My dearest readers! Here is an update, as soon as I could write it! I have been working two fulltime jobs due to unforeseen circumstances, so updates may be sporadic for the next month. I have missed writing, so here the longest chapter yet! I'm very happy with it. So please enjoy! Review! Reviews are my life blood, in case you didn't know. - marth

Damned. Certainly, if attempting to murder his way to the throne didn't make sure of that, then he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had a one way ticket to hell all his own. A small flame rolled across his knuckles as he pondered his current predicament. If only he could manipulate his personal feelings the way he did the flame. But that talent seemed to have left him as soon as her lips had brushed his cheek. The way he had leaped into action without hesitation was proof that he was beginning to believe his own falsehoods.

A sigh escaped him as he tried to plan a time line in his head. It had been weeks since he first arrived at the castle, much too long for his liking. The curse didn't feel as burdensome, now that he had a modicum of control over it. Elsa was slowly warming up to him, but he needed to leave before he got too attached. A pang of remorse twinge through his heart as he pictured Grethe's face, twisted as it would be with the knowledge of his betrayal. He wasn't quite sure what would hurt more, leaving the only motherly figure he had ever known, or killing the person who understood him best. It was all becoming too much. Too much feeling, too much planning, too much lying.

But he was only lying to himself. When the queen was in his presence, he felt more human. Feigned acceptance of the blonde had slowly turned into attraction. Hans felt greedy. He wanted her attention, her admiration, her friendship, all to himself. She was beautiful, generous, kind, intelligent, everything that he wanted in a queen and more. Somehow she had managed to stop hating him, and her obvious approval was difficult to turn down. The young man found that he craved not only her praise, but her touch. A willing, honest companion who knew the worst of him and did not ignore him. But no matter how he went over it in his head, it just didn't work out. There was no being together, not him with her. He loved himself too much, he was too insecure, and he still didn't trust her. What had she done, besides make him a pawn for her kingdom? And even if she had forgiven him, even if there was a chance she would welcome him with open arms, there wasn't a chance in hell that her sister would. Or the people of Arendelle, for that matter. No, allowing himself to feel for her was a dangerous game. Wanting her would only make it harder in the end.

The flame that danced along his fingers flared and he sucked in a breath in surprise. Irritated, he extinguished it and stood to go find his sparring partner. Everything was going according to plan, he couldn't let infatuation cock it up. He would woo her quickly, get her out of the castle grounds, and victory would be his. And besides, when he had full mastery of this curse and his debt was paid, then he wouldn't need a queen. He wouldn't need anyone.

At least, that's what he told himself over and over to block out traitorous thoughts.

"That was better! I could almost feel the heat on that one." Elsa jerked to the side to avoid a weak rope of fire. A plain muslin skirt swirled around her knees; she was glad to have a shorter dress than usual as the flame harmlessly toasted the grass beside her. The humid summer air felt heavy in her lungs as she pulled it in with relish; she hadn't had this much physical excitement in a while. Hans was finally getting the gist of using his power more consistently, and it made him a much more formidable opponent. She had to dodge and duck, use a defensive shower of snow every now and then, but all it took was one patch of ice and the fight was hers. The pair had been going at it for almost an hour now, dueling back and forth in the castle gardens. For a moment she imagined what her father's reaction would be, were he to see the ruined grass and singed hedges. A smile crept over her features, both in triumph and the daydream.

A lick of flame nearly caught her braid, and she twisted away from Hans' outstretched hand. He was making rapid progress, and it showed in burned skirts and the smell of smoke that never quite left her skin. Elsa directed her focus on him as they circled each other, and she felt predatory. The deep rise and fall of his chest was evidence that she was wearing on him; a few more dodges and he would give up. While the exiled prince had a way with subtlety in his demeanor and words, his fighting style was brash and heavy handed. The queen danced around him, taking pot shots and stinging him with fine needles of ice while he tried to catch his breath. "Tired already? You're such an old man." Her giggle was cut short as a whip of fire shot out at her, much stronger than before. It caught the hem of her skirt; she wiped it out with a wave of her hand and kicked out at her opponent. The grass turned treacherously slick as it frosted over, and he lost his balance with a yelp.

"You should have some respect for your elders, your majesty. I'll be too crippled to fight back soon." The redhead remained sprawled on the ground in defeat, breathing just as heavily as she. Elsa giggled and conjured a wispy snow cloud over his head. Snowflakes dusted his face and he scrunched up his nose. "Too cold," he pouted.

"Too this, too that. Come on, Westergard, let's go inside." She smiled and extended her hand to him. The workout had been fun, but duty called and a glance at the gray clouds overhead gave her pause. A summer storm was starting to make its way over the mountain, and she could smell the sweet scent of rain on the air. The young queen wasn't especially keen on getting caught in a shower.

"Lead the way, oh wise master of magic." Hans accepted her hand and nearly toppled her as she helped him to his feet.

The faint look of surprise on Elsa's face was entirely too satisfying. It was worth the thirty minutes he had spent bribing the old cook; after promising to scrub the kitchen floors every day for a month, she had consented to letting him take a bottle of sweet red wine to share. Two glasses balanced in one hand and the heavy bottle in the other, he offered the queen a toothy grin.

"What on earth is that for?" she asked, a dark brow quirked. She was attempting to hide her own smile, with little success. The blonde was hidden behind a stack of ledgers at her desk, pen and blank paper before her.

"I figured you could use a little break. We worked hard today." Hans uncorked the bottle smoothly and poured them each a glass. She took the proffered drink and savored the rich aroma. The wine stained her lips a deep pink, and Hans caught himself staring. He placed the bottle on the desk, then leaned against it. "So, how go the negotiations with Chillon?"

"Poorly," Elsa admitted with a groan. Slim white fingers curled around the stem of the glass and frost crept up the sides, chilling the beverage. "They don't want to fight with Zaldanig anymore thankfully, but now they've a mind to wed me to their prince."

Hans felt his jaw clench. "Really? Is he handsome?" He swirled the liquid in his glass, but kept his eyes glued to Elsa's. Her cheeks soon matched her lips under his gaze.

"He's two months old, hardly marriage material." She broke eye contact to swallow more wine.

Instantly he refilled her glass. "Come now, your majesty. You don't want to end up an old maid, do you?"

She scowled at him. "Why should it matter if I marry or not? The royal family will be continued through Anna, so I see no reason to worry about finding a spouse."

The wine was disappearing quickly between the two of them. "Are you really telling me that you don't want the big wedding, fancy party, and, I don't know, someone to," he hesitated for a moment to make sure he had her full attention, "be with? Once Anna is married off and you're on your own?"

The young queen was noticeably stiff, but the effect of the wine was evident in her flushed complexion. "Anna and Kristoff could live here if they wished to. Besides, I have Olaf and Marshmallow, and my household staff. Who else do I really need?"

"Marshmallow? Is that a dog's name?" The absurdity of it caught the prince off guard.

She giggled. "No, that's my snow guardian. The one on the North Mountain?" Her eyes turned wistful. "I should really visit him, I'm sure he misses his mama."

"Elsa, I'm not sure that a snow monster counts as a real child."

"Of course he does," she argued stubbornly as the cup met her lips again. "Why would I want children, Hans? Why would I take the chance of cursing someone else?"

The red head pushed the ledgers to the side, sat down on the heavy wooden desk, and studied his wine. "You make a valid point." He plucked the glass from her hand and poured the last of the wine into it; when he placed it back in her grasp, he leaned in close. "But what about the process?"

"Excuse me?" A quizzical look furrowed her brows before she comprehended his question. "I don't care how drunk you are right now, that is a very inappropriate question to ask a queen."

"Don't tell me you're a maiden, your highness?" Finally he was getting somewhere.

"That's none of your business, and you're an insolent cad for asking." Her words had little bite to them, as she tried valiantly to hide her smile.

Hans flashed her a brilliant grin before looking her over; shining sapphire eyes, rosy cheeks, and a bottom lip caught between small white teeth that held his attention for a bit too long.

"Fret not, my queen. You're in danger of nothing more than my curiosity." He pulled away from her and drained his glass. He made his way over to stand in front of the portrait of her father, the late King of Arendelle. The books Grethe had given him had said little about this particular royal, besides that he was a benevolent king who met a tragic end. Hans counted the seconds in his head until his prey approached like he knew she would.

"Maybe I'm curious as well."

The reply was much more bold than he had expected, but he held his emotions in check as he glanced down at her. The woman beside him looked a tad apprehensive, but it seemed that the wine and charm he had been serving her had worked. Hans pulled a face of mild shock and chose his words carefully. "A cad like me wouldn't dare to spoil the innocence of our virgin queen."

"Be quiet," she muttered. The pink lips that had been drawn into a tight line softened and her small hand took hold of his collar. The willowy blonde placed a chaste, trembling kiss on the corner of his mouth. When he didn't pull away, reinforced courage brought them closer together and Elsa kissed him fully. Hans let her set the pace as his hands came to rest leisurely on her hips. Her hands pushed on his shoulders and steered him towards the sofa in front of the fireplace until the backs of his knees hit it. Warm hands pulled her down to sit beside him and he withdrew from her. Green eyes watched for a reaction as he stroked her side with a lazy thumb.

She seemed confused, but still willing. Elsa pushed him back into the couch and slanted her mouth over his again. The prince moved a hand to her hair and threaded his fingers through the silky blonde strands, and in the process pulled her flush against him. Her movements still had a sense of nervousness to them, but within minutes she began to experiment; a nip here, a hand moving from his chest to his neck. His own body seemed like it was melting under her timid explorations, and control of the situation was slipping through his fingers like sand. Regretfully, he broke the kiss and waited for her to compose herself.

The warm, dreamy look that hazed her eyes beckoned him to steal every kiss he could. Elsa was silent as she reclined in the crook of his arm, her cheek and palm flat against his chest. Lulled by the gentle rise and fall of his chest, her body relaxed and she drifted into sleep. As his own eyes grew heavy, Hans tried in vain to drown out the realization that things were not going according to plan. Winning her affection had been easy; betraying her, when he knew in his black heart that she was the only woman who would ever truly know and understand him, would not be.

The blonde stirred, fighting wakefulness every step of the way. A dull headache throbbed at her temple, an unpleasant reminder of how much she had consumed last night. Her body felt stiff for some reason, and she tried to stretch under the heavy blankets. She pointed her toes straight out and her arms wound their way around her head, pulling tense muscles back into shape as they did. A most unladylike yawn escaped her just as she remembered where she had first fallen asleep.

The study.

Elsa sprang from the bed and pulled her dressing gown onto tired limbs that now surged with adrenaline. She had fallen asleep, on the sofa, with Hans. She had kissed, on the sofa, with Hans.

With a groan, she turned back to stare at her bed. If only she could go back to sleep, and find that she was in some bizarre dream. But she knew better than that, and she knew that she had liked kissing Hans. Quite more than a queen should like kissing her former prisoner.

Former? Considering he stayed in a guest suite, accompanied her almost everywhere, and was allowed to roam most of the grounds, he was hardly her prisoner. The more she thought about it, she realized he hadn't been her personal convict in a while.

Elsa massaged her temples and sighed. There was nothing for it but to face the day and let it go; she could hardly take back her actions now. The question currently pressing on her mind was how had she gotten back into her own chambers, but she pushed it away and swept out the door. Perhaps visiting the study would bring some clues.

The sofa looked just the same as it had before last night's events, but she knew it was different. Everything was different. Muscle memory dragged her to the high backed chair that meant control, familiarity. Apparently Kai had already visited, because a stack of envelopes sat front and center, waiting to be read. The most pertinent was on top; Anna's girly but slightly sloppy handwriting was a joy to see. Elsa had to restrain herself from ripping the envelope open; a slim silver letter opener soon gave her the thin parchment she desired.

"Dearest sister of mine," her lips quirked upwards. Anna's peppy voice sounded out each word in her mind.

"Corona is very hospitable. It's a lot like Arendelle, except there is more land than water. Kristoff seems to think that he has found an untapped market, although I don't think ice would ship very well. Olaf is having a grand time, and he has many admirers among the people, including the Princess Rapunzel. She's quite excited by him, and wants to visit Arendelle to see more living snow men. I personally think that one is enough, although if she wants to meet Marshmallow she's on her own. The weather is very nice, but I think that I might actually miss a bit of snow. How is the "guest" situation? I still don't like it. Tell me everything. I would write more but we're having dinner with some stuffy old geezer tonight, and I have to look presentable according to Kristoff. I'm sure you would agree. Love, Anna."

She read through the letter again, missing her younger sister more each time. But she was safe and happy, and that was what truly mattered. Elsa reached for her pen to reply when she noticed a second letter that stuck out like a sore thumb. The envelope was thick and heavy as she turned it in her hands, and had only her name on it written in black calligraphy and accented with gold leaf. The back was sealed with wax the color of deepest green, and the seal of the Southern Isles embossed it. A feeling of distinct unease caused the hairs on the back of her neck to rise; were they finally responding to her trade offer? She sliced open the envelope and withdrew the rich parchment inside. Elegant black ink in a feminine hand formed words on the page that intensified her headache tenfold.

"To Queen Elsa of Arendelle, It has come to my attention that you have been burdened with an exile from our kingdom. I thank you for your grace and generosity in handling this situation. I have sent this letter ahead of Prince Harold, Prince Hubert, and Prince Horace, my sons who will escort the disgrace back to the jurisdiction of the Southern Isles. I thank you for your compliance in this embarrassing situation, and wish you all the best. Signed, Queen Senka of the Southern Isles."