbie. There’s a serious problem going on here!” Kristoff began to speak. “Yeah, I’m not-” But Bulda just hushed her daughter and Kristoff and added her own input.

“I’ll say. Tell me dear, what’s keeping you from such a girl?” She was now on top of a few trolls in a balancing act, and at both their heights. “Is it the bouncy way she walks?” She sang to Kristoff.

“Or the spitty way she talks?” Cliff piped up from below Bulda.

“Or the paleness that goes red as a ripe beet?” One of the females pointed at Elsa’s face, which was quickly following that last line perfectly. “Amber!” Elsa said in a way that sounded like she wanted to kick the troll far, far away.  

Three more appeared from the crowd in a totem pole-like fashion and the top one sang: “And though we know she washes well, you can’t get past the reindeer smell!” He pretended to faint after sniffing Elsa’s arm.

“But you’ll never meet a gal that is so sensitive and sweet!” The two parent trolls got up on their own piles and held Elsa’s mouth in a smile. “That’s nice, but-” They didn’t let him finish before starting another chorus.

Bulda and Cliff dropped Elsa, then went into rock form right where she put her feet. This sent her into a chaotic balancing act as the rocks rolled beneath her. But her stumbling grunts and cries could barely be heard above the chorus of voices. “So she’s a bit of a fixer upper,” Elsa finally lost her balance, sending her careening into the arms of three other trolls like a stage dive. “So she’s got a few flaws!” The chorus continued as Elsa dropped the little troll, unable to hold on to it at the same time.

“Like her strange little mind dear,” One of the females grabbed onto Olaf’s left antler in a playful manner. “Her thing for the reindeer,” A male jumped up to grab the right one. “It’s a little outside of nature's laws!” They sung together. “This isn’t about me!” Elsa intervened.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. “So she’s a bit of a fixer upper, but this we’re certain of!” Bulda propped her daughter up like a log and pushed her right back to where she had been standing. “You can fix this fixer upper with a little bit of love!” The group sang.

“Look, you’ve got the wrong-” Kristoff tried to say but Elsa stopped him. “Mom, we have a real problem here!” She tried to reason with the stone faced matchmakers. “Yes, we do!” Bulda joked.

“So tell me honey, Is it the way that she runs scared?” She gave her a push and Elsa uttered a scream before landing in the arms of another pole of trolls with Cliff atop it. He caught her and covered her ears. “Or that she’s ‘socially impaired’?” He left air quotes.

A tiny troll hopped into her arms. “Or that she only wants to bathe inside the woods?” It sang and Elsa flushed white. “Rocky!” She hissed and dropped the little rock troll as Kristoff looked creeped out. “I didn’t need to know that.” He stared awkwardly.

“Are you holding back your blondeness due to her unwavering fondness?” Cliff gave Kristoff a noogie on his blonde locks as Elsa rolled her eyes and groaned before being thrown back into a pile of fourteen females shaped in a heart formation. “Or the way she covers up that she’s the honest goods?” They threw Elsa up so she landed next of Olaf before folding back into rocks.

"So she’s a bit of a fixer upper,” Another chorus started. “she’s got a couple of bugs!” Elsa started scratching her brunette hair like she was combing for ticks, but stopped after hearing this. “No I don’t!” She protested as four columns of trolls came onto her.

“Her isolation is confirmation of her desperation for human hugs!” They sang and wrapped around her to hug her, and Kristoff smiled sweetly at her. “So she’’s a bit of a fixer upper, but we know what to do!” Eight of them lassoed vines around Kristoff and Elsa, the latter struggling greatly to avoid the embarrassment of the fact that they were marrying her to what they thought was an ex boyfriend. “The only fixer for this fixer upper is to fix her up with you!” The trolls unspun the vines, sending the two of them twirling around in opposite directions.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Elsa shouted. “He’s not only engaged to someone else, but he’s-” The trolls blinked and formed a huddle, to which she groaned.

“So he’s a bit of a fixer upper,” One of of them whispered. “That’s a minor thing.” One of the others nodded. “This said engagement is a ‘flex arrangement’,” The third one abbreviated the term ‘flex arrangement.’ “And by the way,” One of the child trolls piped up from on top of her father. “I don’t see no ring!” She held up her ring finger.

They broke the tiny huddle. “So he’s a bit of a fixer upper, his brain’s a bit betwixt,” The crowd of male trolls sang and began piling up like a tsunami, grass capes and flowers in their hands as Elsa tried to back away, but was swallowed and dressed by the crowd of trolls. “Get the fiance out of the way, and the whole thing will be fixed!” They finished the verse as Elsa emerged in a grassy cape embroidered with bluebells and a tall grass crown, and groaned at the fact that they had ignored every word she’d just managed to say, burying her head in her hands.

Kristoff on the other hand, was being dressed by the females with Bulda helping him through it. “We’re not saying we can change her, ‘cause people can’t truly change.” She looked into his deep brown eyes as he wondered just how many times Elsa had gone through this. “We’re only saying that love’s a force, that’s powerful and strange!” A grassy cape was locked around his shoulders, sweat dripping down his face.

“People make bad choices when they’re lost or scared or stressed,” Kristoff’s mind flashed back to the coronation ball. Was that really what pushed Hans over the edge?

“But throw a little love their way,” Bulda cast a pink glow over them as twenty flowers flew through the air as Kristoff looked up in awe at the magic materializing in front of him. The other females joined in with her. “And you’ll bring out their best,” The columns of rock trolls turned him around and he felt a crown of sticks being lowered onto his head. He caught a full view of Elsa and his jaw dropped open.

Whoever this ‘Pedar’ was, he was sure a lucky man.

In the light of the full moon, Elsa’s pale skin shined. Her braid undone, wavy lengths of chocolate brown hair fell to her shoulders, snow drops hanging off a few strands. A green grass cape woven with waves of dark bluegrass embroidered on the edges and collar with bluebell flowers was draped around her thin shoulders. And on top of her head, there rested a crown of tall reds with matching blue flowers positioned on the band. She was, to say the least, breathtaking.

“Everyone’s a bit of a fixer upper,” Elsa’s thin mouth opened in a ‘Woah’ motion. “That’s what it’s all about!” The entire clan sang, Ashley dancing around with the child trolls. “Sister,” A little troll hopped on top of her older brother. “Brother!” He sang with her. “We need each other to fix up and round us out!” They sang together.

“Everyone’s a bit of a fixer upper, but when push comes to shove,” The trolls sang when Ashley interjected. “The only fixer upper fixer that can fix a fixer upper is:”

“True,” The trolls began digging a large hole, and decorating it with a wavy arch sculpted from rocks, and throwing Kristoff and Elsa into it so that they were at eye level for the crowd or irritating relatives. An older male trolls appeared right at the lip of the hole with a book in hand.

“Do you, Pedar, take Elsa to be your trollfully wedded-” He started the wedding vows.

“Me?” Kristoff interjected. “You’re getting married.” The troll said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Love!” The trolls finished the song right as a burning pain entered Kristoff’s chest and he couldn’t stand, falling back into Elsa’s arms with the crown and cape falling off the both of them.

Because the fire was spreading inside of him…

Chapter Text

King Erik led the troop of twelve guards up the sudden steepness of the ground, sweat pouring down their flushed faces. It was princess Anna and Katharine who had suggested interrogating the horses to find out which island Kristoff and Anna had once disappeared on. Although unconventional, the method was simple. At the temptation of a buffet of vegetables and fruit, Fannar and Citron led the troop to find Kristoff, although the former didn’t need much motivation.

Now, they were riding through the black forest, spikes protruding from every dark trunk like thorns on the stem of a thistle plant. It was rather unsettling to the new king, the thought that his brother could have caused something this frightening. Hans, the picture of compliance, the same child that was once weaker than a feather in the grip of two grinding stones, doing something so reckless. The thought made him shiver in the blazing heat.

The guards reached the abyss that held the branching staircase, dismounting their horses and staring up in awe at the black colossal palace in front of them. Erik himself was impressed, part of him wondering if Hans practiced doing this in the days he spent in his room. If mother were there, he thought, she would be impressed.

He cleared his throat and called the guards foreword. “Be on guard, men. No harm whatsoever is to come to the prince, or Kristoff, should he be here.” He eyed the two Weselton guards with an heir of suspicion. They stared ahead darkly at the palace, as if their cold glares could make it freeze solid. “Do you understand?” He asked the Weselton guards. They didn’t respond as the other guards uttered compliance. He dismounted Fannar, running a hand through his dark brown hair and braying softly beside the horse. He was about to start up the flawless steps when a pile of ashy-looking rocks shifted.

Yep, Erik thought as it rose up to reveal it’s true height. Hans was still angry.

The tall monster was bulky, had soulless, black eyes, coal spikes protruding from the creature's back and arms, the tips igniting in fire like torches. It released a low, rumbling growl, staring down at Erik, breathing a thick gray smoke through it’s mouth. It made a swipe at the king with claws that were sharper than his sword, he and Fannar just managed to dive back into the baked earth, the dry grass crunching beneath his weight as the guards began a fruitless assault on the ash monster.

The bolts and harpoons thrown at the large creature embedded in its muscular arm, but he looked unphased, flinging the sharp objects from his arm and into the abyss behind them. It roared in anger, eyes glowing a scarlet red. It then threw the same arm at the two Weselton guards, knocking them back into a large chunk of basalt, dirt and ash crumbling on top of them.

But from their crouched position, they saw a small figure at the tall doors of the palace. He had a stocky build, and was decked in black and scarlet. “The prince!” One of the men grunted and collected his crossbow, the other quickly following and getting around the massive monster, who was busy fighting the other guards.

The monster violently swatted at the royal guards like flies, knocking Erik to the ground and out of the monsters view. Through the gap in the monster's legs, he saw the two Weselton guards running up the staircase, crossbows in hand. Not trusting them in the slightest, he was barely able to make out the silhouette of Hans closing the door to the palace. Hopefully, he knew danger when he saw it.

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Hans saw Pepper defending the grounds outside his palace, his brother leading them. His brother was there, but something told him Erik wasn’t there to hand him a holiday gift basket. He had been worried an angry mob would come after him, but this time it was being led by family and deadly crossbows. He shut the door, breathing heavily as the two guards ran up the long staircase. The prince bit his lip, trying to think of a solution that wouldn’t involve his head being stuck on one of those harpoons and paraded through the Southern Isles like a disgusting trophy.  

At the moment, he didn’t have many options. He hadn’t thought of food, and was somewhat weak after creating Pepper. Creating another bodyguard was impossible at the moment. Maybe after he found something, there would be time for that. The guards now appearing through the thin obsidian doors as they reached the last steps, he realized what he had to do.

Run.

His shoes clicked on the rocky floor, his desire to flee outweighing his desire to fight. In his haste to escape from the two guards, he hadn’t thought to blast said doors with a basalt barrier to keep them out. He ran up the same u-shaped steps Kristoff had once climbed, his black cape swirling behind him as he scaled the second set of stairs. He was halfway up that set when the Weselton guards broke through the door, looking around the splendor of the palace with crossbows bared. Hans reached the top as the voice of one of them shouted: “Up there!”

The prince tore through the opening of the top hall, the rocky spikes having meshed back to the pure, black they had once been. He stopped in the middle of the room, quickly realizing the only ways out were either back the way he came, or off the balcony and into the abyss. Not wanting to try either theory, he heard the two guards coming through the archway. “We got ‘em!” The gruff one smiled wickedly and the two of them readied their crossbows.

Hans turned around, quickly wishing he had thought of building another wing he could escape to, but being far too exhausted to do so. How stupid was he to have thought he could have survived on sheer willpower alone?!

He held up his hands in fear, looking at the two guards like he was going to burst into tears. The two men laughed at him. “No,” He nearly begged, knowing the consequences to shrugging his title. “Please,” Hans breathed and took another step back. But the guards didn’t seem to be in a listening mood, and the gruff one fired the crossbow.

The bolt whizzed through the air, Hans drew his hands to his head and prepared for the worst, imagining the sharp, metal object tearing through his head like it would through a melon. But the worst didn’t come.

Instead he heard a cracking sound, like the bolt had hit a target. When he opened his eyes, they met the crossbow, suspended by a thick sheet of obsidian that still glowed orange, only a mere inch from his forehead, the tip dulled and dripping from the heat it had passed through. He gasped at the sight of it, turning to the guards angry curses as they tried a different angle, tossing the bolts to one another and preparing to fire.

Something inside of Hans clicked. He didn’t have to hurt the guards no matter how much he wanted to, not as long as he could trap them.

“Stay away!” He cried and shot a blast of fire at the pair, who dove out of the way, but didn’t drop their crossbows. The guards split up, each taking one side, the gruff one yelling wildly: “Fire, fire!” Whether or not this was a reaction or an order, Hans hoped he didn’t have to find out.

They had yet to shoot. This gave him an advantage. His mind drifted back to the days when he would sit in the castle on rainy days with Kristoff at his side, in the study, playing draughts. “Your move.” Kristoff said confidently at his unknowingly horrible move. Hans quickly picked up his piece and did a triple jump to the other end of the board, flipping his piece over to become a king. He didn’t see the difference now, because as long as he could remain ahead, they couldn’t beat him.

Hans held his hands out and sent a whirling blast of flames at the bigger guard, his bread singed by the blast. The prince sent blast after blast at the guards, trying to make them drop the lethal weapons or detain them into surrendering.

But each one missed or fizzled out too early.  

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King Erik brushed the ash from his hair, and looked up just as the enormous foot of the monster was coming down to stomp the life out of him like a cockroach. He rolled out of the way, removing his sword from its scabbard and baring it at the creature. It released a horrible roar and slammed a sharp fist into the ground where he stood.

He ducked out of the way and swung his sword hard at the monsters right leg, severing it from the body. The monster struggled to keep balanced as Erik ran after the two Weselton guards, knowing they had anything but good intentions. The creature released a mighty roar, flinging its arms wildly to do as much damage as possible, its one goal to protect Hans in any way he could. But it began to topple backwards into the abyss behind it, eying the king as he dashed up the steps. It’s hollow eyes flashed red and it swung the spiked arm right at Erik, smashing the delicate and flawless steps he ran on.

The horrible coal claws tore through his dark blue jacket, leaving dusty black outlines around the marks. It was trying to take him down with him, but Erik slashed his sword, slicing the fingers free like a hot butter knife. Regardless, he was still knocked off his feet, and left hanging onto the black glass railing with one hand, his sword and the monster sailing down into the bottomless pit and disappearing into the fog below.

The king threw one hand up to meet the hand of one of his guards, who pulled him up with some difficulty through the new opening in the shattered staircase, which though damaged and cracked, remained strong enough to hold the guards and Erik. “Come on, men!” He shouted as they charged up the glass steps, their boots clicking against it in a rhythmic way.

The doors were already open, cracks webbing up the clear obsidian as heat radiated from inside. Erik knew exactly what that meant. Hans was in trouble.

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Hans held both arms out, knowing he could fend the guards off if he truly gave it his best shot. He knew that if one wrong move was made, he would be dead in an instant, and Erik would probably commission a victory portrait to celebrate the end of his problematic brother.

But Hans knew he couldn’t let that happen.

The two Weselton guards flanked him on both sides, crossbows ready to pierce his skin. He looked back and forth, the rage beginning to build inside of him, boiling over the limits he’d set. If these goons wanted a fight, then a fight they would get.

Beads of sweat forming down the prince's face as fear turned to anger, glaring hard at the second, less muscular guard, he saw him focus the crossbow. He released a blast of glowing lava that the man, the lava swishing across the floor like a churning sea and flying up in burning spikes the cooled and hardening, lifting the guard off his feet and holding his body to the wall, the crossbow out of range. A sharp spike protruded from the glass shards, thick enough to pierce skin, stopping less than an inch from his neck.

Hans, both hands still aloft, saw the other guard readying his bow out of the corner of his eye. The prince sent a focused blast of flames right at the bow, setting the mostly wooden implement ablaze and throwing it from the man’s grip. The gruff guard began to run but Hans gritted his teeth and focused all his rage on the man that nearly ended his life, and with a lift of his hand, a wave of magma flew right to where the guard was going to set his feet. He felt his power rejuvenate from the adrenaline, giving him all the strength he needed to make this man hurt like he did. The prince glared ahead and sent a blast of cooling obsidian in the other direction the guard had started down.

Before he could make another move, Hans stood tall, pushing his anger out in a wall of magma. The glowing orange material hardening into sharp spikes with a flat front, pushing the Weselton guard towards the balcony. The large man struggled under the force, trying to break the glass like wall, but with no success. But every time he pushed, Hans pushed harder, arching his back until the wall pushed against the doors to the balcony. As the guard struggled, the doors began to crack, the splintering volcanic glass bending until the doors broke from their hinges.

The prince continued to push as the doors fell free of the arch, giving him a full view of the world outside, as well as a clear chance to hear the guard scream when he would be pushed into the abyss. The guard in question fell forward, barely catching himself as the doors broke the railing that separated him from the bottomless crevice. He counted the feet he had left before dying.

The number was rapidly shrinking.  

Hans scowled deeply, the emotion leaving his eyes as he pushed every other thought down to where they couldn’t reach. He squished his conscience like Jiminy Cricket, grinding it deep to an ashy dust. Reason didn’t matter now that he given them a fair warning.

“Hans!” A familiar voice sounded from behind him. It was authoritative, yet yielding and reasonable. Only one person he knew spoke to him like that.

But it didn’t matter. Hans said to himself. These guards tried to murder me, a man with control over a force they should be cowering at. What’s stopping me from making them nothing but a pile of cinders when they deserve so much worse? Hans thought when something Erik said dug deeper into his skin than one of the guards bolts.

“Don’t become the monster I know you’re above!” Erik held the guards back from the near homicidal prince.

Hans felt something inside of him break. He didn’t know what it was, but it bothered him to no end, tearing into his soul like a cold, black demon. The prince stopped, the blasts of obsidian slowing until they stopped, and only inches away from pushing someone into a bottomless abyss.

The prince gulped, his eyes wide with fear. He stared at his brother, the look of disappointment matching his mothers. The guards stared in horror, most with open mouths. Many of them had known the prince well. Everything was completely still, and Erik noticed the one thing that wasn’t.                                                

The detained Weselton guard that was pinned to the wall was regaining strength, lifting the crossbow to aim at its evading target. Hans drew his hands close to his body, fear washing over him, completely oblivious to the new attempt on his life. Erik’s gaze turned to the rogue guard as his finger moved to the trigger. The king saw the bolt was aimed squarely at his brothers heart.

One movement of his hand would kill him.

Erik sprinted to the guard, grabbing his arm and flinging it from it’s target. But that didn’t stop the bow from firing. The bolt flew high into the air and sliced right through the tiny crystal that held the great chandelier in place. The palace was so silent, you could hear the breaking of the glass from anywhere in the room. The small sound got Hans’ attention, and he looked up and gasped at the large light fixture that was rapidly getting bigger.

He suddenly felt a pair of hands on his back, pushing him away from the ginormous glass weapon. Hans felt the hands disconnect from him with a sickening crunching noise. It was then drowned out by the sound of one million wine glasses breaking at once that signified the chandelier smashing into the ground, the fractals of glass embedding inside Hans backside as he started to run from it. The horror mounted as he tripped over his own cape, landing hard on the basalt ground.

As his vision began to disappear he saw only one person missing from the event. All the guards stared in awe at the chandelier and Hans, and the prince knew who had saved him.

Many of the men began to remove their tall hats. Two of them began to cry, and the head guard broke the horrible silence right as Hans felt the world drop out from under him.

“The King is dead.” His voice echoed inside of the prince as the world went black...

Chapter Text

The cheers of Elsa’s family hushed into worried whispers and grunts as Kristoff felt his feet give from under him, his bare knees scraping against the mossy cobblestones. His mind felt fuzzy and confused, small voices calling out to him like he was in a deep pool of water, the words of those he knew muddled and lost. Elsa, her voice calling out for help as Kristoff felt the hellish warmth embrace his body, the skin on his face blushing a scarlet red as the sound of a rolling rock came up to them.

He cracked his eyes open as the heat began to dissipate. He absentmindedly brought a hand to his head, pushing the damp grey fringe from his brow. The sounds of gibberish became words. A rocky face looked down at him, and from the way Elsa was speaking, he guessed this was the Grand Pabbie she had needed to see.

“Kristoff?” The elderly troll expressed his shock. Confused sounds traveled through the tribe of trolls.

“You two know each other?” Elsa asked as Kristoff managed to kneel to the troll kings height. “He was very young, Elsa. It seems this heatwave has more to do with the youngest prince than I once assumed.” He held a rocky hand to Kristoff’s head, extracting the memories in a burgundy haze.

His eyes opened wide as he expanded the vision. It showed a broad view of the black palace, Hans in the center of a swirling ash column, and Kristoff trying to get through it. “Hmm,” The troll grumbled. He observed the blasts of pure heat energy escape from Hans, one of them striking Kristoff directly in the chest. As this happened, a drop of scarlet appeared right from the chest of the prince, but it didn’t stop. The color grew like a wildfire until it encased the memory in a sickening shade of red. The king’s eyes opened wide and he waved his hands over the picture. But when he did, nothing changed; except Kristoff.

The blonde let out a sharp cry, bringing both hands to his head and grinding his teeth in pain. “Kristoff,” Grand Pabbie continued to hold the memory aloft. “The prince has struck you with his powers. This in turn has changed your memories.” He looked into Kristoff’s eyes and waved the memory back into Kristoff’s head, with a groan from the mountain man as he fought to quell the horrific pain.

“Grand Pabbie, can’t you just change them, like before?” Elsa pleaded as Kristoff’s hair phased from mostly blonde to near complete gray. The elderly troll shook his head. “I can’t. There is no way I can alter a force this powerful.” He huffed a sigh.

“Well what can we do?” Kristoff grunted from the pain.

Grand Pabbie looked darkly at the two of them. “Hans’ powers are far too strong for me to change. He has released a part of himself into your heart; however, it is the darkest part. His anger and fear have been placed inside of you, as well as the effects of his powers.” The troll placed a hand of the iceman’s chest, and pulled an image from inside of him.

The view was of a heart, beating and strong. But a spot of black was barely visible in the center of the heart, and it was growing. “People of normal birth, without powers; their bodies are not versed to handle the power such as Hans possesses. If it is not quelled, you will not be as fortunate as before, to turn to solid ash. Only an act of true love can fan the flames of anger.”  

“A true loves kiss, perhaps?” Bulda suggested and pulled Ciff to her for a kiss as if to prove her point. “However,” The elder said as one of the small trolls walked up to him and handed him a necklace of glowing blue crystals. “This will slow it down.” He placed the strand of ice crystals around Kristoffs neck, and instantly, the blonde felt cooler.  

Kristoff could think of only one person at the moment that was his true love, and Elsa was thinking the same idea. “Anna.” Elsa looked up at the starry sky, which was quickly being covered with a thick shield of smoke. “We’ve got to get you to Anna.” She breathed and helped Kristoff up, throwing his broad arm over her pale shoulder. The hundreds of trolls cleared a path for them, Ashley waving goodbye to all the trolls.

“A wise choice, my son. Your true love awaits you in the palace.” Grand Pabbie called as Elsa mounted Olaf with Kristoff taking the back side with Ashley. “Let’s go kiss Anna!” She shouted valiantly and thought for a moment for calling out in the distance: “Who is this Anna?”

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Hans awoke with a burning headache, a thin blanket placed over him. The pillow under his head felt like it was stuffed with hardened wool and smelled of smoke, the hard wooden bench he laid upon creaking softly in the deathly silence of the cell. The prince sat up, the blanket sliding off and into the floor.

He felt a strange, cold material around his hands. Looking down, the metal outside clinking to the intricate locking mechanism inside. They completely encased his hands up to the wrist, and had such detail melded into them Hans was vaguely reminded of the Gothic architecture of some cathedrals. Two thick, rough chains anchored him to the stony wall. Whatever these were, they blocked his powers, and Hans had a sinking feeling Maren or Erik commissioned them. After all, how could these have been made on such short notice? He let out a gulp and started to move to the small, barred window that looked out over the harbor.

What he saw made him sick.

The sun was rising over the bay of glassy sand, beached ships and skeletons of marine life lay half submerged like in a child’s sandbox, the thin layer of smoke beginning to dissipate from the skies above. It looked like they deserts of Agraba from his window, but Hans knew better. This was all his fault.

His mind struggled to recall the events prior to his capture. The guards voices ringing distantly along inside his ears along with the sound of breaking glass. Broken glass… the chandelier…

“Erik!” Hans yelled and looked around wildly for his eldest brother.

Erik, the king. His eldest brother. Dead.

The memories of him stayed real and safe, never changing. The days he would wake Hans up, the nights he’d read him to sleep, steal him extra bits of chocolate after dinner. The times he defended Hans from the wrath of everyone, trying to keep him safe. He had spent his last moments doing just that, like his mother would.

Erik had his flaws, but Hans was never able to let that blind him. He was authoritative, tough, but even in his darkest moments, he still was there for him. Now that he was gone, Hans felt truly alone.

His thoughts came to sudden stop as the door to his cell latched open, and a familiar face appeared at the door. Her ash brown hair held in an updo bun, her dress a white silk, sleeves cut short and devoid of her crown.

“Katharine.” Hans dipped his head low, unable to look her in the eye knowing that he had killed her husband, instead focusing on his hands, the metal warming from his curse. “What are you doing here?” He felt a lump rising in his throat.

The queen released a sigh, and folded her hands in front of her. “I came to talk.” She said plainly. Hans took a close look at the older woman in front of him. Her eyes seemed to have lost the glow they’d once possessed, her skin was a ghostly pale, and her ash brown hair seemed to lack its shine since the news reached her.

Hans felt like his heart was breaking under the strain of his guilt.

“Why did you bring me back here?” Hans looked into her green eyes. Katharine bit her lip. “Because I knew that the guards would have killed you in your state.” She responded heartfully. Hans struggled to grasp the concept of her being even close to merciful. Why?

“Why are you doing this? I-” Hans’ voice cracked. “I killed someone…” He tried to hold in the pain, sweat pouring down his face.

“Because despite what I am feeling, you deserve a chance to redeem yourself.” Katharine breathed and stared deep into Hans’ brown eyes.

“Redeem myself? How can I-” But the queen looked out the window behind him, and Hans realized what she wanted him to do. “End the heatwave. If you do you can be free.” Katharine said indicating the cell door behind her.

Hans let out a long drawn sigh. The prince could only think of four people that could help him at the moment. Two were now dead, one was not in his best interest, that left a final choice. “I wish to speak to Kristoff.” He held gripped his hands into the manacles.

The queen looked into Hans’ eyes. “Kristoff has yet to return.” She responded with a sad sigh.

“What?” Hans held his fists tighter, and turned out to the thin, barred window, looking out at the dry wasteland that was once a bay, teeming with life. What more could this curse do to him?

“Princess Anna returned with two horses, one of the latter without its rider. She lost consciousness from smoke inhalation, and therefore, wasn’t very insightful to his whereabouts.” Katharine crossed her bare arms, the heat in the room growing by the moment as Hans tried not to picture what was happening to his friend at the moment, his blonde hair frizzled with heat, skin red, curled up on the ground as the life was baked out of him.

“Then get me Thomas.” Hans looked past the queen to the door that kept him from the outside world. Katharine pursed her lips, and went outside to talk to the guards.

After a period of five minutes of unbearable waiting, she returned with the sixth prince in hand.

Thomas, when he came in, looked between a mixture of unbearable shock and anger. His nutmeg colored hair fell in curly masses around his head, his reading glasses crooked. He wore a red jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and customary black breeches. His eyes were filled with wishful contempt, and from the frown he possessed, Hans guessed Thomas wasn’t in the mood to talk.  

“I’ll let you have a moment to discuss things with Hans.” Katharine walked from the cell and gave both princes a polite nod as the door slammed shut.

Both princes stared at one another in disbelief, Thomas only then realizing what Hans looked like. And Hans staring at Thomas, the most neatly kept of all of them, in a complete mess.

“What happened to you brother?” The sixth prince looked in awe. “I could ask you the very same question.” Hans nearly chuckled. For a moment, it felt like they were brothers again.

But the happy moment of closeness quickly ended.

“So what exactly, am I here for?” Thomas stood straight, though only half an inch taller than his youngest brother.

“I can’t end this heatwave. At least not on my own.” Hans bit his lip. “I need your help. You were always with Erik when it came to decisions regarding me.”

Thomas scowled at the prince, and took three steps forward. “Remind me again,” He tried to contain his anger. “Where is Erik?” Hans didn’t want to answer, but Thomas didn’t seem to care. “Exactly.” He crossed his arms. A horrible silence passed between them.

“I can’t offer reassurance to a lost cause. If you don’t think you can do this,” Thomas turned and walked towards the door. “My help won’t make any difference.” He opened the door for Katharine, and Hans felt his heart sink as he walked out the door. The queen came over to him and cleared her throat softly, as if expecting an answer.

Hans released a sigh. “I can’t.” He replied.

I can’t. He thought. Those words seemed to be embedded inside of him like the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Every time there was something, that always seemed to be his answer. Hans wished he could deny it, but that would be a lost cause in itself.

“You have to tell them to let me go.” Hans didn’t care about redemption. He knew when he melted the medal that showed the African Violet, there was no going back. He had cast off the shackles of his oppression, burning and malforming them beyond repair. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop this summer, even if he tried.

It was a lost cause, like himself.

Katharine stared at her brother in law sadly, as if knowing the answer to his plight was written in the stone walls of the dungeon already, like the forgotten initials of an old prisoner, rubbed clean by the hands of time.

“I will do what I can.” She nodded and walked out of the dungeon, leaving Hans to dwell in his tortured conscience.

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A figure dressed in a dark cloak made his way through the forest path to the city, a felt bag slung over his shoulder containing the remains of a dead goose, shot clean through the heart. The heatwave at its worst, it was best to have food on the table at the moment.

The night was clear, the stars out to play. The pale light of the moon shined on his stubbled face, a small thin scar running across his left cheek like the remnants of a lost Glasgow smile. His green eyes alight with a solemn pleasure as if drifting into a wonderful dream, the man’s shadow leaving a dim outline on the bone white grass.

His head held high, the man removed the hood of the cloak, his chocolate brown hair damp with sweat. Despite the unfamiliar landscape, he knew exactly who he was looking for. He sat beneath a bush by a running stream, poising his bow for any kill that happened to come by for a drink…

Chapter Text

Elsa and Kristoff raced through the forest, dry leaves and grass flying behind them like dust in a dirt road. Olaf’s hooves clicked against the ground in a hypnotic manner, the cool breeze blowing past their faces. Kristoff was sweating profusely, soaking the garments quicker than a jump in a pond would have. His eyes were squeezed shut, trying to subside the burning pain that grew bigger in his chest by the second, despite the ice crystals that shielded his heart.   

Elsa knew for a fact that crystals the trolls produced lost their powers over time, but now, faced with a supernatural ailment that even the trolls themselves couldn’t heal, she knew that the crystal left her companion on borrowed time, if even that.

“Come on Olaf, faster!” She coaxed the reindeer at he jumped over a fallen log, knocking Ashley free from the creature’s body. She caught herself on the belly and began to slide down the mountain, a thin trail of ash forming behind her. “You guys go, I’ll meet you there!” She called as the steep path that led to the village split into two rocky roads. Elsa nodded, the bangs from her undone braid flying in her face.

“Stay out of sight Ashley!” She called back, knowing anyone in the village would be terrified of a pile of ashes that could move and talk on its own accord. “I will!” The little ashgirl assured her as the path she was on came to an abrupt end, sending her sailing down the east road of the city.

Though Elsa didn’t see it, she heard the joyful spirit say ‘hello’, and a sharp cry emanated from somewhere near there. “AH! IT’S ALIVE!!” The woman's voice shrieked.

Ignoring the irony, the lumberjack and the reindeer galloped through the city streets, the blue flags that held the king’s silhouette wilting and crumpled like dried flowers pressed in a scrapbook. The buildings and carts looked to be flaking in the heat, the mostly wooden structures would be in serious danger of burning down if there were a need for fires. Steamy fog  and an eery silence that had settled in the streets was interrupted by Olaf’s hooves clicking against the cobblestones.

Elsa and Kristoff reached the gates, the former dismounted Olaf and picked up Kristoff into her ropey arms like he was a seven year old with pneumonia. If he wasn’t dying, Kristoff would’ve walked in on his own. Several hushed voices from above the gates sounded.

“Will you be alright?” Kristoff asked Elsa as she walked to the tall, wooden gates. “Of course.” Elsa breathed and looked down at him sadly. “And don’t worry. I’ll get that medal back for you, it’s the least I can do. I promise.” She reassured him as the gates sprung open with five servants helping the near comatose man from Elsa’s strong arms. Two of the male guards helped the iceman over their shoulders, and dragged him back into the walls to the castle, the two female servants fussing over him and how they wished he hadn’t left.

The last servant, a man with a portly stomach and a tall build looked at Elsa. “Thank you my lady, Ice Master Kristoff is in good hands here.” He nodded and indicated the castle around them. “You need to get him to Princess Anna as soon as possible.” She said as the man turned and walked back through the gates.

“We will, thank you.” He said as the gates began to shut, and Elsa found herself turning away, unable to deal with the fact that though she didn’t love him. She would never be able to see him again unless he wanted firewood, which was unlikely, seeing as nobody would ever want it again thanks to the change in weather. Elsa took the hatchet from her satchel and frowned at it.

What purpose did she serve if there was no need for her trade?

She sighed sadly and stuck the sharp tool back in her satchel. “Come on buddy,” She walked back to the reindeer. “Let’s go.” Even though as she mounted her friend, she had no idea where she wanted to go. Probably back to the trolls. They were no doubt confused about just who Kristoff was, and of course, desperate to meet Pedar. But Elsa rolled her eyes at the thought.

Why would she want to see him?

The man was all wrong for me, she thought to herself. He made too many mistakes for me to ever let him back in.

And yet, as they two of them rode through the silent city, when she remembered her promise. Why did Kristoff not care about it when she promised to get it back? Her mind brought back that evening in the barn, the smell of hay and goats still fresh inside her memories. Her lullaby for Olaf, Kristoff eavesdropping on them, and then what he’d said.

“But I realized that when I kept, it,” He looked at her and smiled. “I was only keeping the pain with me.” The picture was still clear as day to her. He let go, he forgave her. If Kristoff, once the most stubborn man she’d ever met, could do it; what was stopping her?

The pair had made it out of the city, Elsa perfectly willing to beg Oaken for the silver medallion back if that would be what it took. She was now walking Olaf, giving him a rest and letting him drink from a slowly drying stream. She began to braid her hair back into place, combing the wilting snowdrop blossoms and ash from her wavy hair.

Elsa was right about to stand up from where she sat when an arrow sailed exactly where her head was going to be. The sharp weapon came from a bush across the stream, and Elsa scowled at the dried branches. She rolled up her pant legs, and waded through the stream right to the bush, ready to beat the living daylights out of the person who’d just made an attempt on her life. But as she reached the shrub, the person stood up, and the face surprised her so much that she almost went toppling back into the river.

It was Pedar.

The man she’d last seen when she was sixteen had changed very little since she last laid eyes on him. His eyes were dull and empty, as if he hadn’t seen a sunny day since he last saw Elsa. His hair was thick and matted, as it had always had been, but it was covered in a dusting of ash and leaves, and was damp with sweat and grime. His face was covered in a light stubble, but not enough to suggest he hadn’t had access to a razor, and a new feature graced his pale cheek.

A thin, somewhat jagged line traced up his left cheek from the corner of his lip like a Glasgow smile, ending just below his cheekbone. It would have probably gone unnoticed had Elsa been standing a few feet farther back. His eyes seemed alight with content pleasure, as if having planned to miss Elsa on purpose. The man was dressed in a green poets shirt that tightened around his abs and chest to show of his physique, a brown leather hide vest, charcoal grey breeches, and tall, mud spattered boots.

The dark brown quiver rested snugly around his back, the bow in his right hand. He released a small sigh as Elsa stared ahead, mouth agape. “You.” She said after a moment, still not having recovered from the shock.

Pedar rolled his eyes, and strung the bow around his back. “I was looking for something that would take a drink. I didn’t mean to shoot at Olaf; or you for that matter.” He stretched his arms. “You’ve gotta get some kind of bell around his neck or something.” He indicated the reindeer, who still lapped at the water, apparently having seen Pedar, but choosing to ignore him.

“Just like last time.” Elsa narrowed her blue eyes at his green ones. “It’s just another kill to you isn’t it?” She placed a hand on her hip and shifted her weight to one leg.

Pedar’s gaze darkened. “Yes; but just like last time, accidents do in fact happen.” He shrugged and started to move from the bush. “You just can’t let go, can you?” The huntsman shook his head at the ground as he walked through the water, wavelets lapping at Elsa's boot toes.

“Actually,” Elsa turned to follow him. “I came because I realized something, Pedar.”

The huntsman stopped midway across the stream, his boots keeping the water from lapping around his ankles. He turned his head to face Elsa, who was now right behind him, looking directly at him with a small frown on her pale face, her eyes truthful and bright.

He waited, and she spoke. “You can’t let go of something that you never held onto.” The lumberjack gazed into his conifer green eyes. And within them Elsa saw the one thing she never would have expected from Pedar.

Regret.

The huntsman stared at her for a full minute before taking a step towards Elsa, his shadow cast over her in the light of the moon. He was right about to speak when Elsa brought a white finger to his thin lips. “I’m sorry.” She whispered barely audible over the sounds of the rushing stream, the water finding its way around their boots. He leaned into her, and she followed, pressing their lips together in a small kiss.

Elsa felt the loneliness that had once plagued her ever since she was found by Olaf rush downstream with the currents, her mind fully aware of what she was doing.

The movement remained going for what felt like years until the sound of the river was drowned out by Olaf, who started to grunt and stomp his hooves. Elsa broke the passionate kiss and looked over at the reindeer to see he was no longer drinking, but staring blankly at the sandy bottom of the stream. Pedar, his arms still around her, looked down at the spot where they stood.

The water was gone. The stream dry as a bone. Elsa immediately flipped her head over in the direction of the city, looking at the castle in shock. A dark cloud was covering up the nights sky, blotting out the moon and stars. “Something’s very wrong here.” Pedar followed Elsa’s gaze to the city below them…  

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“I need to go out to look for the ice harvester… this Kristoff has put himself in too much danger already.” Katharine strode across the stately dining room that was light and muggy, the atmosphere reaching downright tropical in the palace. The queen, despite the fact that Erik had died, seemed to try to carry on as normal. And was in fact starting to enjoy the position brought to her feet. The many dignitaries began to protest her words, the Belgian voicing his thoughts in a surprising rant. The portly man had hardly spoken a word since his arrival, but now appeared to have plenty to say to the newly christened monarch.

“You cannot risk going out there as Princess Anna did.” He threw a hand in the direction of the window as the heat blazed through the thick, closed curtains.

“I have to,” Katharine spun to face the crowd of worrying men. “As queen it is my duty to protect my people.” She wagged a finger threateningly in front of the German ambassador's rather large nose.

The Duchess of Weselton pushed through the crowd of larger men, her large hoop skirt now replaced by a pair of riding pants, her enormous wig gone, revealing the silver bun she hid beneath it. The mascara job toned down, as the Irish dignitary had been blunt and somewhat forceful in giving the duchess his shaving mirror. Some of the servants would say her screams of horror still haunted the place long after she left. “Your majesty, you cannot leave this room! You hold the future of the Southern Isles in your capable hands.” She peered up at the queen, who held back grimace as the amount of wrinkles in her squirrel like face.

“Than give it to William!” She snapped at the group.

But the Irish dignitary let out a gruff sigh. “Your majesty, he’s fled the kingdom. As have Nathan, Alexandar, Roger,” He continued down the line with a total of eight princes having abandoned the kingdom; some with ladies, some with escorts, and even one with a male lover.

Katharine struggled to come to grips with her failing reality. “Well,” She looked down at the lacquered hardwood floors, her green eyes dull from defeat. “Who’s left?”

“There’s Thomas, Anders; or Drew, John, Lance, and Hans.” The Irish dignitaries voice fell to a dark whisper at the mention of the final prince’s name. Katharine bit the inside of her cheek, realizing the burden she was placing on her family's shoulders. “And I think it’s a safe bet they’re all too young to rule a kingdom.” He said as the others nodded in agreement, including a reluctant Katharine. Thomas was at the moment, the eldest prince within the kingdom, but barely past the age of twenty. The legal age in order to rule was twenty one, as it was in Arendelle and The Western Isles.

“If anything were to happen to a member of the royal staff-” She began to protest.

“If anything happens to you,” The German ambassador countered. “You are all this kingdom has left.”

Katharine stared ahead blankly, as if just realizing something and not having a reaction for it yet, her right eyebrow raised ever so slightly one had to look close to notice it. “Besides,” The duchess piped up. “You heard what that monster of a prince-” But Katharine silenced her with a stare darker than the smoke that rose above into the sky.

“All do respect my lady, you may refrain from insulting the royal family. I still wield power as queen, and until I say otherwise, no harm or scrutiny is to come to Prince Hans.”

A door creaked open at that moment, and three servants, including Simon, held a limp elderly man over their shoulders. He had long locks of grey hair, and a build that seemed out of place compared to his hair, his face was red and scrunched in pain. He held a hand to his chest, grunting as if his rib cage was being placed in the slowly tightening grip of a vise. Katharine moved forward, and recognized the face immediately.

“Kristoff!” She looked down at the weak man who had once appeared at her late husband’s coronation. “You have to get me to Anna!” He breathed a ragged breath as one of the servants grip released, and he fell forward, clutching desperately to Katharine’s waist.

“What?” She barely had time to question it before he lost his grip and sunk to the floor, the servants diving to help him back up, but Katharine beat them  to it. Taking Kristoff’s large arm over her shoulder, and walking him to the study where Anna was resting, staring out the window quietly from the large armchair. Anna stood up at the sound of Kristoff’s animalistic groans, and stared in shock at her fiance. He was hardly a comforting sight.

“Kristoff!” Anna ran over and took him from the queen, trying in a very humorous attempt to lift him up before laying him down on the sofa of the dark study. Katharine gave a small nod and said: “I’ll let you two have a moment.” She walked out and closed the door to the small study.

“You’re so… warm.” She held a hand to his forehead, brushing the bangs away to feel it, then jerking it away and blowing on like she’d just grabbed a casserole from the oven without mits. After a moment, she said: “You need water, you’re burning up.” She ran across the room and grabbed the a jug that contained the life saving force.

Anna poured it into a porcelain cup, and handed it lightly to her lover, who accepted it and drained the cup in one gulp, a deep sigh escaping his lips. “What happened to you out there? All I remember was a fire and…” She refilled the cup and handed it back to Kristoff, who took it slower this time. He propped himself up, a screaming pain entering his ribs.

“Well, remember when I told you how Hans wasn’t something to worry about?” He winced as Anna leaned forward nodding, another cup in hand. “I was wrong.” He panted as more sweat poured down his red cheeks.

She looked ready to burst into tears. “What happened?” She squeaked as Kristoff finished the water. “He struck me,” A wince. “With his powers, and only an act of true love can save me.” To this, Anna understood just what was required of her.

She leaned into him, puckering her lips into a soft, tulip shape as Kristoff prepared to be saved. The princess closed her eyes, but could still see every bit of brown in the iceman’s eyes, every flake of ash in his hair, every perfect thing about him. She braced herself for the hot skin to fade to normal, for the sweat dry up and recede back to his body, for the winces and coughing to cease.

But as their lips touched, nothing felt any different.

As Anna and Kristoff opened their eyes at eachother, Anna’s hopeful smile had fallen into a look of confusion and horror. “What?” Kristoff wondered aloud as he held his hands up. They were still red as beets, a pattern of his veins glowing red in the dark room. “How; did this not work?” Anna exclaimed as a tear fell from her candy blue eyes.

“Because-” Kristoff struggled to think of some logical explanation, then it hit him hard like a barrel of bricks. “I don’t love you.” He bit his lip and prepared for the explosion. But it never came. Anna stared down at him blankly.

“Then what was it, all those things, I thought that they meant something...” She trailed off and frowned softly at Kristoff. “It was never love.” He mumbled, knowing Hans had been right all along. There was no such thing as true love. “But if I’m not the one-” The princess felt Kristoff hold a twitching finger to her lips.

“No one, Anna. It’s too late anyway.” He groaned and looked down at his hands, the delicate traces of black spreading along his fingers where the crimson blood had begun to fade. “No.” Anna whimpered and held his large hand close to her cheek, salty tears falling from her face.

“Anna, you need to go. I don’t want you to see, well, the inevitable.” He said hoarsely. She didn’t respond, just looking down as if to say: “Love or not, I don’t want you to go.” Kristoff stared into her eyes, and gripped her small hand inside his larger one. “Please.” He breathed to his fiance. Anna nodded slowly, and walked to the door, opening and closing it with a soft clicking sound.

For the first time, Kristoff was glad to be truly alone.

But he wasn’t.

The door opened again, and a familiar voice greeted him. It was calm, feminine, yet regal and charming. “Kristoff?” The queen asked and shut the door. “Princess Anna told me that- well, you know.” She walked over to him, now devoid of the white silk dress, and instead in a pair of khaki brown breeches, and a white poets shirt with gloves. Her ash brown hair was tugged into a somewhat messy bun, her green eyes a bit livelier, as if she had some sort of wonderful news to share with him.

But what he heard wasn’t wonderful.

“But I’m not surprised. You were far too naive to see that the truth was right in front of you.” Her friendly smile curved upwards into a horrible and wicked one.

Chapter Text

“What?” Was all Kristoff could say as the queen looked down at him, a devious smile on her fine lips. Katharine flashed her eyes playfully at the fallen man, and began to walk around the room like a slinking cat playing with its food.

“I was once just like you, Kristoff,” She held her hands behind her confidently. “I had a family, a home, but nothing beyond that. No status, nothing of value to me. All I had,” The queen smirked at Kristoff. “Was this.” She removed the silver cross necklace, a small row of diamonds hanging at the very heart to the holy shape.

“I trained in the convent, held prayers, I was a very good nun. That was until a certain funeral,” She frowned as the color drained from her face, and walked over to the curtains. “Angered my Mother Superior.” Katharine drew the curtains on the window shut, leaving only the light of the three candles.     

Kristoff struggled to recall the event that could link him to this woman when his eyes flashed to that windy day he buried Henrik deep in the earth. There was a nun with ash brown hair, her green eyes, but a shy face.

“My father.” Kristoffs eyes popped open at the possibility of it.

“What was his name? Henrik?” The queen held a thin finger to her lips, feigning a guess in a way that made Kristoff want to strangle her.

“What did he ever do to you?” The iceman felt tears brimming in his brown eyes.

Katharine released a dark laugh and removed one of her gloves. “Oh Kristoff,” She licked her thumb and index finger, putting one of the candles out with a soft hiss echoing from the wick. “It was never your father,” The woman continued to walk about the room to the next candle. “It was his past.” She put out the second candle, the room getting far darker as the queen walked towards the last one.

“His past?”

“You are aware of what your father was, aren’t you?” She stopped at the last candle that was positioned at the opposite end of the couch Kristoff laid upon, casting a mocking glare at the younger man.                          

“A Sami. Both my parents were.” His mouth went dry at what he had answered, knowing whatever the queen had yet to say wouldn’t be good. Katharine gave a sharp nod and extinguished the final candle, slipping the white glove back on.

“My Mother Superior would have none of it, knowing full well the differences and laws enforced upon the people of the earth. We as nuns were forbidden from any contact with them, the penalties being strict to those who disobeyed.” Kristoff felt a lump rising in his throat.

“And after word leaked out to the populace of a nun at the funeral of a Sami,” She trailed off and took the pitcher of water from the tray. “You can guess the repercussions.” The queen took the water and poured the liquid into the ashes of the fireplace, the chunks of ice covered in a grey dust. as Kristoff grasped hopelessly at the the pitcher, falling off the sofa and onto the hot carpet, his knees screaming as the fabric tore into his red skin.

“I was disowned by my family, removed from the convent, and forced to work hours in a seamstress shop.” She set the porcelain onto an end table, holding her thin fingers into the light to reveal the many callouses and scars that graced the royals hands. “Where I happened to meet the heir to the throne when he tore his jacket.”

Kristoff gaped at her, unsure what to say or do, the sharp pain returning to his chest once more.

The queen rounded back to Kristoff, bending down gracefully to get a good look at him. “Why?” He seethed, unable to fight back as he so longed to. “Because it’s not you I’m after. It’s your prince in flaming armor that continues to be a threat.” The queen sneered mockingly.

“Hans?” Kristoff muttered.

“The youngest prince was a challenge to be had. Thankfully, he won’t be with us much longer.” Katharine ran her fingers along Kristoff’s chin, her eyes opening wide at the glowing crystals that were cold to the touch. “What is this?” She gave the string of ice crystals a hard tug, and the comforting cool that embraced Kristoff disappeared. Whatever feeling he had now was quickly replaced by a hellish, flushing warmth.

“Something you need to keep your boney fingers off of!” He growled at the queen, who rolled her green eyes and smiled deviously.

“Your wish is my command.” And with a swift motion the necklace of ice dropped to the carpet, a soft tinkling sound escaping from the crystals. Kristoff nearly grabbed them but the tip of a boot kicked into his jaw, rolling the ailing man onto his back. A small stream of blood coming from his broken lip. A sharp clinking noise came from under the queen’s riding boot as the magic of the trolls was crushed into a dust, the glow fading and escaping in small, blue wisps.

“I’ve enjoyed our chat, Kristoff,” Katharine folded her hands behind her back and walked around the dying man to the door. “But I have a kingdom to run, and a heatwave to end.” She said slyly as Kristoff managed to flip back over to his stomach to face her.

“You’re not going to win, Katharine,” He warned as the blood continued its slowing trickle down to the wooden floor. “When Hans find out about this, you’ll be sorry.” He narrowed his brown eyes hatefully at the queen, who simply chuckled in a pitiful way.

“I think not.” She slammed the white door hard, a small clicking sound coming from the lock. Something inside of Kristoff broke. He felt the rage boiling inside of him, and threw his body to the door, slamming into it with all his might. His shoulder screamed in pain as it smashed into the painted door. Kristoff ran his hand up up the grainy wood, making a desperate grab for the gilded handle despite the fact that the lock was on the other side of the door.

He felt the heat searing into his chest, and held his hands up to the door, wishing he had the strength to break to the door down.

But all Kristoff could do was wish…

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Princess Anna sat in one of the dining chairs at the table, the other dignitaries crowded around to comfort the weeping girl. Tears soaked the blouse of her dress, the light pink being stained a darker shade from the salty tears. Dry heaves and hiccups came in between.

“Mademoiselle, it will be alright.” The French ambassador held her heaving freckled shoulders. “Zis Kristoff, he’s in a better place.” He nodded to her as a loud wail came from the princess, who buried her head in her small hands.

“My lady, I assure you he lived a full life.” The Duchess of Weselton held a wrinkled hand to Anna’s cheek, who was now bawling into her arms, head down on the table. “But-but- he didn’t!” Anna hiccuped from the table top.

This was the sight that Katharine beheld when she came out of the study, the doors locked and hopefully weighed down with the ice harvesters body.

“She speaks the truth. Kristoff is-” The queen was cut off by a dry heave from Anna. “Get her some water.” The duchess pursed her lips at one of the servants, who was currently tearing up, her young eyes glowing in the candlelight. The young woman scurried out and Katharine continued, sinking dramatically down into the head chair of the table.

“Dead.” She breathed and held both hands against her forehead, as if contemplating a trade agreement.

Every dignitary in the room had a form of surprise lingering in their red faces. The Frenchman formed a small O shape under his combed goatee, the Irish held a large hand to his heart and muttered something in Gaelic. The duchess released a sound not unlike that of pigs squeal, her eyes opening wide at the thought. The Belgian and Spanish released gasps, the latter saying: “The poor man.” The rest however, remained shocked as ever.

Only Anna seemed unphased, but that was because in the back of her mind, she knew he was already gone.

“Vad?” The Swedish ambassador placed both gloved hands on the table. “How?” He asked the queen. Katharine swallowed a lump in her throat.

“He was murdered, by Prince Hans.” She avoided eye contact with any of the others, as if still in shock. “His hair a smoky grey, skin as red as the rose, his eyes glazed over; before he fell to ash in front of my eyes…” She knew that part was more than necessary, feeling if she overdid it they would get suspicious. The queen covered her mouth as a tear fell down her cheek, a smile itching over her lips. Nobody could see it.

“You’ve been through much your majesty, Erik would be proud.” The duchess held her head high in a snobby manner.

“Your majesty,” Anna’s small voice piped up from the corner. “What’s going to happen to Hans?” She asked, drying the last of the tears from her face with a napkin the servant had given her.

“Hans is a monster, just as I said. He has already killed two innocent men!” The duchess slammed two fists on the table, her temper flaring. “Mademoiselle,” The French ambassador stooped to her height. “Perhaps you’re being a bit rash.” He suggested, but the duchess threw him off.

“Prince Hans,” Katharine voiced from where she sat. “Has committed acts of treason and murder. And for that reason,” The queen stood up, regaining her regal posture. “I sentence him to death.” She slapped her gloved hand on the table like a judges gavel.

“Without a trial, your grace?” Anna stood up from her seat an eyebrow raised. The queen pursed her lips, staring darkly at the visiting princess, her strawberry blonde hair fiery like her eyes.

“Why don’t you come with me, Princess Anna. I wish to show you something.” The older woman turned down the hall and beckoned for her to follow, but as the other dignitaries started to step forward, she added: “Alone.”

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Kristoff hauled his body to the base of the fireplace where the cubes of ice melted in the gray pile of ashes, his lifeline disappearing before his eyes. He pushed behind him with all his might, grabbing into the gilded holders that contained unused wood. His body ached as he pulled on the decorative item like it was an anchor. The iceman thrusted his arm into the warm ashes, tearing chunk after chunk of ice from the fire and rubbing the dirty, yet cold substance all over his face and hands.

But each piece stung like an Arendelle winter wind, his red skin smudged with ash and flakes of burned wood, leaving black and milky white streaks all over his face like a warrior of Dumbroth.

He was so busy spreading the cold over himself, Kristoff almost didn’t notice the door opening again. The man felt the blood drain from his face as Anna stepped into the room with Katharine behind her. A quick gasp escaped Anna’s lips.

“He’s-” The princess didn’t get to finish before Katharine gave her a harsh shove, the girl falling forwards onto the hardwood floor as the queen shut the door behind her, a teacup in hand. “I had expected you’d be the one to put up a fight. Now you can watch him die.”

Anna scrambled to stand, helping Kristoff to his feet. She opened her mouth to say something, but simply dry air released from her jaw. The princess held both hands to her throat, trying to say it again. But just as of last time, nothing came out.

“What did you-”

“A tea of crushed daisies. Her majesty is voiceless for another hour.” The queen chuckled and threw the teacup at the pair carelessly, the cup smashing to bits at their feet. “By then, you will be long dead, as will Hans. And should Anna ever think of telling anyone,” She peeked her head around the crook of the door. “She will be as unlucky as her fiance.”

The door slammed shut, the jingling sound of the lock clicking as Anna struggled to support said fiance. She held his broad shoulders and laid him down on the sofa, getting down on her hands and knees to continue collecting the chunks of ice for Kristoff, who motioned to the fireplace with a wavering gesture.

“I’m sorry, Anna.” Kristoff breathed as pain shot through his chest, a faint glow coming from his heart. The princess nodded softly, wrapping the pieces of ice in the handkerchief the Frenchman had given to her. In a swift motion, Anna parted the tattered and cut remains of his blue v neck shirt, and pressed the bag to Kristoff’s bare chest.

Though she was mute, Kristoff could still see she was hurt.

“And not just for this;” He held a hand to her thin arm, but the princess continued to rub the ice slowly, the redness beginning to fade from his near glowing skin. Anna refused to look at him, her lips forming a small pout. “For the hasty decision, for going on the journey. I owe you so much, but I’ll never be able to repay you.” He grabbed her wrist to stop it from moving.

She looked into his brown eyes, sadness easily visible in her own sapphire ones.

“It’s not love, but I’m glad I met you.” Kristoff nodded his head assuringly when Anna opened her mouth in shock, taking a lock of grey hair in between her thin fingers. “What-” Kristoff didn’t get to finish his question as the sound of a lock being picked echoed through the silent room.

The door swung open, a bright orange vegetable wedged into the keyhole. Ashley walked out from behind the door, a small giggle escaping her speckled mouth…

Chapter Text

Anna saw the little ashgirl first and toppled back, her own mouth opened in a scream as the bag of ice flying out of her hand and scattering across the floor. “Anna,” Kristoff grunted as he tried to prop himself up. “This is Ashley. Please, don’t be scared. She can’t and wouldn’t hurt you.” He looked at the princess as Ashley ran over to her and smiled goofily.

“Hi!” She held out one of her twigs to the princess, who shook it with two fingers lightly, obviously still a little unnerved.       

“Kristoff, why can’t she talk?” She asked like a five year who had just walked in on her parents in deep heat. “Because of the queen.” He narrowed his brown eyes angrily at the open doors. Ashley looked at Anna, then back at Kristoff.  

“Wait, what happened here that I missed?” She waddled over to the ailing man, whose eyes were scrunched shut in pain.

Anna stood up and walked over to the two of them, a small frown breaking out on her normally happy face. “Katharine,” Kristoff sat up. “Was not who we thought she was.” He said as Anna nodded, taking the bag of ice cubes and giving it to the iceman.

“But; what about your kiss? I mean you two are-”

“It was never love Ashley. Just two fools part of an elaborate plan.” He cut the ashgirl off and pressed the bag of ice to his head.

And at this point, that elaborate plan was succeeding.

“But we just came all the way here, I mean the trolls said-”

“An act of true love, I know… but I don’t even know what love is.” Kristoff frowned and looked down at the floor, princess Anna taking the spot next to him and following his gaze, obviously having lost hope as well.

“That’s okay, I do!” The little ash sculpture perked up and scrambled onto the sofa with them. “Love is;” She paused for a moment. “Caring enough to keep someone safe, putting your needs before theirs. Not giving up;” Another pause as Ashley adjusted the torn shirt on Kristoff's large shoulders.

“Kind of like how Hans pushed you away to keep you safe, or sacrificing his happiness to do the same. And what about you not giving up when you journeyed off to find him, even after he shut you out?” She looked deeply into her friends brown eyes.

Kristoff looked up at the playful effigy, her logic getting into him. He had never given up before, and Hans doing all this to keep him safe felt like news to him. Now that the iceman thought about it, Hans had said something like that.

“I’m trying to keep you safe!”

He hadn’t even noticed it; he had been too blinded by his devotion to helping the thirteenth prince.

“Hans;” He winced. “Loves me?”

Ashley’s eyes opened wide as one of the windows blew open, a tropical breeze flooding into the room and making Kristoff clutch his chest in pain. “Hang on, I’ll get it!” The little ashgirl hopped over the chessboard, scattering the pieces all over the hardwood floor. Kristoff turned his head as Anna got up to help the helpless spirit. “Ashley!” He looked over to the ash sculpture, who was right at the window. “Get away from that!”

But the creature didn’t listen, instead bending farther out to face the summery world. “This is amazing! I love it!” She squealed as the breeze cooled for a moment.

The iceman got up, struggling to reach Ashley before she blew away in the wind. Anna was right about to get there until she saw Kristoff standing, and as the mute woman helped him up, Kristoff tried once more to get Ashley’s attention.

“You can’t do that, you’ll blow away like a kite!” He reached out for her back the ashgirl was still too far away. She only looked at him a smiled sweetly. “Some people are worth going for.” Ashley nodded as the ashes began to disconnect from her body, flying out the window in the warm breeze.

“Well, maybe not right now.” She grabbed her waist and held it together as Anna helped the limp Kristoff over to the window and slammed it shut, Ashley latching it quickly using one of the dogwood branches that made up her hair.

Anna looked up quietly in shock at the ceiling, black smudges spreading in the wood like it was ready to burst into flames. Kristoff followed her gaze up to the roof, and realized what was happening.

The queen was alone. With Hans.

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Hans felt the heat encroaching the iron manacles that bound his hands, a thick layer of smoke welling up on the ceiling of the dungeons cell. He felt something was amiss, and his powers knew it too.  The young prince knelt to the ground, holding the metal close to his chest to conceal the power. He deserved to be in the dungeon for what he did, but knew there was no real reason to keep him there. With any luck, Kristoff would be fine, that girl that saved him probably could heal him, and the both of them could live happily ever after. Kristoff could sail the world; go back to Arendelle with the princess, and he could go back to his palace in the mountains.

But he knew that something would be missing; should that reality come to pass.

A woman’s voice sounded outside the chamber through the thick wooden door, her regal tone sharp and strong. “Make sure he’s secured.”

That didn’t sound good.

The door swung open, Katharine and two guards filing in, the trio’s black boots clicking on the floor. In an instant, the door to the cell closed again, leaving the four people in an eerie silence. Hans looked up at the queen to find her face pinched tight, the emerald green eyes empty and unfeeling. The guards positioned themselves at either end of the door, and the royal walked forward with a determined look on her face.

“The chains; draw them.” Katharine motioned to the heavy iron chains that linked the prince to the stone floor. “Draw the-” Hans was silenced as the generous length of chains were being tugged so that his arms were held far to his sides, the cuffs cutting into his wrists with excruciating pain. The shock lifted the man off his feet before going slack and letting him fall to the floor, his coal black breeches scraping into the stone.

His head bowed down to the force, ragged breaths escaping his lips. The queen looked down at her brother in law, her pale hands drawn behind her back. In the dim light that filtered in through the window, Hans could barely make out a hint of relief in her eyes, as if having finally cornered a mouse that had found its way to a cheese cellar, and was imagining all the ways to end its life in the most gruesome way possible. Drowning, a trap, poisons, maybe just stepping on it. The options were only as limited as her mind could be.

“Prince Hans,” The queen cleared her throat lightly. “For the murder of Royal Ice Master and Deliverer, Kristoff Bjorgman,”

“Murder?” Hans said under his breath.

“You are, by the royal court, charged of treason and murder, and sentenced to die.” She finished regardless as Hans struggled to take in all the words, the third one standing out in particular.

Murder.

“Murder,” Hans repeated the ugly word like a curse, before swinging his fallen head to the higher royal. “What are you-” But Katharine started before the prince could finish.

“Do you deny under the eyes of God, that you struck Sir Bjorgman with your powers?” Katharine bent down slightly to face her prisoner.

Hans felt sick to his stomach, reminded of the days he would spend being dunked into the dog, Hector’s, water dish, Alexandar’s large hand around the young prince’s copper red hair. The taunts and insults becoming muddled through the water. The only difference now was that it wasn’t going to end eventually. There would be no forced apologies, no hugs, and no forgetting.

“I… Kristoff, he’s…” Hans trailed off, unable to say the word ‘dead’.

Katharine nodded.

Hans felt something breaking inside of him. It started as a small splinter, such as a piece of timber being chipped at by a hatchet. But it grew, cracking at both ends until the once beautiful thing was rendered shattered beyond repair, like the obsidian chandelier. The prince struggled to come to grips with what it was, but it was soon clear as glass what it was.

His heart.

The princes brown eyes squinted shut as a thin stream of tears began to descend down his red cheeks, the thought of Kristoff being gone too much to bare. He slumped his head, his back arching from the awkward position.

Katharine cast a solemn look at the guards. “Leave us.” She said just barely audible over Hans’ shaking sobs.

The moment the cell door closed, Katharine’s smile became eerily wicked. “You know, I gave you a fair chance.” She knelt down to the crying prince, pulling a dagger from her pocket. “All you had to do was stop the heatwave, but now it seems I must use more… unorthodox measures.” She placed a warm hand on Hans’ cheek, drawing his chin up to face her devious grin.

Hans didn’t look at her, his eyes still brimming with tears.

“You know, I really should thank you.” The queen flashed her eyes to match the evil smile, the dagger pressed to the prince’s chest. This got his attention.

“Thank me?” He gulped.

“As perfect as your gift is, it seems to be very adept at killing. The prime example being the iceman. All that Kristoff must do now,” She narrowed her eyes confidently at Hans. “Is die.” She chuckled darkly.

Hans lifted his head up, the shaking and tears ceasing. “Kristoff’s alive?”

The queen saw the glint of hope in the princes eyes, and knew she had to crush it. “He won’t be for long. In the end, it was his devotion to you that killed him.” The queen grinned. “The man doomed himself to death by going after you; a force of evil and darkness. How stupid of him, wouldn’t you say?” She feigned sympathy in a way that made Hans release a low growl.

“It was never stupid.” Hans spat at the queen, now well aware of her true intentions.

“Of course it was my boy. Love is weakness.” She pressed the dagger to his heart, trailing the sharp end up his glowing maroon shirt, slicing through the fabric and drawing a line of blood that coated the tip of the knife and left a light cut up the frail man’s chest.

Before Hans could start, Katharine beat him to it. “His love for the Anna girl was so sincere, he sought her out, only to find out the truth. It was never love that blossomed between them; but lust.” The queen held the dagger an inch from Hans’ neck.

At this, Hans’ hopeful look devolved into a cold stare, his mouth pressed into a hardened frown.

“But really, how long could this man have left once he reached the pathetic,” The prince stared ahead, the scowl aimed at the wall ahead, the jabs at his friend hurting far more than any dagger could.

“Lowly,” The queen's voice sounded distant in his ears as he felt the heat rising in the manacles, a soft but hellish glow emanating from where his hands were held. His breaths felt like that of a charging bull, steam and smoke rose from his jacket. The queen never noticed, her eyes closed in confidence.

“Bargaining stage of your boyfr-” Katharine never finished her sentence before the power in Hans bottlenecked, spraying out like a volcano in nearly all directions. The manacles dissolved in his hands, the hot magma rolling off his hands like water, flecks of iron remaining on his hands like dots of pepper. The prince felt pure rage boiling inside of him, ready to kill his sister in law ten times over for insulting him and Kristoff so. The queen had been thrown back, her wiry body ten feet from where the prince was standing, obviously knocked out cold.

Hans took two steps forward, ready to scorch her body to cinders as a form of revenge, but right as he reached the queen she stirred softly, and the rage boiled down. He couldn’t kill someone purposefully. That would make him only as bad as Katharine.

The force of the molten blast had completely destroyed the back wall of the dungeon, a gaping hole was plainly obvious based on the scorch marks and magma puddles around his coal black boots. Black burn marks surrounded the stony walls of the cell, the white hot chains drooped to the walls like dead snakes, and a spiky wall of obsidian blocking the wooden door to his cells, the volcanic glass holding it in place.

He got his wish, he was free.

And he wasn’t going to waste it…

Chapter Text

Elsa and Pedar watched the silence of the world dissolve into complete chaos as a swirling cloud of black smoke and ash rose from the palace, growing larger and larger with each passing second. One thought raced through Elsa’s mind, pushing the shock and awe behind her.

“Kristoff,” She breathed and took a step forward, Pedar not far behind.

“Come on,” She ran over to Olaf and mounted him, giving his neck fur a shake to get the playful reindeer moving. The reindeer recognized the urgency of her voice and turned to place the valley held the city, his brown eyes going wide as the two charged down the hill, Pedar running downhill after the pair.

Elsa looked behind her as the huntsman slid along the ground, and held out her hand to the man, who accepted it and was pulled onto the back of the charging beast as the three of them raced back to the palace, Elsa knowing that her friend was in trouble.

Olaf dashed down the hill and into the city, where a procession of doors and shutters were being slammed shut and bolted, the residents taking notice of the smoky skies above them. The reindeer hopped over carts and fallen objects dropped as if the area had been hastily evacuated, the people too hurried to grab everything.

But Olaf suddenly came to a halt as they reached the dry harbor docks, a film of thick glass covering the area where sand and water once rested. Elsa and Pedar were being thrown from the reindeer's back, the both of them landing with a hard thud on the grey glass. “Olaf! What’s wrong?” Elsa groaned as the reindeer backed away from the harbor.

He looked down at her with fearful eyes, and Elsa remembered he never did well on ice. What was the difference anyway?

A harsh wind called their attention, and Elsa saw the smoke and ember cloud swirling like a blizzard to where they stood. She grabbed her lover's bare hand and held her other hand to her eyes, trying to make out what was going on in the foggy haze. The force of the firestorm hit them hard, burning embers and flakes of ash flying around like snow. Pedar spoke as the wind blew past them, heat burning their faces like a hot summers day.  

“Now we just have to survive this blaze!” He coughed the last part and brought his hand to his face to shield it, but Elsa looked on defiantly, and pulled her lover on to the heart of the storm.

“Oh,” She squinted. “That is no blaze,” She felt the pool of ash gathering at her ankles, and charged forward, Pedar struggling to follow as the ash grew thicker and higher. “That; is the prince!” She shouted over the howling winds, her eyes focused on the center.

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Kristoff, Anna, and Ashley looked up in horror at the ceiling of the small study, the ceiling blackening as the window blew open, the window pane shattering in the heat. Whatever was happening was having quite the effect on the castle; and Kristoff was willing to guess the city and bay as well. He had only seen the prince's powers out of control twice, but this made all those previous meltdowns look tame and easy.

“Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here!” Ashley grabbed Kristoff’s hand and led the three of them out of the study as a loud cracking sound came from the room that they had just escaped, shards of deadly basalt and obsidian growing from the ceiling and walls, getting larger and more deadly as they literally materialized from the hot air. But as they reached the hall, the same spikes grew at a far quicker rate than inside the study, blocking both ends of the hall and any means of escape.

Ashley swerved, Kristoff still crouched slightly as the heat welled up in his chest, striking the barriers his heart had erected with devastating force. The blows felt like he was being kicked over and over by every blast of heat and wind. Anna held him over her shoulders, struggling to keep up with the ashgirl who pulled with all her might to get them out of dangers pointy fingers.

Turning her head to the side the princess pulled Kristoff over to one of the windows, giving it a hard punch as the dry frame cracked and swung open in the rough winds, the pane shattering in the blasts of heat. “This way!” Kristoff called to Ashley, who turned and ran just as a spike was about to impale her.

Anna helped her fiance out the window, and lifted Ashley right as the glassy spikes came up to her. “Anna, what are you-” Kristoff never got to finish as the princess gave him a hard shove that sent him sliding down the roof gable, Ashley joining in. She was staying behind so they could go on, just like Kristoff saved her. I guess we’re even now, Kristoff thought as he and Ashley reached the end of the ash covered roof, sliding down another gable, and then another, then another.

Kristoff reached one of the balconies and saw Hans in the distance through the smoky blizzard, lost and afraid. The iceman knew where he had to go. With a look of determination, he jumped from the soapstone railing and slid down a pile of grey ash, his muscular arms crossed to get down faster. Ashley, on the other hand, kept sliding down until she was rolling in a giant ash ball, her eyes peeking over the speckled mass. She gave a shook as Kristoff began his awkwards stumble on the glass, his blonde locks now completely gray.

“Go Kristoff!” Was all she managed to say before a harsh gust scattered her ashes far and wide, her voice fading out in the wind. The hot wind blowing through his gray hair, the iceman spread both arms out in a desperate effort to reach the thirteenth prince, the burning ash and embers embedding themselves in his skin.

He looked at his hands, a burning numbness encroaching his fingers as the veins glowed a brilliant scarlet, the tips and cuticles draining of red and turning gray and bumpy, like the piles of ash he had sled down. He was running out of time.

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The queen awoke only moments after Hans ran from the prison, the specially made manacles melted to puddles in just a matter of seconds. She stared out at the glassy ground around her, and fumed in silent rage. Her ash brown hair was singed and smoky, and her poet's shirt had a ginormous hole where a rogue flame had hit the side of her chest, the angry red skin covered in oozing blisters. A second malformation graced her tight features, a patch of third degree burns splattered across her left cheek like acne, the skin collapsing into her cheekbone. She was hardly the picture of beauty she had once been. But medical attention could wait, especially when she had a rogue prince to kill.  

“If he won’t go willingly,” She seethed and pulled her late husband’s sword from its scabbard. “It will be a bloody ride.”

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Hans pushed his way through the nightmare he had created, his copper hair free and blowing wildly. The thirteenth prince hadn’t the slightest idea where he was, or where he was even trying to go. Anywhere, he thought. As long as it’s not here.

He ran across the glass as easily as if it were hardwood, his shoes digging into the thin film of ash that was sprinkling the volcanic glass when his right foot kicked something. It cracked and splintered, dry and ragged.

A ship. Hans thought and recoiled. I’ve sunk and destroyed a ship.

Listening close over the howling wind, he could almost hear the wood creaking beneath him. The bow and mast were caked in the same, wool-like material that came from unformed obsidian, the sails not yet burned, but wrinkled and dry, like paper.

Suddenly, he felt his powers releasing again, but in a far more deadly fashion than before.

A deep cracking sound came across the volcanic glass as sand and earth rose far above the height of a grown man, basalt and sand plastering together to create a cone shape. The ground wiggled and shuddered like in a bucket of water, the glass splitting and cracking, tipping like jagged icebergs and revealing the hot sand below. The cone rested next to the palace, easily ready to destroy the entire west wing in a matter of moments. But that wasn’t all.

The cone began to rumble and shake, sparks and magma shooting out and setting the gabled roof of the palace ablaze.

A volcano, in the bay in northern Europe. “That’s original.” Hans muttered and kept walking, trying to ignore the new threat that plagued the citizens. There was nothing left, Hans thought and bit his lip. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

But a voice called out to him that got his attention. “Hans!” It was barely audible over the savage breeze. It was deep and gruff, rugged, and yet soft. He felt the heat suddenly receding, the smoke becoming thinner, offering the prince a full view of the ice harvester.

But what he saw made the world drop out from under him.

Kristoff was huddled on the ground, his red skin fading to a stony grey.

Too late. He shook and felt the chaotic blizzard ceasing at the sight of his friend; his lover, dying. The storm receded inside of him just as it had in his palace, the shock and horror too much for him to handle. Hans felt his knees buckling, the voice of Katharine echoing in his head. “How long could this man have left?”

Not much time at all, it seemed.

His knees smashed into the glassy ground, a wave of heat radiating from him like a pebble dropped in a water trough. He his bowed, his shoulders shaking with sobs. The queens hateful words meant nothing now that he was witnessing Kristoff actually dying with his own two eyes.

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Kristoff struggled to make out what was happening around him, his vision becoming blurry and muddled. There was a shaking sensation, yes, that much was clear. He had fallen to the ground, the grey creeping up his muscular arms. He found it increasingly hard to move those grey appendages, like they were frostbitten.

Find Hans. His mind told him. You can do this.

He had only just crumpled to the ground when three things came into his vision. The first, Elsa and a man sprinting with great difficulty across the jagged glass, running to him. The second, his prince, crumpled to the ground, shoulders shaking with sobs. The third made Kristoff stand as well as he could, his arms holding one another.

Katharine, burned and hideous, a sword bared behind Hans, a confident smirk on her disfigured face. “Hans, she wouldn’t.” Kristoff said under his breath.

She would; unless someone stopped her.

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Elsa stopped just short of where she saw Kristoff, her braid falling to her shoulder as the warm breeze stopped. Pedar stared ahead. “What is he doing?!” Elsa cried softly as Kristoff limped away from them, towards a ship, when the lumberjack saw it.

Hans; on the ground, crying, with an insane looking woman looming over him with a sword poised to kill the royal.

She could only stare ahead as Kristoff screamed and threw himself between the sword and the prince…

Chapter Text

The iceman’s sharp cry cut through the air faster than Katharine’s sword could, happening so quickly that it almost had no change in the direction things were going. He would die for Hans. He was ready to do it, and knew what would happen to him, but Kristoff didn’t care. The prince had given up everything for him, it was time to pay him back, using the very curse that plagued the both of them.

He threw his hand up to block the sword, his fingers rough and grey as the sword gained momentum. The burning heat faded from his chest momentarily as the heat blackened his heart like a steak left on the grill too long. The pain was little compared to what Hans would feel if he hadn't moved at all.

The grey, flaky texture climbed his chest like a wildfire, the flesh melding to solid ashes. His insides felt hollow as it spread throughout his body. The man’s clothes frozen in a sheet of gray while his vision blurred to blackness. Kristoff’s choked scream faded to nothingness as a blast of pure heat broke free from his body, leaving him a shell of congealed ash.

The sword glowed a molten orange like it was in a blacksmith's kelm as it continued to descend, the molten metal striking the tip of the dying mans fingers, solidified for the moment; enough so to leave a deathly whistling noise as the molten metal fell to pieces. Katharine’s mocking and maddening smile disappeared as the sword broke, the blast of pure energy flinging the queen back into the mast of the ship, knocked out again. Only this time, a steady stream of blood began falling from the back of her head, the singed ash brown hair now matted with scarlet.

Kristoff’s gaze was frozen in horror like a victim of Medusa, his irises glowing like two coals for a matter of five seconds before fading; a smoky cloud filtering from his open mouth, his soul escaping his frozen body.

Terror gripped Elsa as she watched in silence, her friend gone forever; sacrificing himself for Hans. She didn't even notice when Olaf walked up to her, nuzzling her shoulder. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as Pedar moved in with Olaf, gripping her shoulder softly as the reindeer began to lick her tears dry like when she was a little girl.

Hans held his sadness in, knowing Katharine was behind him. But he didn't care. In his eyes, it was a life for a life, one he would trade for his deceased friend.  

Imagine his shock when nothing happened, a whooshing sound colliding with his back. He opened his eyes, still seeing the black glass in front of him. Hans lifted a hand to his forehead, wondering if this was all some horrible nightmare, and that he would wake up in his bed, on Erik’s coronation day. He wished that was it.

But it wasn’t.

The prince took all his courage to turn his head, and when he did, he saw a grey hand only a few inches from his back. It was rough and black, the palm engraved down to the smallest detail. Hans’ tears ceased, the frown forming into a gasp of pure shock. Kristoff was gone, and this was all that was left, the statue of ash blocking him from the psychopathic queen. “Kristoff!” Hans cried as he stood up, facing the god like statue.

Every detail was beautiful. His muscled chest and arms, his hair graceful and thick, his face frozen in fear, protecting him. The prince felt his throat swell shut, the loss breaking into him for the third time. But there was no return from this. His curse had killed a man, and not just any man; Kristoff. The one person who never gave up on him, stood by his side, irritated him into hysterics crossing the boundaries he’d erected, was dead. The proof stood in front of him, so delicate and weak Hans feared touching it. “Kristoff; no,” Hans’ voice cracked. “No, please;”

But when he did, it didn’t break, fall, or flake. It stayed strong; like the real Kristoff. The expression dug into his skin, tears brimming in his brown eyes. The prince couldn’t bare to look, tears streaming down his red cheeks as he collapsed onto the ash statue, pressing his face into the shoulder, the surface becoming spongy from his crying. His shoulders shook in heavy sobs, unsure what to say or do.      

Ashley, now reformed, waddled up on the group, her eyes sad and dormant. “Kristoff?” She wondered aloud, her once smiling face drooping into a frown.

And for the first time in a long time, the world was still…

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Kristoff felt light, free, his body growing smaller and smaller as he forced his eyes open, his skin a normal shade, the pain gone from his heart, and memories restored. The world was bright, silent, absolutely still.

Looking around, there were clouds, and two people standing in front of him. A man and a woman. The woman was thin, wispy, and pale with soft grey eyes. Her crystal blonde hair was loosely braided, reaching down to her waist in two bubble pigtails. The man was large, had broad shoulders, brown hair and goatee streaked with bits of grey, his brown eyes elated. Both were dressed in traditional Sami mountain wear, elaborate detailed stitched into the gatki and coats. And both had smiles on their faces.  

Henrik and Gidda, his parents.

Kristoff had spent years thinking about what they would be doing up here after they died, probably happy to be together again. But surprisingly, they looked in wonderful condition despite how they ended. No words were spoken between them for a moment, Kristoff running to them and hugging them both as tight as he could.

Gidda stroked his hair lovingly, Henrik hugging him just as he once did. “Kristoff,” His father said after what seemed like an eternity of silence. “What are you doing here?” He asked as the three broke from the hug, Gidda tearing up at the sight of her son.

“I-I’m… dead.” Kristoff stuttered.

“You may be, but it’s not your time yet.” Henrik frowned at him.

Kristoff looked down, seeing his body encased in ash, Hans draped over him, Elsa and Ashley staring in awe. It was so close, yet so far. “But,” He started. “I want to be here; with you.”

Gidda stroked his cheek, smiling as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Kristoff, we are always with you. You belong with them, with Hans.” She blinked the tears away, embracing Kristoff again, planting a kiss on his neck.

“You need him,” Henrik held his shoulder. “Just like he needs you.” He nodded.

Kristoff felt broken, his mind blank and confused. “He’s never needed me-” But Gidda hushed him. “Kristoff, your ties with him have, and will remain strong for as long as the two of you are alive. Without you, he will never be happy.” She said softly.

The iceman ran his fingers through his hair, which was blonde again. “And neither will you, my son.” Henrik added. “We will always have a place in your heart. Gidda and I will be fine. With any luck, you won’t see us again for a long time.” He chuckled and patted his son on the back.

“But; this is all I ever wanted.” Kristoff looked sadly into his families eyes. Both Henrik and Gidda gave him a look that called his bluff.

“This is not what you want, dear. You love Hans, and the sooner you go back to him, the better your life can be.” Gidda grinned at him understandingly.

Kristoff frowned, but nodded. The family embraced one last time before Kristoff blinked, and he felt them slipping away, his soul coming back to his body, the warmth replaced by a comforting cool flash…

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The soft cold enveloped his heart, balancing out the searing heat, the love he held within him cooling his body to a safe degree. Kristoff felt the warmth dimming from hellish to comforting, the ashy cover dissipating from his chest outwards. Hans was still draped over him like a shroud, protecting him from anything like a friend should, shaking with quiet sobs. He felt the last bit of Hans’ magic leaving his soul, the grey streak in his fringe glowing bright to a golden blonde. A tingling sensation entered his left shoulder as the blotch-like scar healed itself, fading back to a milky white skin. The fire was out, and with a breeze of cold air Kristoff held the warmth of the prince, breathing a breath and drawing his outstretched hand back to his side, shock and awe setting in as Hans felt the iceman move.

He looked up at Kristoff, his hands gripping his forearm and shoulder. “Kristoff?!” Hans gasped and broke into a smile. He threw his arms around his friend in a tight hug, never wanting to let go. Kristoff graciously accepted the hug, not remembering the last time they had hugged.

A sigh escaped the prince's lips, relief flooding his system. He was okay. Kristoff was okay.

“I’m glad your back Hans.” Kristoff sighed as he placed his head on the prince's shoulders, the coal jacket not staining his face like it had others.

They let go after what felt like years, Hans still gripping the icemans hands tight. “You sacrificed yourself for me?” He asked in awe at Kristoff’s sincerity.

Kristoff took a deep breath and smiled, ready to admit what he had denied all his life, like GIdda had told him. “I love you.” He said looking into the princes eyes. Said eyes opened wide with surprise, then melted into an understanding and reciprocating gaze. Hans smiled softly at his friend, not needing to express his feelings in any verbal way. It was obvious how he felt.

Elsa chuckled from where she stood, Pedar still holding tight to her. “Come here you;” She turned to her lover and pulled him into a kiss.

Ashley giggled and Hans looked down to her. “An act of true love can quell the flames!” She repeated Grand Pabbies warning with a giddy tone.

Hans let go of Kristoff and looked around him, at all the destruction he’d caused. The harbor was covered in glass and ash, the sun covered by his smoke, forests ravaged by his fires. Volcano caused by his emotions. What if this bond was just what was needed? Was the answer really that simple?

“Love can quell,” He looked down at the little ashgirl, her endearing smile as innocent as ever.

“Hans?” Kristoff asked in a concerned tone.

“Love,” The prince said again. “Of course!” He lifted his hands up in focus and happiness, a confident smile entering his face.

“Love!” Hans repeated and threw his hands up, the ash and smoke scattering from where they rested to his commands.

Kristoff looked down in awe as the obsidian glass began to thin, a red glow coming from beneath Hans and him as the prince focused his gift, the heat and smoke dissipating quickly with his control. Elsa and Pedar took a cautionary step back, Olaf noticing the transformation and trying unsuccessfully to sniff a glowing ember like it was a snowflake.

Ashley squealed with joy as the glow grew, the individual chunks of basalt and obsidian crumpling into chunks and dust as it floated above to Hans. As the glassy surface dissipated, the hot air fell to a colder temperature and water began to appear in the bay once more, and the six of them watched the burned ship loose its black color and dryness at it floated to right itself in the filling harbor as the ships that were now free from their glassy prison.

Every piece of ash every created by Hans out of fear was being pulled back to him, the burned trees and dry forests springing to life again as the cooler air returned, the countryside flashing green from above as the winter began to return. The city and castle were affected too, the hot air and smoke receding back to its source as the townspeople looked up in awe at the sudden transformation. The volcano by the west wing of the palace receded back underwater, the fires of the roof extinguishing at if never having happened.

The prince smiled, satisfied when every flake of ash and every inch of smoke was high above him. Orchestrating into the shape of a circle before Hans allowed it to dissipate away naturally in a matter of seconds, no remnants of the heatwave remaining in the area besides the radical group. “I knew you could do it.” Kristoff smiled and patted Hans’ shoulder. Four people, a talking sculpture of ash, and a reindeer.

Well, five people.

Katharine stirred from where she lay, her hair shortened, but back to normal, and jagged and blotched scars where the burns once were. She was still a complete mess, yet slightly less than she was only five minutes earlier.

The ship was left floating like all the rest of them. The world was right, the heatwave was over. Her plan had failed, just as Kristoff had said. And, also as he said, when Hans found out she would pay. The queen groaned and stood up, rubbing her cheek where the third degree burn had been, her eyes bloodshot. The iceman looked at his prince, whose eyes were dark and angry.

Hans shot a blast of fire from his hand directly at the queen, who screamed and backed up to the end rail before she toppled back over it and into the marina, the splash heard well from where they all were.  

“That;” Hans laughed. “Felt great.” He grinned.

“Hands down, this is the best day of my life,” Ashley smiled happily at the pair as a sharp gust blew across the ship’s deck, speckled ashes flying away like snow powder. “And quite possibly the last.” Her body beginning to disintegrate in the wind.

“Ashley; hang on.” Hans gave a wave of his hand at the ashgirl, a small glow entered her speckled torso, the ash that was scattering reassembling to her body and head. “And:” The prince nodded and lifted his hand up, a red, glowing scarf wrapping out of her neck from the cold air. “So you don’t get too cold for-”

“Snow!” The little sculpture squealed as snow began to fall over the area, a white dusting soon covering everything in a flawless, light layer of crystallized ice.

Kristoff felt that invisible barrier between the two shatter and break as he hugged Hans again, peeking over at Elsa and Pedar, who were kissing passionately. All in time, he thought to himself as the hug continued. All in time.  

Chapter Text

Three Days Later…

The turn of events in the days after the Great Cooling certainly surprised a certain ice harvester and his prince. They had eachother, and knew now that that was all that truly mattered. Katharine had been right in the simplest of terms. Love was weakness, but their love was strength.

And the both of them were very proud of it.

On the first day, the prince had been incredibly anxious to even show his face in the kingdom after what he had pulled, his confidence falling into the hands of Kristoff, who convinced him after twenty minutes he had to go back to face them. The ship was steered to shore, Hans still hesitant, but as soon as the first of the crowd saw the thirteenth prince, cheers erupted from the docks like magma from a volcano.

It was hardly the reaction he had expected, but he was grateful nonetheless.

Elsa and Pedar had agreed to restart their relationship, the former practically ecstatic in her choice to accept her ex so openly. At times though, their relationship became very public, and often the pair had to take their passion with them into the woods or in the silence of a lodging room. A visit to the trolls was imminent at this point. Olaf took quite a liking to Ashley, and they often disappeared for hours at a time in the city, doing who knew what.

Princess Anna had chosen to return to Arendelle, but promised to keep in touch with Kristoff, knowing her family needed her to be ready to inherit the responsibility of being a princess, then a queen. It was a life with many rules, but as she would say later, those rules were well worth it in the long run; knowing the rewards outweighed the hurdles.

Katharine had been caught, and forced to confess at the fear of being burned to a crisp by the prince she tried to kill. The council was livid at her transformation, and charged her with high treason, attempted regicide, and held the sentence at death. But it was Kristoff that called off the hanging, deciding it was better to simply confine her in the dungeons until further notice. This, however, proved to be a grave mistake. In her short time there the woman's sanity melted like the layers of ice in a pond; until she ended up stabbing one of the guards that delivered her meals with a fork, and trying to hang herself on one of her bed linens until she succeeded. Her funeral was nonexistent, her emaciated body being sent to the local convent with a royal request for her to be buried there.

The kingdom, now without a stable ruler, was turned over to the council to deliberate on which one of the brothers deserved to rule; eight of the brothers having fled and abandoned their duty just as Hans had. A decision was made on the second day after twelve hours of discussion that Prince Thomas would take the throne within the next three months until he came of age. Hans was relieved to hear the news, as well that his brother along with the council pardoned him of his crimes.

The late King Erik was buried on the same gravesite as former Queen Maren, his funeral just as depressing as the previous monarchs one, prince Hans deciding it best to create something for his brother. That thing being a statue of solid obsidian carved in exact detail of his likeness, as well as one for queen Maren, to watch over the country with all the grace and wisdom that the Southern Isles had prospered under.

Hans was invited to live within the palace with his remaining brothers. But Hans did on only one request: That Kristoff join him in the palace, the man having proven himself more than worthy as a noble and prince consort, the latter said only with the thirteenth prince's mind. That was still a fair distance away.

On the third day, Kristoff and Hans placed in a second special request for the same lumberjack that delivered the former to the fire prince and back. Pedar and Olaf were told the surprise, but also warned to keep it secret.

“Come on Elsa; put it on!” Kristoff handed the lumberjack a blindfold, the girl eyeing it with skepticism. She was dressed in a white collared shirt under a violet jacket, grey breeches, and a black alice band let a wave of chocolate colored bangs come down over her forehead. Exactly as the iceman had first seen her.

The iceman was wearing a blue Henley shirt with long sleeves, and a black vest with turquoise trim. Tight brown breeches covered his legs from the cold, the sun shining on the light winter day.

“Fine,” Elsa tied the black cloth tight over her eyes. “How’s this?” She struck a pose that looked like she was trying to be sassy, but it just looked ridiculous.

“You can’t see; hmm?” Kristoff questioned moving closer to Elsa, looking hard to see any openings in the band.

“No,” She sighed. “Wait, you’re not doing something that needs my eyes closed, right?” She started to slide the blindfold off, but Kristoff grabbed hold of her wrist right as it began to pull the black cloth.

“No peeking, now come on!” The iceman tightened the cloth and took Elsa’s hand, leading her across the castle bridge by the pavilion that sold flowers ten feet from the harbor, her surprise waiting for her there.

A shrill voice sounded from a ship docked there. “My poor old heart can’t take this! I was; I was traumatized,” She clearly sounded irritated, and was trying to come up with reasons, no matter how illogical. Slowing his pace slightly, Kristoff turned his head to see the Duchess of Weselton being ‘escorted’ back to her ship, her plan to assassinate prince Hans well documented in the former queen’s confession. The elderly woman was putting up quite the fight, kicking at one of the Southern Isles guards with her pointy boot.

Of the fifty ships that sat in the Southern Isles harbor, only ten were remotely damaged, and all but two or three were well equipped and fixed to sail again the very next day. One of the few that could not be salvaged was the Arendelle ship, and as a result, the ship that carried Princess Anna back to Arendelle was indeed the Weselton vessel.

“I, I demand to see the council to hear their words. As well as Prince Thomas!” She shrieked angrily at Simon, who was escorting the troubled woman to her quarters aboard her ship. The announcer did his job, pulling a scroll of parchment from his pocket.

“I have a decree from Prince Thomas,” He said before the duchess smiled confidently. “As well as Prince Hans.” He finished and the confident smile fell flat into shock. The color drained from her wrinkled cheeks, which were covered in so much rouge she looked as if she’d had an allergic reaction to something.

“The nation of the Southern Isles, due to the rogue actions of the duchess, refuses henceforth to no longer have business of any sort;” He paused at what was written on the parchment and his lips curved into a joking grin. “With Weaseltown.” Simon jabbed as the duchess fumed.

“Weselton! It’s Weselton you ungrateful little-” She tried to protest as the guards dragged her off to her quarters. Beside the railing of the deck, the princess spotted Kristoff, and waved.

Kristoff smiled happily and waved back, Elsa hearing, but not seeing exactly what he had, and snorted at the old womans behavior. “That duchess, seriously, who does she think she is?” She rolled her blue eyes under the blindfold. “I demand to speak to Prince Thomas!” The lumberjack imitated her snooty voice with near perfect match. Kristoff chuckled and continued to pull her forward, a bit faster.

“Hang on! My arm is killing me-” Elsa stopped as a loud smack came from one of the wooden columns that made up the pavilion. She had smashed straight into it, her arms bowed out in front of her as Kristoff almost continued to run without her. Before he noticed and helped her past the obstacle, muttering apologies over the overwhelming laughing at his own blind eye.

“Okay, okay, here we are!” He said after giving her a final tug to the harbor path, their boots squeaking on the gray cobblestones as Kristoff righted Elsa’s balance. He gave the blindfold a sharp tug and it fell undone and Elsa saw it.

A sled sat on the stony ground, a sleek dark wood painted a soft black and decorated with old Runic-like symbols. The seat was raised high and easily big enough to fit three people on the intricately carved bench. The runners were a wrought iron, but had a curious mechanism that was covered only slightly by the borders. It was a sled fit for a royal, or even maybe Santa Claus. But a strange lever sat to the left of the driver's seat, holders for reins left empty as Olaf strutted up to the sleigh like a runway model, giving a sophisticated and snobby grin at the pair.

Elsa immediately felt like crying, it was so beautiful. “No way.” She breathed and resisted the urge to run up to it. “You’re serious about this; the sleigh… I mean-”

“Yeah!” Kristoff said enthusiastically. “And it’s the latest model. It also comes with a surprise!”

Elsa didn’t have to guess, she knew just what it was.

Pedar appeared from behind it, cleanly shaven, and holding a lute, giving it a few playful strums. He broke out laughing and put the musical instrument to the side at Elsa dashed up and hugged him, giggling happily at the new sled she now possessed. “And: Thomas has named you the Official Lumberwoman of the Southern Isles.” Kristoff pointed out as Pedar took the signal and broke the kiss, indicating the strange lever.

Giving it a quick pull, the runners lifted up as twelve wooden wheels slid down in their place. Elsa gawked at the transformation, and pushed her lover aside as she began to flip the lever back and forth like a child on Christmas Morning. “Look Olaf! It’s a sled,” She pulled the lever as the runners appeared. “It’s a cart!” Elsa squealed pulling the lever again to show Olaf, who rolled his eyes at his master’s giddy attitude.

Pedar walked up to Kristoff and crossed his arms, a friendly smile appearing on his cleanly shaven face. “You know, he didn’t have to make up the title just for Elsa.” He indicated the sled.

“I actually wasn’t kidding. Turns out there’s a lot of weird titles around here. I’m the Official Ice Master and Deliverer, and so was my father. Apparently Thomas found the Lumberwoman title while leafing through his grandparents records. They just hadn’t thought to fill it after the original owner died from a tree falling on top of her.” Pedar feigned shock and chuckled.  

“You don’t think you’ve jinxed anything do you?”

“Of course not. You’re gonna be with her.” Kristoff smiled confidently at Elsa, who was running back towards him and they collided with such force they both almost toppled back into the bay. She wrapped him in a warm hug, and winked at Pedar, who took something from his pocket.

“Also,” The huntsman pulled something sparkly from his pants pocket. “I believe this belongs to you.” He held out Henrik’s ice harvesting medal to Kristoff who took it and stared at him, then Elsa, then smiled, not really caring how she got it back. But he knew he had to truly bury his past if he ever wanted to accept his love for the prince.

“Alright, you.” Pedar broke the elated moment between Elsa and her sled. “We’ll take this baby for a spin later. Right now, the prince has requested every citizen to appear in the courtyard for some kind of surprise.” He held her in a soft embrace that she laughed and tried to squirm out to no avail.

“Okay, my prince.” She kissed Pedar and he only hugged tighter, the love they shared stronger than ever in the cold winter afternoon…  

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Prince Hans stood in the courtyard of the palace, the slick layer of ice beneath him refusing to melt until he wished. What felt like thousands of people were gathered in the stony yard, a few struggling not to slip. Old, young, male, female, every one of them devoid of the look of fear they once held for the thirteenth prince. He ran a hand through his copper red hair, the stress fading to nothingness as he took a deep breath to address the crowd.

“Are you ready?” He asked in a sly and playful manner, looking about the citizens. All of them were accepting, ready to see what his magic could do at his will.

The crowd instantly rose in cheers and enthusiastic clapping. That was all the answer Hans needed.

As he always once practiced in the castle's ballroom as a child, the prince lifted his heel, still protected by the coal black shoe, and pressed it into the ice, the water immediately melting a fogging away into a soft mist like in a sauna. Warmth radiated around to the point where the crowd shed their jackets and scarves, many of the cheers were replaced not by screams, but by shouts of awe as volcanic glass substituted the cold ice, keeping everyone warm and cozy.

The black glass spread in somewhat chaotic jets, covering some areas of the cobblestones faster than others, but only because Hans allowed it.

As the obsidian reached the gates surrounding the perimeter of the courtyard, they grew in tall arches that entwined with one another, harmless sparks cascading as the glow of the freshly created architecture finished its own transformation.

Hans, not yet satisfied, turned his attention to the two bare trees now planted in the ground. With a whirl of his hand, the branches ignited in a soft blue glow, simply for beauty and nothing more.

The prince smiled as the people began to laugh, all of them sliding and skating on the flawless glossy surface better than any skating pond. Couples and children played on the ice-like rink, Simon doing some very impressive moves for being as old as he was with one of the chambermaids, Gretta.

Hans met the iceman’s brown eyes, happy and pleased that he had gotten Hans back. They came face to face as Kristoff struggled to get a grip on the slippery surface, the muscular man colliding with the prince, who caught him easily.

He held into his friend's hands, steadying himself on the rink in his normal shoes. "I should do something about that." Hans raised an eyebrow teasingly at the other man. He pulled his right hand free, and in a slinking motion, Kristoff’s boots formed a pair of glass runners, beautifully shaped like the runners on Elsa’s new sleigh.   

“Oh Hans; they’re nice but you know that I don’t ska-a-a-a-a-a-te!” His voice raised as the prince pulled him forwards, his powerful hands feeling warm and kind in Kristoff’s large ones.

“Come on, you can do it! What happened to all those lessons I gave you when we were kids?” Hans chuckled as the pair bumped into Ashley in her red scarf, who was skating around in a fit of giggles herself with a tall partner. Thomas held the twig fingers in his grip; laughing in a way Hans had never seen from his conservative older brother.

“I like the open gates,” Kristoff remarked to all the changes that had happened over the course of a week.

Hans grinned devilishly. “We are never closing them again.” He nodded and pulled his friend on as he struggled to skate with the prince, Elsa and Pedar laughing as they too slid around chaotically. Olaf clumping around on the glass like he always did, propping his friend up with a strong nudge so she fell into Pedars arms enveloping him in a kiss.

Maren’s last words lingered through Hans’ mind one final time, the words no longer hurting as they once did. “You’ll be fine, Hans.”

Never before that those words held any truth to them; that was, until now.

Kristoff smiled at the prince, his friend in his grip for the first time in forever. Everything felt right, nothing out of place, he was getting what he had always dreamt of: A friend he had kept close all those years. Everything was perfect, and it would always be, as long as he knew how to play with fire.

The End