Author's Note: Based on a prompt from long ago: "Why did you do it?" Takes place shortly after the end of Frozen, but hints at some of Elsa's internal conflict leading up to Frozen 2 (though I will never consider that film to be canon, and you can't make me!). For Helsa Week 2020, Day 7: Free. I can never get enough of their (imagined) conversations.

"Your Majesty."

She didn't look up from her mountain of papers, scanning the page in her hand with intense concentration.

A cough echoed in the room. "Your Majesty."

She glanced up for a moment, her pen never ceasing in its scrawl along the signature line. "Yes, Kai? I heard you the first time."

The older man frowned, pulling back his shoulders. "I was asked to inform you that Prince Hans of the Southern Isles will be sent back home today."

She paused. "Hans."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Kai confirmed. "If you may recall, the trip was delayed a week due to—"

"Repairs on the ship that needed to be done after I…" she finished, and then trailed off. She grimaced. "Yes, I remember."

She greeted his gaze, and noticed behind him the ever-present coronation portrait of her father.

"Remind me, Kai: when was that portrait painted?" she asked suddenly.

The older man blinked, then turned around to face the object in question. "Ah, well, let's see… it was probably about a week after he was crowned."

She tapped her pen against the paper below. "He must have been nervous, becoming king at such a young age."

"Younger even than you are now," Kai noted, looking back at her with a small smile. "He would've been proud, seeing how far you've come."

She returned a half-hearted smile, and touched the crown atop her head with some self-consciousness. "Sometimes, I forget what he looked like," she admitted, looking sheepish at Kai's confusion. "I mean, I know his portrait is right there, but…"

"It's not him," Kai finished for her. "I know, Your Majesty. But I believe he is still here, in spirit, watching over you as always."

Her teeth grit at the words of reassurance. "I want to believe that, but…" she managed, unable to stifle a frown. She stared at the painting again – at the hands grasping the orb and scepter with such seeming steadiness, at the posture upright and proper, at the eyes frozen in place for eternity, looking past her into an unknowable void – and suppressed a shudder, dropping the pen to the page. "I don't think he can do that anymore."

The silence that followed her remark lay like a heavy snowfall in the room until she cleared her throat.

"When is Hans's ship due to sail?" she asked.

"In a few hours, around 3 o'clock," Kai answered after a moment, taken off-guard by the question. "Is something the matter, Your Majesty?"

She took a deep breath, tracing the outline of her pen. "I'd like to see him before he leaves. Can you bring him here?"

Kai's brow lifted. "Your Majesty, that's—I really don't think that's advisable, given how dangerous he is—"

"I'm well aware of that, but you know I'm more than capable of defending myself." she cut him off, conjuring a snowflake for effect. Seeing his concern, however, she sighed, evaporating the magic. "Obviously, he should still be restrained in some way when he is brought here. And the guards should be posted just outside the room."

Kai frowned. "It's not his physical strength that worries me, Queen Elsa. It's… his way with words," he explained. "He fooled us all, not just the Princess."

Her eyes tightened. "I know, Kai. But it won't be like that this time. I promise."

His lips pursed. "I hope so, Your Majesty. But what about the Princess? If she finds out he's here—"

"She won't," she said, "because no one is going to tell her."

They stared at one another, and at length, Kai swallowed. "As you wish, Your Majesty. I will bring him here within the next hour." He bowed and left the room, his hands clenched behind his back.

She watched those hands until they were out of sight, and then looked down at her own.

They were shaking.

She paced the floor of her father's library – her library, now – and tried to steady her breathing.

Ice tendrils had been creeping from her fingers every so often in the last hour as she waited for him, snowfalls starting and stopping around her, her breath coming out in cold puffs. Kai's words of warning hung in the air like a storm cloud, obscuring her vision, and her crown felt heavier than before.

She clasped her hands behind her in the same way that he had done, hoping that it would calm her. Instead, feeling her skin bare, without gloves – a sensation that was still so new and foreign – unnerved her further, and eventually her hands found their way back to her sides.

A heavy knock on the door jolted her to attention, and she finally stopped, though her heart continued to race. She licked her lips on instinct before speaking, finding her mouth suddenly dry.

"Come in."

As the thick oak doors opened, she felt and heard every thump in her chest with alarming clarity, though she took care to look unaffected as she caught sight of the prince.

She allowed herself one last, deeper exhale. "Close the doors, please," she instructed the guards. All four of them – the two who had brought in the prince, and the two stationed outside her door – blinked at her in surprise.

"But, Your Majesty—"

"I'll be fine, Leif," she interrupted the oldest guard. "Now please, if you will—return to your posts, and close the doors."

Leif frowned in disapproval, shooting the prince a threatening look, but did as was commanded of him, maintaining eye contact with his queen until the doors were finally shut.

Her attention turned back to her guest, and the thump returned louder than ever.

"Your Majesty."

Her stomach turned.

"Hans."

"I hope you'll excuse my poor appearance," he said, his bare and shackled hands gesturing at his dirtied uniform. "I didn't have the chance to clean up before this, so I look more or less like I did the last time we met."

She ignored the jab. "I was told you're leaving today, on the French ambassador's ship."

He rolled his shoulders back, standing upright. "So I was told as well. Though I wasn't expecting to see you again before I left." He eyed her hands with wary interest, and then met her hard stare. "May I ask why I have the pleasure of being called upon by Her Majesty for a… private audience?"

She frowned and crossed her arms, and then looked away, gazing out the window at the mountains in the distance. She listened carefully to the jangling of his cuffs, assuring herself that he had not stepped any closer, and breathed.

"Why did you save me?"

She heard the surprise in his voice. "Why did I—I'm not sure what you mean, Your Majesty."

She glanced at him, and then towards the window, directing his gaze there. "Up on the North Mountain. You brought me back here, alive," she repeated, "and I want to know why."

"I told you in that cell that I needed you to stop the winter," he replied, his brow furrowing. "You were the only one who could."

She frowned. "Don't lie, Hans. There's no need for it anymore."

He matched her expression. "I don't know what it is that you want, or expect, me to say."

Ice crept up her crossed arms from her fingertips until she noticed him staring at it—at which she reddened, disappearing it again. "You could've let me kill Weselton's men, and then killed me, married Anna, ruled Arendelle like you planned to," she explained. "Or you could've just killed all of us, and blamed it on me. Everyone would've believed you either way, after seeing what I did at the coronation ball."

She looked up at her father's portrait briefly, behind and a ways away from Hans, and felt filled with dread. She pushed past it, asking again: "But you didn't. You brought me back here, to that cell. Why?"

His gaze narrowed at her. "Because I'm not an idiot like Weselton," he retorted. "And I've spent enough time in libraries reading up on old folklore to know that killing you wouldn't necessarily have done anything about the eternal winter." He eyed her meaningfully. "And, as it turns out, I was right. Magic could only be undone with magic," he said, adding with distaste: "That is, if you consider love to be magic."

She glowered at him, and then took a few steps closer, stopping just within two feet of him. He regarded the move with suspicion, but did not budge. "Something tells me you're not satisfied with my answer," he remarked.

"Because there's still something missing from it. Because…" Her face flushed suddenly, and she placed a hand over it to calm herself. "You saw what a danger I was to myself, to others. But you still thought you could… what, control it? Convince me to 'come back to the light'?" She shook her head. "It doesn't make sense. Someone like you should've known better, should've—"

"Killed you?" he interrupted, earning a dark look from her. "Is that what you wanted?" At her silence, he sighed. "No. I didn't think so." His brow rose. "I didn't see someone who wanted to die, on that mountain. You were fighting for your survival—desperately so." He added: "I respected that."

Her cheeks pinked, and she looked away from him. "You don't respect anything," she muttered, "especially not me."

A strange light came into his eyes.

"Is that what this is about, Elsa?"

The informal address, coupled with his predatory look, made her skin crawl and the air grew colder. "What are you talking about?"

He suppressed a half-smile. "I understand, it's a… difficult question to ask," he replied, "especially to someone like me."

She frowned. "Stop being cryptic. It's not in the least bit interesting."

He continued to eye her with discomfiting attention. "Then be honest. Ask me what's really been on your mind, all this time."

Ice traced the outlines of his cuffs and stung at his already raw and red wrists, making him wince. She scowled. "I don't know what you're talking about, Hans," she repeated through gritted teeth, "so if you'd like to keep your hands, you'd better come right out and say what you mean."

She watched as he struggled to answer, frostbite creeping into his skin, his breath coming out in shorter bursts.

Don't be the monster they fear you are.

Her eyes widened as she stepped back, and she clutched her hands to her chest, the ice retreating from his binds with them. He gasped and shuddered as it did, rubbing his hands together for warmth, glancing at her all the while.

She turned away, unable to face him. "I—I didn't mean to do that," she stuttered. "I don't know what came over me."

"I do."

The room came back into focus.

"You do," she repeated in disbelief.

"Yes," he replied, "because I understand the instinct to lash out when you're feeling trapped. I'm the same way."

"Don't compare yourself to me," she snapped, her temper alighting anew. "Don't pretend you understand, or know, anything about me. You're just trying to get a rise out of me, to catch me off-guard so that you can harm me in some way, like you did to Anna." She took two steps closer to him, her hands clenching into fists. "But I'm not her."

"No, you're not," he agreed, staring down at her with unabashed fascination. "In many ways, you're hardly alike at all. And isn't that why you brought me in today?" There was an unsettling sort of understanding in his look. "To prove that you're different; to prove that I chose wrong."

Her skin boiled under his gaze. "That isn't true," she seethed, feeling an odd heat spread throughout her body until she was nearly shaking from it. "I don't have anything to prove to you."

"Of course not," he nodded, "but…" He paused to raise an eyebrow. "It seems to me there's still a part of you that wants to know."

Her lips were dry again.

"Know what?"

He took one step forward, leaving only a foot of space between them.

"Why I chose the Princess, and not the Queen."

She couldn't hide the color of her face from him—not when he was that close.

"Anna already told me why," she said, frowning. "I was 'preferable,' but 'nobody was getting anywhere' with me—those were your exact words, I believe."

"She – and you – have a good memory," he returned, making her frown deepen. "Yes, I did say that. But that explanation wasn't good enough for you, was it, Elsa?" He craned his head forward a little, his expression dark and knowing. "You thought – no, you knew – that there must be another reason. A better reason."

Her skin was crawling again, but in a way that felt unfamiliar.

She almost choked on her words. "And what, exactly, would that be?"

He smiled. "Do you want the real answer, or the answer that you want to hear?"

"There's no difference," she rejoined, her voice cracking. "I only ever want the truth."

"Oh, Elsa," he countered with a sigh, his head falling back, "I really must beg to differ." When he peered down at her again, there was something akin to pity in his eyes. "What you want, I think, is for me to admit that I was wrong: that I should've gone after you, tried to woo you and become King of Arendelle through you, and not Anna." He paused to take in her enraged, fearsome blue irises. "You want me to tell you that I was a fool."

Her teeth ground so hard together that her jaw hurt, and she found her mouth too dry to form a response. He studied her appearance closely, and continued: "Well, Elsa, if that's what you want, then yes: I admit that I was impatient, and was looking for the easiest way in—which, unfortunately for your sister, happened to be her." At her warning look, he added: "Which was, of course, terrible of me to do. Especially when her older sister happened to be a much better match."

The crawling sensation reached her stomach, and she nearly gasped at the sensation.

"You disgust me," she spat.

"I know," he said. "And that's perfectly reasonable, given what I've done to you and yours. In fact, I'm being shipped back to certain punishment at home for it." His eyes tightened. "But that doesn't mean you haven't thought about it. That you're not thinking about it, still."

He smiled at the appalled shock that spread across her features at the comment. "And that's the real answer, Elsa: that I've thought about it, too. More than you can imagine."

The heat in her stomach was unbearable, but she couldn't break eye contact with him. "I'm sure you have," she said, though with less repulsed conviction than she'd wanted to convey. "You've had an extra week to think things over, after all."

"I've thought about it for longer than that," he replied, causing her cheeks to flush anew. "I was just distracted, before, by my poorly-plotted ambitions." At her eye-roll, he continued: "On that mountain, when I saw what your powers could do… it moved me, Elsa. Like nothing else had in a long, long time. And if I'd been smarter then, if I'd been thinking properly, I—"

He paused for effect, and she couldn't help but take the bait.

"You'd have done what, Hans? Tried to 'get somewhere' with me, while I was weak and vulnerable and out of my right mind? Use my powers to your own ends?" She scoffed. "Yes, I suppose that would've been like you to do. But you didn't. And even if you had," she went on, "do you really think that I would have fallen at your feet, just like that? Especially after that… inane display you put on with Anna at the ball." She glared at him. "I knew you were just a stupid pretty boy chasing the crown, and I wasn't proven wrong."

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "So that did bother you," he remarked. "I thought you might've been a little jealous at the time, but I wasn't sure 'til now." He chuckled a little. "I can't say anything for certain about what might've happened, had I acted differently," he admitted, "but… neither can you."

She wanted to deny the claim outright, but her mouth was drier than ever.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

"That's not true," she said finally, her lip trembling as she met his stare again. "I know I wouldn't have. I know it."

"You don't sound too convinced, Elsa."

Her eyes crackled. "What does it matter? You made your choices already, what's done is done—and now we're here."

"Indeed we are," he concurred, peering at her. "But is this where you want to be?"

"I am where I belong," she snapped, "and soon you will be, too."

"Yes, I suppose that's so," he said, his lip curling at the reminder. "But that won't stop me from thinking about it. And I don't think it'll stop you, either."

Her head tilted up until she was sure that he could see her contempt. "I told you, Hans: don't pretend like you know me, or my thoughts. You don't know a damn thing."

He didn't miss a beat. "You're right: I don't know you," he echoed her, "and I can't know what's in your mind." His olive eyes gleamed under the afternoon sun that streamed in through the windows. "But I see you, Elsa."

Her blood pulsed under her skin, and tears pricked at her eyes. "I don't believe that," she murmured, shaking her head. Her gaze traveled up, and stopped.

He glanced at the crown atop her head. "Is it so hard to believe that someone could see you as you really are?" He followed her eyes to where they rested on the portrait of the old king, and sighed. "Oh, Elsa. You know he probably never did."

Her jaw was tight as she blinked back her tears. "I know," she replied, turning to him. "I can't rely on his pity anymore, and I certainly don't want yours."

He looked surprised by her hardened expression, and she continued: "I know the stories you told Anna about your brothers, and of how cruel they were to you. If they're true, I can only imagine how lonely you must have been growing up." Her stare was probing. "And that's why you think you understand me: because you think we're not so different."

He frowned at the remark. "Elsa, I…"

She drew closer to him again, and glared at his downturned lips. "Perhaps we aren't, Hans. And that's the real reason, isn't it? Why you could never really want me." The sun retreated behind the clouds, casting her in shadow. "Not if you pity me, as you must pity yourself."

He flinched under her interrogation, opening his mouth to speak—and then closed it again, chuckling dryly. "I guess you've got me all figured out, Elsa," he muttered. "So there's nothing left to say."

She paused to study his face, noticing every bit of dirt caked into his skin and hair, and stepped back. "No," she agreed, "I suppose not."

She held his gaze for a few moments longer, and then walked to the window, observing him in the reflection behind her.

"You should go," she said, her head turning halfway over her shoulder. "The ship will be leaving soon."

She heard his cuffs clink as he stepped back. "Then I'll be going. Goodbye, Queen Elsa."

Her breath caught in her throat, and by the time she was ready to speak – to say anything at all – he had already left the room, the doors closed after him.

Alone, she found her gaze drawn to her father's portrait once more. He continued to stare into the distance, never looking back at her—never seeing her, just as Hans had said.

She turned away from the painting at the thought, looking back towards the window, and regarded her reflection. It seemed different from before – as if her features had been imbued with a new and strange light – and she wondered if it was real, or just a trick of the sun as it escaped the clouds, illuminating the earth in a warm glow.

Is it so hard to believe that someone could see you as you really are?

Her heart thudded dully at the recollection as she stared, watching as her eyes sparkled like sapphires, a rare smile forming on her reflection's lips.

"I see you," she whispered to it, tracing those lips on the glass with her fingers.

Her tears fell even as her smile grew.

"Maybe for the first time."