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Chapter Text

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### ✦ The First Encounter (1836)

Hans, twenty years old and the thirteenth prince of the Southern Isles, neglected by his family, secretly travels to **Arendelle**.
That same day,from across the palace hall, he sees Elsa, he sees **Elsa**, eighteen.

> His heartbeat quickens,
> the sounds fade away,
> and their eyes lock.

He falls in love instantly — a silent, intense, and unwavering love.
Elsa, unaware, is saying farewell to her parents before their sea voyage.
That night Hans swears to protect Elsa’s life for as long as he lives —
even if one day he must appear wearing the mask of an enemy.

---

### ✦ Overhearing the Murder Plot

A few days later, behind a half‑open door, Hans overhears a secret conversation:
1. The king and queen must die at sea.
2. Then the heirs — Elsa and Anna — will also be eliminated.

The mastermind: **the Duke of Weselton**.
Hans immediately decides to *pretend* to join them so he can sabotage their plan from within and save Elsa.

Weselton’s influence was strong everywhere, and Hans couldn’t report his actions or plans to the authorities of Arendelle — not even in secret.

---

### ✦ Death of the King and Queen – The Second Phase Begins

A maritime “accident” occurs; the royal ship sinks.
The conspirators rejoice — next come Elsa and Anna.
They discover the family’s weak point: **Anna’s innocence and naivety**.
Hans resolves to infiltrate by posing as Anna’s suitor in order to protect Elsa from inside the web of death —
even if it costs Anna’s life.

---

### ✦ The Marriage Ban and the Coronation Plot (1839)

Weselton’s plan is as follows:
- Hans, disguised as Anna’s fiancé, will gather military intelligence from the castle.
- Anna will later be murdered by their agents.
- During Elsa’s grief, the final attack will strike.

That same day, a decree is issued: **“No marriages — official or unofficial — are permitted.”**
Churches and priests are massacred to prevent any form of wedding or union from taking place.ش
Hans outwardly obeys but secretly feels relief —
the fake engagement with Anna is annulled and he can focus entirely on protecting Elsa.
He secretly despises Anna and vows that one day he will kill her,
believing that *“her existence endangers Elsa’s life.”*

He is made to swear an oath before God, Christ, and the Holy Scriptures that he will never join himself to Anna —
and he does so willingly.
Then, of his own accord, he adds yet another vow: he will one day kill her.

On Coronation Day, Weselton’s coded messages are reflected through glints of light on swords.
Hans discreetly deciphers them and prepares to strike when the time is right.

---

### ✦ The Enchanted Sword Plan

Hans seeks out a sorceress and forges a sword that:
1️⃣ cannot cause real harm to Elsa,
2️⃣ but creates the illusion of death to deceive her enemies.

His purpose is clear — if forced to strike, Elsa will remain unharmed,
while he will reveal the truth to her in that very moment as their enemies fall for the illusion.

---

### ✦ Events of *Frozen 1* – The Hidden Reality

Anna, innocent and impulsive, accepts Hans’s sudden proposal, believing it to be true love.
Later, when she returns with a frozen heart hoping for *true love’s kiss*,
Hans instead speaks of the throne and lets her die before his eyes.

Yet behind that mask lies a plan to save Elsa —
for if he showed genuine affection, the Dukes’ conspiracy would be exposed.

Everyone believes he has betrayed them.
When he raises his sword to strike Elsa, however, the enchanted blade is harmless.
Anna freezes mid‑motion, and all think the threat is over.
Hans is exiled and branded a traitor.

---

### ✦ Exile (1839 – 1843)

Four years of agony in the Southern Isles: forced labor, humiliation, and torture.
In loneliness, he carves **“ELSA”** into his chest with a blade,
descending into self‑harm, opium, wine, and smoke.
He attempts brutal suicide several times,
but only his kindhearted brother among the twelve — **Lars** — saves him each time.
Together they cling to the belief that the day of return will come.

---

### ✦ Return (January 1843)

Elsa is now the Fifth Spirit, guardian of the Enchanted Forest.
A British noble has trapped her ice powers inside a magic staff.
Hans returns, shatters the staff, and restores her abilities.

In Ahtohallan, Elsa is immersed in her memories, on the verge of eternal freezing.
Hans’s tear of *true love* breaks the curse of death.
Elsa, within the river of truth, sees the past and sends a message to Anna, Olaf, Kristoff, and the people of Arendelle.

---

### ✦ The Battle with Hans’s Brothers

His hostile brothers invade the Enchanted Forest.
In two skirmishes Elsa’s powers are again trapped in magical objects;
Hans destroys them and frees her energy.
In the third assault, five brothers attack at once.

Three times in succession Hans shields Elsa with his own body —
each time wounded, each time rising again.
Four of the brothers, including the eldest, **Caleb**, are slain,
and **Lars**, the gentle one, also dies in the fire.
Out of twelve brothers, six are gone.

---

### ✦ Elsa’s Reprimand and the Beginning of the Trials

Elsa tends Hans’s wounds and sharply asks:
> “How long will you keep sacrificing others for me?”

Hans replies:
> “If I hadn’t, you would not be alive now.”

Elsa makes him swear never again to harm the innocent,
and to test his redemption, she arranges *three consecutive days of moral trials*
(**January 21 – 23, 1843**)
with help from the spirits and the people of Northuldra —
without Hans’s knowledge.

---

## ✦ The Three Consecutive Trials (21 – 23 January 1843)

### **First Trial – Instinct to Rescue and Control of Violence**

1 – An avalanche traps a tribesman; Hans dives in instantly and saves him.
2 – A terrified animal attacks; instead of killing it, he calms it.
3 – The spirits deliberately crack the ice beneath him to provoke rage; he laughs and apologizes.

🟢 **Result:** No violent reaction.

---

### **Second Trial – Temptation of Revenge**

1 – A sabotaged sled nearly kills him; he rescues the saboteur.
2 – A child trapped under ice; Hans risks his life and saves the boy.
3 – Someone breaks Lars’s keepsake; instead of rage, he smiles and says:
> “Maybe it reminded me to end the cycle of anger.”

🟢 **Result:** He masters his temper and rejects vengeance.

---

### **Third Trial – Ultimate Sacrifice and Moral Judgment**

1 –“Faced with the peril of both Elsa and an innocent child, Hans saves them both — he does not turn away from the child’s life.”
2 – Two innocents are endangered at once; he divides his strength and rescues both.
3 – A false enemy charges with a drawn sword; Hans drops his own weapon, saying:
> “It’s over… I want no more blood.”

🟢 **Result:** All nine challenges completed through peace and self‑sacrifice.

Elsa becomes certain that Hans’s instincts have been purified
and that his vow has taken root within him.

---

### ✦ Aftermath – Hans’s Death and Return

Despite everything, Elsa cannot bring herself to accept him,
for she remembers his past cruelty to Anna and others.
Hans, unable to bear her rejection, suffers a heart attack
and spends his final moments in Elsa’s arms.

Later, Elsa discovers Hans’s spirit is trapped between the worlds of the living and the dead,
for he cannot let go of the world where Elsa exists.
She realizes his soul is suffering divine torment for his former mercilessness toward Anna and others.

After eight months, Elsa manages to restore his spirit to his body.
From then until **1845**, Hans and Elsa live side by side as close friends.
Gradually, Elsa begins to forgive him —
because he has endured both exile and spiritual punishment for his cruelty.
Hans, at last, experiences the best years of his life,
spending his days peacefully beside Elsa.
---

Chapter Text

*January 1845 – By the Frozen Lagoon , Before Dawn*

Mist, like silver vapor, rises from the earth. The trees fade into the distance, and beneath the ice, the thin murmur of a river can be heard.

Elsa stands on a rock, facing the smooth surface of the lagoon. Her colorless breath disperses into the air and curls back, as though the world is seeing itself emerge from her lips. Her skin is colder than ever, yet deep in her eyes glimmers a faint warmth of unease.

Hans approaches quietly. His clothing is plain, earth‑toned — no trace of royalty or power remains. Behind him the soft snow gives only a muffled sound.

For a while, the two simply breathe. The mist between them, a transparent veil.

**Hans:**

Elsa... today, I don't want to speak of battles.

Not of brothers, nor of swords, nor of repentance. It's all behind us.

I have only one wish... I want you to accept me.

His voice is steady, but something within it carries an old yearning — one that has lingered in his chest since 1836.

Elsa does not turn. Only her shoulders tremble slightly.

Snow settles in her hair and does not fall away.

**Elsa:**

You fought for years — with shadows, with Weselton, with your family, with yourself...

Now, if I remain silent, what will you fight?

**Hans:**

Your silence.

My fear of being left unanswered.

But I know well — your silence is not always an end; sometimes, it's a beginning.

If I'm still standing by this lagoon, it's in honor of that silence — because I still believe it lives.

Elsa takes a deep breath; there is no fog upon her lips, only a brief frost traced between them in the air.

Her mind is a storm — her father's voice, Anna's laughter, the tear in Hans's eyes in Ahtohallan when the ice of truth broke.

She says inwardly:

*"He saved me, yet I fear acceptance.

If I accept him, will I remain a spirit... or become mortal again?"*

Hans steps closer — still a safe distance away.

**Hans:**

I seek no title. No king, no commander.

I am only Hans, the one whose love became his fate at first sight.

You see, your cold warmed me — not the fire of the world.

Even if you never accept me, my faith in your being will not die.

Elsa lifts her gaze from the ice to the sky — sapphire in the pre‑dawn, like a look suspended between choices.

**Elsa:**

When I became the Fifth Spirit — no, when *I* became — I learned that "belonging" no longer exists.

Love within me is dangerous, for whatever it touches turns to ice.

I know if my heart trembles, the balance of the world may break.

Hans smiles faintly, bitterly.

**Hans:**

And if the balance of the world costs your loneliness... what value does it hold?

I don't ask you for balance — only for presence; even if it means walking beside you in darkness.

Elsa falls silent, listening to her own heartbeat — cold, yet racing.

Within her mind, what must be said clashes with what cannot be spoken.

**Elsa (to herself):**

*"He's right. I've made a refuge out of my solitude.

But if I accept him, what then will I guard? What of order?

If the Fifth Spirit loves, will she become a tropical breeze... or a storm of ice?"*

A light wind drifts from the north. From afar comes the call of Nok, and through the mist a fabled neigh echoes softly.

Hans raises his hand — not to touch, only to express.

**Hans:**

I ask not that you conjure snow or break a spell.

I only want you to know — there is no vengeance left in my blood.

After those three days of trial, I learned that love means patience, not possession.

If you tell me you do not want me, still I will stay — to see another dawn that remembers your eyes.

Elsa remains still. She cannot hear her heartbeat, yet she feels it.

A single ray of light falls upon the mist; sunrise approaches.

**Elsa:**

Hans... I have not yet accepted myself — how can I accept another?

Whatever I am is divided between two worlds.

Accepting you might mean severing the forces that have held me.

And I do not know — if that tie breaks, will I remain upon the earth, or dissolve into the air?

**Hans:**

If you fade, then let me fade with you.

I do not fear oblivion — only your silence without answer.

Your silence carries a thousand meanings; let me not call it a cage, but an awakening.

Elsa lowers her head. The ice beneath her feet flexes softly.

In her eyes she sees his reflection in the mist — a familiar face, aged by pain, repentance, and love.

**Elsa:**

You sacrificed yourself for me, and now you ask that I redefine myself with your name.

Can you see how great a request that is?

To accept you means to change me.

And I still don't know if the world is ready to see a different Elsa.

Hans does not step back. There is no longing in his smile — only peace.

**Hans:**

Let the world want what it wants.

From the first moment, I saw you beyond the world.

Where words dare not go, silence speaks things that lifetime language never can.

If your answer is silence, then let me listen to that silence for the rest of my life.

A long pause. The mist rises, the trees regain their shape.

Elsa exhales — no longer frost, but a faint quiver of feeling.

**Elsa:**

I wish to accept you...

But not through words. I still don't know whether that "yes" would be the end of cold — or its beginning.

Hans bows his shoulders, in surrender yet serenity.

**Hans:**

It's enough for me that your heart wished it.

Your wanting speaks truer than any acceptance ever could.

Until the day you no longer have to fight, I'll wait here — in this mist.

Elsa parts her lips, but still no words come.

In her mind, a whisper repeats:

*"If he leaves, no sound may remain in this forest.

But if he stays, perhaps I'll finally learn that tenderness is not a threat to balance — it's part of it."*

The wind scatters the last grains of snow between them.

Hans bows silently — not in plea, but in reverence —

And turns, vanishing into the mist.

Elsa remains where she stands — posture straight, eyes open, a half‑smile upon her face.

Her inner voice drifts softly through the mist:

*"He said: I want you to accept me...

And I said nothing...

But perhaps this silence

was the beginning of acceptance."*

Chapter Text

The wind blows in from the ocean, carrying the scent of salt and sludge.

The exile camp is a land of mud—filled with chains and the sweat‑scent of blacksmiths.

In a corner of the yard, beside an abandoned well, hangs an unfinished lantern.

Hans has been digging since dawn; now, with his clothes filthy and torn, he stands amid mud and twilight. He shifts the soil—not for work but to calm a thought that keeps screaming in his head: **Elsa.**

His voice is hoarse.

On his lips, wounds open where cigarettes and opium have scarred the skin.

With each breath, pale vapor curls into the air—a colorless breath like Elsa's in winter.

The ground is cold, yet he does not fall. The chill of the world feels to him like her touch—both comfort and torment within one body.

The sun dies on the horizon.

From over the stone wall a bird passes, and in the light of the final ray, its shadow falls across Hans's face.

He stares up at the sky, blank‑eyed and transparent, and smiles—madly.

Under his breath he murmurs:

— "It hasn't been four years, Elsa, only one.

But every sunset has lasted four centuries for me.

You shine in your palace—and I... I dig in mud."

He coughs; the odor of opium seeps from his clothes.

He sinks to the ground, head in his hands.

In the depths of his eyes, a dull blue spark flickers through the blackness.

Mist arrives—from the sea, from the north.

And within that mist, a woman's face forms: **Elsa.**

Hans lifts his head. His breath catches in his chest.

In the fog of opium or dream, he sees her in a violet dress—

the very one from 1836, the day she said farewell to her parents.

The echo of the grand stairway, distant voices, the chime of gold on carpet.

He had stood hidden behind the hall's pillar, young and untested, when his eyes found her.

Elsa bowed her head, and Hans heard none of the world's sounds.

His heart trembled like a sword in its sheath.

In that instant, he swore:

*"From this moment until my final breath, I will remain her guard."*

Now, in exile, he recalls that vow

and takes into his hand the rotted rope hanging from the old well.

The sky has turned gray; a northern breeze stirs.

A voice comes—hers, or something like it.

Not words, but breath.

Hans whispers:

— "If that's you breathing now... let this last dream be yours."

Tears fill his eyes, but they freeze before falling.

From the torn pocket of his coat he draws a blade—rusted, cold.

A packet of opium lies fallen in the mud.

He writes upon the skin of his chest: **ELSA.**

Each letter burns with pain, yet he smiles.

He says,

— "I've written you in my flesh, Elsa—so that God will know how much I've wept for you."

The wind grows stronger.

The withered tree beside the well creaks like a chain.

In the distance, the guards of the exile compound trudge wearily down from the tower.

Hans knows that within two hours no one will be near this quarter.

He ties the rope around the beam above the well, knots it, and places a stone step beneath his feet.

In that moment, the scene of the 1836 hall flares before his eyes.

He is once more behind the pillar, breathless, frozen.

Elsa's anxious face glimmers before him.

Hans murmurs,

— "If only I could kiss that moment—and you.

That gaze of yours... it killed me and brought me to life all at once."

His hands tremble.

He says, "Elsa, you don't know what they've done to me this year.

Night after night—dreaming of you, waking in sweat and smoke.

Every breath a blade.

Not from hatred, but because of you.

I became a traitor that day so you could live."

The wind threads through the fence beams; the lantern flame dies.

The gray air fades into blue.

Hans grips the rope's end, one foot upon the stone.

From the sea comes a sound—a wordless woman's song.

He stops.

Smiles again—to the air, to the wind.

— "If it's truly you, then let the wind be my last embrace.

Let your breath circle my neck—not to kill me, but to awaken me."

He steps forward... but at that moment the wind rises fiercely.

Gray mist floods the yard; shards of ice whirl through the air.

The rope coils—yet does not pull.

A silent cry shatters the space.

The earth quakes.

His eyes open.

Hans lies on the ground, chest filled with dirt.

But he lives.

A pale light from the north falls into his eyes—shaped like drifting snowflakes.

He understands: the wind was her breath.

The breath of frost.

He cannot explain how—but he knows she felt him.

He bites his lip and whispers:

— "Elsa, I'll endure... until I can see your colorless breath again in the wind."

It's as if heaven and earth seal themselves.

A hidden rain of ice‑dust falls; everything goes silent.

Far away, high in the mountains, a sound rises—its source unknown.

Yet in Hans's heart, its meaning is clear:

> *"I felt you... from the north."*

---

At dawn the next day, when the prisoners return to work,

they find him collapsed in the mud, one hand across his chest—

on which the name **ELSA** is burned.

His gray eyes open, but peaceful.

They shout that he isn't dead—only frozen.

And the north wind, in answer, sweeps once more through the camp,

spinning the wet leaves into motion.

On the wall, a damp trace of ice remains—

in the shape of the letter **E.**

---

Chapter Text

In the grand hall of Arendelle Castle, somewhere among the yellow beams of the chandelier and the soft shadows resting on the red carpet, stood a boy who was never meant to know love — yet fate had plans far greater than his own will.
Hans, the thirteenth son of the royal family of Westergaard, had always been told that love, for princes, was a luxury — something between politics and necessity. He never intended to give his heart to anyone.
But on that day, in a year when Arendelle’s snow had not yet settled on the ground, his eyes met a girl wearing a deep violet dress, who bowed gracefully before her parents to bid them farewell.

It was a moment when everything stopped moving.
The voices in the hall fell silent; Hans’s breath caught in his chest, and the colors around him faded away.
Only he and the girl within the light remained.
He did not yet know her name — but his heart did. From that instant onward, nothing would ever be the same.

Young Elsa, a princess with blue eyes and quiet fear hidden deep within them, was saying goodbye to her parents.
Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Take care of yourselves… please come back.”
Her voice was soft, but to Hans, it sounded like a vow from heaven — as though the whole world had told him, *“Love is here.”*

Hans stood in the shadow of a column, not to see her, but to hide from the formalities of the royal gathering.
Yet when he caught sight of her, he felt as if his entire existence had been only a breath leading to that moment.
One look — only one — was enough to shatter all logic within him.

had heard courtly poems of love and desire; but never had he *felt* anything like this.
There was something in Elsa’s eyes that couldn’t be named — a fusion of strength and fear, majesty and fragility.
She was contradiction itself — and a contradiction can become, for a boy’s heart, the beginning of either ruin or salvation.

Hans felt the ground soften under his feet, not of stone but of surrender.
He saw his heart, defenseless, laid bare in the middle of the castle — before a girl who had no idea what storms moved inside her.
Elsa bent slightly; her hands trembled — and that small tremble made his pulse race so violently that he feared his body might break apart.

“Calm down,” he whispered to himself, but the storm inside him would not quiet.
He couldn’t avert his eyes. Each passing second of her presence was etched into his heart like an entire year.

In that moment, love seemed simple — like a light you only need to reach out and touch, a smile that, if returned, could heal the world.
But beneath that simplicity, something weightier stirred: a prelude to pain, to separation, to a thousand impossible choices.
Hans didn’t know it yet, but in that single heartbeat, his life had already been bound to an inescapable destiny.

He asked himself, *“If love begins this way, what will its end be?”*
And in answer, he heard only the wind whispering through the tall windows, brushing the curtain and lifting softly the platinum strands of Elsa’s hair.

Time seemed to slip through his fingers.
For the first time in his life, he realized that to have a heart is to ache.
*She is saying farewell,* he thought. *Her eyes look to the horizon, not to me. I must remain unseen, lest my gaze trouble her further.*
But his heart disobeyed.
It longed to step forward—just once—only to see more clearly the faint smile that trembled between her worry and her kindness.

In that instant, love was neither gentle nor easy; it was a river pressed by storm.
He knew that every decision henceforth would follow her shadow, whether he wished it or not.

Elsa spoke again to her father, her voice shaking: “Come back… come back soon.”
Hans heard the words, but to him they meant something else.
*Come back* meant *stay*.
*Stay* meant *love me*.
And *love me* meant *do not leave me behind.*
Without her ever speaking to him, he answered within himself: *I will never part from you.*

His heart pounded—so loud it broke the stillness of the hall.
The weight of his gaze made him fear that if he stood there a moment longer, his secret would spill from his eyes.
Yet he couldn’t turn away.

In his mind, Elsa was a window facing the light.
Every heartbeat echoed her eyes—love, love, love.

Right then he understood: love begins simply but remains with difficulty; just like this look.
It is easy to fall in love, but hard to stay alive beneath its shadow.

He had no idea what tomorrow would bring—what dangers awaited—but deep within, he swore to endure any pain or darkness to keep that light alive.

He drew a breath—deeper than ever before—simply to feel that he was alive.
Love caught fire in his soul, a flame so soft yet searing, bright yet silent.

And within the golden silence of the hall, everything in him changed.
From a thirteenth prince forgotten in a cold household, he had become a man who, in one glance, had found the meaning of life.

Love, for Hans, was not ambition, nor courtly play.
It was a pact—silent and unseen—sealed by no witness except the heartbeat that still thudded in his chest,
and by the vision that returned every time he closed his eyes: that girl in the dark violet gown,
bowing before her departing parents.

He thought to himself, *“Love is not meant to be easy—neither for me nor for her. But if it must be hard, let me endure its hardship with her.”*
And in the quiet of his mind, he whispered a wordless verse:
*“O my quiet love, if the world must call me enemy, let it.
In my heart, there is only you.”*

Hans felt that this love had not come by choice, but by decree of fate—sudden and absolute.
There was no turning back.

He smiled—but it was a bitter smile.
He knew his love was beautiful, and yet the path before him would be steep and cold.
His love was the beginning of light in a long night—bright, yet trembling amid storm and darkness.

He said to himself, *“In my heart, this love will never die.”*
And there, in silence and with no witness,
he pledged his love to Elsa—a love that was born easily,
but whose price he would pay with his very life.

Hans, the thirteenth son, standing beside the tall columns in the golden hush of the hall,
was no longer the same man. He had become someone bound by a single gaze that cost him his world.

And in his chest, only one thought echoed:
*“I saw you—and that sight alone was enough for me to laugh at every pain.”*

This was the beginning of a love that appeared simple,
yet in truth laid before him the hardest road of all—
a love eternal, unending from the very first glance
and everlasting until the final breath.

Love is a beautiful and difficult thing;
when it takes hold of a heart, it breaks and rebuilds a person’s entire world—
and such love had now found this boy.

Chapter Text

Mist drifted over the river like a thin curtain flowing between the world and memory.
Elsa stood upon a rock, gazing into the depths of the ice, as though she sought to hear her old voice beneath the frozen water.
In the two years since Hans’s spirit had been returned, she had never spoken the words of reciprocal love between them. She simply said, “He is my friend; only a friend.” Yet in the silence of her eyes, an unseen pulse kept beating.

The wind blew softly. Footsteps approached — quiet, steady. A warm, red shadow appeared through the snow — Anna.

**Anna:**
“I knew I’d find you, even if the whole forest decided to lose me!”

Elsa smiled faintly, trembling like a ray of light on ice.

**Elsa:**
“Anna… it’s not morning yet. You should be at the castle.”

**Anna:**
“The castle is just cold walls without you. I came because I wanted to speak clearly with you, just once — without the snow getting in the way. But… I think the snow decided it wants to listen too.”

Elsa lifted her gaze to the sky. The gray light of dawn was just beginning to break.

**Anna:**
“I have something important to say, sister. About that boy.”

Elsa remained silent; only the wind moved through her hair.

**Anna:**
“Yes, about Hans. I know you don’t want to hear his name — but you have to.”

**Elsa:**
“He’s gone. His exile has ended. Now he lives a simple life among the tribe, because… he wants to stay close to me. I see him, from time to time… perhaps too often.”

**Anna:**
“You think about him, Elsa. Even when you’re silent. Do you know when I realized it? That voice I heard from the river — the voice of hesitation. It was the same voice you had years ago, when you were afraid of your own power.”

Elsa sighed.

**Elsa:**
“It isn’t hesitation, Anna. Nor fear. It’s just a reminder — that some sins, no matter how much they fade, their shadows remain.”

**Anna:**
“But some shadows are only symbols of something greater. I’ve forgiven him.”

**Elsa (softly, in astonishment):**
“You? After what he did? After he let you die?”

Anna fixed her gaze on the ice. Her own reflected face trembled on its surface.

**Anna:**
“Elsa, he acted that way because he saw me as the reason your life was in danger. He enchanted the sword so that it could never harm you — meant it to create the illusion of death, to make you flee and to reveal everything. If I hadn’t stepped between the sword and you that day, his plan would have worked, and you would have realized his love.”

**Elsa:**
“I saw it in the river, in Ahtohallan. The spirits revealed the truth. Yet forgiveness is not easy for me, Anna. He hurt you, the priest, the innocents. His cruelty still lives in my mind.”

**Anna:**
“He has paid his price, Elsa. You saw his exile; you heard his pain — both body and soul. In the limbo, where he was trapped between life and death, he died a thousand times over: dying of his own cruelty, dying from the memory of what he did to me and to the others.”

Elsa was silent. The footsteps of the spirits murmured gently in the wind.

**Anna (continuing):**
“Didn’t you see him in Ahtohallan — those nights when he carved your name into his skin? Not out of madness, but out of the torment of love. You must forgive him, Elsa, because his intention from the very beginning was to protect you — because he loved you, loves you still, and always will.”

Elsa spoke in a low voice:

**Elsa:**
“But the cruelty toward you — toward the innocents — nothing can wash that away. He spoke to me, said he was sorry, but in his eyes, the pain of guilt still remains. How can I forgive someone who made my sister suffer?”

**Anna:**
“Because that suffering was your awakening. Without those moments, you never would have discovered the truth of your power. I suffered, yes, but now I see that every moment of pain was part of saving you. He burned from within himself so that you could live.”

The wind grew stronger; a silver light rippled across the river.

**Elsa:**
“You know, Anna, before dawn in Ahtohallan, I heard his spirit’s voice. It said, ‘Everything I did, I did so you would live.’ Perhaps he was right. But I still can’t see how he found balance between your death and my preservation.”

**Anna:**
“Perhaps he couldn’t see it then. He was blind. But now? He’s not the murderous prince who sacrificed everything for you; not the false traitor pretending for your sake. He’s a poor, repentant man. Kristoff and I spoke to him a few weeks ago by the tribal camp. His gaze was broken, but there was a tower of hope rising in it when he heard your name.”

Elsa spoke quietly:

**Elsa:**
“I saw that look too — when I tended his wounds. In his eyes I felt his pain was real. But accepting him feels like tearing away a part of myself. I sense that forgiveness will upset the balance of the world, for after all, once he was merciless only to keep me alive. I don’t want anyone, especially you, Anna, to be hurt because of me.”

**Anna:**
“Elsa, you’ve always sought balance. But sometimes balance comes through forgiveness, not through distance. Perhaps the Fifth Spirit must forgive in order to become whole. Remember I told you — I forgave him, because his cruelty toward me was meant to protect your life.”

Elsa paused for a moment, then asked:

**Elsa:**
“You truly forgave him? Without any anger, without any shadow?”

**Anna:**
“Yes. Because I saw that he never truly wanted to kill you; he cursed the sword so that it could never touch you. You know this yourself — you sent that truth from Ahtohallan. He sacrificed his own reputation, disguised himself as the traitor to deceive the Duke of Weselton, and save you. If I hadn’t intervened that day, maybe everything would have ended sooner. Now I understand — hate was what kept us from seeing true love. I wish I hadn’t stepped between you. You would have found each other sooner.”

Elsa looked into her sister’s eyes. Human warmth shimmered there.

**Elsa:**
“You’ve always had a heart that forgives. I still haven’t learned that. Besides, if you hadn’t stepped between the sword, I could never have forgiven him — because then you would have died, frozen beyond my saving.”

**Anna:**
“Then it’s time for you to learn. That man lives beside you now in simple friendship, yet still deprived of your forgiveness. You smile at him, you walk with him by the river, but between you there is always a glass wall — his wall of guilt. He is dying of his love for you, Elsa, losing his mind under its weight.”

**Elsa (softly):**
“Perhaps the truth is that his whole world really is me — and I’m the one afraid to accept it.”

**Anna (gently):**
“I know, sister. Your affection for him is like the snow — quiet, unseen, but covering everything. Yet the sun of forgiveness must shine upon that snow, or it will remain frozen forever.”

Elsa stayed silent, her lips trembling slightly.

**Elsa:**
“I saw in his trials that no vengeance remains in his blood. He endured three days of tests, stayed patient even through his own death. Perhaps his punishment has been fulfilled.”

**Anna:**
“Of course it has. Those eight months of limbo were worth a thousand years of torment. You heard the spirits yourself say there’s no ferocity left in his soul — only affection and justice, both bound to protecting you.”

Elsa placed her hands on the ice; its surface shimmered beneath her skin.

**Elsa:**
“Anna, if I forgive him, will I still be the guardian of balance?”

**Anna:**
“Forgiveness doesn’t destroy balance — it restores it. The spirits understand forgiveness just as they understand rebellion.”

A long silence. The thin crack of the ice echoed — like the earth’s own breath.

**Elsa (softly):**
“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps forgiveness is another form of protection. He protected me — now perhaps it is my turn to protect him from the memory of his guilt.”

**Anna:**
“That’s enough, Elsa. I don’t want to talk about love or anything like that — I just want my sister to feel light again. You deserve to be free of the past.”

Elsa smiled — that delicate smile only ice can carry.

**Elsa:**
“Thank you, Anna. You always find a gentle way to speak of the hardest things.”

**Anna (laughing):**
“Well, I grew through pain. I learned to make sweetness out of bitterness!”

Elsa laughed — a sound soft enough to melt the snow.

**Elsa:**
“You are warmth, Anna. And I am calm cold. Perhaps together, we are sisters of balance.”

**Anna:**
“Exactly! That man who loves you must learn that balance means being forgiven, not forgotten.”

Elsa nodded slowly.

**Elsa:**
“I will try… not for him, but for myself. Because maybe until I forgive, I am the one lingering in emotional limbo.”

**Anna:**
“That’s the beginning of peace, my sister.”

The snow settled. The sky brightened. In the distance, a shadow appeared — perhaps Hans, walking slowly, unaware of what was being said about him.

Elsa spoke softly:

**Elsa:**
“I will tell him that forgiveness is not another form of love, but the continuation of human kindness — when the fear of sin is replaced by the light of understanding.”

**Anna:**
“That’s the Elsa I’ve always known.”

Both fell silent. Only the murmur beneath the ice remained — the voice of truth, the voice of forgiveness.

And that morning, January 1845, became the first day of acceptance — true fellowship between spirit and human.
From afar, the spirits gathered the silence of the snow, and for one brief moment, the world was freed from the past.
Elsa — wise, calm, graceful protector of her sister — seeing that Anna had forgiven Hans and that Hans had paid his penance in exile and in limbo, accepted him and forgave him too.
Yet in her mind she kept one condition: **Hans must apologize to Anna.**