On the other side of the ballroom.

Air rushed from her lungs all at once, as if the entire room had plunged into an impossible silence. The music continued, laughter rippled around her, but for Elsa, everything faded except the figure standing before her.

It was him.

He looked impeccable, with the aristocratic bearing and calculated elegance of a man who knew how to navigate any court. There was no trace in his expression of the monster who had once raised a sword against her life, nor of the remorseful young man who had once confessed his love in a whisper. No. There stood the prince—the man he had always been—with a barely perceptible smile on his lips, a smile that had once captivated her and now only unsettled her.

No one had warned her of his presence. And the shock hit her with such intensity that it almost made her step back. But at the same time, as she looked at him, a warm sensation began to fill her chest. It had been so long since she had seen him, and she had missed him so much… It was a whirlwind of emotions that flooded her as her steps took her closer to him. The warmth in her chest was stronger than the fear or confusion, and for a moment, she felt an indescribable happiness at the sight of him.

She took a deep breath. This wasn’t the time for hesitation.

With the grace of a queen, she moved forward, each step a battle between the desire to run toward him and the dignity she had to uphold. When she finally stood before him, Hans made a flawless bow, his bearing impeccable.

“Your Majesty,” he said with polished courtesy, his deep voice controlled, betraying no emotion.

Elsa blinked, feeling her heart race. His name escaped her lips before she could stop herself:

“Hans.”

He raised an eyebrow. He didn’t flinch, but in the barely perceptible curve of his lips, there was something akin to irony.

“Prince Hans, if I may, Your Majesty. I am no longer the man who once worked in your palace.”

The correction was an unexpected blow. Elsa held his gaze, but conscious of the crowd surrounding them, she opted for a diplomatic smile.

“Of course,” she replied serenely. “My apologies, Prince Hans. What brings you here?”

Her tone was meant to sound casual, but even to her own ears, it wasn’t convincing.

“Well, I had the impression—from your letter—that you had invited me yourself,” he replied with a hint of amusement. “But now I see it was one of your vassals.”

Elsa let out a brief, nervous laugh, unsure of how to respond.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with everything they hadn’t said since his departure. Their eyes met, and for a moment, Elsa felt time fold in on itself, pulling her back to that night—to the promises made in the darkness, to the certainty with which he had believed her words.

Hans averted his gaze for just a second, as if trying to read something in her expression, searching for an answer that never came. But before he could say anything, a soft, melodic voice interrupted the moment.

“Hans? Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Elsa turned, and the air around her seemed to grow colder.

The woman approaching had the elegance of a Renaissance painting—tall, slender, with dark hair cascading in perfect waves over her shoulders and eyes as enchantingly blue as the sky. Her apple-green gown highlighted her sun-kissed skin with an almost unreal charm.

Hans straightened.

“Your Majesty,” he said smoothly, “allow me to introduce Viscountess Clarisse of the Élysian Peninsula. Viscountess, Her Majesty Queen Elsa of Arendelle.”

The viscountess gave a small, graceful bow, executed with practiced perfection. Then, with effortless delicacy, she looped her arm through Hans’s.

“It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.”

Her voice was soft, charming, with a warmth Elsa hadn’t expected.

“Hans has told me so much about you.”

Elsa’s stomach tightened.

“Has he?”

“Oh, yes,” Clarisse replied with a sincere smile. “Of course, he could never quite capture your greatness with words, but now I understand what he meant.”

Elsa felt her throat constrict. Deep down, she had hoped to find something that would help her despise this woman—some flaw, some imperfection that would justify the discomfort tightening in her chest. But no.

“I must be honest, Your Majesty,” the viscountess continued, “your display of magic at this morning’s reception was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Elsa gave a small nod, unsure of how to respond.

“I have always admired what you and your sister have accomplished here in Arendelle,” Clarisse added naturally. “Perhaps I should consider acquiring a summer villa near the fjord.”

Hans let out a soft chuckle.

“Don’t do it, Clarisse,” he teased. “If you see snow in July, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Clarisse laughed sweetly and placed her hand on the young prince’s chest—an action that made Elsa’s stomach tighten even more.

“Oh, but that would only add to the charm of the experience. Besides, what is a touch of snow compared to the majesty of this kingdom?”

Hans tilted his head, wearing that smile Elsa knew all too well.

“You know exactly what to say to captivate an entire court, Viscountess.”

“Only those that deserve to be captivated” Clarisse replied, throwing a playful wink in Elsa’s direction.

Hans’s laughter rang out effortlessly, and it stung. Elsa, on the other hand, remained still. Something inside her tightened, coiled, like a rope on the verge of snapping.

“Yes, of course,” she murmured, summoning a monumental effort to maintain her composure.

But then, with the same effortless grace with which she had steered the conversation so far, Clarisse turned slightly toward her, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Your Majesty, I must say, what Prince Hans is doing for the Southern Isles is truly admirable.”

Elsa blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected shift in conversation.

“Oh? Is that so?” she asked, keeping her tone measured.

Clarisse nodded enthusiastically, her words neither forced nor sycophantic.

“Since he returned to his role in the naval fleet, he has spearheaded significant improvements in the region’s maritime security. Constantly traveling, securing trade routes, overseeing infrastructure projects… On my last visit to the capital, there wasn’t a single port where people didn’t speak of his work with the utmost respect.”

Elsa felt a slight shiver, something unexpected rising in her chest.

Pride.

Against all odds, pride for him. For what he had achieved. For what he had become.

And at the same time, a pang of something darker.

She had kept herself busy, focused on her own responsibilities—on her duty as queen and sister. And yet, he… he had not been waiting.

He had moved on.

“Congratulations, Prince Hans,” was all she could say.

Hans inclined his head with a measured smile. Clarisse smiled too, satisfied.

“I believe we should take our leave. We’ve monopolized the Queen’s attention for far too long,” he said.

Clarisse offered him a warm smile before bowing slightly once more to Elsa.

“It has been an honor to meet you, Queen Elsa. I hope we have the chance to speak again later.”

Hans held Elsa’s gaze for a moment longer, as if the weight of unspoken words hung between them. Then, with a slight bow, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Elsa watched as he and Clarisse moved effortlessly through the crowd. With her spirits sinking, she too left the ballroom with measured steps.

Only when she was out of sight, alone in an empty corridor, she allowed the weight of the night to catch up with her.

And for the first time in a long while, she let the tears fall.

How could he be here, in Arendelle, with another woman? How could he walk by her side, arm in arm with that viscountess, as if it meant nothing?

The memory of their last night together surged through her mind with devastating force: their hands entwined, the whispered words of love they had shared, the way she had let down every defense—for him, and only for him.

“I love you,” Hans had told her that night, with an intensity she had never forgotten.

“And I love you,” she had answered, tears in her eyes, knowing that those words would change nothing.

That love—so real, so deep—had not vanished. Not for her.

And yet, there he was, laughing and conversing with a woman who looked like she had stepped out of a fairytale.

The conversation from mere moments ago echoed cruelly in her mind.

Clarisse.

Her elegance was undeniable, her intelligence evident. And worst of all, there had not been a hint of malice in her. Elsa couldn’t detest her. She couldn’t even console herself with the thought of some obvious flaw. No. She was charming and beautiful, the kind of woman who won over an entire court only with her smile. And Hans had her by his side.

A shiver ran down Elsa’s spine.

She had no right to feel betrayed. After all, it was she who had let him go. She who, with the same cold rationality with which she ruled, had drawn an unbreakable line between them.

And yet, here she was, tormented by the undeniable truth—Hans had not waited for her. While she had buried her feelings under the weight of duty, he had moved on.

But it wasn’t just that.

It wasn’t just him.

There was something else. Something pressing down on her, wrapping around her like an icy mist.

The voice.

A persistent whisper, an insidious plea that did not belong to this world—yet now, it followed her with an alarming determination.

Elsa stopped for a moment and shut her eyes tightly, as if that alone could silence the thing that haunted her.

Elsa didn’t want to reply, it wasn’t the time.

But the voice insisted, like a melody buried deep within her mind.

“No…” she whispered, barely audible.

And then, without realizing it, she collided head-on with someone.

“Oh! I’m sorry…” she murmured, startled, barely regaining her balance.

“Elsa!” Kristoff’s familiar, jovial voice rang out, his face bright with laughter. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you enjoying the party?”

She took a deep breath, struggling to maintain a calm façade, but the emotions welling in her chest weighed on her like a stone.

She smiled, but it was empty—a poor attempt to mask what she truly felt.

“I just… needed some air,” she replied, her voice softer than she wanted it to be. “It’s a bit overwhelming, you know?”

“Ugh, I know,” he replied somewhat gruffly, his voice slightly muffled by what sounded like chocolate in his mouth. “At least Anna seems to be in her element—she’s enjoying this more than anyone.”

For a moment, Elsa just stared at him, bewildered by the stark contrast between her own anguish and her brother-in-law’s carefree demeanor. The warmth in his face, the ease with which he smiled… it was as if he lived in a completely different world from hers.

“And where are you off to?” Elsa asked, searching for any excuse to avoid being trapped in her thoughts.

“I’m heading back to the ballroom. Anna wanted to keep dancing, but her feet are killing her, so I went to grab her slippers.”

There was something so genuine, so simple about the way he said it that, for an instant, Elsa felt the urge to smile. But the weight in her chest was too heavy.

“That’s nice, Kristoff. If you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling well,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

She saw how Kristoff’s expression shifted instantly, concern evident on his face. He stepped closer, as if wanting to offer some kind of support, and without hesitation, he asked:

“Are you okay, Elsa? If you need to rest, I can go with you. Or… would you like me to call Anna?”

Elsa felt her chest tighten even more at his concern. She didn’t want Anna to know what was really going on. She didn’t want to worry anyone.

“No, please… don’t tell Anna,” she answered quickly. “I just need to rest for a bit in my room. I’ll be back at the party in a few minutes, I promise.”

Kristoff looked at her with a mix of doubt and kindness, not entirely convinced it was the best idea, but he nodded.

“Well… if you’re sure. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

With a sigh, Elsa met his gaze, trying to offer him a more convincing smile.

“Thank you, Kristoff. Really.”

She turned and began walking toward the rooms, the weight of her thoughts still pressing on her heart. When she crossed into a random room, she shut the door softly behind her and leaned against it. Closing her eyes, she tried to steady her breathing—but the voice that had been whispering in her mind for days only grew louder.

The call surrounded her, a soft melody that seemed to rise from the unknown. Like a siren’s song.

She pressed her hands to her ears, trying to block it out.

Not now. Not now.

She couldn’t face that voice while everything she felt for Hans was already pulling her into the abyss.

No! Not now! she kept repeating to herself, though the pain of her anguish stabbed at her from the inside.

But the voice persisted. Stronger. More insistent. Twisting through her mind like a whisper she couldn’t ignore.

And then, as if the universe had decided to grant her a brief reprieve, the door creaked open.

Elsa, still with her eyes shut, didn’t notice until she saw a shadow cast in the doorway.

It was Hans.

“Elsa,” he said in a low, gentle tone, as if afraid to startle her.

She straightened up suddenly, her face flushed with rage and humiliation. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, though her voice cracked, stealing all the force she had tried to put into it.

“I saw you leave, suddenly,” he replied, closing the door behind him. “You seemed… disturbed.”

“Disturbed?” Elsa repeated with a bitter laugh as tears gathered in her eyes. “You dare say I seem disturbed? And how did you expect me to be, Hans, after… after… all this?” Her hands gestured awkwardly, as if words weren’t enough to express the chaos inside her.

Hans raised both hands in a calming gesture. “I don’t understand. Please, calm down.”

“No, I can’t calm down!” she exclaimed, tears falling again as her voice rose in a tone that oscillated between fury and pain. “You! How… how could you…!” Though she tried, the words came out broken and choked by sobs.

Hans looked at her with a mixture of concern and frustration. “Elsa, what are you saying?”

“You… she… and you… with her… and me here…!” Elsa babbled between sobs, waving her hands frantically as if that would help her words make any sense.

Hans raised an eyebrow, completely confused. “Excuse me? Is that supposed to be a sentence?”

“Don’t mock me!” Elsa yelled, though the dramatic effect was ruined by another bout of crying that barely allowed her to breathe.

Hans sighed, running a hand over the bridge of his nose. “Elsa, please, breathe. Take a moment and… I don’t know, try to say something coherent. Because right now, you sound like Olaf trying to explain a philosophical concept.”

“Don’t compare my… pain to Olaf!” she sobbed, now indignant, though she didn’t stop crying. “How dare you show up here, after everything, with another woman! Don’t you remember what we lived? Everything we shared? How dare you laugh and talk with her in front of me as if nothing ever happened!”

Hans furrowed his brow, visibly annoyed.

“A woman? How dare I? How dare you say this to me?” he retorted, his tone rising. “I was the one who risked everything to stay with you! I was the one who was willing to kneel before a kingdom that despised me to be by your side! And what did you do? And now you’re upset that I’m here, with someone else?”

“I…” she muttered, unable to articulate a coherent response.

“You were the one who decided it couldn’t be” Hans said, his voice lower but full of harshness. “. You forced me to leave.”

Hans’s words pierced her like knives. She felt the truth of his reproach, and her mind filled with shadows of regret.

“Because there was no other option!” Elsa replied, raising her voice, though it no longer had the same strength as before.

Hans let out a dry, almost bitter laugh.

“Really?” he said, incredulously. “There was no other option? Or were you just afraid to imagine a future with me?”

Elsa looked at him, feeling a mix of discomfort and wounded pride. She didn’t want to admit what he was implying, but deep down, her own insecurity had driven her to reject him, to flee from what she felt.

“It’s not that simple, Hans,” she replied, trying to cling to her dignity.

“No, of course not!” he said, with a laugh that was almost manic. “It wasn’t simple when what we felt consumed us, it wasn’t simple when we gave ourselves to each other without thinking about anything else. But now, suddenly, it’s simple for you to demand things from me.”

Elsa took a step back, stunned by his words, but finally murmured, her voice broken: “I told you to go, but not because I didn’t love you, Hans. I did it because I thought it was the best… for all of us.”

Hans looked at her in disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “The best? For whom? Because for me, it was hell.”

“And you think it was easy for me?” Elsa exclaimed, her eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve spent every day regretting letting you go.”

Hans stared at her intently, as if trying to discern the truth behind her words. He took a step toward her, his voice lower, laden with conflicting emotions. “Then, what do you want, Elsa? What do you expect from me? Do you want me to be with no one? Do you want me to leave? Do you want me to stay? Tell me, what do you want me to do?”

Hans looked at her intensely, waiting—demanding—a response. But Elsa said nothing. Her lips parted, as if she were going to speak, but not a single word came out. Only silence. Only the unbearable weight of her indecision.

Hans closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to contain the wave of frustration that was overwhelming him. When he opened them again, his expression had changed. It was no longer just anger, but exhaustion and pain.

“You see? You don’t even know,” his voice sounded lower, more bitter. “Or rather, I think you do know, but you don’t want to admit it. You push me away, but when I try to leave, you pull me back. You can’t keep doing this, Elsa. Not with me.”

She swallowed, feeling her chest tighten. Her heart pounded like it was trapped in a cage too small. She wanted to tell him to stay, she wanted to ask him to hold her, and somehow, for everything to be resolved. But the consequences of those words terrified her. It wasn’t just admitting what she felt, it was facing what would come after. Anna, her kingdom, the people who would never accept Hans.

“Hans, I…” her voice trembled, but he shook his head.

“No. I don’t want to hear another excuse. Just tell me the truth. Do you want me to stay? Or do you want me to leave? Because if you ask me to stay this time, I’m not leaving again.”

The firmness of his words left her breathless. There was no turning back. There would be no “maybe” after this. What she decided now would mark everything. She felt her eyes burn, because the answer was clear in her chest, but saying it out loud terrified her.

Hans saw her internal struggle reflected on her face and let out a dry, incredulous laugh.

“For God’s sake, Elsa…” he took a step back, running a hand through his hair, desperate. “Do you love me or not? Is it that hard to say? Why are you doing all this jealousy theater if it’s not for that?”

“And what does it matter now, Hans, if you’re with someone else?”

Hans blinked, confused. Then let out an incredulous laugh at the situation.

“Is this about the viscountess?”

“I saw you when you were with her,” Elsa insisted, the annoyance tinting her voice. “How do you expect me to tell you how I feel if you came here with someone else?”

Hans shook his head, rubbing his face as if he were dealing with something absurd.

“Is that what you think? That I’m with Clarisse?”

Elsa didn’t answer, but her wounded look gave him the answer. Hans sighed, shaking his head.

“My God, you misunderstood everything. Clarisse isn’t my partner, Elsa. We’re not even remotely close to that.”

She frowned, unsure whether to believe him or not.

“Then why did she come with you?”

He took a deep breath, trying to contain his exasperation, and then said more calmly:

“She was sent by my brother. He thought she could help me improve my image after… well, after everything that happened here. She’s respected, beloved at court, and her presence lends me credibility. That’s all.”

“And…” Hans continued, taking another step closer. “She’s married. She has a wife and two daughters.”

Elsa felt the heat rise to her face.

“Really?”

“Yes. Clarisse has no interest in me, and I have no interest in her. So tell me, what other excuse are you going to cling to now?”

The silence between them became unbearable. Elsa felt the shame tighten her chest, but also the fear. Because now, she had nowhere to hide.

Hans looked at her intensely, his eyes locked on hers.

“I’m asking you one last time, Elsa. Do you love me or not?”

Elsa clenched her fists. Her fear was suffocating, but she couldn’t keep hiding behind it. Her eyes found Hans’s, and with a broken voice, she let out the words she had been holding in for so long.

“Hans, I love you.”

He seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment. Elsa felt the warmth in her chest, the relief and the fear intertwining. But before she could continue, he spoke again.

“But it’s complicated, right?” His tone was bitter, as if the words burned his tongue.

She lowered her head, biting her lip.

“It is,” she admitted.

Hans turned around and let out a long, tired sigh. Then, after a moment, he approached, not with anger this time, but with something deeper.

“You know what? I don’t care,” he whispered.

Elsa looked up, surprised.

“I don’t care how complicated it is. I don’t care what your sister thinks, or my family, or the kingdom, or anyone else. I only care about what you want. I don’t want you to lose everything you love, but I’ll try even harder to show everyone I’m worthy of your love. But… I can’t do it alone, Elsa. I’m tired of being a secret, of being something you feel the need to hide. If you really want this… then show it.”

Her heart stopped for a second, and in that instant, she knew. She had made her decision. No matter what came after, no matter the fear.

She took a step toward him, feeling for the first time in a long while that she could breathe.

“I don’t want you to feel that way, Hans. I’ll tell Anna. I’ll tell everyone.”

Hans looked at her, and for the first time throughout the conversation, he smiled genuinely.

The redhead cupped Elsa’s face in his hands, as if afraid she might disappear at any moment. Their gazes intertwined, a silent dance of contained emotions, unsaid words, and a love that had never disappeared. Elsa, with her heart beating wildly, couldn’t look away from his eyes.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice husky, almost a whisper, but with a determination that resonated through the walls of the small room.

Elsa trembled, not from fear, but from the intensity of her feelings. For months, she had suppressed the yearning, the desire, the love she felt for him, but now, in front of him, everything came crashing down. “I want to be with you, Hans. I’ve always wanted to,” she replied, her voice broken but filled with sincerity.

Then he didn’t need to hear anything else.

With a determined move, he closed the distance between them and captured her lips with his. There was no hesitation, no timid touch. It was a kiss born from the accumulated hunger, the rage for the lost time, and the relief of knowing there was nothing left to hide.

Elsa clung to his coat with force, pulling him closer, feeling the solidity of his body against hers. Hans slid one hand to her waist, the other tangling in her hair, tilting his face to deepen the kiss, to drink in every trembling sigh that escaped her.

The air grew thick, charged with something electric, almost dangerous. Elsa felt the heat rush through her skin, a fiery shiver running down her back when Hans pulled her tighter, his lips demanding, exploring, devouring as if they couldn’t be satisfied with each other.

She responded with the same desperation, the same contained fury. Her hands roamed the thick fabric of his jacket before slipping to his neck, her control over her powers beginning to slip away involuntarily, and a strange, cold yet pleasurable sensation seeped under Hans’s skin. Something only she could provoke, drawing moans from his throat.

When they finally separated, breaths ragged and lips reddened, Hans pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes half-closed, his voice rough from the unsatisfied desire.

“Say it again,” he murmured, with a crooked, dangerous smile.

“I want to be with you, Hans.”

Elsa barely managed to smile before she pulled him into another kiss.

Everything reminded her of the first night they had been together. Hans groaned against her lips as Elsa kissed him again, with the same hunger, the same desperation burning in her chest. Her hands traced his back, her fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her dress until her legs wrapped around his torso, pulling her closer to him.

Hans held her tightly, and between increasingly passionate kisses, he leaned toward a nearby table, gently positioning her on its surface. Elsa felt the heat rise from her feet to her face, but she didn’t pull away. Her breath became erratic as Hans’s hands, firm and sure, slid to find the clasp of her dress.

She no longer thought, no longer analyzed, she only felt. She felt the frantic beat of her heart, the warmth of his lips exploring hers with more intensity, the way every touch made her lose herself more in him. Her heart left her no other choice: she wanted him, needed him, had longed for him too much.

Hans slid his mouth down to her neck, taking a deep breath before pressing a kiss against her skin. Elsa shuddered, a sigh escaping her lips as she felt the warm moisture of his mouth, the brush of his breath burning against her exposed skin.

“Gods…” he murmured, his voice rough and filled with longing. “You have no idea how much I fantasized about this.”

Elsa clung to him, feeling how the tension of months of separation broke in that moment.

“I did too,” she whispered, letting her words sink into his thoughts. Hans closed his eyes for a moment. Then, without hesitation, he kissed her again, this time with more calm, more devotion, as if savoring each second, memorizing every detail.

Elsa knew then that there was no turning back. And for the first time… she didn’t want there to be.

•••

The dimness of the room was only interrupted by the flickering glow of the fireplace, whose dancing light cast long shadows across the walls.

Elsa lay on the living room rug, curled up against Hans, her breath synchronized with his, as if, at least for this fleeting moment, the world had ceased its relentless chaos. Her body, still warm from the passion that had consumed them, fit naturally into Hans’s embrace, in a way that almost frightened her.

He slept, exhausted, with an arm around her waist, a gesture that oscillated between possession and need. Elsa closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself be enveloped by the sense of security the contact brought. She allowed a sigh to escape her lips, not of regret, but something that dangerously resembled peace.

And then, she heard it.

The voice.

A shiver ran through her.

She stirred uneasily, without opening her eyes, trying to hold on to the warmth surrounding her. Hans, still half-asleep, tightened his grip on her and placed a sleepy kiss on her shoulder.

“Don’t think,” he murmured against her skin.

Elsa felt as if Hans could hear her thoughts. She unconsciously smiled, her body relaxing by instinct. She wanted to be there, in the safety of his embrace, in the warmth of the fireplace, in that moment when it was only the two of them, with no one else, no doubts, or voices calling her from a distance. But the voice returned, more insistent this time.

Her eyes snapped open.

Hans was still asleep beside her, unaware of the unease now twisting in her chest. Slowly, Elsa sat up, carefully freeing herself from Hans’s embrace. She slipped out of the warmth of his body and, in the dim light, searched for the time.

The party was already ended long ago. They were probably looking for her.

With hurried movements, she began to dress, adjusting the ties on her dress with trembling fingers. It wasn’t just the worry of having disappeared without explanation, but the persistent echo of that voice, calling her from some distant place.

When she was ready to leave, Hans noticed the cold that now occupied the space under his arm where she used to be. He groaned softly and frowned.

“Elsa? What are you doing?”

His voice, still drowsy, carried a hint of fatigue… but also something else. Something that stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Where are you going?”

Hans, still lying down, was watching her with a slightly furrowed brow, his voice tinged with concern.

Elsa hesitated for a moment.

“I have to go,” she finally said. “The party is over, they must be worried about me.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then, Hans sighed, and when he spoke again, his voice was no longer sleepy, but alert.

“Is that all?”

Elsa pressed her lips together.

Hans sat up, resting an arm on a small tea table as he studied her with an intensity that made her feel trapped.

“Because that didn’t seem important a few hours ago.”

Elsa closed her eyes for a moment, anticipating what he would say.

“The last time we did this, you disappeared without saying a word.”

She didn’t want to talk about that. Not now.

Hans let out a brief, humorless laugh, running his hand through his messy hair.

“And the next day, we signed a stupid document and you sent me back to the Southern Isles. End of story.”

“Hans…”

“No,” he interrupted her, his laugh brief and without humor. “Don’t do this to me again. Please”

His tone made her turn. Hans was looking at her with a furrowed brow, his jaw tense, his eyes reflecting something deeper than just anger: exhaustion.

“You said these games were over. You said you weren’t going to hide me anymore. That we were going to be together.”

Elsa felt his gaze on her, but she could barely focus on his words.

That siren.

At first, it was just a murmur, an almost imperceptible echo between the beats of her own heart. But it was there.

—And we will be —she answered, taking longer than she should have.

Hans raised an eyebrow.

—Oh, really? Then why does this feel just like last time? You say things, we make love, and then you leave. And when you come back, you act as if nothing ever happened. As if I don’t exist.

Elsa opened her mouth to respond, but the sound interrupted her again.

It was more insistent now, an invisible current pulling her toward the unknown. Her stomach tightened.

Hans frowned.

—Are you going to say something, or are you just going to stand there, staring at me like you’re in another world?

Elsa swallowed.

—This time it won’t be like that.

But she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know what she was feeling.

Hans clenched his jaw and looked away.

“I don’t know if I can believe you, Elsa.”

His words were soft, but they stung like a knife.

“Hans…”

“I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find out you’ve regretted it again.”

The harshness of his words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. She bit her lip, feeling her chest tighten with an anxiety she didn’t know how to handle.

Hans sighed again and shook his head. He stood up in frustration and began to button his shirt.

“Do you know what the worst part is?” he said with a bitter laugh. “I don’t know if I’d rather it be that… or that what we have is just a game to you.”

“It’s not. How can you say that?”

Hans shrugged, although his expression betrayed him.

“I don’t know, maybe because I notice you… distant. Even now.”

Elsa felt a lump in her throat.

“I’m not…”

“You’re not?” he interrupted her. “Because it seems like you’re not even here.”

She looked away, hearing the siren in the distance.

“It’s more complicated than that.”

Hans ran his tongue over his teeth, frustrated.

“Then tell me, Elsa. Make me understand.”

Elsa wanted to answer, she really did. But how could she explain something she didn’t even understand herself? How could she tell him there was something inside her that was calling her? That scared her. That made her feel so small and lost that, for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know what to do.

And that he, without meaning to, had become another piece of that chaos.

“I can’t.”

Hans clenched his jaw, looking away.

“Of course.”

Elsa felt the weight of his disappointment like a stone in her chest.

She approached him and, gently, took his face in her hands. Hans didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at her either.

“It’s not what you think,” she whispered.

Hans let out a brief laugh.

“It never is.”

Elsa sighed and kissed him.

At first, Hans didn’t respond. Then, little by little, his body relaxed and his lips moved against hers with an unexpected sweetness. A kiss without haste. A kiss that only longed for him to trust in her love.

When they separated, Hans looked at her in silence, with an expression she couldn’t decipher.

“Will you talk to your sister?”

“I will,” she answered after a moment. “I just… need to think about what I’m going to say.”

Hans raised an eyebrow.

“Do you need help?”

“No, it’s better if I do it alone.”

“I must accompany Clarisse to the port tomorrow at noon. We have a ship that will take us back to the Southern Isles, you have until then, Elsa.”

“I will.”

Hans nodded slowly, though he studied her carefully, as if sensing that something else was troubling her. And it was. The voice echoed again in her head, louder this time. Elsa felt a chill run down her spine.

Hans noticed her tense expression.

“What’s wrong?”

She opened her mouth but didn’t know how to respond. Should she tell him that a voice was calling her from the unknown? That something greater than herself seemed to be waiting for her somewhere? No. No one would understand. Least of all him. He’d think it was just an excuse, a way to avoid facing the truth with Anna.

So she simply shook her head. And planted a fleeting kiss on his cheek.

“Nothing. Get dressed, we’ll talk tomorrow morning. I promise.”

She left the room before he could insist.

Hello!

I hope you liked this new story! It’s basically a prequel to Echoes of a Forgotten Past. It shows how Hans came back to Arendelle, and how the idea of him joining Elsa and Anna on their journey to the Enchanted Forest came about.

There’s still another part to come, so I hope you enjoy this one! Let me know what you think. This is my first time writing something this detailed—well, passionate might be the better word. I hope the story’s idea came across clearly! Since English isn’t my first language, I had to translate everything, but I really hope you like it!

I know I had mentioned thinking about leaving the community, but honestly, I really enjoy writing these stories. It’s something that actually helps me relax, so I’ve decided to keep sharing them here. I truly appreciate your comments, and I love reading your thoughts on my stories—no matter how short they are, they always make me happy!