Disclaimer: Everything belongs to their rightful owner(s).
Pairing: Most definitely, eventually Hans/Elsa, and minor Kristoff/Anna (because they're my second Frozen OTP).
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Friendship.
World/Story Setting: Post-movie. Slight AU.
Rating: PG-13/ T. I'm not planning on changing this anytime soon ― and beware of the 'f-bombs' because there will be some.
Summary: While waiting for the transition of Hans' imprisonment, Elsa made a point to visit him. Things went bad fast and Elsa accidentally shot her power at Hans - but seeing as he wasn't injured, both of them thought it was nothing but a bad bruise. Unbeknown to them, Elsa's power was running in his blood. Five years later, Hans came back. With a daughter. Who inherited the same power as Elsa did.

Author's Note: If you haven't read the Intro to this, which introduced a little bits of how Hans met Sofia for the first time and how the story evolved to where it is now, the link would probably be on my profile. It wouldn't be entirely necessary for you to read it, but, you'd probably have a more difficult time understanding the whole theory that is the plot I'm trying to create, but I don't know, maybe you're a genius and you'd catch up fast. Yeah... I'm pretty stupid at trying to make a point without sounding like a total snob.

In any case, I personally think it's a shame that Hans/Elsa wasn't even given a chance to appear like a potential couple I saw them as. Of course the creators had to make Hans almost murder Elsa with a frickin' sword, like, they were trying their best to distinguish any Hans/Elsa flames because ― are you a psycho? How can you ship Elsa with a man who wanted to kill her?

Well, the joke's on you, I guess. I totally have a special place in my heart for them, even if, like, a thousand people disagree with me. Well, that's enough with me and my stupid rant. Obviously, reader, you're not here for that. So, I won't keep you any longer and... enjoy.


To Princess, my former best-friend.
I've always wanted to dedicated stuff for you, for what we've gone through and I do wish we'd still keep in touch.
But alas, perhaps things are better this way.
(I've loved you, and I always will)

One


.

.

.

.

.

.

.

I give her all my love
That's all I do
And if you saw my love

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

You'd love her too

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

When he first boarded Sofia onto Ingfrid, he was surprised to find out the young girl wasn't sea-sick or anything. He had prayed really hard that she wasn't ― not only because it would only be a shame if his own biological daughter didn't favour the sea as he did (not that he was willing to admit Sofia was who she was back then), but only because if he were to keep her then, the only mode of transportation for him would have been his lovely companion, Ingfrid ― and it was safe to say he was relief as he watched her little feet ran up everywhere on the boat, echoing 'ooh's' and 'aah's'.

Seeing Sofia as she were then brought back painful memory ― a memory he tried his best to avoid from remembering ― but he knew would only be fruitless because as her bright green eyes met his while she exclaimed how astonished she was by the view, he couldn't avoid the truth any longer. He remembered his own small body, perhaps a tad older and bigger than Sofia's small form, exclaiming the beauty he's seeing to his own father. The King of the Southern Isles.

The King ― may he rest in peace ― was a good man, that much Hans could confirm. He passed away when Hans barely reaching the age of ten years old, leaving them way too fast for any of their likings. Hans couldn't recall much of the old man, but he remembered the stern of his voice ― the way it could easily changed from a softer tone into an angry one in just a heartbeat ― and the tint of grey in his green eyes. Yes, he remembered that much.

He remembered that as soon as he was reaching six years old, the King have brought him sailing ― and that was how he fell in love with it: the carving on the boat, the waves of the sea, the scent of a fresh morning after an almost-deadly storm that never really kill them, but nearly did.

He remembered the King's voice, echoing back to yell orders to the crews and ― it was fun while it lasted.

He had gotten Ingfrid when he was fourteen, he recalled dully. A present from Haakon, which was the best present he's ever received his whole life. He recognised every inch of the boat, cared for it, adored it. And he had named it Ingfrid because it had been the name he found in a poem, while he was sailing with the King when he was six. The King would have been proud ― he had also named his boat based on a poem he read when he was a young lad, or at least that's what Hans remembered him telling.

Sofia hadn't mind the life they've been living ― always out and about, never staying at one place for too long ― plus, it seemed that she drew strength of her power even more so when she was out in the open, exposed to the bright moon. He wondered if his eyes were having problem, but he thought her hair shone a low glimmer of white whenever she concentrated under the moon's beam.

He had written this concern to Haakon, who after a week and two days replied, stating that perhaps Sofia's abilities were, in a way or another, connected to the moon. They never really could confirm that.

Hans sighed as a harsh wave made the boat shook with a violent force ― it was a normal occurrences ― while he stood there, overlooking the gloomy dark night.

He looked down at this spot, where he was standing, and felt a wave of nausea swept over him, just a little bit. It was the spot where he told his daughter of his past ― well, not all of it. Just the important points. That he's done bad, and he was selfish, and that was why they couldn't see Uncle Haakon as he would have liked her to - or any other Uncles, and her Grandmother, for that matter.

He had watched her tiny little face, anticipate the worst when he's done telling his story, "I've done worst things, Sofia," he told her, swept a hand across her tiny cheek and brushed a handful of platinum blond lock in his palm, "But you're not one of them."

She didn't reply immediately, but her small arms are wrapping themselves around his neck and, she's having her nose pressed on his nape and she's whispering, "I don't care what you did, Daddy. You're here now, and you won't ever leave me, right?"

He heard himself chuckled as his arms brought her closer, "I could never leave my Light."

And that was how the nickname was born.

"Daddy?"

He turned around then, and spotted the snowy-haired child which he came to love, and those bright green eyes blinking back at him curiously. He smiled, took a step behind and stood properly, "Sofia? Aren't you asleep?"

"I was ― but it kept me up awake again."

At that, she flexed her fingers in front of her, creating a vague image of aurora that usually painted the night sky although, of course, this was snow instead of lights. This happened sometimes ― her being awake all of a sudden; it's her power, they concluded. Sometimes it felt like a dream of you falling out of nowhere, and you woke up with a jolt and thanking God that it was just a dream. But instead of a dream, it felt like something was zapping your whole body with a sudden ice-cold lightning.

He should know ― it was something he too experienced, minus the fact that he actually had the power. He guessed it's a side-effect, somehow, of inheriting the 'so-called' Snow Queen's power.

The mention of the Snow Queen sunken something within him and a rush of memory he pushed the past few days since he changed his routes to Arendelle flooded his thoughts. Damn, he told himself, trying to shake it away.

Sofia stopped what she was doing, dropping the snow onto her palm and blinked back at him. "Are you okay, Daddy?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He lied, flashed her a smile, before beckoning her to come closer to him. She did, gingerly and joined him as they view the ocean together.

She leaned against him and took hold of his hand ― he no longer cringe at how cold her skin are when it came into contact with his. "Where are we sailing to next?"

He glanced down at her, and for that one second, he didn't see his daughter ― no, he saw a young woman, who would've been approximately near his age, maybe a year younger, with a young face, but fear livid behind her illuminating blue eyes. And he saw strands of white hair falling on her face, ones that didn't caught in the braids, and it held rage when she looked at him, and he could feel himself smirking down at her and ―

"Just ― shut up!"

"Daddy?"

He blinked again ― twice ― and actually witnessed how those raw images fled away, vanished in sight, and was replaced by a slight-freckled cheek and long-eyelashes and curious face, and ― this was not Elsa.

No. This was his four-year-old daughter.

He cleared his throat, and tore his gaze away from Sofia ― he didn't mention that although Sofia wasn't biologically related to Queen Elsa, at all, the white hair really did serve as a strong, horrid reminder. He watched the stars, and he was reminded by his eleventh brother, who adored astronomy and had every constellations' names by heart. Actually, he was the one who taught Hans how to use stars even more accurately during sailing.

He smiled bitterly at the memory. "I'm sorry, I was ― I guess, distracted, love. What was your question again?"

Sofia nodded her hand and released her hand from his grip, now waving her arms around and creating small creation of snow and snowflakes-sculpture around them. "Where are we sailing next?"

"I ―" he found himself saying, looking down at her. "I think I should tell you something."

She's looked back up, but her fingers are still creating snow all around her. He swallowed and took a seat, "Remember I told you a few days ago about a Queen who had the same ability as you?"

Something in her eyes sparkled, "Yes..."

"Well," he licked his lips, "I'm taking you to her. So, you could learn to control your power better and just ― be better generally. Would you like that?"

The air shifted ― but in a very good way. He could actually feel her excitement through the atmosphere, and it more-or-less lessened the weight that seemed to burden his whole body. "Are you serious, Dad?!"

He couldn't fight his grin, "Of course I am."

There's a smile that seemed as if it won't disappear, ever, from her mouth and before he knew it, she was stumbling through her steps and leaping into his arms that he barely loses his balance and send the both of them into the sea. He caught her, though, just like he always would, and felt her whole body shook with excitement. "I would love to!"

He let her calm down for a while, before he had her on his laps, looking giddily at him as he cleared his throat again. "But there's something I need you to understand."

"What is it?"

He caught his breath, licked his lips and looked back at the beautiful, baby girl in front of him and tried to smile. Tried. "Remember the things I told you about how I did a very bad thing? How I became very selfish and destroyed everything?"

There's a small nod there, and the smile slowly vanished. Her eyes saddened and worried, and Hans wished he could kiss those goodbye ― his young daughter looked better with a smile. "Well, all of those bad things I did, I did it in Arendelle ― I was a very bad man, Sofia, and my actions were despicable, and I worry that if I brought you there, it will cause you harm."

"Will they hurt you, Daddy?"

"I ―" he imagined the scenario and felt how thick his bile were behind his throat, "I don't know."

"Then we don't go." Sofia simply said ― her voice suddenly no longer childish, but serious although it was still meek and small. "We can't go."

"But Sofia ―" you'll get yourself injured if we don't go. You don't know how you're growing stronger. I do. I see it, everyday. And you will hurt yourself, and I don't want that. None of those words really came out, and it killed him secretly, inside.

"I don't want them hurting you, Daddy." She said, and there's an edge of pleading in her tone. "Or worse. They'll take you away from me."

"I won't let them," he told her, like an impulse. "You know I won't."

He can't let them have her. He can't.

"So, we don't go?"

"But―" his own voice came out, and it was sharp, swift, like a sword against his skin. "We have to. At least, we have to try."

He had her half-convinced that by the time they were reaching the sea which surrounded Arendelle, they will be fine. But it was the deck, and the mountains that were so green ― it was Spring on the moment ― and he recalled back how Arendelle had the most beautiful scenery he'd ever landed his eyes upon, and it was the large, mighty castle with its door open and so welcoming that had his stomach lurched and his head twisted.

He might not be fine by the time this episode ends, but as he looked down at his daughter's secretly excited face, he knew one thing for sure.

He won't lose her. And she won't lose him.

At least, not that day.


The situation wasn't ideal, how they've landed into them.

He could hear it now ― the strings of shouting words and everything's creeping with ice and they're so sharp and the guards were so frightened, and for that one moment, he was frightened because that was not how things were supposed to go; it was supposed to be a quick visit, or no visit at all ― not this, not what they went through.

He could feel it now ― the chance of him losing her, and how it's slipping through his fingers very, very slowly even though he's gripping Sofia with all his might that he thought she might be whimpering because of that. He lessened his hold on her immediately, and the jolt of pain that ripped through his right biceps didn't make him flinch when he wrapped his arms around her, because he would not lose her. Yes, he chanted, closing his eyes determinedly, he would not lose her.

"I d-didn't mean to hurt the guard―" sobbed Sofia, her icy-tears soaking his cloth. "He was ― he was, he was hurting you, Daddy!"

"Don't worry, don't worry, it's all going to be okay. It's all going to be fine," he told her, whispering rather breathlessly because his mind was reeling, because he remembered the guard's face, and he remembered the ice his daughter created, and he remembered the door suddenly burst open and he remembered her face. Everyone's faces. "It's okay, everything's going to be okay. You'll be fine, my Light."

"They're going to take me away from you!" She cried harder, because she's four and she didn't understand anything, except that they've landed themselves in a big problem which neither could fix, and the temperature dropped and he could interpreted every sadness she's beaming off ― and it scared him.

He didn't blame her, he decided, because he could never blame her, to be honest ― but they were wrong to think they could come in here and requested a help from the Queen that he tried to kill five years ago. No, he was wrong to think that and brought Sofia to Arendelle's front. He laughed then, because ― Arendelle's front? They couldn't even get pass the guard, for goodness' sakes.

It was pathetic.

And now he was there, and the Queen and the Princess and the Princess' fiancé were in the other room that they were facing, and even though he's sure the huge door that separated them was thick, it didn't keep the loud voices from coming through ― and he could tell you how angry those voices were. Things weren't looking good, definitely.

The ice were spreading now from underneath them, and Hans tried ushering Sofia down even though it seemed impossible on the moment, and the guards that were supposed to keep an eye on them began to lose their stationary pose ― Hans could practically taste the panic which rose within them at the sight of the ice that's thickening on the floor and reaching the walls.

Suddenly, the door burst open ― like how it was when the guard had the ice against his throat ― and he saw her again. Queen Elsa of Arendelle. White hair in a longer braid, a slight alteration to the famous blue dress she's wearing and the ever-so-serious expression planted across his face. The beast inside of him almost growled and smirked all at the same time, it's mouth itching to send a sarcastic remark towards her way, but he didn't, and he won't.

The ice stopped spreading.

Queen Elsa waved her hand, and like how he's seen before, the ice fell under her command and began to disappear off. "Calm now," her voice was softer than her expression as she stepped forward, urging more towards Sofia. "You would only make it worse, you know?"

When Sofia lifted her little chin up and faced the Queen, it wasn't the familiar cheerful mask she usually wore, instead, there's a tinge of the darker side of him (or her deadbeat biological mother) that painted across her face, which silently shook his fear awake ― because if there's anything he wouldn't want Sofia to become, is the worst version of both her parents were. "You won't take me away from my father!"

Elsa blinked at her, and he spared a quick glance at Anna, who latched on her fiancé and a worried expression spread on her expression. But it was obvious her worry only extended to his daughter, which he won't expect anything less ― while her fiancé - what was his name again? - glared indirectly at him. He batted his eyes quickly after that, and felt the ice-cold hand of her daughter in his palm.

Queen Elsa looked as if a realisation finally dawned over her, and she replied with a clip, "I see."

She walked around them then, and stopped when she's in front of him, and even though he's towering over her, she never waver. Hans felt hatred bubbling up inside of him, but he swallowed it down every time, because he knew better. He's supposed to know better. And so he said, "Please, I beg of you. Do not let my past mistake cloud your decision to take my daughter under your wing. And if you ― if you refuse so, please just let me walk away from here safely with my daughter and I swear to you, we will never come back here again. I swear."

She's blinking up at him, and there's distrust in her eyes ― and it's so fucking blue ― and all he could choke up with next was, "Just ―"

The silence hung in the air before Anna interrupted, "Elsa―"

"I've made my decision," announced the Snow Queen, her heels thudding against the floor as she walked a couple of steps away, now towards Sofia. The atmosphere didn't drop - although it's still rather cold - but he knew the four-year-old was scared, but she never cower. There's proud welling up in his chest and he wished he could whisper that in her ear on the moment, but he stood still ― he would let the Queen finish.

The Queen stared back at him, and her stare was stern. "I will take your daughter under my care," she exclaimed, straightly and with a tone that was heavy in seriousness. "I will allow the both of you to stay here, in the castle, and provide the two of you with any basic necessity you will need. But ― if I found out as much as a tiny speck of evidence that this was apart of your scheme to take the throne, or any act of treason, I will not hesitate to take this child away from you and give you the punishment you deserve. One little slip-up, and you're done."

The air stilled.

"Do you understand?"

He felt his mouth ran dry, but he realised his shoulders were squared and the Hans that used to rebel rose to roar back, to shred this 'tough' shield the Queen's holding up into pieces, to bark against her orders and to mock her, but he stopped himself when his mouth curled to spew those words out. He pursed his lips next, re-thought everything, and through gritted teeth replied, "I do."

After a few seconds, he managed, "Thank you."

There's a nod next from her and her heels thudded again against the floor as she spun around, "Someone will show you to your―"

"Um, actually―" Both of them turned to the voice, and was surprised to see Anna stood forward, her fiancé following behind quickly. He was trying to interject ― "What are you doing?" ― but it was clear that she was ignoring him. "I would like to show you to your room," her eyes trailed to her sister questionably, "If I can."

"What?" Was her fiancé's immediate respond. "No."

"Kristoff," Anna hissed, narrowly looking at him side-ways before carving a sweet smile towards the Queen. She took a deep breath afterwards, when he realised the Queen was giving her a questionably expression with one brow raised, and she began her explanation, "I just ― I think I need to do this."

"No, you don't." Her fiancé ― Kristoff, was it? ― scoffed.

Elsa looked calmer when she asked, "What do you mean?"

"I just ― trust me, okay. I need to do this." She turned her attention quickly towards Hans and he could sense a darker edge to her looks now. He also realised she looked just a tad older, but not in a bad way. In a way that made her looked wiser, in her expression, in how she appeared ― made her looked like she's properly grown after good five years. There's a gentleman in him that wanted to point this out, but the fierce stare she's giving him made him thought twice of it.

"Very well, if you're sure, Anna." The Queen looked unsure, but clearly respected enough of her sister's request to deny it. "Would you like Kristoff to―"

"No," She turned to her fiancé, "You should follow Elsa."

"Oh no." Kristoff immediately shook his head, his voice rushed and intense. "No. I'm not leaving you alone with the guy that tried to kill you five years ago―"

"Kristoff!" Anna glanced worriedly towards Sofia, and hushed down into a whisper, "Not in front of the kid."

There's resentment in his expression, but he didn't object to her. "You get what I mean."

"I do, but―" She hesitated, then continued. "I won't be alone. There will be guards escorting me. I will be fine. You have to trust me, Kristoff. Okay? Do you trust me?"

Kristoff had an expression that resembled a sulking teen, but Hans didn't comment. "Fine."

Anna jumped giddily and threw an arm around him before planting a kiss on the corner of his lips that sent the blond man grinning slightly, but Hans wasn't quite sure as at to that point, his eyes were on the Queen that had her eyes back on him ― and he could feel his blood rushed in his system, but he held his gaze until she looked away, spun on her heel and walked away. He wanted to tell her that it's her fault that had them in this situation, but when he stared back into his daughter's eyes, he wasn't sure if he wholly regret it.

Because he could tell you right now, he didn't.


When Anna was showing them to their rooms, it was obvious that Sofia got along quite well with her. No, Hans wasn't jealous over the ring that nestled on her finger, or the fact that she seemed to get on so easily with his daughter ― in fact, he was more wary than he was ever jealous of her. But when she's gotten him alone ― Sofia had walked into their chamber first ― he understood why, partially.

"She's too good to be yours," she had commented, coldly and bitterly ― and no longer the sweet, naive, little Anna he had manipulated years ago. He was somewhat proud of her, but he didn't say.

"Well, she is," was his replied, a low tone from his throat because this was the exact conversation he would like to avoid. Ever.

"You better not have anything up your sleeve, or we'll―"

"I get it." He responded, looking at her straight in her eyes.

Slap.

"That―" she muttered angrily, when he finally let the sting of her hand across his left cheek sunk it, "― was for the punch that didn't feel nearly satisfying as I thought it would, now that I'm seeing your face again."

He gritted his teeth, and placed a hand over his reddening cheek. "I'd probably deserved that."

"You do," Anna didn't disagree, nodding her head firmly. After a few seconds beat away, she sighed, "A lot of things sure did change, Hans."

The sound of his name with her voice caught him off guard, and for that one second, he admitted to himself how he missed it. How he actually, sorta missed her. It was a good feeling, he concluded off ― knowing someone adored you with all their hearts. Someone that wasn't related to you, someone who could have been a friend, or a lover. He casted his eyes away, and nodded his head slowly, "It did."

"You have a beautiful daughter."

That much was true. "Indeed."

Anna played with the ring on her finger, and she looked up at him uncertainly. "Well, I see you at dinner."

He didn't reply, he didn't even turn his head to see her go ― but he heard her footsteps echoed when she walked away, and another thud of a door closing (probably the door to the hall) and ignored the stern gazes the guards that were assigned to them were giving. He sighed, nodded to himself in assurance, walked into the room and shut the door closed.


"This room is so warm!" exclaimed Sofia as she pressed her palms against her cheek to restrain the smile that's getting bigger on her face. Hans watched her by her side, observing her as she lie down on the bed, her hair sprawling all over the sheets. That's right, he reminded himself. Sofia never really did had a real bedroom before. At least, not like this.

She rolled over then, "Daddy?"

"Yes, my Light?" He hummed back, playing with the obviously hand-sewn blanket that was set across the bed when they walked in.

"Are you sure you're okay to be here?"

He spared her a look after that, because, really, he hadn't expect her to question him with that question. The honest answer would have been a big 'no', and that he would rather be out there on Ingfrid, sailing about and counting stars and remembering very hard of their names because those lessons he received while he was a Prince held some identity he was now desperately holding onto ― and not here, not on this comfortable bed, behind these trapped castle walls that will definitely haunt him through his dreams.

But things have changed, and he was a father, to a beautiful child with a beautiful talent and his answer became ― "I'll get by."

He flopped down on the bed, right next to Sofia and smiled when she let out a shrill of his favourite giggles, and planted a kiss on her temple, "The most important thing is, we're together."

"Okay," agreed Sofia as she flecked her toes and created small snows by her feet. "Together."

"Together."


"You didn't join us for dinner."

Was what Queen Elsa said as soon as he opened the door, expecting another guard to inform him that he was requested for dinner. He blinked thrice at her, because there's a lot to take when you're facing the Snow Queen, and stood straighter. He shook his head, swallowed a bile, "I didn't."

She didn't seem satisfied with the answer, "Any reason as to why?"

"You came down all the way here just to ask why we didn't come for dinner?"

She didn't answer, but the looks she gave away was enough. He straightened his posture again, "Sofia fell asleep. I couldn't possibly leave her alone." Not in the castle they just moved in for a few hours now. He didn't tell her that, though. He watched her ― well, more of her reaction rather than her ― and noticed the way her lipstick were smudged, just a little bit, and that she's changed into a different attire - no, not the blue dress she's worn perfectly well with - but an attire fit to a Queen when night began to fall.

She brushed a white hair behind and looked like she's trying to peer into the room, "May I come in?"

"Why?" was his first reaction, until he realised who he was talking to and where he was at. He clammed his mouth into a tight line, licked his upper lips and nodded, before taking a step back to allow her to enter. The guard stood straighter, but the Queen gave a silent command for him not to move ― don't worry, I can handle myself.

She walked over to the ruffled up bed, where the sleeping four-year-old continued to snore on safely, her eyes shut and her whole face calm. But Hans wasn't watching his little girl ― no, he was watching the young woman that had matching hair as his daughter, the woman who gave birth to the power that live within his young girl, the woman who had the bluest eyes he's ever seen in his entire existence, the woman who was now looking back at him. "What's her name?"

He let a few moments passed because ― what? "Em," he cleared his throat and forced his gaze away, "Sofia."

"Sofia," he heard her whispered as she moved closer to Sofia's small body. He watched her from where he stood, almost afraid to move because this sight felt surreal, felt... like a dream. And then, the Queen touched his little girl's face, taking a strand of platinum blond hair and pushing it away from her cheek. "Have you had your arm checked again?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your arm," she calmly repeated. "You were wounded, remember? The guard stabbed you."

He glanced at his arm, and suddenly remembered the bandage that's hidden under his sleeve. Now that she had remind him, the pain of his ripped muscle sent pain across the whole area, until he finally winced dramatically. He hadn't thought of it until then. Huh. He wanted to tear his sleeve open and treated his wound like his third brother taught him when he was twelve, but then he realised there's a pair of blue eyes watching him and he stopped his movement. "Oh, yes ― no. I haven't got it checked just yet. Thank you for reminding m―"

"Let me see your bandage," she said, her voice clear and cut straight through his heart.

He looked at her funny, "Huh?"

She licked her lips, and he picked up just a small hint of annoyance behind her cool facade. "Let me see your bandage. I can help you clean your wound." She gestured towards an empty chair nearest to him, and nodded.

He didn't know why ― he had a feeling it was perhaps because he's too tired to think by that hour ― but he obeyed. He loosened the first cloth on his body, revealing his bandaged arm to her eyes. They both slightly flinched at how the blood practically soaked the bandage through. He wanted to tell her that he's sorry she had to see that, but no words came out and plus, he's still bitter about everything. Especially now that she's getting closer, and closer to him.

"My schedule is pretty filled tomorrow," she said, as she shed his bandage off. "But I can have your daughter after breakfast, until two hours before noon, if that's alright with you."

"Yeah," he tried relaxing as her cool touches ghosted over his skin, "Yeah, okay."

"Will you be around with her?"

"Well," he inhaled, "She's fairly new to the place ― I think I'll join her, if that's fine with you."

"I believe so," she said and finally released the whole bandage from his arm. "The wound isn't too deep. I will be cleaning it now."

It felt cold when her magic swapped over his arm, but it felt oddly calming and good at the same time. He wondered if it's because the power of her that ran in him that helped him felt the way he was, or if he was just enjoying the sensation ― either way, he wasn't complaining. He forced himself to wake up from the trance that would have transported him into dreamland, and tried to catch the Queen's gaze.

The same Queen he tried to get rid of years before. "You know," he heard his own darker voice snarled, "You can't blame this all on me."

"Whoever said I did?"

He scoffed, "You don't have to. It was you who blasted me with your power, Your Majesty. It was you who made Sofia a magical like you."

She didn't answer, but in her expression was no longer calmness ― and he took the opportunity to look away, because staring at her for too long wouldn't be good. Not physically, definitely not mentally. "You are a doomed, doomed man, Hans of the Southern Isles," the Queen chose her words, angry but not enough.

He chuckled, but didn't retort.

She was done a second later, and she cleaned her own hand with her make-shift snow. "I hope it doesn't say the same with you being a father."

Ouch, that hurts.

"I will send someone for a fresh bandage." She walked away, chin held high and proud ― but not exactly beaming. "I will see you at breakfast."

He sunk down further when the door shut, drowning in her words, before he finally thought:

Damn.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Bright are the stars that shine
Dark is the sky
I know this love of mine
Will never die

And I love her

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.


if you find yourself at lost of the plot, you should probably check the author's note up there^.