Post by Huntress on Feb 10, 2019 11:12:29 GMT -5
I don't normally write much of anything, and when I do, it's brave ongoing attempts to squeeze NT series out of my brain. But my brain does weird things sometimes. I woke up this morning at around 7 AM and this story just popped up in my head in its full entirety. So I sat down when I got a moment and wrote it down.
Thawing Heart
“Darling, I’m taking the kids to play in the yard.”
He turns to look at his wife who’s been playing with their two toddlers for the past hour and is now scrambling to her feet, energetic as always, perky as always, her voice and wide eyes full of love and adoration as always when she addresses him. He nods and smiles to acknowledge her statement, a smile he knows looks perfectly genuine, even reaching his eyes. She’s never had any reason to doubt the genuineness of his smiles, his words, his love. He’s spent years honing them to perfection.
She hurries off, the echoes of their children’s laughter mingling with hers and disappearing down the hall, and he remains in their tall, airy room, under the beautifully carved ceiling beams, currently painted golden by the slanting rays of the afternoon sun.
It’s a rare moment of silence in the busy castle, a welcome moment of respite between his constant duties in nearly every council, committee and group of advisors. He turns away from the large window where he’s been half-focused on composing a speech for the ambassador and half-focused on composing himself, finding solace and balance in the sunrays glittering on slanted roofs of the kingdom and the still waters of the fjord beyond like so many times before over the past years.
No, he doesn’t love his wife, much as she believes otherwise; she has no reason to ever learn the truth. In truth, he doesn’t really love anyone. Curious, really, considering how much everyone in this kingdom seems to love him.
He heads towards his writing desk but pauses when he passes the tall mirror standing by the wall, his moving reflection arresting his attention for whatever strange reason. He steps closer and looks at his own face as if for the first time, handsome as ever, if a bit weary and prematurely lined, his green eyes warm as ever, if not for the shard of ice glinting deep inside, something only he himself seems capable of noticing.
How was everyone so very blind to him?
But then, he’d always been playing his game so very carefully, hadn’t he? And standing there in front of that mirror, looking himself in the eye, he doesn’t quite see his face any more, but the events of nearly ten years ago, when he first arrived in this kingdom with a plan as old as time.
Marry the Queen. Take the kingdom. Finally prove his worth. So very, very simple.
And yet, he’d almost messed up badly. It had been going so well from the get-go – too well, actually, which is why he’d slipped up like an idiot, letting his quick success get to his head. Looking back even now, he feels his heart speed up with panic, remembering the jolt of terror upon realizing how he’d almost blown everything after years of careful planning.
He’d arrived, full of hope. He’d met the princess, this adoring girl with her innocent blue eyes and endless energy, so desperately craving for love, affection, attention and charm. He didn’t even have to put much effort into wooing her. Things went well – too well – too fast – and like an idiot, he’d proposed. She’d said yes – predictably. Her sister, the Queen, had said no – also predictably. He remembers the icy cold trickle of panic upon looking into the Queen’s ice-blue eyes and realizing that he’d gambled too big.
But then the equilibrium had shifted, the Princess too far on edge to stand idly by, the Queen much more fragile than anyone had known, they had clashed – badly – and the Queen had revealed powers of ice and snow, freezing the entire country and fleeing.
Well, at least that had been completely unpredictable, he thinks with an echo of a wry smile.
After that, scared straight, he’d resolved to play it as safe as possible. The kingdom spiraled into crisis, and in all honesty, it puzzled him how ripe for picking it actually was. The Princess hurried off and left him in charge – an unthinkable move anywhere else, but this kingdom really was run by these two isolated, scared, fragile, inexperienced young women and literally no one else. A band of foreign dignitaries had taken matters into their own hands because a local chain of command had not existed. At all. He’d quickly realized that if he didn’t play his cards right, any one of them could fill this power vacuum in his stead, that the situation was hanging at balance over a frozen precipice. Really, if any neighboring king had so happened to trot by on a conquest to another neighboring kingdom, they could’ve picked this place up over lunchtime.
So he’d done what he did best: helped people, charmed people, made himself the leader they needed at the time. It was what he’d come to do, after all, and it was presented to him on a silver tray. When the Princess’ horse returned and he resolved to rally a search party, so as not to lose his only two fine threads that could set him up for actual legitimate rule, he’d needed all his wits and tactical skills to lead that party. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. Twenty four hours after his arrival, he was already a hero of the kingdom.
Determined not to mess anything up again, he stayed in that role. Stayed supportive. Gentle, caring, understanding, yet firm. None of this ever came from his heart – it couldn’t – but it didn’t matter. All he had to do was go along with the opportunities that presented themselves.
So when the Princess was returned from her quest, weak and cold and begging for his true love’s kiss, he’d kissed her, knowing full well that it wouldn’t do anything. He still remembered the look on her face when her heart all but broke, blue eyes wide and full of disbelief. He’d stroked her hair and been baffled alongside her, whispering useless consolation, telling her that neither of them knew how arcane magic works, that surely there must be something else, all the while waiting for her to die.
But the Princess was resilient, never willing to give up. He’d since learned time and time again that she was a much stronger force than it first seemed, and he’d long since learned to admire and respect her. He knew that love was what she truly wanted, but such is the burden of royalty. Love was a privilege, not a right. A fairy tale spread to console those who’d never glimpse it in their lifetimes. And yet it was the driving force behind the Princess, getting her up from his arms, determined once again to go and find – her sister.
He’d supported her through that as well, because really, what did he have to lose by this point? She was a dead woman walking and every step he stayed with her was another point in his favor. Together, they’d staggered out to the raging snowstorm, looking for the Queen. The Princess didn’t make it. She finally froze solid, a tragic little ice sculpture like a broken bird, and he’d been the suitable picture of grief alongside her when the Queen finally found them. She’d thrown her arms around her sister – probably the first human contact she had in years, he assumed – and cried bitter tears – probably also the first in years, he knew eyes of ice when he saw them – and those were what melted the Princess back to life. Suddenly, the Queen knew how to control the winter, summer returned, everyone rejoiced, magic and wonder. As far as he was concerned, it was all an arbitrary mess, but then that’s pretty much what you’d expect when dealing with magic.
Remembering his earlier stupidity, he’d been a picture of humility in the aftermath, letting his actions – and all the people – speak for him, and while the Princess was still adamant about marrying him, the Queen, albeit mellowed by his heroic conduct, was still very wary, and he publicly deferred to her decision and rule. After all, it’d be foolish to rush into this, he’d claimed, they’d let the thrill get to their heads getting betrothed so fast, the lack of effect of the kiss clearly showed that they still had a path to walk down first, and so forth. As a compromise, they’d been betrothed for several years and he stayed in the kingdom to actually prove his worth as a future husband of the Princess, but more importantly to be involved in all the committees and councils that now welcomed him as a proven hero with open arms. Hell, he’d had to found half of their councils, because they had essentially nothing to begin with, and the Queen screwed things up further by officially severing ties with Weselton, meaning a good several months’ worth of negotiations with all neighbors, none of which these two women were remotely prepared for. Poring over hundreds of documents, he’d allowed himself a private grumble in the direction of the late, well-meaning but clearly shortsighted King on more than one occasion.
All the while, his plan lay dormant, but not forgotten. Things were going well. Arranging a little… accident… for the Queen was still in the cards, albeit very complicated now that he knew that she was a one-woman army of eternal winter, but surely there was a way for that still. She was a very fragile woman, mistrusting and paranoid and very sharp, so he’d done all he could to make himself useful to her, make himself invaluable, supply the kingdom with all his political and tactical skill, charm ambassadors and dignitaries. It was going well. Bit by bit, she was mellowing. Surely, she’ll be letting her guard down more and more. And then…
He could see his reflection in the mirror again now, looking into his green eyes that were slowly going wide with a realization he, for all his years of planning and careful scheming, hadn’t actually thought of until now.
…and then he’d… dispose of her… and of her convenient deterring factor against warring neighbors, one should remember… and then he’d dispose of his wife as well… who could also charm dignitaries like a veritable thunderstorm in ways only this lovely woman with steely resolve could… and then he’d…
…rule Arendelle.
Prince Hans of Arendelle, Senior Advisor, head of endless councils and hero of the people, stares at his reflection in the mirror, wide-eyed, as though seeing it for the first time without the shard of ice that had guided his actions so singlemindedly for the past decade.
There is a knock on the door. “Sir?”
“Yes?” he croaks automatically, used to being addressed at every corner while having a hundred things on his mind on any given day. The brief respite is over.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but the ambassador is waiting and they can’t begin without you, Sir…”
“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Footsteps hurry away from the door and Hans blinks as though shaken out of a trance, then casts a sideways glance out of the window where the sun still glitters on slanted roofs and the still waters of the fjord and the bubbling fountains and the planter boxes on windowsills…
He already ruled Arendelle.
Maybe not in name – but what did that mean? Mostly it meant that on the few occasions when assassins had crept to the kingdom in the dead of night to exercise some of the sneakier, nastier aspects of politics, they were going for the Queen, not him. They’d all been found as human popsicles in the morning and it’d been ages since anyone attempted anything like that again. He didn’t have that kind of convenient protection. He didn’t really have anything but his own wits, and the love and support of his wife, and his people, and the backing of his Queen who supported him in every decision made to strengthen and advance the kingdom, which was properly flourishing now, even expanding…
He ruled Arendelle.
And when he heads out of that room to plunge right back into the stuffy rooms with stuffy people and stuffy papers to keep the kingdom on its stuffy but necessary rails, his mind still lingers on the glittering sunshine that warms the roofs, the fjord, the fountains, the planter boxes, and indeed, his heart.
Perhaps he doesn’t know how to love. Perhaps he’s just never had the opportunity to learn. Perhaps it might still happen. But perhaps, without even noticing, he’d at the very least come to love Arendelle.
Thawing Heart
“Darling, I’m taking the kids to play in the yard.”
He turns to look at his wife who’s been playing with their two toddlers for the past hour and is now scrambling to her feet, energetic as always, perky as always, her voice and wide eyes full of love and adoration as always when she addresses him. He nods and smiles to acknowledge her statement, a smile he knows looks perfectly genuine, even reaching his eyes. She’s never had any reason to doubt the genuineness of his smiles, his words, his love. He’s spent years honing them to perfection.
She hurries off, the echoes of their children’s laughter mingling with hers and disappearing down the hall, and he remains in their tall, airy room, under the beautifully carved ceiling beams, currently painted golden by the slanting rays of the afternoon sun.
It’s a rare moment of silence in the busy castle, a welcome moment of respite between his constant duties in nearly every council, committee and group of advisors. He turns away from the large window where he’s been half-focused on composing a speech for the ambassador and half-focused on composing himself, finding solace and balance in the sunrays glittering on slanted roofs of the kingdom and the still waters of the fjord beyond like so many times before over the past years.
No, he doesn’t love his wife, much as she believes otherwise; she has no reason to ever learn the truth. In truth, he doesn’t really love anyone. Curious, really, considering how much everyone in this kingdom seems to love him.
He heads towards his writing desk but pauses when he passes the tall mirror standing by the wall, his moving reflection arresting his attention for whatever strange reason. He steps closer and looks at his own face as if for the first time, handsome as ever, if a bit weary and prematurely lined, his green eyes warm as ever, if not for the shard of ice glinting deep inside, something only he himself seems capable of noticing.
How was everyone so very blind to him?
But then, he’d always been playing his game so very carefully, hadn’t he? And standing there in front of that mirror, looking himself in the eye, he doesn’t quite see his face any more, but the events of nearly ten years ago, when he first arrived in this kingdom with a plan as old as time.
Marry the Queen. Take the kingdom. Finally prove his worth. So very, very simple.
And yet, he’d almost messed up badly. It had been going so well from the get-go – too well, actually, which is why he’d slipped up like an idiot, letting his quick success get to his head. Looking back even now, he feels his heart speed up with panic, remembering the jolt of terror upon realizing how he’d almost blown everything after years of careful planning.
He’d arrived, full of hope. He’d met the princess, this adoring girl with her innocent blue eyes and endless energy, so desperately craving for love, affection, attention and charm. He didn’t even have to put much effort into wooing her. Things went well – too well – too fast – and like an idiot, he’d proposed. She’d said yes – predictably. Her sister, the Queen, had said no – also predictably. He remembers the icy cold trickle of panic upon looking into the Queen’s ice-blue eyes and realizing that he’d gambled too big.
But then the equilibrium had shifted, the Princess too far on edge to stand idly by, the Queen much more fragile than anyone had known, they had clashed – badly – and the Queen had revealed powers of ice and snow, freezing the entire country and fleeing.
Well, at least that had been completely unpredictable, he thinks with an echo of a wry smile.
After that, scared straight, he’d resolved to play it as safe as possible. The kingdom spiraled into crisis, and in all honesty, it puzzled him how ripe for picking it actually was. The Princess hurried off and left him in charge – an unthinkable move anywhere else, but this kingdom really was run by these two isolated, scared, fragile, inexperienced young women and literally no one else. A band of foreign dignitaries had taken matters into their own hands because a local chain of command had not existed. At all. He’d quickly realized that if he didn’t play his cards right, any one of them could fill this power vacuum in his stead, that the situation was hanging at balance over a frozen precipice. Really, if any neighboring king had so happened to trot by on a conquest to another neighboring kingdom, they could’ve picked this place up over lunchtime.
So he’d done what he did best: helped people, charmed people, made himself the leader they needed at the time. It was what he’d come to do, after all, and it was presented to him on a silver tray. When the Princess’ horse returned and he resolved to rally a search party, so as not to lose his only two fine threads that could set him up for actual legitimate rule, he’d needed all his wits and tactical skills to lead that party. It hadn’t gone unnoticed. Twenty four hours after his arrival, he was already a hero of the kingdom.
Determined not to mess anything up again, he stayed in that role. Stayed supportive. Gentle, caring, understanding, yet firm. None of this ever came from his heart – it couldn’t – but it didn’t matter. All he had to do was go along with the opportunities that presented themselves.
So when the Princess was returned from her quest, weak and cold and begging for his true love’s kiss, he’d kissed her, knowing full well that it wouldn’t do anything. He still remembered the look on her face when her heart all but broke, blue eyes wide and full of disbelief. He’d stroked her hair and been baffled alongside her, whispering useless consolation, telling her that neither of them knew how arcane magic works, that surely there must be something else, all the while waiting for her to die.
But the Princess was resilient, never willing to give up. He’d since learned time and time again that she was a much stronger force than it first seemed, and he’d long since learned to admire and respect her. He knew that love was what she truly wanted, but such is the burden of royalty. Love was a privilege, not a right. A fairy tale spread to console those who’d never glimpse it in their lifetimes. And yet it was the driving force behind the Princess, getting her up from his arms, determined once again to go and find – her sister.
He’d supported her through that as well, because really, what did he have to lose by this point? She was a dead woman walking and every step he stayed with her was another point in his favor. Together, they’d staggered out to the raging snowstorm, looking for the Queen. The Princess didn’t make it. She finally froze solid, a tragic little ice sculpture like a broken bird, and he’d been the suitable picture of grief alongside her when the Queen finally found them. She’d thrown her arms around her sister – probably the first human contact she had in years, he assumed – and cried bitter tears – probably also the first in years, he knew eyes of ice when he saw them – and those were what melted the Princess back to life. Suddenly, the Queen knew how to control the winter, summer returned, everyone rejoiced, magic and wonder. As far as he was concerned, it was all an arbitrary mess, but then that’s pretty much what you’d expect when dealing with magic.
Remembering his earlier stupidity, he’d been a picture of humility in the aftermath, letting his actions – and all the people – speak for him, and while the Princess was still adamant about marrying him, the Queen, albeit mellowed by his heroic conduct, was still very wary, and he publicly deferred to her decision and rule. After all, it’d be foolish to rush into this, he’d claimed, they’d let the thrill get to their heads getting betrothed so fast, the lack of effect of the kiss clearly showed that they still had a path to walk down first, and so forth. As a compromise, they’d been betrothed for several years and he stayed in the kingdom to actually prove his worth as a future husband of the Princess, but more importantly to be involved in all the committees and councils that now welcomed him as a proven hero with open arms. Hell, he’d had to found half of their councils, because they had essentially nothing to begin with, and the Queen screwed things up further by officially severing ties with Weselton, meaning a good several months’ worth of negotiations with all neighbors, none of which these two women were remotely prepared for. Poring over hundreds of documents, he’d allowed himself a private grumble in the direction of the late, well-meaning but clearly shortsighted King on more than one occasion.
All the while, his plan lay dormant, but not forgotten. Things were going well. Arranging a little… accident… for the Queen was still in the cards, albeit very complicated now that he knew that she was a one-woman army of eternal winter, but surely there was a way for that still. She was a very fragile woman, mistrusting and paranoid and very sharp, so he’d done all he could to make himself useful to her, make himself invaluable, supply the kingdom with all his political and tactical skill, charm ambassadors and dignitaries. It was going well. Bit by bit, she was mellowing. Surely, she’ll be letting her guard down more and more. And then…
He could see his reflection in the mirror again now, looking into his green eyes that were slowly going wide with a realization he, for all his years of planning and careful scheming, hadn’t actually thought of until now.
…and then he’d… dispose of her… and of her convenient deterring factor against warring neighbors, one should remember… and then he’d dispose of his wife as well… who could also charm dignitaries like a veritable thunderstorm in ways only this lovely woman with steely resolve could… and then he’d…
…rule Arendelle.
Prince Hans of Arendelle, Senior Advisor, head of endless councils and hero of the people, stares at his reflection in the mirror, wide-eyed, as though seeing it for the first time without the shard of ice that had guided his actions so singlemindedly for the past decade.
There is a knock on the door. “Sir?”
“Yes?” he croaks automatically, used to being addressed at every corner while having a hundred things on his mind on any given day. The brief respite is over.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but the ambassador is waiting and they can’t begin without you, Sir…”
“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Footsteps hurry away from the door and Hans blinks as though shaken out of a trance, then casts a sideways glance out of the window where the sun still glitters on slanted roofs and the still waters of the fjord and the bubbling fountains and the planter boxes on windowsills…
He already ruled Arendelle.
Maybe not in name – but what did that mean? Mostly it meant that on the few occasions when assassins had crept to the kingdom in the dead of night to exercise some of the sneakier, nastier aspects of politics, they were going for the Queen, not him. They’d all been found as human popsicles in the morning and it’d been ages since anyone attempted anything like that again. He didn’t have that kind of convenient protection. He didn’t really have anything but his own wits, and the love and support of his wife, and his people, and the backing of his Queen who supported him in every decision made to strengthen and advance the kingdom, which was properly flourishing now, even expanding…
He ruled Arendelle.
And when he heads out of that room to plunge right back into the stuffy rooms with stuffy people and stuffy papers to keep the kingdom on its stuffy but necessary rails, his mind still lingers on the glittering sunshine that warms the roofs, the fjord, the fountains, the planter boxes, and indeed, his heart.
Perhaps he doesn’t know how to love. Perhaps he’s just never had the opportunity to learn. Perhaps it might still happen. But perhaps, without even noticing, he’d at the very least come to love Arendelle.
Can you guess how many freakin' times we've had to watch Frozen over the past month or so?
(and I do wonder how long it took anyone who actually read it to figure out who it's about.)
I wouldn't call it a fix-fic because it's arguably much less nice than the original, but it's what could've happened if Hans hadn't been handed the Idiot Ball and kingdoms functioned the way kingdoms actually function.
(and I do wonder how long it took anyone who actually read it to figure out who it's about.)
I wouldn't call it a fix-fic because it's arguably much less nice than the original, but it's what could've happened if Hans hadn't been handed the Idiot Ball and kingdoms functioned the way kingdoms actually function.
