#inconcinnusol

 Hans’ pride shattered just like that. And he suddenly felt very foolish and so angry that he kicked his brother in the knee and ran away as fast as he could.

So here he was, stuck on a ship to a neighboring kingdom to babysit a bunch of stupid baby princesses. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was a sort of punishment for something he did. Not that he could remember anything he did as remotely bad that was enough for his family to ship him off to Arendelle for the summer. He grimaced at the thought of tea parties and dollies. Just because he had to go didn’t mean he had to play dress-up or something as completely absurd.

 He spent majority of the trip at sea playing swordfights with sailors nice enough to humor him and a game of one-sided hide and seek with his guardians. He wished they could just keep on sailing by and he even hoped that the captain would make a wrong turn somewhere and would miss Arendelle at all!

Sadly, the captain was a good navigator.

 So a month later, they had finally reached Arendelle.

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The King and Queen of Arendelle were as nice and friendly as any good monarch would be, Hans supposed. He was treated nicely enough and with more attention than his own parents gave (what with thirteen children and all) but just like any busy ruling leaders, he didn’t see them an awful lot. That wasn’t too much of a surprise, considering the real reason he was here.

“Hans, Hans! Where are you going? Can I come along?”

Hans flinched, stopping on his tracks. He had been on his way to the library, specifically to avoid a certain six-year-old princess. Wasn’t it her dancing lessons? He sighed, turned his head and sure enough there was Anna bouncing her way over to him, pigtails swinging with each step.

 “I’m going to the library. And since you can’t read, you can’t come.” He tried to sound severe with the same kind of tone his brothers always used when they denied him something. 

“But I always go there!” Anna beamed, not put-off in the very least. “There’s a lotsa stories with pictures innit. I wanna go with you, oh puhlease Hans? Pleeeeeeaaaaase.”

 She was so ANNOYING. Everywhere he went, Anna was always one or two step behind. There was simply no avoiding her. Oh and he had tried very hard just to do that. But it seemed as if she had a special built-in compass in her body that always led her to him.

Exasperated, he saw no other option. The last time he had said no, it ended in tears and an hour-long sermon from one of the help. “Fine. But just be quiet!”

“YAAAAAAAY!”

“What did I just say!”

“Oh! I’ll be quiet; I’ll be as quiet as a mouse. I’ll be so quiet that you won’t even notice me!”

“Then why am I still noticing you?” 

The library was spacious, lined with rows and rows of shelved books.  Hans had immediately taken a liking to the place and found himself hiding here during the very short moments he was Anna-free. Unfortunately, today proved to be an exception. Despite the enormity of the room, Anna somehow found a way to repeatedly knock over books or bump into him. She insisted on following him closely like a duckling to its mother, often dragging a book that was twice her size.

 Hans had seen a pattern. Every time he took a book, so would she. Each time he replaced it, she would do the exact same thing and from the same shelf as well. She even matched the books by color. Needless to say, it got old really fast.

 “Anna,” he couldn’t take it anymore, “would you stop bugging me and pretend to read somewhere else? There are lots of other chairs here. Why do you have to sit beside me?”

Anna looked at him, eyes wide and blue, “Because I just want to sit beside you!” She wriggled closer to him until their hips touched, trapping him to his side of the long lounge chair. 

Hans frowned, staring down at the young girl with open displeasure. He had made it crystal clear from the very beginning of his arrival that she was a nuisance. The moment he was introduced to the princesses, Anna practically jumped at him like an excited little dog (that never stopped). The older sister, Elsa, on the other hand was very reserved and refined for her age and only kept to herself in closed rooms. Like their parents, Hans never really saw Elsa. She was more of an enigma to him than an actual person.

“Hans, will you read to me?” Anna asked, showing him a book of fairytales from the little stack of books she collected.

 “I don’t want to read a bunch of baby fairytales. Have Gerda read them for you.”

“But you’re already right here, right now, you read it for me.” She shoved the book over to his lap, blocking the open classic he was reading.

“Anna, please! You’re so annoying, no wonder your sister never spends time with you!”

He had expected the usual whine or the stubborn persistence. Maybe perhaps a cry or a tantrum—but not this, Anna was suddenly quiet. No sound, no movement. Her freckled face as white as a sheet. He had made her cry a couple of times when he tried to scare her off or made fun of that little white streak in her hair but it had only been childish outbursts. She never had this kind of look in her eyes. Wounded. Hurt.

Realization hit him hard in the gut. He had hurt Anna. Really hurt her. No matter how infuriating she was, Anna never did anything that warranted this. He thought back on what he just said and came to the startling conclusion at how true it really was. He never did see Elsa together with Anna, not once since the formal introductions.  And even then, their parents had distanced them apart.

Really apart.

He then remembered the pure joy on Anna’s face when he said he would be staying over the summer, how she suddenly lit up in all smiles like she had never seen somebody else her whole life.

…

…

It hit him.

 Anna had been lonely this whole time.

 “Anna…” he started carefully, swallowing the bile of guilt in his throat, “I didn’t mean it, you know. I’m…sorry.” It felt weird to apologize. Especially to a girl but he knew it was the right thing to do.

 The young princess did not respond, occupying herself with the little pleats on her dress and obviously struggling not to cry. She would not look at him and made no acknowledgement to his apology whatsoever. And for a while it seemed hopeless.

Hans took a deep breath; looked down his lap to the book of fairytales he had been unconsciously caressing this whole time.  

… 

… 

“Do you…want me to read to you?”

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Hans didn’t know how long it took to persuade Anna. But now she was sitting comfortably in his lap as he read her one story to another. It was basic starting material, big texts with bigger pictures—and Hans was actually enjoying it or was it because of the bubbling laughter of the now-happy princess? Perhaps it was both.

 By the time they were called for dinner, Anna was like the incident never happened at all. She grabbed his hand as they walked away from the scattered books. Even crazier—he let her; he did not shake her off or yell at her or anything. He didn’t even seem to mind at all. Oh, he still minded how excessively chatty she was, but his tolerance level seemed to have grown to stomach her childish blabber.

In a span of a few hours, Anna did not seem so bad anymore—especially after seeing where she had been coming from. Hans could relate. All his life, he had only gotten meager scraps of love (he guessed that’s how you called it) from his parents and he could never really communicate to any of his brothers with the wide age gaps. Anything that he was going through, they had all been there, done that and had very little interest in. The youngest after him was six years older at seventeen and paid no heed to Hans just like the rest.

After the library thing, he spent more time with Anna than he ever imagined he would. She’d ask him questions about things that only six-year-olds would wonder about (like what would happen if one swallowed a watermelon seed). He’d regale her with stories about his adventures in the Southern Isles, and with Anna being an impressionable believer; it was more than too easy to embellish the details (she did not need to know that the thief he caught was a mouse for instance). Anna would smuggle chocolates and sandwiches from the kitchens while he played lookout from the doorway (although when she would be caught, he would abandon her unashamedly). She would wake him up when the sky was ‘awake’ and they would watch from the comfort of his bedroom windows, wrapped up in blankets on the floor.

During his whole stay, he never did see Elsa or the parents all that much. His days were filled with a little girl in braided pigtails with as much chocolate on her face as freckles. He would never admit it openly but he had grown fond of the little monster—so much so that Hans began to regard her as his own little sister and Anna looked up to him as an older brother and protector. (They did share somewhat reddish hair and freckles—lots of freckles.)

When the time came for him to go back, Anna went absolutely crazy. She was kicking and screaming, demanding that he either stay or she would go back to the Southern Isles with him. Of course neither of the two was possible. There was no maid unscratched or unbitten in the attempts to calm her down. Finally, it took the personal appearance of the King to shut her up. And all he had to do was give a stern look and Anna was instantly pacified in fear.

 Like the formal introductions, there was also a formal goodbye of sorts. The King, Queen and princesses stood atop the dais, wishing Prince Hans a safe voyage and an expression of gratitude for keeping the sisters company (which was funny since he only spent time with one of them). Once again, the princesses were kept apart from one another, as they curtsied politely.

The last thing Hans saw before he left was a heartbroken Anna, face as red as her puffy eyes.  

 And Hans could hear his own heartbreak at the sound of the closed gates.

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Anna wrote to Hans a lot. Well not really writing per se—more like she drew to him. She’d send him wax pictures of animals and houses and a badly drawn caricature of himself. And sometimes it would be of him and her doing the same things they did back in Arendelle. It was a few months later that she sent him real letters (it was made immediately clear that she learned to write solely for that). Her handwriting was crude, the letters too big and the words misspelled but nevertheless he would read them again and again. Every word on paper struck a chord. She missed him a lot. There was no letter she sent that said otherwise.

He would write back, replying to all her questions and asking his own. He told her sadly that he would not be able to visit again for some time because of his studies. But he encouraged her to keep writing to him and he would do his best to do the same.

His parents had assigned him more tutors, which equaled to more homework and less time for himself. From fencing lessons to Latin, there was never an empty time slot that left him idle. Every son was expected to be the at their very best, being the youngest did not excuse Hans.  He learned a lot, but it was a miserable time doing so.

To his shame, he found himself more than behind with his response to the piling letters on his desk. He felt bad of course, rotten even. And Hans hated to admit it, but as month after month past, Anna slowly began to fade into obscurity into the back of his mind. It was a great summer spent together. But that was now far behind them. They would always be that eleven-year-old prince and six-year-old princess in that time and space but the present now posed a bigger picture.

And as time went by, the letters trickled in like water in a heavy drought until such a time they stopped coming at all.

It was for the better, he hardly remembered her at all by then.

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When Hans turned eighteen, he was summoned once again to his parents’ counsel room. He had just returned fresh off the boat from his studies in London when he got the missive. When he entered, there were no welcome-homes or how-do-you-dos; they wasted no time to the point of why he was called.

They were negotiating his engagement with Princess Elsa of Arendelle.

Naturally, they had done this without any mind to what he thought of the arrangement. All they focused on was securing another kingdom and Hans was perfect, as he shared a closer age with the princess.

 In an instant, Hans suddenly remembered Anna and without thinking he opened his mouth, asking about the other princess.

There was a dismissive sneer in his father’s voice.

“What about her? She is the youngest and will never inherit. She is useless.”

Well, at least he finally learned what his parents really thought of him this whole time.

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Arendelle was a lot bigger than he remembered, gaining new businesses and expansions over the last few years. It had become a growing hub of progress and potential, something his parents obviously wanted to seize.

The castle however remained about the same—well at least to how vaguely he remembered it looked like. He was not given time to look around and was immediately brought to the familiar court, in front of a dais, bowing down to the still-reigning King and Queen and their daughters—still apart. 

One of them was Anna, taller (but not quite so) but still retained the baby fat on her cheeks (that were just asking to be pinched). Her hair was braided into an elaborate bun (Hans wondered if she had outgrew her pigtails) and she looked every bit the princess in her high collared short dress (since she still had not made her debut) of pale yellow. She looked—adorable, like a little doll if it wasn’t for that scowl on her face.

His attention was then called to Elsa, standing at the opposite end. And Hans was immediately taken aback. By god, she was beautiful in every sense of the word, from the soft color of her hair to the brilliant blue of her eyes. Even the way she curtsied was a work of art. She had been brought out to society last season and had been an absolute hit with the ton. And although she had politely refused every dance, men still sang her praises. And Hans could not blame them. It was hard not to admire her. Elsa, however, was doing her best not to look at him. Sure she was facing his direction, but her gaze was vacantly focused on the space over his head, avoiding any form of eye contact. As beautiful as she was, she was still as mysterious as he recalled. 

On the night of that same day, they held a small but extravagant celebration on his behalf. The engagement was not yet fleshed out and would be unwise to have it prematurely declared in public.

Anna was not allowed to attend because of her age and it made Hans chuckle at the idea of her sulking in her room. This was not missed by Elsa, who looked stunning in her royal blue gown (who had been coerced by her parents to hang around him no doubt).

“Prince Hans, you seemed amused.” Her tone was a little stiff (obviously not one to make small talk) but he could see that she was genuinely inquisitive.

 “I was just imagining what your sister might be doing. I’m sure she’s cross that she can’t join the party.”

A soft smile touched her lips, which almost made Hans drop his champagne. This was his first time seeing Elsa make any kind of expression. Heck, this was the first time of any kind with her.

“She’s no doubt upset that she won’t be able to sample the chocolate truffles they brought in,” Elsa giggled girlishly.

“And sandwiches, don’t forget sandwiches.” 

She grinned, “I’m confident that she’ll raid the kitchens later, trying to find any leftovers. She’s done that before, you know.”

Hans couldn’t help but smirk, “I’m sure she’d fight off rats just to get a taste of those truffles.” 

This earned another smothered laugh with Elsa’s gloved hand pressed to her mouth and a glimmer sparkled in her eyes. She looked so—natural. Obviously talking about Anna brought out this side to her. It was cute…but at the same time, perplexing.

He had always assumed that Elsa thought nothing of her sister, maybe even loathed her. But her actions contradicted all that. It was just so—confusing. Why had they spent all this time apart under the same roof?

He was about to ask, when a dignitary ambled by with the desire to have Elsa be introduced to one of his sons. Of course she could not refuse and asked Hans to pardon her before being practically dragged to another part of the ballroom.

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Hans decided to get some air, exiting from one of the frosted glass doors to the fragrant rose gardens. The night was cold and beautiful, little pinpricks of stars dotting the indigo sky. It reminded him of freckles on a certain someone’s face—one with springy pigtails. His lips curled. Had it really been seven years?

Coming back to Arendelle had opened up memories of that idyllic summer, the picture coming together like pieces of a puzzle. He looked around. Ah, there’s that little statue where Anna tripped over and scraped her knee… The tree that I used to climb to get away from her—until she learned to climb it for herself… Oh and there by the white rosebushes by the gazebo was—wait—Anna?

He blinked.

Either he was seeing a little ghost with braided pigtails or that really was Anna.

Her back was turned to him as she sat on one of the benches near the vine-covered gazebo. Hans instinctively wanted to call her out but decided it would be more fun to give her a little surprise, after all, he had to pay her back for all the times she dogged him in their younger years. And also for what happened earlier after the (re) introductions.  She had sped away in a huff, not even bothering to be reacquainted again. It had stung Hans more than he liked to admit.

 He crept quietly, making as little noise as possible, and when he finally came close to her figure. He poked her at the sides. Anna yelped and jumped away, almost stumbling into the grass.

“What the fudge—Hans?” 

Hans was covering his sides, trying his best not to double over after seeing that strong reaction. In between laughter, he gave her a mischievous smile.

“Long time no see, princess.”

Recovering from her scare, Anna’s widened eyes turned into a glare, her face ripe with anger.

“Oh, you—you—JERK!”

“Ah ah ah.” He waggled a finger at her before her little fists could make bodily contact, “Shouldn’t you be in bed? You’re dressed for the part but not in the right place.”

Anna turned even redder, this time from embarrassment. She was dressed in nothing but a blue cotton nightgown and no doubt being caught by a gentleman was all kinds of improper.

“I live here. I can go and do as I please.” It was her authoritative princess voice, one she always used back when they were little and one that obviously never worked. It had been cute back then, her little antics…but now things had changed. She was now a blossoming young princess and there were certain things she had to put a handle on. Midnight strolls being one of them. She was lucky it had been him that spotted her; had it been someone else…perish the thought. Her reputation would have been tarnished before she could even make her debut.

“Anna,” his voice serious, “You really shouldn’t be out here especially with what you’re wearing. Be glad it’s just me.”

Her shoulders tensed and Hans mused if it was from the biting cold or from his words. He continued, “I would hate to think of the idea of having you forced to get married to someone all because he saw you in your nightclothes.” It was a little exaggerated but he needed to get the point across. She seemed to be listening, blue (no, cerulean) eyes concentrated on him. He was about to add on a few more scare tactics, when Anna cut him off. 

And the words stunned him.

  “Then marry me.”

  …

…

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Marry me.”

  This child…surely she was just jesti—oh no, she was serious. Her chin was tilted up to him, mouth drawn in a fine line, eyes deep and longing (and hopeful?). Her little hands clenched to her sides. This was the face that never took no for an answer.

Oh no.

How did this happen?

 How did it all come to this?

“Anna…” he paused, trying to string his thoughts together (it took some time), “th-this isn’t funny…you’re just a child.”

He hadn’t meant to sound derisive; after all, she could not be faulted for her age. He winced when he saw the wounded expression on her face. And all so suddenly, he was transported back to that library, back to his thoughtless words and her injured feelings.

This time, a book would not be able to mend things.

“You brush away my feelings…because I’m a child?” 

“Anna, I’m en—about to be engaged to Elsa…” 

“Is this why you stopped writing to me? Because of her?”

He had dreaded this. That question. There was no way around it but the truth. And this situation would not soften the blow…

“Anna, no—listen, I-I stopped writing to you long before Elsa. I was just…” he gritted his teeth, “too busy.”

It was not possible to look sadder, to look even more heartbroken, to look even more devastated—but Anna made it possible. He immediately saw it in her eyes, what she was thinking. He had dismissed her; cast her aside like one of his outgrown boyhood coats. She had no longer been important. And Hans realized to his horror—how he had made her grow up from her innocent girlhood in the most horrible way possible—with a broken heart.

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The engagement was called off before it was even agreed upon. The Arendelle monarchs had thought approvingly of the match—but Elsa on the other hand… There was no leeway with her. In fact, she had shut out any possibility of any kind of match.

 Clearly, Hans missed out on the big opportunity to become his own ruler and have his own kingdom. His parents would not be too happy about this and would most likely blame him for the annulled plans.

But honestly, he was still mulling over that night with Anna. She was avoiding him like the plague and understandably so. He neither saw hide nor (pigtailed) hair for the rest of his stay. Part of him was relieved; it was for the best, make her rethink about expectations and fairy tale endings. But then part of him was tormented as well. Her face haunted him night after night. How could he break her feelings like that? So callously? Most probably, she hated him. And the very thought chilled him to no end.

The days passed long and painfully. Finally, it was time to leave. And as beautiful as Arendelle was in the summer, he could not bear to stay one more minute knowing that Anna hated him, made even worse, when she was just near, just close, within reach—but scarce. At least they could finally put some distance between them, to heal from the hurt they he inflicted without worrying about bumping into the other and reopening wounds. It was for the best. At least that’s what he wanted to believe.

His trunks were already waiting in the carriage, and he had already personally said goodbye to the family (with the exception of Anna, of course). All that was left was to inspect the room, to see if he had missed anything.

He took one last sweep around the room before he turned to the open door.

And he froze before he could even take a step towards it.

It was Anna or perhaps an apparition of her—glowing in a muslin gown of emerald green that softly billowed around her feet, melting to the ground in such a way that she almost seemed like she was floating. Her hair was tied back in artistic braids with silk ribbons down her back.

He was struck mute.

And Anna—or this apparition—lightly glided over to him until she was an arm’s length away. And in this proximity, Hans knew there was no mistaking the freckles peppered on her face or the quirky mouth that could turn into a moment’s pout.

She raised a hand to his face, resting her palm to his warm cheek. And Hans—well he just stood there, transfixed, unable to look away from her.

She opened her mouth, and though her voice was soft as a whisper, Hans could hear every word like the toll of church bells.

“See me in five years.”

And just like that, she dropped her hand, turned away and left.

He stood there, paralyzed, under her spell—

  “Whoaah!”

  A loud thud from the hallway.

  …

  …

  And the spell was suddenly broken.

Hans blinked. Smiled. Then he chuckled. Then he laughed. Hard. He started laughing so hard he had to come down on his knees, shaking in fits of guffaw and tears in his eyes.

“Oh Anna…” he struggled in deep breaths.

“Five years. It’s a promise.”

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