Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In the heart of Oslo, nestled within a sprawling estate that exuded elegance and warmth, lived the Arendelle family. Agnarr and Iduna Arendelle, renowned for their leadership of Arendelle Inc., a global corporation, were not just business moguls but also loving parents to their two young daughters, Elsa and Anna. Elsa, at four years old, possessed a striking resemblance to her mother but instead was graced with flowing blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, while Anna, a bubbly one-year-old, had inherited her father's gentle smile and curious spirit.

On a bright morning, the sun's rays streamed through the expansive windows of their luxurious home, gently waking Elsa from her dreams. She yawned, rubbing her eyes sleepily before swinging her legs off the bed. With a determined expression, she tiptoed across the plush carpet towards her little sister's room. Knocking softly on the door, she called out, "Anna, wake up! It's breakfast time!"

Anna, still snug in her crib, giggled at her sister's enthusiasm. She started babbling, waving her arms excitedly.

Their mother, Iduna, appeared in the doorway with a warm smile, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders. "Good morning, my little sunshine," she greeted, lifting Anna out of her crib and placing a kiss on her forehead. "Shall we go downstairs for breakfast?"

Elsa nodded eagerly, taking her mother’s hand as they all descended to the kitchen, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the aroma of pancakes on the griddle. Agnarr, tall and distinguished with a friendly face framed by graying temples, stood at the stove, expertly flipping pancakes. He turned around at the sound of their approaching footsteps, his face lighting up. "Good morning, my darlings!" he exclaimed, his voice resonating with paternal warmth.

"Elsa, Anna, come here," Agnarr beckoned, motioning them over to the table. Elsa climbed onto her seat with a little boost from Iduna while Anna was settled into her high chair. The table was set with colorful plates and bowls, ready to be filled with a hearty breakfast.

As they ate, conversation flowed freely. Elsa chatted animatedly about the new storybook she had read with her father the night before, while Anna banged her spoon on the high chair tray, providing cheerful commentary in her own baby language. Iduna and Agnarr listened with loving attention, occasionally sharing amused glances at their daughters' antics.

After breakfast, the family gathered in the living room, where Agnarr sat at the grand piano. Elsa and Anna clambered onto his lap as he began to play a gentle melody, his fingers dancing across the keys with practiced ease. Iduna watched from the nearby armchair, her heart swelling with pride and love for her family.

In this moment, surrounded by warmth and laughter, the Arendelle family shared a bond that transcended their business ventures. They were not just executives and heirs but a loving unit, nurturing each other's dreams and celebrating every small joy that life brought their way.

As the morning unfolded, Elsa and Anna's laughter echoed through the halls of their home, a testament to the love and happiness that filled their lives each day.

~❆~~~❆~

The morning had begun with its usual serenity at the Arendelle estate in Oslo. Agnarr, dressed in a crisp suit, was savoring his first sip of coffee when the phone rang, shattering the calm. He glanced at the caller ID, recognizing the Copenhagen number of his dear friend, Stephen Westergaard. With a furrowed brow, Agnarr answered, "Stephen? Good morning."

There was a moment of silence on the other end before Stephen's voice, usually strong and composed, came through laden with grief. "Agnarr," he began, his tone heavy, "I... I don't know how to say this. Edith..." His voice cracked, betraying the anguish within.

Agnarr's heart clenched with dread. "Stephen, what's happened?"

"She's gone, Agnarr," Stephen managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Edith lost her battle with cancer last night."

Time seemed to freeze for Agnarr as the weight of Stephen's words settled in. Edith, Iduna's closest friend since childhood, was gone. The tears that had gathered in his eyes blurred his vision, his hand gripping the phone tighter. "Stephen," he choked out, his voice trembling, "I... I'm so sorry."

Stephen's voice wavered. "Thank you, Agnarr. It's... it's been hard on the boys. They're trying to cope, but..." He trailed off, the unspoken grief hanging between them.

"How are they holding up?" Agnarr asked softly, his heart breaking for his friend's family.

"They're trying their best," Stephen replied quietly. "Caleb's been strong for them, but Hans... he's struggling."

Agnarr's mind flashed to Hans, the youngest of Stephen's thirteen sons, whom he had met during his most recent visit to Copenhagen. His thoughts drifted to Elsa and Anna, but primarily Elsa as she was Hans’s age. His mind wandered to Iduna and Edith's deep bond, and to the fragility of life itself. Swallowing hard, Agnarr found himself unable to speak for a moment, the weight of the news bearing down on him.

Meanwhile, Iduna entered the kitchen, her eyes bright with morning cheer, unaware of the conversation unfolding. "Who was on the phone, dear?" she asked, her voice filled with warmth.

Agnarr turned to her, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Iduna," he began, his voice breaking as he struggled to find the words, "it's Stephen... Edith..." He couldn't bring himself to say it outright, knowing the devastation it would bring.

Iduna's smile faltered, sensing the gravity in Agnarr's expression. "What about Stephen and Edith?" she pressed, her voice tinged with concern.

Tears spilled down Agnarr's cheeks as he finally managed to utter, "Iduna, Edith... she's gone."

Iduna staggered back, a gasp escaping her lips as she clutched the countertop for support. "No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "No, Agnarr, it can't be..."

Agnarr rushed to her side, wrapping his arms around her as she collapsed into tears. They held each other tightly, grief enveloping them both, the reality of loss sinking in with brutal clarity.

In that moment, the world outside their home seemed to fade away, leaving only the raw ache of sorrow and the steadfast love that bound them together. The news of Edith's passing marked the beginning of a period of mourning for their family, intertwined with the Westergaards in shared grief and profound sadness.

Agnarr and Iduna held each other in the kitchen for what felt like an eternity, their tears mingling with whispered words of comfort. The weight of Edith’s loss pressed down on them both, a heavy, inescapable burden. Finally, Agnarr pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "We need to be there for Stephen and the boys," he said softly, his voice steady with resolve.

Iduna nodded, though her eyes were still glazed with tears. "Yes, we do. But what about Elsa and Anna?"

"We'll ask Kai to look after them," Agnarr suggested. "He’s been with us for years. The girls adore him."

With a deep breath, Iduna agreed, and Agnarr made the call. Within the hour, Kai, the company’s trusted personal assistant and secretary, arrived at the estate. Tall and impeccably dressed, Kai exuded a calm professionalism that had always reassured the Arendelles. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Arendelle," Kai greeted them warmly, though his expression turned somber as he saw their tear-streaked faces. "I came as soon as I could. How can I help?"

Agnarr placed a hand on Kai's shoulder. "We need to attend a funeral in Copenhagen. It’s Stephen Westergaard's wife, Edith. She passed away last night. Could you look after Elsa and Anna while we’re gone?"

Kai’s eyes softened with understanding. "Of course. I’ll take good care of them. You have my word."

Iduna, still holding Anna, who sensed the tension and was fussing, managed a grateful smile. "Thank you, Kai. We’ll try to be back as soon as possible."

Elsa, sensing something was wrong, looked up at her parents with wide blue eyes. "Mama, Papa, where are you going?"

Kneeling down to Elsa's level, Agnarr took her small hands in his. "We have to go see Mr. Stephen and his boys for a little while, my love. But Kai will stay with you and Anna, and we’ll be back soon. Be a good girl for us, okay?"

Elsa nodded solemnly, her little heart heavy with worry, though she didn’t fully understand. "Okay, Papa. I’ll be good."

Kai stepped forward, offering Elsa a reassuring smile. "Why don’t we go read one of your favorite books, Elsa? And maybe we can play with Anna’s toys together."

Elsa’s face brightened a little at the suggestion, and she took Kai’s hand. "Okay, Kai."

With the children in good hands, Agnarr and Iduna gathered their things quickly, their movements driven by urgency and grief. They barely spoke as they made their way to the airport, the silence between them filled with the weight of the loss they were about to face.

Agnarr and Iduna left the comforting embrace of their home with heavy hearts, the weight of Edith’s death hanging over them like a dark cloud. The chauffeur, sensing the gravity of the situation, drove in respectful silence, navigating the familiar streets of Oslo toward the airport. The soft hum of the car engine was the only sound, a stark contrast to the usual lively conversations that filled their rides.

Iduna stared out the window, her eyes unfocused, lost in memories of Edith. She remembered their childhood together, the way they had shared secrets, dreams, and countless moments of laughter. She felt a pang of sorrow thinking of how those memories were all she had left now. Agnarr, sitting beside her, kept glancing her way, his own grief mirrored in the furrow of his brow.

"She was so strong, Agnarr," Iduna whispered, her voice breaking the silence. "She fought so hard."

Agnarr reached over, taking her hand in his. "She did, my love. She did everything she could. And now we must be strong for Stephen and the boys."

Iduna nodded, her grip on his hand tightening. "How will we tell Elsa and Anna? How do we explain that someone so dear to us is gone?"

"We’ll find a way," Agnarr replied gently. "We’ll be honest and loving. They’ll understand in their own way."

As they approached the airport, the sprawling terminal loomed ahead, a hub of activity and movement that felt oddly disconnected from their sorrow. The chauffeur pulled up to the curb, and a valet swiftly opened the door for them, offering a polite greeting that felt jarringly out of place.

"Thank you," Agnarr said, his voice muted. He helped Iduna out of the car, and they made their way into the terminal, their steps slow and deliberate.

The airport was bustling, filled with travelers hurrying to and fro, yet Agnarr and Iduna moved through it like specters, their minds focused solely on the task ahead. They bypassed the crowded check-in lines, heading straight to the first-class counter where an attendant greeted them with a professional smile.

"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Arendelle. How can I assist you today?"

"We need to book the earliest flight to Copenhagen," Agnarr replied, his tone steady despite the turmoil inside.

"Of course," the attendant responded, quickly typing into her computer. "There’s a flight departing in an hour. I’ll get you both on it."

"Thank you," Iduna murmured, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

The attendant handed them their boarding passes, and they made their way through the expedited security line, the process a blur of motions and beeps. Soon, they were seated in the tranquil first-class lounge, the plush seats and soothing atmosphere doing little to ease their hearts.

When the boarding announcement came, they rose together, walking to the gate with an air of quiet determination. As they settled into their spacious first-class seats, Agnarr glanced at Iduna, who was staring blankly at the window.

"We’ll get through this," he said softly, trying to offer some comfort.

Iduna turned to him, her eyes glistening. "I know, Agnarr. But it’s going to be so hard."

The flight attendants moved efficiently, offering drinks and ensuring their comfort, but Agnarr and Iduna declined, too wrapped in their thoughts to care. The engines roared to life, and soon the plane was ascending, leaving Oslo behind.

As they soared through the clouds, the reality of their mission sank in deeper. They held hands, finding solace in each other’s presence, ready to face the heartache that awaited them in Copenhagen. Their journey, though brief, felt endless, a stretch of time marked by silent tears and shared grief.

Iduna leaned her head on Agnarr's shoulder, her tears finally slowing. "I can’t believe she’s gone," she whispered. "How will Stephen manage without her?"

Agnarr squeezed her hand gently. "We’ll be there for him, Iduna. We’ll help him through this, just as he would for us."

The flight seemed both endless and far too short, and before they knew it, they were disembarking in Copenhagen. The city, usually a place of joyful reunions, now felt cloaked in sorrow.

Arriving at the Westergaard residence, the atmosphere was heavy with mourning. Stephen, a shadow of his usually formidable self, greeted them at the door. His eyes were red-rimmed and hollow, his shoulders slumped with grief. "Agnarr, Iduna," he said, his voice raw. "Thank you for coming."

Iduna embraced Stephen tightly, her own tears falling anew. "We’re so sorry, Stephen. Edith was like a sister to me. I can’t imagine the pain you’re in."

Stephen nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Finally, he managed, "The boys are taking it hard. Caleb’s been trying to keep everyone together, but... it’s been rough."

Agnarr placed a reassuring hand on Stephen’s back. "We’re here now. We’ll do whatever we can to help."

As they entered the house, the sight of the thirteen Westergaard boys, each grappling with their loss in their own way, drove home the reality of Edith’s absence. Agnarr and Iduna steeled themselves, knowing they had to be strong for their friends in this darkest of times.

~❆~~~❆~

That night, after the long day filled with tears and whispered condolences, Agnarr found himself restless. The Westergaard residence was hushed, the boys finally asleep after hours of grieving, the house heavy with the sorrow of loss. Agnarr, unable to sleep, wandered through the quiet halls until he found himself drawn to the patio door, the soft glow of a single light drawing him outside.

Stephen was there, seated in a wrought-iron chair, a cigar clutched between his fingers. The smoke curled lazily into the night air, the scent mingling with the cool breeze. Stephen's face was etched with lines of exhaustion and grief, a stark contrast to his usual composed demeanor. He looked up as Agnarr approached, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Agnarr," Stephen greeted, his voice rough. "Couldn't sleep either?"

Agnarr shook his head, taking a seat across from his friend. "No. It's... it's hard to find peace tonight."

Stephen nodded, taking a long drag from his cigar. "Yeah, it's been... a hell of a day."

There was a long silence between them, the night sounds filling the gaps in their conversation. Agnarr watched Stephen closely, noticing the tension in his friend's shoulders, the way his hand shook ever so slightly as he brought the cigar to his lips.

"You know," Stephen began, his voice low and rough, "I always thought I was prepared for this. For losing her. But nothing... nothing can prepare you for this kind of pain."

Agnarr reached out, placing a comforting hand on Stephen's arm. "I'm so sorry, Stephen. Edith was an incredible woman. You two had something special."

Stephen's face twisted into a bitter smile. "Yeah, she was something alright." He flicked the ash from his cigar, his eyes hardening. "But life goes on. The boys... they need to toughen up now. Can't afford to be soft. Not in this world."

Agnarr frowned, a pang of unease prickling at the back of his mind. "They're just kids, Stephen. They're grieving. They need time to heal."

Stephen's gaze turned sharp, almost menacing. "Time to heal? There's no time, Agnarr. Life doesn't wait for you to catch up. They need to learn that now, or they'll never survive."

Agnarr shifted uncomfortably, not used to seeing this side of his friend. Stephen had always been tough, sure, but this... this felt different. Darker. He tried to brush it off, chalking it up to the overwhelming grief.

"They're strong kids," Agnarr said softly. "They'll get through this. With your guidance."

Stephen snorted, a harsh sound that sent a shiver down Agnarr's spine. "Guidance, huh? They need discipline. Structure. They'll thank me for it one day."

Agnarr didn't know how to respond, a deep unease settling in his chest. He wanted to believe that Stephen was just speaking out of pain, that the harshness in his words was a temporary lapse. But something about the way Stephen's eyes glinted in the dim light, the hard set of his jaw, made Agnarr worry.

"Well," Agnarr said, trying to steer the conversation to safer grounds, "if you ever need anything, Stephen, you know I'm here. For you and the boys."

Stephen's expression softened slightly, and he nodded. "I know, Agnarr. Thanks. It means a lot."

They sat in silence for a while longer, the night pressing in around them. Eventually, Agnarr rose, giving Stephen's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Try to get some rest, Stephen. Tomorrow’s another day."

Stephen nodded, though his eyes remained distant, locked on some invisible point in the darkness. "Goodnight, Agnarr."

As Agnarr walked back into the house, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. But he dismissed the thought, convincing himself that it was just the grief talking. After all, Stephen was his best friend. Why would he ever doubt him?

~❆~~~❆~

Two days later, the Westergaard estate was cloaked in a somber atmosphere as the funeral preparations reached their final stages. The morning was overcast, fitting the mood of the day. The vast gardens, usually filled with laughter and life, now seemed to hold their breath in mourning.

Agnarr and Iduna dressed in silence, their movements slow and deliberate. Agnarr adjusted his tie in the mirror, his eyes heavy with sorrow. "How are you holding up, love?" he asked, glancing at Iduna, who was fastening a small locket around her neck—a gift from Edith many years ago.

Iduna sighed, her fingers lingering on the locket. "It still doesn’t feel real, Agnarr. I keep expecting her to walk through the door with that bright smile of hers."

Agnarr walked over and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I know. It’s going to be a difficult day. But we’ll get through it together."

Downstairs, the Westergaard boys were gathering, each dressed in black suits, their faces pale and drawn. Caleb, the eldest, was trying to maintain a composed front, but the strain showed in his eyes. Hans, only five years old, clung to his older brother’s hand, his face a mask of confusion and sadness.

Stephen stood at the entrance, greeting the arriving guests with a stoic expression. He acknowledged Agnarr and Iduna with a curt nod as they joined the growing crowd. "Thank you for being here," he said, his voice tight.

"We wouldn’t be anywhere else," Iduna replied, her voice breaking slightly. "Edith meant the world to us."

Stephen nodded, a flicker of emotion crossing his face. "She did. She was... everything." He quickly composed himself, his gaze hardening once more. "It’s time. Let’s go."

The procession to the church was a solemn one, the cars moving slowly through the streets of Copenhagen. The city, usually vibrant and full of life, seemed to share in the grief of the day, its usual hustle and bustle muted.

The church was filled with friends, family, and business associates, all gathered to pay their respects to Edith. As the service began, the air was thick with the weight of collective sorrow. Agnarr held Iduna’s hand tightly as the eulogies were read, each one a testament to Edith’s kindness, strength, and indomitable spirit.

Stephen stood at the pulpit, his face a mask of control, as he spoke of his late wife. "Edith was the heart of our family," he began, his voice steady but strained. "She brought light into every room she entered, and her love for our boys was boundless. We will miss her every day, but we must carry on, as she would have wanted."

Caleb and Hans sat in the front row, their eyes fixed on their father. Caleb’s expression was one of determined composure, while Hans clung to his brother’s arm, his small body trembling with unspoken grief.

As the service ended, the guests filed out to the cemetery, where Edith would be laid to rest. The skies opened up, a light drizzle beginning to fall, as if the heavens themselves mourned her passing.

Agnarr and Iduna stood by Stephen’s side, offering silent support as the casket was lowered into the ground. Iduna’s tears flowed freely, mingling with the raindrops, while Agnarr’s grip on her hand tightened.

After the burial, the guests returned to the Westergaard estate for a reception. The atmosphere was heavy, conversations hushed, the usual vibrancy of the house replaced by a subdued melancholy. 

Stephen retreated to the study, a glass of whiskey in hand. Agnarr followed, finding his friend staring out the window at the rain-soaked gardens. "How are you holding up, Stephen?" he asked softly.

Stephen took a long sip of his drink before answering. "I’m managing. It’s all I can do."

Agnarr nodded, understanding the immense pressure his friend was under. "If there’s anything you need, anything at all, we’re here for you."

Stephen turned to him, a shadow of a smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Agnarr. Your support means more than you know."

As the reception wound down and guests slowly trickled out, Stephen remained in the study, his eyes distant as he stared at the half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand. Agnarr lingered near the doorway, watching his friend with a concerned expression.

Stephen looked up, catching Agnarr’s eye. “Want to get out of here for a bit?” he asked suddenly, his voice rough. “I could use a stronger drink, something away from... all this.”

Agnarr hesitated, glancing back toward the living room where Iduna was comforting some of the younger boys. “Are you sure, Stephen? It’s been a long day. Maybe you should rest.”

Stephen shook his head, downing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp. “Rest won’t come easily tonight. I need... a distraction. Just for a little while. Come on, Agnarr. Let’s go to a bar. Just you and me.”

Agnarr’s concern deepened, but he knew pushing Stephen wouldn’t help. Maybe getting out for a bit would ease some of the tension. “Alright,” he said finally. “Let me just tell Iduna.”

Stephen nodded, already reaching for his coat. Agnarr quickly found Iduna and explained the situation. She looked worried but gave him a reassuring nod. “Take care of him, Agnarr. He needs a friend right now.”

“I will,” Agnarr promised, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before heading back to the study. “Alright, let’s go.”

The two men slipped out of the house, the night air cool against their faces as they walked to the car. The streets of Copenhagen were quiet, the city seemingly wrapped in its own shroud of grief.

Stephen directed the driver to a small, out-of-the-way bar, one he frequented in his younger days. The establishment was dimly lit, with a smoky haze hanging in the air. The bartender greeted Stephen with a nod, recognizing him instantly.

“What’ll it be, gentlemen?” the bartender asked, setting two glasses on the counter.

“Scotch,” Stephen replied without hesitation. “Make it a double.”

Agnarr followed suit, though his focus remained on Stephen, who seemed more tense than ever. They sat at the bar, the clinking of glasses and low murmur of conversation providing a backdrop to their silence.

Stephen took a long sip of his drink, his expression unreadable. “I appreciate you coming with me, Agnarr. I needed to get away from all the... sympathy.”

Agnarr nodded, understanding. “It’s overwhelming, I know. But people care about you, Stephen. They just want to help.”

Stephen scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Help? What can they do? Nothing will bring her back. Nothing will fix this.”

Agnarr placed a hand on Stephen’s shoulder. “They can’t bring her back, but they can support you. We can support you.”

Stephen took another drink, his eyes darkening. “Support. Discipline. It’s all the same. The boys need to learn to be strong, Agnarr. Life won’t coddle them.”

Agnarr’s unease grew, but he kept his voice steady. “They’re children, Stephen. They need love and understanding, especially now.”

Stephen’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Love is fine, but it won’t make them men. They need to toughen up, learn to stand on their own. That’s what Edith would have wanted.”

Agnarr frowned, his concern deepening. “Edith wanted them to be happy, Stephen. She wanted them to know they’re loved.”

Stephen’s eyes flickered with an intensity that made Agnarr’s heart ache. “She’s gone, Agnarr. And now it’s up to me to make sure they’re ready for the world. They’ll thank me for it one day.”

Agnarr didn’t know what to say, the weight of the conversation pressing down on him. He took a sip of his own drink, trying to find the right words. “Just... don’t lose sight of what’s important, Stephen. They need their father, not a drill sergeant.”

Stephen’s gaze softened for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe.” He finished his drink and signaled for another. “But I have to do what I think is best. For them. For all of us.”

Agnarr nodded, though his worry remained. He hoped that, in time, Stephen would find a balance between discipline and love. For now, all he could do was be there for his friend, offering support in any way he could.

They sat in silence, the weight of their shared loss hanging heavy in the air. The bar’s dim lighting and quiet hum of conversation provided a fragile cocoon, sheltering them from the harsh reality outside. For a moment, it was just the two of them, grappling with grief and the uncertain path ahead.

But as the evening wore on and the drinks flowed more freely, Stephen's demeanor shifted. The dimly lit bar became a confessional of sorts, where he poured out long-held regrets and frustrations to Agnarr.

"I hate how my father made me choose," Stephen muttered bitterly, his words slurring slightly. "Edith, pregnant with my child, or our family's legacy. I had to leave everything behind—my life by the coast, my freedom." He took a long gulp of whiskey, his hand trembling.

Agnarr listened quietly, sensing the weight of Stephen's words. He knew about Triton Westergaard, Stephen's formidable father, and the expectations placed upon his eldest son to secure the family's future. The decision to marry Edith had been a pragmatic one, binding Stephen to the city and the corporate world, far from the ocean he loved and the carefree life he once had.

"And Ariel..." Stephen's voice caught, emotions surfacing that he had buried deep. "She was always my favorite, you know? Until... until I resented her." His words were tinged with regret, his gaze distant as memories stirred within him.

Agnarr nodded, recalling how Stephen had once spoken fondly of Ariel, the youngest of his seven sisters. "She always looked up to you, Stephen," Agnarr said gently, trying to bridge the gap of pain between them. "She wanted her big brother back."

Stephen's expression hardened, the regret mingling with frustration. "And that just made everything worse," he muttered bitterly. "She didn't understand. None of them did."

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of Stephen's confession hanging heavy in the air. Agnarr knew that beneath Stephen's tough exterior lay a tumult of conflicted emotions—love, duty, regret, and a longing for the freedom he had lost.

"I wish things had been different," Stephen said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "I wish I could go back and choose differently. Maybe then... maybe then I wouldn't feel so damned trapped."

Agnarr reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Stephen's shoulder. "You did what you thought was right at the time, Stephen. You made sacrifices for your family, for the future. That's commendable."

Stephen looked at him, his eyes bloodshot but clear with a rare vulnerability. "Do you think... do you think they'll ever understand?"

Agnarr sighed, wishing he had an answer that could ease Stephen's burden. "I don't know, Stephen. But maybe... maybe it's never too late to try."

Stephen nodded slowly, his thoughts turning inward as he contemplated the path ahead. The night wore on, the conversation shifting to lighter topics as they finished their drinks. Eventually, they called for a ride back to the Westergaard estate, the city lights blurred through the car window as Stephen leaned heavily against Agnarr, exhausted and emotionally spent.

As they approached the estate, Stephen broke the silence once more, his voice quieter now, tinged with weariness. "Thank you, Agnarr. For listening. For being here."

Agnarr squeezed his shoulder gently. "Anytime, Stephen. You're not alone in this."

Stephen managed a faint smile, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "I know," he murmured. "And that means more than you know."

They parted ways at the door, Agnarr watching as Stephen disappeared into the house. The weight of the evening lingered with Agnarr as he made his way back to Iduna, hoping that Stephen's words would lead to healing, not just for himself but for his family as well.

~❆~~~❆~

The night before their departure from Copenhagen, Agnarr found himself drawn once again to the quiet solitude of the patio. The soft glow of a single lamp illuminated Stephen, who sat alone with a cigar in hand, his thoughts seemingly lost in the swirls of smoke that drifted into the night air.

Agnarr hesitated for a moment, then approached quietly, not wanting to startle his friend. "Mind if I join you?" he asked softly, the words hanging between them like a veil.

Stephen looked up, surprise flickering in his eyes before he nodded, gesturing to the empty chair beside him. "Please," he said, his voice rough with a mixture of exhaustion and something deeper that Agnarr couldn't quite place.

They sat in silence for a while, the night embracing them in a quiet understanding. Agnarr watched Stephen intently, noticing the weariness etched into his features, the lines of sorrow and loss that seemed to deepen with each passing day.

"I've always admired you, Agnarr," Stephen said suddenly, his voice low and filled with a raw honesty that caught Agnarr off guard. "Loved you, even."

Agnarr's heart skipped a beat, the admission hanging in the air like a fragile truth. He searched Stephen's face for any sign of jest or regret, but found only sincerity in the depths of his friend's eyes.

"Stephen..." Agnarr started, unsure of how to respond. He had never considered such feelings from Stephen, never dared to entertain the thought. But here, in the quiet intimacy of the night, everything seemed possible yet impossible at the same time.

Stephen took a long drag from his cigar, the silence stretching between them. "I loved Edith," he continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "But... there were times when I wondered what could have been. What might still be.”

Agnarr felt a rush of conflicting emotions—compassion for Stephen's vulnerability, confusion over his own feelings, and a deepening bond that defied simple friendship.

"I never knew," Agnarr admitted softly, struggling to find the right words. "I... I care about you, Stephen. You're like a brother to me."

Stephen nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the cigar in his hand. "I know," he said quietly. "And that's enough. It has to be."

They sat in silence once more, the weight of Stephen's confession settling between them. The night wore on, the sky darkening to an inky black as they both lost themselves in their own thoughts.

As the hour grew late, Agnarr stood, a sense of resolution settling within him. "We should get some rest," he suggested gently, offering Stephen a small smile. "Tomorrow's an early flight."

Stephen nodded, stubbing out his cigar with finality. "You're right," he agreed, his voice steady once more. "Thank you, Agnarr. For everything."

Agnarr nodded in return, a sense of understanding passing between them. "Anytime, Stephen," he said sincerely. "I'll see you in the morning."

They parted ways then, each retreating into the quiet solitude of their thoughts. Agnarr couldn't shake the lingering echoes of Stephen's words, nor the newfound awareness of a bond that had always been there, hidden beneath layers of friendship and duty.

As he settled into bed beside Iduna, sleep eluded him, his mind swirling with questions and emotions that demanded answers he wasn't yet ready to face. Tomorrow, they would return to Oslo, to their lives and responsibilities. But tonight, under the watchful gaze of the Copenhagen stars, Agnarr wrestled with the complexities of love, friendship, and the fragile threads that bound them together.

~❆~~~❆~

Eleven years had passed since that poignant night on Stephen's patio in Copenhagen, where Agnarr and his best friend had shared confessions under the quiet canopy of stars. Now, Agnarr found himself once again in the city, this time not for a moment of reflection and friendship, but for a solemn occasion: Stephen's funeral.

The news of Stephen's passing had reached Agnarr with a heavy heart. Lung cancer, they said—the result, perhaps, of years spent with a cigar in hand, seeking solace in smoke and solitude. As Agnarr stood outside the church, the cold wind of Copenhagen biting at his cheeks, memories flooded back—of laughter shared, of confidences exchanged, of a friendship that had weathered both joy and sorrow.

Inside the church, the atmosphere was subdued, the air thick with grief. Agnarr joined the somber gathering, his eyes searching for familiar faces among the mourners. He found Caleb, now a man in his own right, standing with his new fiancée Ella at his side. Their eyes met briefly, a silent acknowledgment of shared loss.

The service was a blur of eulogies and prayers, each word a testament to Stephen's life—his strength, his determination, his love for his family despite the trials he had faced. Agnarr listened, his heart heavy with the weight of years gone by, of words left unsaid.

Afterward, at the gathering held in Stephen's honor, Agnarr stood among the mourners, a sense of disbelief mingling with sorrow. Caleb approached him, his expression grave.

"Agnarr," Caleb began tentatively, his voice low. "There's something you need to know about Stephen. About how he treated..."

Agnarr's gaze hardened, a protective instinct rising within him. "I know Stephen," he interjected sharply. "He was my best friend. He would never..."

Caleb hesitated, his eyes filled with concern. "I understand, Agnarr. But there are things you may not have known..."

"No," Agnarr cut in, his tone adamant. "I refuse to believe..."

Caleb reached out, his hand on Agnarr's shoulder. "Please, just listen..."

But Agnarr pulled away, his emotions raw. "How dare you defame him at a time like this," he snapped, his voice cracking with emotion. "Stephen was..."

Caleb stepped back, his own grief evident. "I'm sorry, Agnarr," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to upset you. But Hans..."

Agnarr turned away, unable to bear the weight of Caleb's words. He couldn't reconcile the image of his best friend—the man who had confided in him, who had shared his deepest regrets and hopes—with the accusations Caleb now presented. To Agnarr, Stephen had been flawed but fiercely loyal, a man who had struggled with his own demons but had always tried to do right by his family.

As the gathering continued around him, Agnarr retreated into his thoughts, memories of Stephen intertwining with the harsh reality of loss. He recalled their last conversation, the unspoken bond of friendship that had weathered time and distance. And yet, amidst the grief and disbelief, Agnarr found himself grappling with the possibility that perhaps he hadn't known his best friend as well as he had thought.

But for now, standing in the wake of Stephen's passing, Agnarr clung to the memories they had shared—the laughter, the confidences, the quiet moments of understanding. And as he bid farewell to his best friend for the last time, Agnarr vowed to remember Stephen not for the shadows that now threatened to tarnish his legacy, but for the flawed but deeply human man who had once shared his dreams under the Copenhagen stars.

Chapter Text

The sun was setting over the Arendelle estate, casting a warm, golden glow across the sprawling gardens. It was the summer of 2013, and the night before the grand gala that Agnarr and Iduna Arendelle hosted every year to celebrate another successful quarter of their family business, Arendelle Inc. The estate buzzed with activity as staff prepared for the event, arranging the tables, setting up the lights, and making sure every detail was perfect.

Inside, the house was quieter, though it, too, hummed with a sort of low energy. Elsa, now sixteen, sat in her room, glancing at the mirror as she brushed through her long, blonde hair. Her piercing blue eyes studied her reflection for a moment before she sighed and tossed the brush aside. Tomorrow was the gala, and while her parents saw it as a celebration, Elsa couldn’t help but feel the pressure. There was always so much expectation placed on her—perfect grades, perfect behavior, and now, the perfect presentation at this event. As the eldest daughter, she was expected to be poised and ready for anything.

She glanced toward the window where the soft notes of a familiar song drifted up from down the hall.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone…”

Elsa smiled faintly, shaking her head. Of course, Anna was listening to Taylor Swift again. Her younger sister, now thirteen, had been obsessed with Love Story ever since the song had come out over three years ago, and it had practically become her personal anthem for the rest of her life in Elsa’s mind.

Elsa stood, walking down the hallway, following the music to Anna’s room. The door was cracked open, and she peeked inside. Anna was sitting on her bed, her red hair, a messy halo around her head as she bobbed along to the music. She was wearing a loose tank top and shorts, her legs swinging off the side of the bed as she scrolled through her phone, probably texting one of her friends about how nervous she was to start at her new private school in a few months.

“Still listening to that song, huh?” Elsa teased as she leaned against the doorframe.

Anna looked up with a wide grin, not missing a beat. “It’s a classic, Elsa! You know you love it too.” She sat up, her face lighting up with excitement. “I’m thinking of asking Dad if I can have a moment like that at the gala tomorrow. You know, maybe someone can sweep me off my feet and we’ll dance like in the song. Wouldn’t that be so romantic ?”

Elsa chuckled, stepping into the room. “I don’t think Dad’s gala is exactly the place for a fairy tale love story, Anna. It’s more about shaking hands and talking about profit margins.”

Anna made a face. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I wish it could be like one of those fancy movie parties, with dancing and lights and…” she trailed off, twirling dramatically before collapsing back on her bed. “Instead, it’s going to be all business people in boring suits.”

Elsa sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to smooth down Anna’s unruly hair. “It’s not so bad. Plus, this is the first time you’ll get to come to the gala. You might even have fun.”

Anna looked up at her sister, a playful smirk forming on her lips. “I’ll have fun if there’s a Romeo waiting for me.”

Elsa rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “Just don’t get your hopes too high. No one's sweeping anyone off their feet tomorrow.”

Anna sighed, staring at the ceiling as the song played on repeat in the background. “I know, I know. It’s just… I’m a little nervous about starting at the new school. Everyone’s going to be so fancy and I’m… well, I’m me.”

Elsa’s face softened. She knew Anna had been struggling with the idea of starting fresh at a new school, especially one filled with students from elite families. “You’ll do great,” Elsa reassured her, reaching out to take Anna’s hand. “You always do. Just be yourself. That’s more than enough.”

Anna squeezed her sister’s hand, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thanks, Elsa. You’re always so good at making me feel better.”

Elsa smiled warmly, feeling a rare moment of peace between them. "You make it easy, Anna."

As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the preparations for the gala continued outside, the two sisters sat together, the strains of Love Story playing softly in the background, a gentle reminder of the simple moments they shared before the world became more complicated.

Elsa leaned back against Anna’s bed, a confident smile spreading across her face as she said, “Besides, you’re an Arendelle.” 

Anna lifted her head, intrigued by her sister's sudden burst of enthusiasm. “What does that even mean?”

“It means you come from a family with a legacy,” Elsa explained, her blue eyes sparkling with sisterly pride. “We might have our quirks, but Arendelles are known for their strength, resilience, and—most importantly—style.” She paused for effect, putting her hands on her hips. “Just look at us!”

Anna couldn't help but laugh, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Right! We’re practically royalty! Well, except for the part where our dad makes us wear business casual to these events instead of ball gowns.” She flopped back down onto her bed, feigning exasperation. “I was really hoping for something a little more… princess-y.”

“Trust me, Anna,” Elsa said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “There will be plenty of princesses and knights in shiny suits at the gala—if by ‘knights’ you mean corporate executives. Just wait until you see the suits father’s partners wear. You’ll be swooning!”

Anna sat up again, her interest piqued. “Do you think any of them will have cute sons?” She wiggled her eyebrows comically. 

“Maybe,” Elsa replied, a teasing glint in her eye. “But remember, they’re all probably going to be glued to their phones or busy talking numbers. Not quite the fairy tale you had in mind, huh?”

“Ugh! Why can’t we have a gala with magic and wands?” Anna said dramatically, throwing her arms up as if she were casting a spell. “With fairy godmothers who pop in and out with fabulous outfits! Just think of the possibilities!”

Elsa laughed, shaking her head. “Because that would be completely unrealistic. We have to deal with spreadsheets and business cards instead.”

“Hey! You never know,” Anna replied, her face lighting up with mischief. “Maybe one of those boring suits will turn out to be a prince in disguise! I could give him my number right there on the dance floor!”

Elsa playfully nudged her sister’s shoulder. “If anyone asks for your number, make sure it’s not just for business. I want you to have fun, but remember: focus on making connections, not just crushes.”

Anna put on an exaggerated pout, leaning back against her pillows. “You’re such a buzzkill sometimes, you know that?”

“Only when I have to be!” Elsa said, feigning seriousness. “But seriously, Anna, being an Arendelle means you get to shine. You bring something special to the table, whether it’s a business gala or a school full of strangers. Just remember who you are, and you’ll be amazing.”

With a soft sigh, Anna nodded, her spirits lifting as she considered Elsa’s words. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Elsa affirmed, reaching over to give Anna’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “And just think: we’ll have a blast together tomorrow, no matter what. You’ll wow everyone, and I’ll just try not to trip over my own feet while I navigate all the ‘boring adult stuff’.”

Anna grinned, her heart warmed by Elsa’s encouragement. “Okay, fine! I’ll strut my stuff and work it like the fabulous Arendelle I am.”

“That’s the spirit!” Elsa said, laughter dancing in her voice. “Just remember that no matter what happens, make it a night to remember!”

As they shared a laugh, Anna resumed her music, the sweet, hopeful strains of Taylor Swift filling the room once more. The two sisters felt the warmth of their bond enveloping them, a comforting reminder that no matter the pressures of the night ahead, they would always have each other. Tomorrow would be filled with new faces and potential challenges, but for now, they basked in the simplicity of sisterhood, ready to take on the world together.

Anna sighed dramatically, falling back onto her bed with a loud flop, her arms splayed out. “It’s no fair, you know,” she said, staring up at the ceiling. “You get to be the one to inherit the company, and I’m just… me.”

Elsa raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she stood over Anna. “What are you talking about? ‘Just you’? You’re the one who gets to have all the fun and figure out what you want to do. I’ve had this company hanging over my head for as long as I can remember.”

Anna sat up, her red hair falling in her face as she fixed her sister with a pointed look. “Yeah, but that’s because you’re the responsible one. You always know what to do, and Mom and Dad totally trust you with everything. You get to be the boss. I’m just going to be… well, the little sister who shows up at parties and makes awkward conversation with corporate big shots.”

Elsa chuckled softly, sitting down beside her. “You think it’s that glamorous? Trust me, it’s a lot of pressure. There are days when I wish I didn’t have to deal with all the expectations, all the meetings, and all the ‘being perfect’ stuff. You’ve got the chance to carve out your own path, Anna. You could do anything.”

Anna huffed, pulling her legs up to her chest. “But I don’t even know what I want to do. You’ve always known you’d take over the company. You’ve had a plan since forever. I’m starting at this new school, and I don’t even know if I’m going to fit in, let alone figure out my future.”

Elsa reached over and tucked a strand of Anna’s hair behind her ear. “That’s the best part, though. You have time to figure it all out. You don’t have to know right now. Besides, just because I’m the heir doesn’t mean you’re left behind. You’re just as important to this family—and to the company. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find something you love that’ll be even bigger than all of this.”

Anna’s eyes softened, though she still looked unconvinced. “Maybe. But it’s hard not to feel like I’m stuck in your shadow sometimes, you know?”

Elsa’s heart ached at the confession. She leaned in closer, her voice gentle. “I never want you to feel like that, Anna. You’re not in my shadow—you’re standing right beside me. You always have been. We’re a team, remember? And even if I inherit the company, I’m still your big sister. I’ll always need you. You make life fun, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Anna smiled faintly, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Thanks, Elsa. It’s just… I guess I feel like I should know what I’m good at by now.”

“You don’t have to rush,” Elsa said softly. “You’re only thirteen. You’ve got time. And besides, you’ve got me, Mom, Dad… we all believe in you. Even if you’re not inheriting the company, you’re still an Arendelle. That means you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Anna laughed lightly, her mood lifting. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’m awesome, and I can do whatever I want. You don’t have to give me the ‘you can do it!’ pep talk anymore.”

Elsa grinned, giving her a playful nudge. “Just making sure it sinks in.”

Anna leaned back on her pillows, gazing out the window where the twilight was fading into night. “Maybe tomorrow won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll meet someone cool and have a decent conversation that’s not all about spreadsheets.”

“There’s always a chance,” Elsa said with a smile. “Just don’t expect love at first sight.” Anna laughed, the sound bright and free. “Fine, fine. But if there’s dancing, I’m still holding out hope.”

The two sisters sat together in the quiet of the fading evening, the worries of the future momentarily forgotten as they enjoyed each other's company. Tomorrow’s gala would come soon enough, but for now, it was just them—Elsa and Anna, side by side, like always.

~❆~~~❆~

The next morning, the soft light of dawn filtered through the large windows of the Arendelle estate, casting golden hues across the breakfast table. Elsa and Anna sat across from each other, their plates filled with waffles and fresh fruit, the air humming with the quiet anticipation of the gala that evening. Agnarr and Iduna sat at the head of the table, their usual morning routine interrupted by a piece of news they had yet to share with their daughters.

Iduna cleared her throat, her eyes flicking between her husband and their two daughters. “Girls,” she began, folding her hands in her lap, “there’s something we need to tell you.”

Elsa, ever observant, looked up from her plate. “What is it, Mom?” she asked, her blue eyes already sensing something more serious beneath the calm surface of the morning.

Anna, still chewing a mouthful of waffle, raised her eyebrows, curious but less attuned to the subtle shifts in the room’s atmosphere. “Yeah, what’s going on?”

Agnarr exchanged a glance with Iduna before he spoke. “The Westergaards are coming to the gala tonight.”

The room fell into a brief silence, the weight of the announcement sinking in. Elsa placed her fork down gently, her expression composed but thoughtful. Anna, however, blinked in surprise. “The Westergaards? As in the Westergaards?” she asked, sitting up straighter. 

“Yeah,” Elsa added, her voice softer, “we haven’t seen them in… over a year, right?”

Iduna nodded, her smile tinged with melancholy. “That’s right. It’s been a year since we’ve seen them, not since—” She paused, her voice catching for a moment. “Since Stephen’s funeral.”

Anna’s face softened, her hands resting in her lap now. “Oh,” she said quietly, understanding the weight of the situation. “I almost forgot it had been that long.”

Agnarr leaned forward, his voice gentle but steady. “I know it’s going to be a little strange, especially since it’s the first time we’re seeing them since… well, since their father passed away. But the Westergaards have been our partners and friends for decades. They’ve always been close family friends, and we want to make sure they feel welcome tonight.”

Anna shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling the gravity of the evening. “How do you think they’ve been?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “I mean, losing their dad must’ve been awful. Especially for Hans. He’s just a kid.”

Elsa nodded in agreement, remembering how Stephen’s youngest, Hans, had always been the quiet, shy one. It was hard to imagine what the family had gone through in the past year. “And Caleb,” Elsa said thoughtfully. “He was already shouldering so much responsibility, even before their father died. He must be running things now, right?”

Agnarr sighed, glancing at his wife before answering. “Yes, Caleb has been managing most of the Westergaard Empire since Stephen’s passing. It hasn’t been easy for him, but from what I’ve heard, he’s doing well.”

Iduna added, her voice soft, “They’ve been through a lot, but I’m sure tonight will be a good chance for them to reconnect with everyone. And for us, too.”

Anna leaned back in her chair, her usual carefree energy dimmed by the seriousness of the conversation. “It’s just so weird. I can’t imagine losing Dad…” She trailed off, her eyes drifting toward Agnarr with a flicker of vulnerability.

Agnarr smiled gently at her, reaching out to place a hand on hers. “You don’t have to think about that, Anna. We’re all still here. And tonight, we’re going to make sure the Westergaards feel like part of the family, just like always.”

Elsa watched her father closely, noticing the way his voice softened whenever he mentioned the Westergaards. She knew how much Stephen’s death had affected him—more than he let on, even to her. He had always spoken so highly of Stephen, their long-time partnership as friends and business associates spanning decades. To him, Stephen had been more than just a colleague; he had been like a brother.

“I guess it’ll be nice to see them again,” Elsa said finally, though there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “It’s just going to feel… different.”

“It will be different,” Iduna agreed, her expression gentle. “But remember, they’re still our friends. We’ve shared so much with them over the years, and tonight is about continuing that.”

Anna nodded, though she still seemed deep in thought. “Do you think Hans is coming?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. 

“Yes,” Iduna answered, her smile returning. “Hans will be there, along with Caleb and his new wife and child.”

Anna’s face brightened slightly, a flicker of her usual excitement returning. “Well, it’s been forever since we’ve seen them. I guess it’ll be fun to catch up. Maybe Hans isn’t as quiet as he used to be. Maybe he’s even grown taller!” she added with a playful grin.

Elsa smiled at her sister’s enthusiasm but stayed quieter, her mind still processing the idea of seeing the Westergaards again after such a long and difficult year. The gala was supposed to be a celebration, but now it felt like a reunion steeped in the shadows of the past.

Still, as her father had said, they were family friends—more than just business partners. And tonight, they would reconnect, even if the absence of one familiar face would linger heavily between them all.

As they made their way upstairs to get ready for the day, Anna walked a step behind Elsa, her mind clearly racing with questions. She twirled a strand of her red hair around her finger, a telltale sign she was about to ask something. 

“Hey, Elsa?” Anna started, her voice casual but tinged with curiosity. 

“Yeah?” Elsa responded, her hand resting on the banister as they climbed the grand staircase.

“Isn’t Hans around your age?” Anna asked, glancing sideways at her sister. “Do you think he’ll be… you know, cute?”

Elsa paused at the top of the stairs, turning to face Anna with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Hans?” she echoed, the name feeling distant, almost foreign on her tongue. She hadn’t really thought about him in years. Not since they were both five, running around the courtyard of the Westergaard estate during one of their family’s vacations in Copenhagen. The memories were faint now, blurred by time, but she did remember his freckled face and shy, quiet demeanor. “I haven’t really thought about him,” Elsa admitted, shaking her head slightly. “It’s been, what, eleven years? The last time I saw him properly, we were still little kids.”

“Exactly! That’s why I’m asking,” Anna said with a grin, clearly enjoying the conversation. “People change. He might have turned into some mysterious, tall, and handsome type.” She wriggled her eyebrows dramatically, causing Elsa to roll her eyes. 

“I doubt that,” Elsa said with a laugh. “I mean, I’ve seen him here and there when we’ve visited Copenhagen, but it was always super brief. He was always with his brothers or off doing something else.”

Anna leaned against the doorframe of Elsa’s room, still pressing the issue. “But think about it! You’re both the same age, and now he’s coming to the gala. What if he’s all grown up and… you know, a total heartthrob?”

Elsa gave her sister a mock-serious look. “And what if he’s exactly the same as he was when we were five? Just taller and with more freckles?”

Anna smirked, crossing her arms. “Still counts as cute.”

Elsa let out an exaggerated sigh, walking over to her closet. “I’m not really thinking about that, Anna. We haven’t seen each other properly in years, and this whole thing isn’t exactly a casual catch-up. It’s been a hard year for the Westergaards. I doubt Hans is coming here with romance in mind.”

Anna made a thoughtful noise, her eyes trailing to the floor. “Yeah, you’re right… it’s just, I dunno. I guess I’m curious to see what he’s like now. They’ve been through so much, and I wonder if that’s changed him, you know?”

Elsa glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her pale blonde hair catching the light as she pulled it back into a neat ponytail. “I’m sure it has,” she said softly. “Losing a parent… that’s something no one can really come back from unchanged.” She thought of the quiet little boy she remembered, now possibly a young man with more responsibility on his shoulders than most people their age. 

Anna nodded, looking a bit more serious now. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She pushed off the doorframe and walked over to Elsa, bumping her shoulder playfully. “But still, I’m just saying… if he shows up looking all handsome and charming, you can’t say I didn’t call it.”

Elsa laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll keep that in mind, but don’t get your hopes up. Tonight is going to be about reconnecting as families. Not about crushes.”

Anna sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. But if anything happens, I get full credit for predicting it.”

“Deal,” Elsa said with a grin, grabbing a dress from her wardrobe. But even as she brushed off Anna’s playful teasing, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder. What had Hans become? And how much had things really changed since they were children?

The questions lingered in her mind as she prepared for the day, though she quickly pushed them aside. Tonight wasn’t about what-ifs or long-lost friendships. It was about family, business, and keeping the connection between the Arendelles and the Westergaards strong. Whatever happened beyond that was secondary. 

At least, that’s what she told herself.

~❆~~~❆~

Elsa sat perfectly still as Iduna added the final touches to her hair, her mother’s gentle hands weaving strands of blonde into an elegant updo. Elsa’s reflection in the mirror showed a poised young woman, dressed impeccably in a deep blue gown that shimmered under the soft light of her bedroom. She looked every bit the part of an Arendelle heir—confident, composed, and ready for the evening ahead. Yet, inside, her heart fluttered with a mix of anticipation and nerves.

“It’s perfect,” Iduna said softly, standing back to admire her work. She placed her hands on Elsa’s shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

Elsa offered a small smile in return, though her mind was elsewhere. Downstairs, the sound of guests arriving grew louder by the minute. She could hear the distant murmur of voices, laughter, and the soft clinking of glasses as people gathered in the ballroom. The Westergaards were here. After all this time.

“I think I just heard Caleb’s voice,” Iduna mentioned, glancing toward the door. “He, Ella, and little Archie must’ve arrived. And Hans, too.”

At the mention of Hans, Elsa’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t seen him in years—at least, not properly. The last few times they’d crossed paths had been fleeting, with little more than polite greetings exchanged during family visits. But now, tonight, he was grown. Different.

She stood from her chair, smoothing down the front of her dress. “It’ll be strange seeing him again after so long,” Elsa admitted, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity. “I wonder if he’s changed much.”

Iduna smiled knowingly. “Well, you’ll find out soon enough. I’m sure he’s grown into a fine young man, just like Caleb. Though… Caleb and Hans are quite different, if I remember correctly.”

Elsa couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that. “That’s putting it mildly.”

With a final glance in the mirror, Elsa took a deep breath, readying herself for the night ahead. Iduna kissed her lightly on the cheek before they made their way out of the room and down the grand staircase toward the ballroom. As they descended, Elsa could hear the voices growing louder—laughter, conversation, and the unmistakable energy of an event just beginning to unfold.

And then, there they were. The Westergaards.

Caleb, standing tall in his immaculate suit, was already engaged in conversation with Agnarr. His red hair and freckled face, along with his warm green eyes, gave him the same steady, responsible air he’d always had. Beside him was Ella, his wife, glowing as she held their nearly one-year-old son, Archie, who had inherited his father’s red hair and freckles but his mother’s striking blue eyes. Archie babbled happily in Ella’s arms, drawing smiles from everyone around.

But it was Hans that drew Elsa’s attention.

He stood slightly apart from his brother, leaning casually against the wall, drink in hand. At first glance, he was still the same red-haired boy Elsa remembered—his face a sea of freckles, his emerald green eyes sharp and playful. But now, at 5'8, he towered just slightly over Elsa, and there was something different about him. The way he held himself, the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips—there was a cockiness, an arrogance even, that hadn’t been there before. He looked more confident, more daring.

As Elsa and Iduna reached the bottom of the staircase, Hans’s eyes caught hers across the room. For a brief moment, something flickered between them—recognition, perhaps, or maybe curiosity. He raised his glass slightly, a silent greeting, the smirk still firmly in place.

Elsa narrowed her eyes slightly but returned the nod. She could already tell tonight was going to be… interesting.

“Elsa, Iduna!” Caleb’s warm voice broke through the moment, and he moved forward to greet them. “It’s so good to see you both,” he said, embracing Iduna warmly before turning to Elsa. “Elsa, you look stunning. Doesn’t she, Ella?”

Ella smiled warmly, nodding. “Absolutely. Caleb has told me so much about you and your family. It is a pleasure to meet you in person.”

Elsa smiled politely, though her eyes darted back to Hans, who was now casually sipping his drink, clearly enjoying the attention from some of the other guests. “It’s been a while,” she replied. “Things have certainly changed.”

Caleb laughed softly. “Yes, they have. Hans—well, you’ll see—he’s grown up in his own way.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Elsa murmured under her breath, her eyes narrowing as she watched Hans sneak a flask from his jacket and spike his drink. A troublemaker, it seemed. She shook her head slightly, a small smile playing on her lips despite herself.

Anna, who had been quietly observing, finally chimed in, her voice low. “You were right, Elsa. He’s definitely changed. But... maybe in a bad boy kind of way?”

Elsa shot her sister a look, both of them suppressing a giggle.

“Just behave tonight, Anna,” Elsa whispered, though her gaze drifted back to Hans. “I have a feeling he might not.”

As they stepped aside, finding a quiet corner of the ballroom to take in the scene, Anna leaned over to Elsa, her eyes fixed on Hans. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, and she grinned. “He is such a bad boy,” she said with way too much enthusiasm for Elsa’s liking.

Elsa rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck. "Ugh, please," she muttered, making a face. "That is not charming. It's—" She paused, watching as Hans took another swig from his spiked drink, smirking mischievously at one of the servers who clearly knew what he was up to. "—just gross."

Anna giggled, nudging Elsa’s shoulder. “Come on, admit it, there’s something kind of exciting about a guy like that. I mean, look at him—he's all, like, rebellious and mysterious.”

"Mysterious?" Elsa said incredulously, glancing at Hans with a skeptical look. "He's spiking his own drink at a business gala . There's no mystery there, just really bad decisions."

Anna grinned wider, clearly enjoying her sister's disgust. “Yeah, but that’s what makes him a bad boy. He doesn’t care about the rules. Isn’t there a tiny part of you that finds that attractive?”

Elsa gave her sister a look that screamed seriously? “No,” she said firmly, folding her arms across her chest. “If anything, it’s embarrassing. I can’t believe you're even saying this, Anna.”

Anna just shrugged, unbothered by Elsa’s disapproval. “Okay, maybe a little embarrassing,” she admitted, “but it’s also kind of... thrilling. You never know what he’s going to do next.”

“I think that’s exactly the problem,” Elsa muttered under her breath, watching Hans as he flirted shamelessly with one of the guests, his emerald eyes sparkling with that cocky, overconfident charm. She could practically feel her stomach turn. “Thrilling is not the word I’d use.”

Anna laughed, clearly amused by Elsa’s reactions. “Well, whether you like it or not, he’s definitely... different now.”

“I’ll give you that,” Elsa sighed, her gaze still lingering on Hans. "But different doesn’t always mean better."

Anna just grinned, bouncing on her toes excitedly. “I don’t know... I think tonight’s going to be fun.”

Elsa glanced back at her sister, raising an eyebrow. “Fun? Sure. If by fun you mean ‘keeping an eye on Hans so he doesn’t cause some kind of disaster.’”

Anna laughed, leaning in with a playful grin. “Maybe it’ll be a fun disaster.” 

Elsa shook her head, unable to suppress a small smile despite herself. “You’re impossible, Anna.”

As Hans sauntered across the ballroom, his confident stride unmistakable, Elsa could feel Anna practically vibrating with excitement beside her. He had that same cocky smirk playing at the corner of his lips, the same lazy confidence in his posture that made Elsa want to roll her eyes again. He made a beeline for the sisters, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the Arendelle sisters,” Hans said smoothly, his voice low and honeyed as he approached them. Without missing a beat, he gently took Anna’s hand in his, his touch graceful as he leaned down to press a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Anna,” he said with a charming smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you again. You’ve grown into quite the young lady.”

Anna blushed furiously, completely flustered by the gesture. She stammered, “I—I… it’s, um, good to see you too, Hans.”

Elsa stood to the side, watching the entire scene unfold with a mix of skepticism and annoyance. This was so Hans—laying on the charm like he was some sort of prince. She braced herself, already predicting his next move.

Sure enough, as Hans straightened up, he turned his attention to Elsa, flashing her that same infuriatingly self-assured smile. He reached for her hand, clearly intending to repeat the same gesture. But before he could even get close, Elsa gave him a look so cold, so unmistakably icy, that it stopped him in his tracks. Her blue eyes bored into his with a warning that was impossible to miss.

Hans froze, his hand hovering awkwardly between them for a second too long. His smile faltered—just for a moment—but it was enough to show that he understood. Elsa wasn’t Anna. Whatever flirtatious charm he was trying to pull, it wouldn’t work on her.

“Elsa,” he greeted, his tone more measured now, as he slowly lowered his hand. “It’s been a long time.”

“Has it?” Elsa replied flatly, her arms crossed as she met his gaze with a cool, unwavering stare. She wasn’t here for his games, and she made that very clear.

Hans chuckled, the smirk returning to his lips but with a flicker of something else in his eyes—respect, maybe, or at the very least, caution. He knew now that Elsa wasn’t someone he could easily charm, and he wasn’t going to press his luck. “It has,” he said smoothly, but he didn’t push the formality further.

Anna, still flustered, shot Elsa a look of confusion mixed with amusement. “Elsa,” she whispered, nudging her sister lightly. “What was that?”

Elsa didn’t break her gaze from Hans as she responded, her voice calm but firm. “Just setting some boundaries.”

Hans tilted his head slightly, his smirk never wavering as he extended his hand toward Elsa once again. This time, his voice was smooth, deliberate, and dripping with charm.

“Well then, Elsa,” he said with a playful gleam in his emerald eyes, “would you like to dance?”

Anna shot Elsa an eager look, her eyes practically shouting, Say yes!

Elsa, on the other hand, felt the weight of Hans’s request settle uncomfortably in her chest. She knew his type—charming, yes, but always with an ulterior motive. There was no doubt in her mind that his offer to dance wasn’t just about twirling around the ballroom. He wanted something else—some alone time, perhaps. He was trying to draw her in, to test his limits.

For a brief moment, Elsa considered turning him down cold, letting him know that his charm wouldn’t work on her. But then again, something about Hans’s overconfidence made her curious, and she wasn’t about to let him think he had the upper hand. If he wanted to play a game, she’d play too—on her terms.

With a slow, deliberate sigh, Elsa uncrossed her arms and placed her hand in his, her expression still unreadable. “Fine,” she said coolly, meeting his gaze with the same steady look. “One dance.”

Anna’s eyes widened in excitement, but Elsa didn’t glance at her sister. She was too focused on Hans, watching his reaction closely. His smirk deepened, clearly pleased that she had taken the bait, but there was something calculating behind it.

“Excellent,” Hans replied, his voice smooth as silk. He led her to the center of the ballroom, where the music was soft and elegant, perfect for a slow, intimate waltz. As they began to move in sync with the music, Elsa could feel the weight of his gaze on her, studying her, trying to gauge her next move.

“You’ve changed a lot since we last saw each other,” Hans commented, his tone casual but laced with meaning. “More poised, more... guarded.”

Elsa raised an eyebrow, her movements graceful but detached as they danced. “And you’ve grown into quite the charmer, haven’t you?”

Hans chuckled softly, his grip on her waist firm but not too tight. “I’ve learned a thing or two over the years. But you—you’re harder to read than I expected.”

“Maybe you’re just not as good at reading people as you think you are,” Elsa shot back, her tone crisp but with a hint of amusement. She wasn’t going to let him get too comfortable, not when she could sense his motives lurking just beneath the surface.

Hans leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper as they continued to glide across the floor. “Or maybe you’re just better at hiding what you really want.”

Elsa met his gaze head-on, refusing to be intimidated. “Or maybe I know exactly what you’re trying to do,” she said quietly, her blue eyes locking onto his. “And it’s not going to work.”

For a moment, they danced in silence, the tension between them palpable. Hans’s smirk faltered just slightly, as if her words had hit a little too close to home. But then he recovered, his grin returning as he spun her gracefully around the floor.

“Well, Elsa,” he said softly, his voice low and smooth, “I guess we’ll just have to see about that.”

As the music swelled around them, Elsa kept her gaze steady, refusing to give him an inch. If Hans thought he could outmaneuver her, he was sorely mistaken. She would play his game, but she would always be one step ahead.

For now, she would let the dance continue, but she wasn’t about to let him forget who he was dealing with.

But as the music continued to flow around them, Hans’s voice lowered, the playful edge disappearing as he said, “I don’t think we’ve properly spoken since my mother died over ten years ago.”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them unexpected, cutting through the flirtatious tension that had been building between them. Elsa’s gaze flickered for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. Hans, who had been all charm and bravado just seconds ago, now seemed to carry a shadow of something else—something heavier.

She hadn’t thought about Edith in years. Elsa had been so young when it happened, too young to truly understand the loss that Hans had faced. She remembered bits and pieces—her mother crying, the suddenness of it all—but for Hans, it had been life-altering.

For a second, she almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

“I suppose we haven’t,” Elsa replied softly, her voice steady but lacking the sharp edge it had carried moments before. She kept her eyes on his, trying to gauge what he was after, but for once, Hans didn’t seem to be playing a game.

He nodded, his gaze drifting away as they turned together in the dance. “It’s strange, isn’t it? You live most of your life with someone always there, and then one day... they’re just gone.”

There was a brief silence between them, filled only by the soft waltz playing in the background. Elsa wasn’t sure what to say. This wasn’t the Hans she had prepared herself to deal with—the flirtatious troublemaker who sneaked drinks and charmed everyone in the room. This was something else, something more real.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, her voice quieter than before. It wasn’t much, but she couldn’t find anything else to offer. The memory of his mother’s death, and how it had probably shaped him, suddenly felt like a crack in the wall of cocky arrogance he had built around himself.

Hans smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t have to be sorry, Elsa. It was a long time ago. But it... changed everything.”

Elsa nodded slightly, though she wasn’t sure she could truly understand. “I can imagine.”

Hans’s gaze returned to her, and there was something deeper there, something raw. “Can you?” His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. “You have your parents. Your family. You have... everything.” 

Elsa stiffened, unsure how to respond. His words carried a weight of jealousy, of bitterness, but also of truth. She did still have her family, intact and loving, while his had been shattered so long ago.

The vulnerability in his voice unsettled her. She wasn’t sure how to handle it—how to handle him like this.

She drew a steadying breath, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I’m not sure what to say, Hans,” she admitted, her tone soft but firm. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But I don’t think it excuses... everything else.”

Hans looked at her for a long moment, his smirk gone, replaced by something far more serious. “Maybe not,” he said quietly. “But sometimes, when everything you know is taken from you, you don’t always know what’s left of yourself.”

The honesty in his words surprised her, and for the first time that night, Elsa saw something in Hans beyond the flirtations and bravado. Something vulnerable. Something real.

But before she could respond, Hans’s mask slipped back into place, his smirk returning as he spun her once more across the floor. “But don’t worry, Elsa,” he said, his voice regaining that playful edge, “I’m still the same troublemaker you remember.”

Elsa couldn’t help but roll her eyes again, but this time there was a softness to it. “Of course you are,” she said dryly, but the tension between them had shifted. Even if just for a moment, they had connected on something deeper.

The dance was coming to an end, and as Hans twirled her one last time, Elsa caught a glimpse of the boy she had known all those years ago—hidden beneath the surface of the man he had become.

And for now, that was enough.

Elsa’s voice was soft but curious as she asked, “What was it like… losing your father?”

The question slipped out almost unconsciously as they moved through the final steps of the waltz. It seemed like the natural next thing to ask, given their conversation. But the moment the words left her lips, she noticed the sudden tension that gripped Hans. His hand on her waist stiffened ever so slightly, his expression faltering for the briefest second before his usual mask of arrogance slipped back into place.

Hans’s smile was gone now, replaced with something colder, sharper. His eyes, which had been filled with a mixture of playfulness and something deeper moments before, darkened. “I don’t think you really want to know the answer to that,” he said, his voice low and hard, not at all like the Hans she’d been dancing with seconds earlier.

Elsa blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor. “Hans, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, his tone clipped, as though he was trying to shut the door on whatever emotions her question had stirred up. He released her hand, stepping back slightly as the music came to an end. “My father’s dead. That’s all there is to it.”

But Elsa didn’t back down. She wasn’t one to let things go so easily, especially when she could sense there was something much deeper behind his reaction. She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Hans, I’m just asking. You don’t have to be so defensive.”

Hans clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as if she had struck a nerve. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me understand,” she pressed, her tone softer now, but still persistent. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling her, something that went beyond the usual grief of losing a parent. 

Hans let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as if the idea of opening up to her was absurd. “It’s not something you can just explain in a few words, Elsa. And even if I did tell you, you wouldn’t get it.”

Elsa frowned. “Why do you assume that?”

“Because your father isn’t Stephen Westergaard,” Hans snapped, the name leaving his lips with a venom that Elsa hadn’t expected. His green eyes flickered with something dark, something she couldn’t quite place. He turned away from her slightly, as though the conversation had already gone too far.

The ballroom felt suddenly too large, too empty around them. The sound of distant chatter and clinking glasses barely registered as Elsa tried to process what Hans had just said. She had known Stephen Westergaard, of course. He had been her father’s best friend, a figure of power and charisma. She had never imagined him as anything else.

But Hans… Hans’s reaction was telling her something different. 

“Hans…” she began carefully, “what do you mean by that?”

Hans was silent for a moment, his eyes avoiding hers as he glanced toward the far side of the ballroom. His hands clenched at his sides, the tension in his shoulders unmistakable. “You don’t want to know,” he finally muttered, his voice tight. “Trust me.”

Elsa’s brows furrowed in concern. She didn’t understand why he was being so cryptic, why the mention of Stephen seemed to twist something inside him. No one had ever spoken ill of his father—not Caleb, not anyone else she knew. Stephen had always been regarded as a powerful businessman, a strong figurehead. 

But as she looked at Hans now, the way he seemed to be battling something within himself, she realized there was so much more she didn’t know.

Before she could press him further, Hans let out a short, humorless laugh, though it was devoid of any warmth. “You know, my father wasn’t exactly the man everyone thought he was.”

“What do you mean?” Elsa asked, her voice soft but steady.

Hans turned his eyes back to her, and for the first time, Elsa saw something raw and broken behind them. He hesitated for a moment, as if he was debating whether or not to say more. But just as quickly as that vulnerability appeared, it vanished again, replaced by the familiar mask of arrogance he wore so well.

“Let’s just say,” he said with a tight smile, “he wasn’t the hero everyone painted him to be.”

Elsa’s heart sank. There was so much left unsaid in his words, a weight of unspoken pain that hung between them. But before she could ask anything more, Hans straightened up, his charming, playful demeanor snapping back into place as if he had decided the conversation was over.

“I need a drink,” he said with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Care to join me?”

Elsa watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to push further and respecting the wall he had so quickly thrown up. She nodded slowly, knowing this wasn’t the time to push.

“Sure,” she replied quietly, even though her mind was racing with questions she knew Hans wasn’t ready to answer.

As they stepped into the foyer, the atmosphere shifted around them, the music and laughter fading into a distant echo. The opulent chandelier above cast a soft glow, but the warmth of the gala felt worlds away from the conversation they were having. Hans pulled out a flask from the inner pocket of his tailored jacket, unscrewed the cap, and took a quick swig, the action so casual yet so filled with intent.

Elsa raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Is that really necessary?”

He looked at her, the alcohol gleaming in his eyes like a secret weapon. “Why not?” He shrugged, as if dismissing the concern she had voiced. “It’s a gala, after all. Just more pretentious smiles and phony conversation.”

She frowned, not quite understanding where this was coming from. “Hans, we’re supposed to enjoy ourselves. It’s a celebration.”

He took another swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked out toward the grand ballroom, where people mingled, oblivious to the turmoil swirling just a few feet away. “Enjoyment? This is just a façade, Elsa.” He gestured dismissively with the flask. “All they do is lie. They just keep spreading the same bullshit lies about my father that he wanted the world to see.”

Elsa’s heart raced as his words sank in. “What do you mean?”

He turned to her, his emerald eyes piercing. “Everyone thinks Stephen was this great businessman, this loving father. They want to remember him as a saint because it’s easier than facing the truth. But he wasn’t.” His voice dropped lower, laced with anger and pain. “He was a tyrant. He didn’t care about us; he only cared about his reputation.”

“Why do you say that?” Elsa’s voice was softer now, almost hesitant, as she tried to peel back the layers of his defense.

“Because I lived it,” Hans shot back, frustration flaring. “He would come home after a bad day, and it was like a storm rolling in. It didn’t matter what had happened—he needed a scapegoat, someone to take his anger out on. And guess who that was?” He paused, his breath heavy with unspoken memories. “Me.”

Elsa’s heart ached at his words, a sharp pang of empathy cutting through her. She had always known that losing a parent could be complicated, but this was more than just grief. This was a man who had carried the weight of abuse and expectation, one that had shaped him into the boy who stood before her now.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” she asked softly, searching his eyes for answers that seemed to be locked away behind a fortress of bravado.

“Who would believe me?” he replied bitterly, shaking his head. “Caleb tries to protect me, but even he has his own responsibilities now. And everyone else? They see the family name, the wealth, the power. They don’t want to believe that behind all of that was a broken home.”

“Your mother… she must have known,” Elsa suggested gently. “She was there.”

Hans’s expression darkened at the mention of Edith. “She knew. But she was too busy trying to keep the peace to do anything. It was easier for her to play the part of the perfect wife than to confront the reality of our lives. I don’t blame her; I think she just wanted to survive.”

The words hung between them, thick with the weight of truth. Elsa’s heart ached for him, for the little boy he had been before the world demanded too much from him. She could see the pain etched on his features, and it made her want to reach out, to somehow comfort him, but she felt helpless.

“Is that why you act out? Why you flirt and sneak drinks?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “You’re just trying to cope?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, looking away again, lost in thought. “I don’t know. It’s easier to be the life of the party than to face the truth of my past. To be honest, I think I’m just tired of pretending.”

Elsa’s heart broke a little more at his honesty. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Hans. Not here, not now.”

He finally looked back at her, and for a moment, she saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, a glimpse of the boy who had once shared her laughter. But just as quickly as it appeared, the mask came back up, and the flirtatious Hans returned. “I appreciate that, Elsa, but I think I’d rather keep my demons to myself.”

“Sometimes sharing those demons can lighten the load,” she said softly. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

He shrugged, his bravado flickering like a candle in a strong wind. “You sound like a therapist. Maybe I should get one instead.”

“Maybe you should,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips despite the heaviness of their conversation. “Or just talk to me more.”

Hans chuckled dryly, but the laugh didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll think about it.”

Before Elsa could say anything more, he took another swig from the flask, and the moment passed, the distance creeping back in as the laughter and music of the gala drifted back into focus. She wanted to say something profound, something that would cut through the silence, but the moment felt lost, and the weight of their conversation hung heavy in the air.

With a sigh, she glanced back toward the ballroom. “We should probably rejoin the others. They’ll wonder where we went.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, though he seemed reluctant. 

As they stepped back into the vibrant atmosphere of the gala, Elsa stole a glance at Hans. There was something fragile beneath the surface, something worth uncovering. And while she didn’t know if tonight was the night for that, she knew she wanted to keep trying.

As they stepped back into the ballroom, the atmosphere enveloped them with warmth and laughter, a stark contrast to the heavy conversation they had just shared. The glow from the chandeliers shimmered off the elegant gowns and suits of the guests, who swirled around them in a dance of light and music. Elsa’s heart raced as she caught sight of Anna across the room, chatting animatedly with Caleb and Ella, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

For a moment, Elsa hesitated, her heart still heavy with the weight of what she had learned about Hans. She glanced over at him, expecting to see him retreat into his familiar bravado, but instead, there was a flicker of something different in his emerald eyes—curiosity mixed with a hint of vulnerability.

Without thinking, she took a step closer, feeling an unfamiliar boldness welling up inside her. “Would you like to dance?” The words slipped out before she could second-guess herself.

Hans looked genuinely surprised, his brow furrowing for just a moment. “Me?” His voice was low, and she noticed the way his cheeks turned a shade pinker, almost flustered at the unexpected invitation. 

“Yeah, you,” she said, the corners of her mouth lifting in a playful smile. “Unless you’d rather sneak off with your flask again.”

He chuckled, the tension easing slightly, but his surprise lingered. “I wouldn’t dare turn down an offer like that, especially from the future CEO of Arendelle Inc.” He stepped forward, extending his hand with a flourish, as if playing the role of a gentleman in a grand romantic story.

Elsa accepted his hand, her pulse quickening as he led her to the dance floor, where couples twirled gracefully to the rhythm of the string quartet. The music enveloped them, a gentle waltz that seemed to pull them into its embrace. As they took their positions, she felt the warmth of his hand against her waist, his grip surprisingly gentle yet firm.

“You know,” he said, glancing down at her, “I didn’t expect you to ask me to dance. I thought you were going to give me the cold shoulder all night.”

She met his gaze, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m full of surprises, Hans. You should know that by now.”

He chuckled, a genuine smile spreading across his freckled face. “I suppose I’ll have to keep my guard up around you then.”

As they began to move, she felt the rhythm of the music pulse through her, guiding their steps. She noticed the way he held her, careful and respectful, as if he were still processing the unexpected turn of their evening. For a moment, the weight of the world fell away, and all that mattered was the closeness of their bodies and the shared laughter.

“So, what’s it like being the heir to Arendelle Inc.?” Hans asked, his tone light, but there was an underlying curiosity. “I imagine you have some grand plans for the future.”

Elsa rolled her eyes playfully. “Grand plans? More like surviving my parents’ expectations. They think I should follow in their footsteps, but all I really want is to be my own person.”

“Sounds like you’re already on your way,” he said, his eyes flickering with admiration. “Taking charge of your own destiny and all that.”

“Maybe,” she replied, a hint of shyness creeping into her voice. “But sometimes it’s hard to figure out what that means. I don’t want to be just another face in the family business, you know?”

Hans nodded, the intensity in his gaze deepening. “I get that. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out who I am beyond the Westergaard name.”

They swayed gently to the music, and for a moment, Elsa felt a connection deeper than she had expected. The energy between them shifted, and she could see glimpses of the boy he had once been beneath the bravado he wore like armor.

“You’re more than just a name, Hans,” she said softly. “You have your own story. You don’t have to hide behind your family’s reputation.”

He looked at her, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features. “It’s not that easy, Elsa. It’s all I’ve known for so long.”

“Maybe it’s time to change that,” she encouraged, her heart racing as they twirled together.

The music swelled, and they spun around the dance floor, laughter bubbling between them like champagne. As they moved, Elsa felt a sense of freedom, as if the weight of their pasts and expectations was momentarily forgotten. They were just two young people dancing under the soft glow of chandeliers, finding solace in the fleeting moments of connection.

When the song came to an end, Hans leaned closer, his voice low and sincere. “Thank you for this. I didn’t expect to have such a great time tonight.”

“Neither did I,” she admitted, her heart fluttering as she looked up at him. 

For a brief moment, the world around them faded, leaving only the two of them suspended in time, the weight of their shared secrets hovering just beneath the surface, waiting to be discovered.

As the music swirled around them, Hans’s attention shifted to the string quartet that filled the grand ballroom with melodic notes. He squinted, a playful smirk creeping onto his face as he scrutinized the cellist. “Look at him,” he said, leaning toward Elsa with a mischievous glint in his emerald eyes. “He’s playing the wrong piece with the wrong emotion. It’s like he’s barely awake!”

Elsa couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow at Hans’s audacity. “Are you really going to judge the musicians in front of everyone? It’s a bit arrogant, don’t you think?”

He shrugged, his confidence unwavering. “Arrogant? Perhaps. But there’s a difference between playing notes and truly performing. And that,” he gestured dramatically towards the cellist, “is not a performance.”

Before Elsa could respond, Hans was already striding across the ballroom, his body language radiating a mix of boldness and determination. He approached the cellist, a young man who was completely unaware of the impending storm about to hit his performance. Hans leaned in, exchanging a few words with him, and then, with a flair that only he could pull off, he took the cellist’s place.

Elsa’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Is he seriously going to play?” she whispered to herself, watching as Hans positioned himself on the stool, an air of audacity surrounding him. 

The ballroom was buzzing with chatter and laughter, but as soon as Hans drew the bow across the strings, the room fell silent. His fingers danced along the cello, effortlessly coaxing a rich, sonorous sound that resonated through the air. It was as if he had entered a different world—a place where he could express everything he felt without the constraints of family, loss, or expectation. 

For a moment, Elsa was mesmerized. The transformation was incredible; the cocky boy who had teased her moments before was gone, replaced by a passionate musician who poured his soul into every note. The vibrant sound flowed from the instrument, and the way he played was undeniably sexy. His brow furrowed in concentration, yet his expression was carefree, as if he were lost in the music, floating along with the melody.

Even the guests turned their heads, drawn to the unexpected brilliance emanating from Hans. Whispers filled the air, with people exchanging impressed glances as they recognized the talent he displayed. Elsa felt her heart race, caught off guard by how attractive he seemed in that moment. The way he held the cello, the way his fingers flew over the strings—it was almost intoxicating.

Just then, Anna made her way over to Elsa, her eyes wide with surprise. “Elsa! Look at him!” she exclaimed, her excitement palpable as she gestured towards Hans, who continued to play with fervor. “He’s incredible! Who knew he could do that?”

“I—” Elsa struggled to find the right words, feeling an unexpected mix of pride and confusion. “I didn’t realize he was so talented.”

Anna crossed her arms, a teasing grin spreading across her face. “What’s this? Are you actually impressed by him? I thought you thought he was just a cocky flirt.”

“Cocky, yes. But talented? I guess I underestimated him,” Elsa admitted, still captivated by the performance. 

As Hans played on, the music shifted to a piece that was both haunting and beautiful, and Elsa felt a flutter of emotion surge through her. It was a performance that spoke to her soul, echoing the struggles and triumphs she had witnessed in her own life. For the first time that evening, she saw Hans not just as the charming troublemaker but as someone with depth and passion.

“He’s really pulling it off, isn’t he?” Anna mused, her eyes sparkling with admiration. 

“Yeah,” Elsa replied, unable to tear her gaze away from him. “He really is.”

As the last note lingered in the air, the ballroom erupted into applause. Hans stood up, a sheepish smile on his face, and bowed slightly, the faintest hint of blush creeping across his cheeks. Elsa’s heart swelled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was admiration, or perhaps something more. Either way, she felt a shift—a moment that marked the beginning of something unexpected between them. 

“Maybe he’s not so bad after all,” Anna said, nudging Elsa playfully.

Elsa chuckled softly, still watching Hans, who was basking in the attention of the crowd. “Yeah, maybe he isn’t.” But deep down, she knew that beneath his charm and talent, there were layers yet to be uncovered. Layers that might just lead her down a path she wasn’t sure she was ready to explore.

Hans strode over to Elsa with that infuriatingly charming, cocky grin plastered across his face, his emerald eyes glinting with mischief. “Well, what did you think? Was I any good?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice as he crossed his arms, leaning in just a bit too close for comfort.

Elsa opened her mouth to respond, caught between wanting to roll her eyes and acknowledging the undeniable truth. “You were... impressive,” she finally admitted, her tone laced with reluctance. She couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of fluster creeping up her cheeks, and she hated how she felt drawn to his confidence.

But just as Hans was about to bask in his victory, Caleb, the eldest Westergaard brother, appeared like a guardian angel swooping in to save Elsa from Hans’s infectious charm. “Hans, seriously? You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Caleb chided, trying to maintain a stern expression, but it faltered when he noticed the pride welling up inside him. 

“I’m just giving the audience what they want, brother,” Hans shot back, the cockiness still evident in his demeanor. But beneath that bravado was a flicker of sincerity; the joy of performing radiated from him, and it was impossible for Caleb to hide his admiration.

“You know you’re supposed to ease into it, right?” Caleb said, shaking his head with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Not steal the spotlight like that. They’re here to see the string quartet, not a Westergaard solo act.”

“I couldn’t help myself! The cellist was asleep at the wheel,” Hans retorted, shrugging nonchalantly, but then his gaze drifted back to Elsa, lingering on her a moment too long. 

Caleb caught the shift in his brother’s attention and raised an eyebrow. “You really are a piece of work,” he muttered, his voice low but amused. “But I’m proud of you, you know? You’ve got talent, and you should chase it.”

“Thanks, Caleb,” Hans replied, the cockiness momentarily melting away to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability. But then he leaned closer to Elsa again, that stupid grin reappearing, and she could see how it lit up his face. “What about you, Elsa? Did I sweep you off your feet, or do I need to try harder?”

“Harder? I don’t think it’s that simple,” Elsa replied, crossing her arms defensively, though her heart raced at the flirtation. “You really should focus on impressing the audience instead of picking up girls.” 

“Oh, but what if I’m just trying to impress you?” he said with a wink, his voice low, full of charm. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down her spine. 

Caleb, not missing a beat, interjected, “You need to learn some manners, Hans. Besides, you know you’re not supposed to flirt with every girl who watches you perform.”

Elsa felt the heat rise to her cheeks, her composure teetering on the edge as she tried to hide her reaction. “Yeah, what Caleb said. I’m not just some girl, you know.”

“Not just any girl,” Hans echoed, nodding slowly, that grin not fading. “You’re an Arendelle. You’re practically royalty.” 

“And that means you have to behave,” Caleb added, arms crossed and tapping his foot, a half-smile betraying his facade of sternness. “You’ve got to set an example for the family, remember?”

“Family rules are so boring,” Hans replied, rolling his eyes but not entirely serious. “Besides, I think I’m doing just fine, don’t you?”

Elsa couldn’t help but laugh softly at their banter. “Yeah, as long as you don’t get into trouble. I’ve heard stories about your escapades, Hans.”

“Only the best stories, I assure you,” he replied, his tone silky, and for a moment, she forgot the chaos of the gala around them, lost in his gaze and the undeniable chemistry bubbling between them. 

Caleb cleared his throat, breaking the tension. “Come on, you two. We should mingle. There are people who actually want to talk to you—” 

Before he could finish, Hans interrupted, “But I want to talk to Elsa. Isn’t that enough reason to stay?” His expression was almost too hopeful, and Elsa felt a flutter of uncertainty mixed with intrigue at the thought of being caught in his orbit.

“Okay, okay,” Caleb relented with a chuckle, nudging Hans playfully. “Just don’t get too carried away. I don’t want to have to bail you out again.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll behave,” Hans promised, but his gaze held a spark of mischief. 

“Good luck with that,” Elsa quipped, the corner of her lips curving upwards as she tried to maintain her composure. 

As they moved to rejoin the festivities, Hans remained close, his presence electric and intoxicating, leaving Elsa unsure if she was ready for the whirlwind that was Hans Westergaard. But deep down, she knew one thing: tonight was just the beginning, and the thrill of it all was irresistible.

~❆~~~❆~

As the clock ticked closer to midnight, the air outside the Arendelle estate was filled with a gentle summer breeze, rustling the leaves of nearby trees and carrying with it the faint sounds of laughter and music from the gala inside. Elsa stood on the patio, leaning against the railing, gazing out into the darkness of the night, her thoughts swirling as she tried to process everything that had happened that evening. The tension between her and Hans had sparked something within her—a mix of excitement and uncertainty that left her both thrilled and anxious.

Just as she was about to retreat into the house, seeking refuge from the onslaught of her thoughts, she heard footsteps approaching. She turned to see Hans stepping out onto the patio, a confident swagger in his gait, his red hair tousled and his emerald eyes gleaming in the dim light. 

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice smooth and inviting, though there was a hint of mischief lingering beneath the surface.

“Not at all,” Elsa replied, forcing a smile as she pushed her chaotic thoughts aside. She tried to keep her tone neutral, but she could feel her heart quicken at his presence. “I could use the company.”

He leaned against the railing next to her, glancing out into the night before turning his gaze toward her, an impish grin forming on his lips. “You know, I was watching you dance earlier. You looked like you were lost in your own world. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“Oh, please,” Elsa said, rolling her eyes to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. “You were the one stealing the spotlight.”

“Touché,” he conceded, his expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. “But really, Elsa, I’ve got to ask—have you ever been kissed before?”

The question hung in the air between them, so sudden and bold that Elsa felt her breath catch in her throat. She blinked, unsure how to respond, her mind racing through a myriad of thoughts. Was he serious? Did he really just ask her that?

“I—uh,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink. “Well, I mean, no. Not really. I haven’t had much time for that sort of thing.”

Hans chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Really? Not even a little peck on the cheek or anything?” 

“No!” she blurted out, her eyes widening in surprise at how easily the truth slipped from her lips. She was grateful for the darkness that hid her embarrassment. “I just… I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Wow, a girl like you? That’s surprising.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense but playful, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “You seem like the type who’d have a line of suitors waiting at your door.”

“Hardly,” she shot back, trying to maintain her composure. “Most people see me as the CEO’s daughter, not someone they want to date.”

Hans raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So you’re saying you’re a catch, but no one dares to make a move? That’s hard to believe.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” she said, her voice softening as she glanced away, trying to focus on the stars. “I’ve always felt a little… different. And then there’s the pressure to be perfect, to uphold the family name.” 

“Yeah, I get it,” he said, his tone unexpectedly serious. “I’ve felt that pressure too, just in different ways. But you’re more than just a name, Elsa. You have this light about you.”

His compliment hung in the air, wrapping around her like a warm blanket, and she found herself wanting to believe him. “You hardly know me,” she replied, attempting to deflect. 

“Maybe not, but I’d like to,” he said, taking a small step closer, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re interesting, and I can tell there’s so much more beneath the surface.”

Elsa felt her heart race as his words washed over her, battling the mix of excitement and fear swirling within her. “Hans, what are you getting at?” 

“Just this,” he murmured, and before she could process his intent, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. The world around them faded away—the sounds of the gala, the lights of the estate—all of it disappeared as she felt the warmth of his touch.

Time seemed to stand still, and for that fleeting moment, everything was perfect. But as he pulled away, the reality of the situation rushed back in, and Elsa's mind spun with a mix of confusion and exhilaration.

“What was that?” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper.

“Just a taste of what you’ve been missing,” Hans replied, that cheeky grin back in full force. “Consider it a friendly introduction to the world of kissing.”

She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss for words, her mind racing. Could she really let herself be swept up in this flirtation, this unexpected connection? As she looked into his eyes, sparkling with mischief and warmth, she felt a rush of daring bravery surge within her. 

“Maybe I should try it again,” she said, surprising even herself with her boldness.

Hans’s smile widened, and he took her hand, intertwining their fingers as he leaned in again, the moment feeling infinitely more charged than before. “I think you’d like it,” he said softly, and as their lips met once more, the chaos of the world faded into the background, leaving only the two of them and the spark that ignited between them like a flame in the night.

As Elsa and Hans found themselves lost in the moment, their lips meeting with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine, she felt a rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. The world around them faded even further, and for a heartbeat, nothing else mattered. But as they pulled away, breathless, reality struck her with an unexpected thought.

“Wait,” she said, her cheeks flushed as she caught her breath. “What about the hot tub? We could… join me in the hot tub instead?” The suggestion tumbled from her lips, almost impulsively. The thought of relaxing in the warm water felt like the perfect way to continue their flirtation.

Hans raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint sparking in his emerald eyes. “And with what swimwear?” he replied, gesturing to their formal attire. “I don’t think either of us is exactly dressed for a midnight dip.”

Elsa glanced down at her elegant gown, the satin fabric shimmering in the moonlight, and she couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “Oh, right. I forgot about that part.”

“Not to mention,” he continued, his tone teasing, “I’m not sure the host would appreciate guests raiding the hot tub in their evening wear.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” she replied, pouting slightly. “But it would have been fun. The night’s still young, though. What else can we do?” 

“Why don’t we dance under the stars?” he suggested, the corners of his mouth curving into that infuriatingly charming smile. “It’ll be just as intimate, and we won’t risk ruining our ridiculously expensive outfits.”

Elsa felt a flutter of excitement at the idea. “Dancing under the stars sounds lovely,” she agreed, her heart racing at the thought of sharing this private moment with him.

Hans offered her his hand, and she took it, feeling a jolt of electricity at their connection. He led her further out onto the patio, where the sounds of the gala faded into a soft murmur, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional call of a nightingale. The sky above was clear, adorned with countless twinkling stars that cast a serene glow over the estate.

As they found a small open space, Hans pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist while she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Just like this,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Now we can dance without worrying about anyone watching.”

With a subtle movement, he began to sway, their bodies moving together to an unheard rhythm. Elsa felt herself relax as the world fell away, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of intimacy. 

“Do you think the stars ever get jealous?” she asked playfully, glancing up at the sky.

“Jealous? Of what?” he replied, smirking.

“Of us,” she teased, her voice light and carefree. “I mean, they can’t do what we’re doing right now.”

He chuckled, his green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “True. I suppose they just have to watch and shine.”

Their laughter intertwined with the night air, creating a melody of its own. As they danced, Hans leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “You know, I never thought I’d have this moment with you,” he admitted softly. “You’ve always seemed so… untouchable, like a princess in her castle.”

Elsa felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words, the compliment stirring something deep inside her. “And you’ve always seemed like the boy with the charm and confidence to match,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now you’re just Hans—the boy I used to play with.”

“Those days feel like a lifetime ago,” he murmured, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes. “But I’m glad we’re here now, together.”

She smiled, feeling the connection between them deepen. “Me too,” she said, her heart racing at the uncharted territory they were exploring. 

The dance continued, their movements becoming more natural as they lost themselves in the moment. The stars twinkled above them, casting a shimmering light that felt almost magical. Elsa found herself leaning in closer, her forehead resting against his, as she closed her eyes and let the music of their heartbeats guide her.

As their dance slowed, the world around them vanished, leaving only the warmth of Hans's embrace and the cool night air wrapping around them. And in that moment, under the stars, Elsa felt a sense of freedom—a daring release from the pressures of her life, a breath of fresh air that promised endless possibilities.

Chapter Text

The Westergaards were back, only days after the gala, as if the tension between Elsa and Hans hadn’t happened, like it hadn’t even mattered. She watched Hans walk through the front doors with his usual confidence, the image of their starlit dance still painfully fresh in her mind. He barely looked her way, instead giving Archie a pat on the head and nodding politely at Iduna and Agnarr.

“Well, it’s not going to talk itself,” Agnarr was saying as he clapped a hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Let’s head to the office and look over these contracts.”

With a warm laugh, Caleb agreed, and soon the two fathers disappeared down the hall, diving into business matters. Iduna and Ella settled comfortably in the lounge, chatting about everything from the recent gala to holiday plans. Anna, for her part, had Archie’s chubby hand in hers as they skipped toward the garden, laughter ringing through the halls. 

Which left Elsa and Hans, alone, with no excuse to avoid one another. She turned to him, feigning casual interest. “Do you want to come upstairs?”

He shrugged, looking entirely unfazed. “Sure, why not?”

As they climbed the grand staircase, Elsa’s heart raced, each step bringing them closer to the privacy of her room—and the chance to finally ask him what she had been going over in her mind ever since the gala. When they entered her room, he leaned against her window frame, arms crossed, and looked around with an easy air. She noticed how he acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, like their shared moment under the stars had never happened. It sent a pang through her chest, a painful mix of confusion and frustration.

“Hey, Hans,” she started, her voice steady yet uncertain. “About the other night…”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised she’d bring it up. “What about it?”

“That…kiss,” she managed, folding her arms as if the posture alone would keep her steady. “You…you kissed me.”

Hans let out a quiet, almost amused chuckle, his smirk returning in full force. “You said you’d never been kissed before, so I fixed it,” he replied, his tone light, like it was all just a casual favor.

Elsa blinked, feeling the weight of his indifference settle over her. “But that wasn’t—” She stopped herself, unsure if she wanted to finish that thought. Her mind flashed to the way he’d held her close as they danced, how his fingers had traced small, lazy circles on her back, how he’d leaned in just a little too close to be just a friend.

He glanced at her, looking almost amused at her confusion. “Elsa,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that annoyingly familiar smirk, “we’re friends. Nothing’s changed. You wanted a kiss, and now you’ve had one.”

“But…you kissed me twice ,” she pointed out, trying to reason it out as though that second kiss somehow made it different. “And then the dancing…”

Hans tilted his head, examining her with a lazy gaze. “What? Did you think that meant something?” His tone wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t particularly tender, either. It was as if he simply couldn’t fathom her disappointment.

She felt her face heat up as she quickly looked away, focusing on the pattern in her carpet. This was silly—of course he didn’t see it the way she had. Of course he wasn’t thinking about it even half as much as she was.

He pushed off the window, striding across the room with that easy, arrogant confidence, and tapped her chin lightly with a knuckle, just enough to make her meet his gaze. “Besides,” he added with a wink, “I’m not exactly a relationship kind of guy. And if we’re friends, you should probably know that.”

His words stung more than she cared to admit. Friends , she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. He was making it very clear that whatever had happened under those stars was a mere flicker—a passing fancy on his part, one that meant everything to her and nothing to him. She’d have to accept it, and worse yet, pretend it hadn’t happened at all.

“Right,” she replied finally, her voice light but her heart heavy. “Just friends.”

~❆~~~❆~

The next morning, Elsa stood by the door with Hans as the Westergaards gathered their things and said their goodbyes. Caleb was helping Ella buckle Archie into his car seat, and Iduna was embracing Ella warmly, both laughing softly as they made plans for the next time they could meet up. The scene was so warm, so familiar—and yet Elsa felt a distinct pang in her chest, one she hadn’t prepared for.

Hans looked down at her, hands in his pockets and that lazy grin already in place. “So, I guess this is goodbye,” he said with a shrug. 

Elsa nodded, forcing a smile. “It is… but we’ll keep in touch,” she replied, handing him a small slip of paper with her number on it. “I mean, you’ve got my number now, so if you’re ever bored out there in Copenhagen…”

Hans chuckled, taking the paper with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “You make it sound like I’ll be counting the hours till I see Oslo again. But sure, I’ll call.” He tucked it into his pocket, giving her a playful wink. “Just don’t get too attached to me over the phone.”

Elsa almost laughed, biting back the sharp retort at the tip of her tongue. Instead, she settled for a smirk. “Please, you’re the one who’ll end up attached. Don’t be surprised if you find an excuse to visit just to see me.”

“Hey,” he replied, his voice dropping just enough to make her heart skip. “Don’t tempt me.” 

The two stood there, a strange tension hanging between them, until Caleb called from the car, “Hans, we’re ready!” Hans looked over, nodding in acknowledgment, and then turned back to Elsa. For a split second, he almost looked as if he wanted to say something, something more, but then the usual smug confidence was back. 

“I’ll see you around, Arendelle,” he said with a half-smile. 

“Take care, Westergaard,” Elsa replied, matching his grin, hiding the faint ache in her chest. And with that, Hans turned and headed toward the car, not looking back and as the Westergaards’ car pulled away, Elsa watched until it disappeared down the driveway, her hand clutching the banister tightly. She’d told herself she was fine with this, with whatever fragile balance they’d struck. But watching him leave, the reality sank in—this was it, what they’d have for the foreseeable future. Friends . 

She drew a steady breath, blinking away the feeling lingering in her chest, and turned back toward the estate, telling herself that she could do this. She could be just friends with Hans.

~❆~~~❆~

The last golden days of summer were slipping away, and with each one, Anna’s excitement seemed to double. She’d barely slept the night before, waking up early enough to watch the sun just start to peek through the clouds outside her window, her mind already racing. It was happening—her first day at her new private school. Her *new* school, with new friends, new opportunities… maybe even new love interests! She threw herself out of bed with a squeal and practically ran to Elsa’s room, bursting through the door without a second thought.

"Elsa, wake up! It’s today, the day!" Anna exclaimed, shaking her older sister with barely contained energy.

Elsa groaned, shielding her face with a pillow, then squinted up at her. “Anna… it’s six in the morning.”

“I know! Isn’t it perfect?” Anna’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she bounced on her toes. “I mean, I have to get ready. But, Elsa, what if today’s the day I meet the one?”

Elsa blinked, sitting up now, fighting back a smile at her sister’s enthusiasm. “You mean, your actual soulmate ? At thirteen?”

“Why not?” Anna replied, rolling her eyes as if her sister had just asked the silliest question. “Plenty of people fall in love in school. I mean, maybe I’ll walk into class and we’ll lock eyes from across the room…”

Elsa couldn’t hold back her laughter any longer, shaking her head fondly. “You really do live in your own little fairytale, don’t you?”

Anna shrugged, undeterred. “What’s wrong with that?” She flopped onto Elsa’s bed, looking up at the ceiling with a dreamy smile. “It’s a new start. New friends, new adventures! Who knows what’ll happen?”

Elsa gave her shoulder a playful nudge. “Maybe you’ll actually focus on schoolwork instead of falling in love?”

Anna shot her a mock-hurt look, pressing a hand dramatically to her heart. “Don’t you want me to be happy, Elsa?”

“Oh, Anna, you’re already the happiest person I know,” Elsa replied, smiling. “But let’s get breakfast. You’re going to need all the energy you can get for this life-changing day.”

Anna practically skipped down the stairs as Elsa followed, amused by her sister’s boundless optimism. In the kitchen, Iduna was already bustling about, setting a stack of waffles and fresh berries on the table.

"Morning, sweetheart!" Iduna greeted, kissing Anna’s forehead. “Big day today, isn’t it?”

"The biggest !” Anna confirmed, sliding into her chair. “I mean, anything could happen. I might even make a best friend today, like a forever-best-friend kind of friend.”

Iduna’s eyes softened as she sat beside Anna. “You’ve always been good at finding friends, love. Just be yourself, and I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time.”

As they finished breakfast, Anna took a deep breath, excitement shimmering in her eyes. This was it—the start of a new chapter, a new adventure, and just maybe, if she was lucky, the start of something unforgettable.

~❆~~~❆~

Agnarr glanced in the rearview mirror, a proud yet thoughtful smile playing at his lips as he looked at his daughters in the backseat. “All right, ladies,” he said, slowing the car as they neared the sleek entrance of the private school, a place of crisp architecture and manicured lawns. “Big day for both of you, huh?”

Elsa nodded, barely looking up from the book she was reading. She’d been at the school for three years now and knew every hallway, every shortcut, every study nook. It was just another first day for her, and she liked it that way.

Anna, however, was all nerves and bubbling excitement. She clutched her backpack strap like a lifeline, her eyes wide as she took in the impressive campus. “It’s huge, Elsa! Have you always walked up these steps every day?” she asked in awe, practically bouncing in her seat.

Elsa finally looked over, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Yes, Anna. And it’s not that big. You’ll get used to it by the end of the day, I promise.”

Agnarr chuckled, glancing at Anna with a fatherly grin as he put the car in park. “Well, you both look ready for it. Anna, remember—you’re going to have a great day. Make friends, be yourself, and just… enjoy it.”

Anna beamed up at him. “Thanks, Papa! I mean, I’m not nervous at all,” she added, straightening with a show of confidence. “This is just the start of the rest of my life.”

With one last hug from Agnarr, Elsa and Anna climbed out, heading towards the main building. They waved him off, Elsa more reservedly and Anna with enthusiastic fervor, before turning to face the imposing entrance. The school loomed before them, bustling with other students finding their way to their classes, chatting in groups, catching up from the summer. 

“So…” Anna looked around, her voice a little quieter now as the reality of the new environment set in. “Guess this is it. Lower secondary is… over there, right?”

Elsa nodded, gesturing to the building’s left wing. “You’ll be fine, Anna. I’m just in the upper wing, so we’re not far.”

With a deep breath, Anna squared her shoulders, determined. “Right. Well… here I go!” She took a few steps, then turned back, offering Elsa a grin. “Wish me luck?”

“You don’t need it, Anna,” Elsa replied, the smallest hint of affection in her normally composed voice. “You’re an Arendelle, after all.”

With that, Anna spun around, merging into the crowd of students until she found herself in the wide, open courtyard of the lower secondary wing. She looked around, eyes darting from one face to another, until her gaze landed on a boy standing a little ways off by himself, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked a bit out of place, his shaggy blonde hair slightly mussed, his jacket worn but comfortable, as if he’d picked it up at a thrift shop. And his warm brown eyes were watching the crowd with a sort of quiet curiosity.

Anna tilted her head, feeling something like intrigue pull her forward. Before she even knew what she was doing, she walked over to him.

“Hi!” she said brightly, grinning up at him. “I’m Anna. I’m new here. Are you?”

The boy looked at her, a little startled by her forwardness, before a shy smile crept onto his face. “Uh, yeah. I mean… kind of,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t really… fit in here.”

Anna waved her hand dismissively, her expression warm. “Who cares? Besides, I don’t exactly fit in either. Not yet, anyway. So… friends?”

The boy’s eyes lit up just a little as he looked at her outstretched hand, as though he hadn’t expected this—this casual offer of friendship, the confidence she wore so easily. “Friends?” he repeated, almost in disbelief.

“Of course,” Anna replied, her smile widening. “I’m Anna Arendelle. And you are?”

“Kristoff,” he answered, finally shaking her hand. “Kristoff Bjorgman.”

“Well, Kristoff Bjorgman,” Anna said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m going to make this the best school year of your life.” 

And just like that, in the middle of her very first day, Anna found her first friend—and maybe something more. As they laughed, the awkwardness melted away, and Anna felt that same excited spark she had hoped for.

~❆~~~❆~

The lunch bell rang, its cheerful chime echoing through the halls of the private school as students filtered into the spacious dining hall, a vast room filled with high ceilings, elegant chandeliers, and long tables adorned with crisp white tablecloths. Anna glanced around, her heart racing with excitement as she spotted Kristoff at the far end of the room, sitting alone at a table near the window. She waved at him, her grin broadening when he returned it, albeit with a hint of shyness.

“Hey! Over here!” she called, bounding over to join him, her brown curls bouncing with each step. As she reached him, Anna plopped down and laid her lunchbox between them, the familiar pink design with little hearts and sparkles, a charming touch from her mother, Iduna.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked, already opening her lunchbox without waiting for an answer. “I mean, you look like you could use a friend.”

Kristoff chuckled, his brown eyes glancing down at his single sandwich, wrapped tightly in plastic. “Yeah, I could use one,” he admitted, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “I didn’t think I’d be having lunch with anyone today.”

“Lucky you!” Anna declared, dramatically unwrapping her sandwich, which was filled with turkey, cheese, lettuce, and a generous spread of mustard. “I have a whole feast here!” She pulled out another sandwich, an apple, and a bag of chips, then looked at Kristoff’s solitary sandwich, which was just a simple PB&J.

“Here,” she said, breaking her sandwich in half and handing one of the pieces to him. “You need to eat more than that.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—” Kristoff started, but Anna was already shoving the sandwich into his hand.

“Too late! Besides, my mom packed enough for an army,” she insisted, taking a bite of her own sandwich and grinning through a mouthful. “And you have to try this. It’s, like, gourmet compared to yours.”

He hesitated, but Anna’s enthusiasm was infectious. With a reluctant chuckle, he took a bite, and his eyes widened. “Wow, this is really good!” he exclaimed, clearly surprised. “Your mom made this?”

“Yup! She’s a total pro,” Anna beamed, taking another bite of her sandwich. “So… what’s your story, Kristoff? Why do you only have a sandwich?”

Kristoff’s smile faltered a bit, and he glanced down at his plate, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “Um, well… it’s kind of complicated,” he started, his voice quieter. “I live with my Aunt Yelena and her kids. My parents… they saved up a lot to send me here before they… you know… passed away.”

Anna’s heart sank at his words. “I’m so sorry,” she said gently, her excitement from earlier dimming. “That must be really hard for you.”

He shrugged, trying to mask the emotion behind a casual demeanor. “It’s okay. I mean, I didn’t really know them that well. They were always working to save up for this school,” Kristoff replied, a touch of bitterness creeping into his voice. “And then… they died in a car accident. It’s just me and my aunt now. She’s nice and all, but it’s kind of tough living with her and my cousins. They don’t really get me, and I just feel… out of place sometimes.”

“Wow,” Anna breathed, her eyes wide with empathy. “That’s… a lot. I can’t even imagine what that must feel like.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand, a gesture of solidarity. “But you’re here now, right? And you’re really brave for coming to this school. I know I’d be terrified.”

“Thanks, Anna,” Kristoff said, the corners of his lips lifting as he looked at her. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

“Yeah, I do!” Anna said playfully, her spirits lifting again. “Because we’re friends now! And friends support each other. Plus, we’ll have the best school year ever together. Just wait!”

Kristoff smiled more genuinely this time, and Anna felt a rush of warmth at their newfound connection. It was strange, she thought, how something as simple as sharing lunch could feel so significant. As they continued to eat, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope for what the year would bring. With Kristoff by her side, maybe this place wouldn’t feel so intimidating after all.

~❆~~~❆~

Elsa was curled up in a corner of the school’s library, her usual haven of quiet, surrounded by the comforting scent of old books and the soft hum of whispers between students. She’d barely made it through the first week of the semester before retreating here, her go-to spot whenever she needed a break from the pressures of her world. But today, her focus wasn’t entirely on the book in her lap. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, drawing her attention. 

She pulled it out, half-expecting a message from Anna about some wild new friend she'd made, or her mom sending a quick note. But instead, it was a message from him.

Hey, how’s the first week of school going?

Elsa’s heart did a little flip, the familiar rush of excitement at the sound of his name flooding her chest. She hadn’t expected to hear from him today—she was still getting used to their new rhythm of text exchanges. Since the gala, their messages had been casual, funny, and full of the usual banter, but *nothing* serious. Nothing like the kiss they'd shared under the stars. She couldn’t help but glance down at the phone, remembering the softness of his lips and the way he'd looked at her afterward. As much as she tried to push those memories aside, they were there, lingering.

Elsa quickly typed back, trying to sound casual, her fingers flying over the keys.

Fine. Just the usual—classes, homework, new friends. You know, the usual. How’s Copenhagen?

Before she could settle back into her book, the phone buzzed again—this time, it was a call from Hans.

Elsa hesitated for only a second before answering, her curiosity piqued. “Hello?”

“Hey, Elsa,” Hans’s familiar voice greeted her, his tone lighter than usual but with a hint of mischief. “So, how’s school treating you? Already crushing it, I bet.”

Elsa smiled, even though he couldn’t see it. “It’s going well. It’s just the first week. It’s nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” he scoffed, clearly amused. “You mean, no one’s fighting over who gets to be your friend? I thought you were the queen of school by now.”

She laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “Not quite. Not sure I want to be queen, anyway.”

Hans chuckled, the sound a little too carefree for her liking, almost like he was distracting himself from something. “Well, as long as you're surviving. I guess that’s good enough for now.” He paused, and Elsa could hear the shift in his voice, the playful tone melting into something a bit more serious. “I’ll be in Oslo this weekend, by the way.”

Elsa’s stomach flipped. “What? Really? You’re coming here?” She sat up straighter, her fingers gripping the edge of the table in surprise. “Why?”

“I asked Caleb if I could come out for the weekend,” he replied casually. “I haven’t seen you since… well, the gala, and figured it was about time we caught up.” His voice softened just a bit, but the cocky edge was still there. “Besides, I’ve got nothing else to do this weekend. You’ve been a terrible influence on me—too many late-night texts about how much I miss Oslo and how much I need a real break from the city.”

Elsa blinked, her mind racing. It was odd, him making the effort to come all the way to Oslo, especially when they both knew he didn’t usually do anything without a reason. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it— did he miss her, or was this just another game he was playing?

“Wait—so you’re just… flying out to Oslo? For the weekend? Just to see me?”

Hans’s voice lowered slightly, the teasing lilt turning serious, but only just. “Yeah, just to see you. Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behavior. I don’t want to cause a scene, princess.”

Elsa swallowed, trying to stay grounded despite the flutter of nerves that spread across her chest. "When do you get in?"

“My flight leaves in about an hour. I’ll be at your place by evening,” he said nonchalantly. “So, I hope you're ready to entertain me, because I’m expecting a lot of fun. I hear Oslo’s got the best coffee in Scandinavia.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

Hans’s voice softened again, and for a moment, he sounded more like the Hans she’d come to know through their messages. “Hey, I’m being serious here. I haven’t had a chance to actually hang out with you. No gala, no crowds. Just… us. We should talk, you know?”

Elsa’s heart skipped a beat. She felt the weight of the invitation settle in, despite the casual nature of his words. There was an unspoken truth there, something deeper than their usual teasing.

“Well, I suppose I can spare a few hours for you,” Elsa replied, playing along but feeling the underlying tension that she knew would follow. “But you’ll have to deal with my terrible taste in coffee. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You’re just trying to scare me,” Hans teased, though there was an edge of warmth in his voice that made Elsa pause.

As the call ended, Elsa sat back in her chair, staring at her phone in her hands. Her mind raced with thoughts about what Hans’s visit might mean. Was he coming for a simple weekend catch-up? Or was there something else going on beneath the surface? 

She had never let herself think about it too much—about him , really—but now, with the unexpected reality of him visiting, she wasn’t so sure she could keep her feelings as neatly tucked away. He had always been the cocky, charming guy, and she was… just Elsa. 

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of excitement at the idea of seeing him again. What was it that made Hans Westergaard so hard to resist? And why did she keep asking herself whether he’d really come all this way just to be friends?

Chapter Text

Elsa paced back and forth in the living room, her mind racing a mile a minute. The cool evening air slipped through the slightly ajar windows, but it did nothing to calm the swirling storm inside her chest. She glanced at the clock again. Any minute now, she thought. Her father, Agnarr, had gone to the airport to pick up Hans, and Elsa felt a nervous energy that she couldn’t shake.

Anna, perched on the couch with a half-open book in her lap, was watching Elsa pace with growing amusement. “Elsa, seriously. Calm down. It’s just Hans,” she said, tossing her book aside and raising an eyebrow. “You act like he's some kind of big deal.”

Elsa spun around, her hands on her hips, and shot Anna an exasperated look. “Exactly! It is just Hans!” she almost shouted, her voice laced with frustration. “So why do I feel like I’m about to implode, huh?”

Anna blinked, sitting up straighter, her eyes widening as if the puzzle of her sister’s reaction was suddenly falling into place. “Wait. Do you like him? ” she asked, her voice practically a squeal now. “Oh my god, you like him!”

Elsa froze, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, not sure what to say. Anna was grinning widely now, clearly delighted at the revelation.

“No! I—” Elsa started, her hands flying up in a defensive gesture. But then she stopped herself. She couldn’t deny it, not when the thought had been gnawing at her all day, every moment she’d spent wondering what would happen when Hans arrived.

“Okay, maybe I do like him,” Elsa admitted, her voice much quieter now, as if the admission itself was almost too much to bear. She dropped onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. “But that’s crazy, right? He’s Hans—cocky, arrogant, always playing games. He’s not someone I should be—ugh, this is ridiculous!”

Anna, clearly not understanding the gravity of Elsa’s internal turmoil, jumped to her feet. “ This is amazing! ” she exclaimed, bouncing up and down. “Elsa, you like Hans! I can’t believe it. That’s so perfect!”

“I didn’t say I like him like that ,” Elsa said quickly, looking at her sister through her fingers, her cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. “It’s not like I’ve thought about it... I just—he’s different, you know?”

Anna raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. And he just happens to show up after months of texting and now you’re ‘not sure’? Yeah, I’m not buying it.”

“I’m just saying,” Elsa muttered, her voice trailing off, “I don’t know what’s going to happen when he gets here. I’m not ready for this... whatever this is. It’s just Hans.”

Anna's grin widened. “Well, he’s coming to see you. It’s obviously something more.”

Elsa groaned and fell back against the couch. “I’m losing my mind.”

Anna’s eyes were practically sparkling with excitement as she leaned forward, putting her hands together like she was about to make a grand announcement. “This is it, Elsa. This is your chance. You’ve got to go for it. Just admit it: you like him, and maybe he likes you too.” She gasped. “Oh my god, what if this is it ? What if this is the start of your very own love story?”

Elsa couldn’t help but laugh, despite the nerves that kept swirling in her stomach. “Anna, calm down. I don’t know what’s going to happen. He’s just a friend. He came all the way here for... God, I don’t even know why.”

Anna sat down beside her sister, trying to keep her voice low so it didn’t sound like an interrogation. “Okay, let me get this straight. You’ve spent all summer texting him. He kissed you once, then danced with you under the stars. He’s coming all the way here to see you... and you think he’s just a friend?”

Elsa rubbed her face in frustration. “Yes! Because that's exactly what he is! Hans doesn’t do relationships. He’s... he’s a flirt, Anna. A charming, cocky flirt who doesn’t stick around. You know how he is!”

Anna leaned back, still smiling, her arms crossed as if she had the answer to every question. “Well, if that’s true... then why do you keep texting him? Why did you agree to see him this weekend? If he’s just a flirt, you wouldn’t care so much, right?”

Elsa stopped short, her eyes drifting towards the door, as if she could somehow see Hans walking through it already. Anna’s words lingered in the air, and she felt a sense of unease settle deep in her chest. Maybe Anna was right. Maybe she did care more than she wanted to admit.

Before Elsa could say anything, they heard the sound of the front door opening. Agnarr’s voice echoed from the hallway. “He’s here!”

Anna’s eyes widened as she turned to Elsa. “Are you ready for this?”

Elsa didn’t have time to think. She pushed herself off the couch, her heart hammering in her chest. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “But I guess I’ll have to be.”

The moment she stepped into the hallway, there he was. Hans, leaning casually against the doorframe with that cocky grin that always made her stomach twist. His eyes caught hers almost immediately, and something unspoken passed between them.

“Hey, Elsa,” Hans said, his voice low and teasing, “miss me?”

Elsa’s heart skipped. You’re damn right I did, she thought, but instead, she smiled and shrugged, keeping her voice steady. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Hans straightened, stepping into the hallway, his gaze never leaving hers. “Not long enough, if you ask me.” He winked, and for a moment, Elsa wondered how she was going to survive the weekend.

But she was here, and so was he. And maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something more.

Elsa led Hans up the stairs, her footsteps steady but her heart racing in a way she couldn’t quite explain. The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the floorboards beneath their feet. She felt the weight of his presence behind her, the casualness of it making her more aware of the way her body seemed to tense and relax, all at once. This was Hans—her cocky, arrogant friend who had kissed her once, danced with her under the stars, and now stood in her home as if nothing had changed.

She paused at the guest room door and gestured for him to go in. “Here you go. This is your room for the weekend,” she said, trying to keep her voice cool, but there was an undeniable edge to it now. She had never really had him in her space like this, not in her own home, and the idea of him settling in just a few feet away from her was both exhilarating and... a little terrifying.

Hans looked around the room, taking in the simple but elegant decor. The guest room was spacious, with light blue walls and a large window that looked out over the garden. There was a king-sized bed, a sleek desk, and a small couch by the window. “Nice,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “But…”

Elsa’s heart skipped, her eyes narrowing slightly. “But?” she asked, unsure whether she should brace herself for one of his usual teasing comments.

Hans grinned, the familiar mischievous twinkle back in his eyes. “Well, it’s a little far from your room, don’t you think?” he teased, his voice light but laced with that trademark charm.

Elsa’s breath caught in her throat. The words, so simple and yet so pointed, made her cheeks burn. She immediately turned her face away, feeling the heat spread from her neck to the tips of her ears. “W-what are you talking about?” she stammered, trying to recover, but her voice betrayed her—soft, almost breathless.

“Oh, nothing,” Hans said with a shrug, his smirk widening as he noticed her sudden flush. He clearly found her reaction amusing, and it only made her blush harder. “Just that I was hoping for a little more… convenient proximity, you know?”

Elsa quickly looked back at him, her hand nervously reaching to adjust a stray strand of hair, trying to appear composed. “This is perfectly close enough, thank you very much,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster, though her voice wavered slightly. She could feel her face still burning under the weight of his gaze.

Hans didn’t seem to take offense; instead, he just chuckled, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed, clearly enjoying how flustered she’d become. “I’m just kidding, Elsa,” he said, his tone warm but teasing. “It’s a great room. I’ll make do. Don’t worry, I won’t be breaking into your room at midnight.”

Elsa gave him a pointed look, her irritation quickly fading as she tried to regain her usual composure. “Better not,” she muttered under her breath, though she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of her lips.

Hans leaned back against the pillows, stretching his arms above his head in a relaxed manner. “I’m just messing with you. You’re too easy to tease.” He gave her a playful grin, clearly pleased with himself.

Elsa crossed her arms, trying to keep her cool. “I’m not easy to tease,” she retorted, though it lacked the usual firmness in her tone.

“Sure, Elsa,” Hans teased, his voice softer now. “But you’re too much fun to resist.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she turned to leave the room. “I’ll leave you to it, then. I’m sure you’ll make yourself at home.” She shot him one last look before retreating to the door.

Hans’s voice followed her as she stepped into the hallway. “You know, I do like it here,” he called after her, his tone a little more serious now. “It’s a nice change of pace.”

Elsa stopped, her hand resting on the doorknob. She glanced back at him, the slight warmth returning to her cheeks. “I’m glad. You’re welcome here, Hans. Just… no more jokes about the rooms, okay?”

He flashed her a wink, his grin still playful but with something more underneath. “No promises, Elsa,” he said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. But something about the way he said her name, the way his eyes lingered on her, made her heart flutter just a little bit more than she’d like to admit.

She stepped out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her, and leaned against the hallway wall for a moment, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. This weekend was going to be interesting, she thought, her pulse quickening as she realized she might not be as prepared for what was coming as she thought.

~❆~~~❆~

Elsa tossed and turned in her bed, her mind refusing to settle. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Hans’s visit had changed something—there was an undercurrent between them that wasn’t there before. She was trying to keep it all in check, trying not to think about that kiss or the way his gaze lingered on her a little longer than it should have earlier. The playful teasing, the way he’d looked at her in that guest room—it all kept spiraling through her thoughts, and she couldn’t make it stop.

She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It was well past 1:00 AM. The house was still, the only sound the soft hum of the night outside her window.

And then, as if the universe were conspiring against her, her phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Elsa hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen. It was from Hans.

‘ Cocoa?’

It was simple. Just one word. But something about it made her heart flutter unexpectedly, and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. Of course, it wasn’t just cocoa he was offering—it was an invitation, a suggestion. Her mind raced with the possibilities, and she felt that familiar rush of nerves again.

Just cocoa. Yeah, right.

She glanced over at the clock again. She should ignore it. She should just go to sleep, let the night pass like any other night. But she couldn’t. She threw off her blankets and swung her legs over the side of the bed, heart pounding a little faster now as she stood.

Elsa grabbed her robe off the chair, wrapping it loosely around her shoulders. The thin fabric didn’t do much to shield her from the cool night air, but it was enough to make her feel slightly more presentable. She smoothed her night clothes underneath—the soft cotton tank top and shorts she always wore to bed—and made her way down the hallway.

As she descended the stairs to the kitchen, she could feel a strange tension rising in her chest. This was ridiculous. It was just Hans. Just Hans , right?

But when she reached the kitchen, she found him leaning casually against the counter, his posture lazy, but his eyes sharp. He was wearing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, clearly not expecting a formal meeting, just the same casual presence he always exuded. But the way he looked at her as she entered—eyes scanning her from head to toe—sent a jolt of heat straight to her cheeks.

“Well, well,” Hans said, his voice warm and playful as always, though there was something more in it tonight—something that made Elsa feel like she was suddenly under a spotlight. “I knew I could tempt you down here.”

Elsa cleared her throat, trying to mask her sudden discomfort with a shrug. “You’re a terrible influence,” she muttered, not meeting his gaze at first. “It’s 1 AM, Hans.”

“Exactly,” he said, his voice low, drawing her attention to his eyes. There was no mistaking the look there now, the way he watched her with a slight, mischievous smile. “But you’re here. And you look like you could use something warm. Besides, cocoa never hurt anyone, right?”

Elsa was about to respond, but then she caught herself. The way he said it, the way he said looked like you could use something warm —it was like he was seeing right through her, reading her in a way she hadn’t expected.

“Fine,” she said, her voice a little sharper than she intended. She quickly moved to the cabinet, trying to keep her focus on the task at hand. She was just making cocoa. Just cocoa. Nothing else.

But as she reached for the cocoa mix, she could feel his gaze on her. She didn’t need to turn around to know it. He was watching her closely, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were intense—just enough to make her feel exposed. She felt an unsettling mix of desire and confusion, and she was having a hard time sorting it out.

“Want some help?” Hans asked, his voice closer now, standing just a little behind her. She could feel the heat of his body near hers as he spoke.

“Uh, no,” Elsa said quickly, her hands fumbling slightly as she grabbed the milk from the fridge. “I got it.”

But as she turned around, there he was again, standing far too close for comfort. He looked down at her, his gaze unreadable. “I wasn’t expecting a robe,” he said softly, his voice almost teasing. “But I have to admit, I like it.”

Elsa’s breath caught in her throat. “What are you doing?” she muttered, her cheeks flushing, but there was no real anger in her voice, just confusion and a trace of something else—something that left her questioning the tension that had settled between them. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Hans didn’t back away. Instead, he smirked, his eyes glinting. “Like what? You’re just dressed —or, well, partially dressed —I’m only noticing the obvious.”

Elsa’s stomach fluttered, but she refused to let him see how much he rattled her. “Right,” she said, rolling her eyes. “So we’re still going to pretend this is casual, then?”

Hans took a slow breath and gave her an amused smile. “Why would we pretend anything, Elsa?” His voice dropped lower, filled with that familiar edge of confidence that always made her heart race. “You know I’m not pretending. Not anymore.”

Elsa looked up at him, her pulse quickening at the intensity in his gaze. For a moment, it was as if the world around them fell away, leaving just the two of them, standing so close that she could feel the warmth of his body near hers. Her mind screamed at her to step back, to keep things at a distance, but all she could do was hold her ground and wonder what he was thinking.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

Hans’s smile softened, and he stepped back just slightly, taking a breath as he leaned against the counter, that playful edge still in his voice. “Yeah, we will.”

The cocoa boiled on the stove, but it felt like everything else had stopped, frozen in place. Elsa’s heart was racing again, and for the first time since he’d walked into the kitchen, she wasn’t sure what would happen next.

Elsa stood there, her hand frozen over the cocoa mix, her heart pounding in her chest. The air between her and Hans was charged now, thick with unspoken words. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him, suddenly feeling the weight of his presence in a way that felt more intense than ever before.

She exhaled, the tension in her shoulders evident as she asked, “What are we, Hans?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t seem rattled by the question at all. Instead, he looked at her with that infuriatingly cocky smirk, the one that always made her want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he studied her, and then said, “What do you think we are?”

Her stomach twisted at his words. The audacity. The gall of him to act like everything between them— everything —was just some kind of game. And that smirk, like he was amused by the confusion he’d caused her, only made her angrier.

Elsa took a step toward him, her eyes flashing with frustration. “Don’t pull that with me, Hans,” she said, her voice low but sharp. “Don’t act like this is just some joke. What are we? ”

Hans’s expression didn’t change. His eyes stayed cool, calculating, as if he were weighing her every word. He uncrossed his arms and leaned back against the counter, taking a moment before he responded, his voice steady, almost distant. “I’m your friend,” he said, his words slow, deliberate. “Nothing more, nothing less. Don’t ever plan on changing it.”

Elsa’s breath caught in her throat. She felt a rush of anger and frustration sweep through her, a surge that almost felt too big to contain. Her heart was pounding now, her chest tight as if he had just shoved a cold weight inside it. Friend . That was all she was to him? After everything?

Her hands shook, but she balled them into fists at her sides. “That’s it?” she snapped, her voice sharp and accusing. “That’s all you think this is? After everything that’s happened? All the text messages, all the late-night calls, the kiss —and now you’re telling me we’re just friends ?”

Hans stood there, unbothered, still leaning against the counter as if he hadn’t just completely shattered the air between them. “Yeah, Elsa,” he said, his tone unyielding, as if he were stating the obvious. “That’s all we are. Friends. I don’t do relationships. You know that by now.”

Elsa’s chest tightened with a mix of anger and something else—something that she wasn’t ready to name. She wanted to scream at him, to demand more, but instead, all she could do was look at him, her thoughts a mess. He had come here, to her home, after all that had happened, and now he was making it clear that it meant nothing to him.

Her voice trembled slightly, the anger turning into something raw and bitter. “So, what was the point of any of this, then? Why are you here, Hans? If we’re just friends, then why did you even bother?”

He met her gaze without flinching, his expression softening for just a moment, though the cocky edge still lingered. “Because I wanted to see you. I told you I’d come, didn’t I?”

Elsa shook her head, a small, bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You wanted to see me,” she repeated, the words bitter on her tongue. “But only as a friend. So I’m just supposed to be okay with that? Just… go along with it?”

“I’m not asking you to be okay with it,” Hans replied, his tone still calm, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes. “I’m just being honest with you. That’s all.”

Elsa swallowed hard, fighting the overwhelming urge to just walk away from him, to retreat and never let him affect her like this again. But she couldn’t—because she wanted answers, and this was the only way to get them.

“You’re so frustrating,” she said finally, her voice quieter now, but laced with the raw emotion she couldn’t hide. “I don’t even know why I let myself care. I know exactly who you are, and I should’ve expected this.”

Hans didn’t respond immediately, his gaze softening, but he didn’t move. The silence hung heavy between them, neither of them saying anything for what felt like an eternity.

Elsa took a deep breath, her hands still clenched into fists at her sides. “I need to make the cocoa,” she said, her voice shaking slightly, though she fought to keep it steady. “I’ll make the cocoa, and then you can go. I need some space.”

Hans hesitated, looking like he might say something more, but he didn’t. Instead, he just nodded, that unreadable expression still on his face.

Elsa turned away, walking to the stove, trying to focus on anything other than the weight of his words. “It’ll be done in a minute,” she muttered, needing the space, needing the moment to herself to process everything that had just happened.

She focused on the cocoa, the rhythmic movements of stirring and preparing, letting the heat from the milk fill the silence. But she couldn’t ignore the tightness in her chest—the ache that would linger long after Hans was gone.

She had let herself hope.

As the warm milk began to bubble on the stove, Elsa stared at it, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The soft steam rising from the pot seemed to echo the suffocating weight in her chest. She hated herself for hoping.

Why had she allowed herself to believe that there could be more between her and Hans? Why did she let the possibility of something real creep into her mind, even for a moment? Her hands gripped the spoon tightly, stirring the cocoa mix with force, the motion almost mechanical.

She had known who Hans was. She knew better. He was the charming, cocky, arrogant boy who liked to tease and flirt with her, but when it came down to it, he was never going to be anything more. The kiss—the dancing under the stars—those were just fleeting moments, nothing more than playful distractions. He had made it clear, hadn’t he? He’d drawn the line. They were just friends, and nothing more. That’s all they would ever be.

And yet, God , she had let herself imagine more. She had let herself hope that when Hans showed up here, it would be different—that maybe the things that had happened between them meant something more than just fleeting moments. But Hans was Hans. The same Hans who wouldn’t commit, who wouldn’t stay. The same Hans who made everything feel like a game.

A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she set the spoon down, her chest tightening with a sharp pang of frustration. She couldn’t believe she had let herself fall into that trap. Hope . It was the most stupid, dangerous thing she had ever let herself do.

Elsa took a deep breath, feeling the heat of tears rising behind her eyes. She blinked them away, forcing herself to stay composed. She would not let this get to her. She wouldn’t let him break her. She couldn’t. She’d known from the start that Hans wasn’t the kind of person who could give her what she wanted. And yet, a part of her had still clung to the idea that maybe—just maybe—he would surprise her.

But now that part of her felt foolish. Weak.

She poured the hot cocoa into two mugs, her hands steady despite the storm of emotion raging inside her. She carried them over to the counter, where Hans was standing, leaning casually against the kitchen island. He had stayed quiet, giving her the space she needed after their confrontation, but the weight of his presence in the room still lingered like a heavy fog.

Elsa set one of the mugs down in front of him, avoiding his gaze. “Here. Cocoa. Just like you asked for,” she said, her voice strained but controlled.

Hans raised an eyebrow, his expression softening slightly as he took the mug from her, but there was still that distant look in his eyes—the one that told her he wasn’t going to press her any further. He took a sip of the cocoa, then set it down slowly, his gaze never quite meeting hers.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “you didn’t have to brush me off like that. I didn’t mean to upset you, Elsa.”

Elsa’s pulse quickened at the sincerity in his voice, but she couldn’t let herself soften. Not now. Not after everything. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice colder than she intended. “It’s just... I don’t know why I expected anything different. Nothing has changed. You’ve made it clear, Hans. We’re just friends, and that’s all we’ll ever be.”

Hans opened his mouth to say something, but Elsa held up a hand, stopping him. “No,” she said firmly. “I don’t need to hear it. I get it. It’s fine. Really.”

Hans looked at her for a long moment, his usual smirk gone, replaced with something softer, something that she couldn’t quite place. But she didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to hear whatever excuse or reasoning he had to offer. She didn’t want to keep hoping .

“I’m sorry, Elsa,” he said after a long pause. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Elsa shook her head, pushing the feelings of hurt down as deep as they could go. “I’ll be fine,” she said, the words cold, even though she could feel the lump in her throat threatening to choke her. “I’m not some... silly girl who thinks this is more than what it is.”

Hans didn’t say anything, and for a moment, they stood in silence, the air between them heavy with unspoken words. Elsa’s heart pounded in her chest, her hands trembling slightly. The truth was there, and she hated it. She hated herself for not seeing it sooner.

“I’m going to bed,” she said suddenly, turning away from him before he could respond. “Goodnight.”

She left the kitchen quickly, her heart aching, her mind racing with every emotion she wished she could ignore. Hans didn’t follow her, didn’t say anything more. And maybe that was for the best.

But as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, Elsa knew one thing for sure. She would never again allow herself to hope for something that would never be.

~❆~~~❆~

Elsa tossed and turned in her bed, her thoughts racing. She hated him right now. Every part of her felt like it was simmering with frustration, anger, and something else—something that made her want to scream at the ceiling.

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to push the thought of Hans from her mind, but it wasn’t working. She hated that he had the power to make her feel this way. She hated that he was so casual, so nonchalant about everything, like he could just waltz into her life whenever he wanted, make her feel special for a moment, and then pull away when it got too real. She hated that he seemed to see her as just a friend, a nothing more kind of girl, when she knew there was something there between them.

Her chest tightened, and the feeling of that kiss came rushing back—those soft, fleeting moments that had made her believe, even for just a few seconds, that maybe he felt it too. But now? Now, she was just angry at herself for ever letting him get that close in the first place. She hated the way her heart had fluttered when he looked at her with that cocky smirk, the way his words always seemed to twist in her mind. She hated how, no matter what he said, she couldn’t get him out of her head.

Why had she thought he’d be any different? Why did she keep falling into this trap of hoping for something that wasn’t there? She knew better. She knew exactly what Hans was—and she had to face it. He was the charming, arrogant guy who made things seem easy, who never got too attached to anything or anyone. He didn’t care about the messiness of real feelings. He didn’t want the same things she did.

Elsa punched her pillow in frustration, feeling the tears prickling behind her eyes but not wanting to let them fall. She didn’t have the luxury of crying over Hans. She wouldn’t let herself. He was just... Hans. And that was all he’d ever be.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to make things complicated . Of course, he had to come over, play his games, act like nothing had changed, and leave her here, feeling like a fool. He knew how to get under her skin—how to make her question her own feelings, make her want him even when she knew she shouldn’t.

I hate him right now, Elsa thought again, her hands gripping the edge of the blankets as she clenched her teeth. And she meant it. She really, truly did.

But even as she tried to keep her anger sharp, there was that nagging feeling again, the one that felt like a dull ache in her chest. Why does he do this? She couldn’t stop herself from asking, even though she hated how much she still wanted to know. She couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to him than what he showed. But why bother ? He had already made it clear that he wasn’t interested in anything deeper.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, forcing herself to take deep breaths. No more wondering about Hans. No more wishing things could be different. He was who he was. She needed to accept it, let go of it, and move on.

But as she rolled over, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts always came back to him. Damn him.