Author's Note: I like Hans (even though he is a whole can of crazy). I like Elsa. I sat down to write out some feels and this happened. I regret nothing. I swear I'm more eloquent in my writing and in real life.

Flung inside unceremoniously, Hans pulled himself upright in his cramped cell and pulled the bucket off his head. He glared at the people outside, infuriated by their raucous laughter.

They could laugh all they wanted; they would not get the satisfaction of seeing him afraid. He stared back as defiantly as he could, daring them to find his condition any more amusing.

When they drifted in all directions to go back to their work, the prince relaxed on the wooden bench. His jaw still throbbed from Anna's punch. Gingerly exploring the sore area with his fingertips, he winced slightly whenever he touched a delicate spot. It would bruise, he was certain. It was lucky she hadn't given him a bloody lip while she was at it.

Hans slowly straightened up. Back straight, head held high, he patiently waited for the ship to set sail.

Outwardly calm, the disgraced prince's mind was a whirl of activity, feverishly running through his situation and the woefully few outcomes in store.

And hence, the prince was extremely surprised for the cell door to be unlocked and a man beckon for him to come out, a sword in his hand. He was easily a head taller and almost as wide.

"You. Come with me."

Hans obeyed. He didn't really have other options.

As he walked out, his eyes flicked left and right, assessing this development and trying to make sense of what was going on. The crew members of the ship watched him go with angry expressions; Hans guessed that he was being taken away without their approval.

The visiting dignitary who had volunteered to ship him home – Hans had forgotten his name – was standing at the bottom of the gangplank, his face fairly alight with malicious glee.

He wondered if he was going from the frying pan into the fire.

A prickle of fear sprang up when he was ushered towards the castle; Hans was forced through the back door.

"Don't try anything funny," rasped the man behind him.

"Oh, please," answered Hans. "If I so much as sneezed, you'd stab me with that pointy sword of yours. Speaking of which, are you even sure which end's the pointy end?"

The man growled but said nothing else.

The disgraced prince's smile turned into a smirk. "Besides, I want to see what your mistress has in store for me."

Surprise flashed in his captor's eyes and Hans' smirk widened.

He knew the darker ways of royalty well; the kind they kept hidden from their adoring subjects. The dirty work that went on unnoticed under their very noses.

Pah. They were all sheep anyway. That what monarchs were for; to shepherd the flock so they wouldn't have to think for themselves.

And part of shepherding was protecting the sheep from the wolves.

Hans hadn't been expecting little Anna to have the guts for this – or it was more likely that Elsa was taking care of loose ends. He snuck a glance at the burly man behind him. Probably an executioner. After sentence had been passed (settling grudges with him once and for all), he'd bury the sword in his belly (pointy end first) and his corpse would end up floating in the fjord.

A tragic end for the young visiting prince, who had so nobly stepped up to guide Arendelle through the Eternal Winter. He had probably been killed by some villain. Oh, the queen would express her concerns, offer her condolences to the Southern Isles, and order the persons responsible be brought to justice.

Hans wrinkled his nose at the unpleasantness of the sequence of events.

The burly man seized Hans' upper arm and dragged him through the hallways. The prince noted that the entire time he had been freed from his cell, the man had not bothered to restrain him in any way.

They arrived at a very familiar pair of carved doors. "In here," growled his captor, pushing Hans through the doors and slamming them shut behind him.

A familiar figure awaited him at the dais. Without a trace of fear, he approached.

Hans dropped into a mock bow. "Queen Elsa."

She approached him regally, her beautiful face twisted in hatred.

"You scum," said Elsa slowly, "Anna may have been kind enough to let you get off scot-free, but you'll find that I am not as forgiving."

He raised an eyebrow. "Scot-free? My lady, the princess broke off our engagement with a punch to my jaw. Although I must say, she has a good arm."

"Silence!" she snapped, trying and failing to keep her composure. "Your engagement was merely a ploy to take my throne – Anna told me everything."

"Then she must have told you that I haven't actually harmed her, am I correct?" His eyes met her gaze and held it. "I have done nothing to hurt Anna. I watched over Arendelle while you ran off into the mountains and she went to find you. I saved you from the men who tried to kill you."

It was a suicidal tack he was pursuing, and Hans felt a twinge of terror as frost crept up the sides of the walls. Much to his surprise, she didn't take the bait.

"You twist my words. You took my sister into false confidence and left her to die, or so you believed. You planned to take Arendelle's throne through either her or me. You told me I killed her – " her voice shook momentarily – "and you tried to kill me."

The prince saw no need to reply.

Elsa's stare turned deadly cold. "Your brothers don't care whether you live or die, am I right? If we were simply to ship you back home, they probably wouldn't even bother with punishing you." She leaned in; Hans felt the searing cold begin to bite into his limbs. "Arendelle could demand to have you jailed; I wonder if they'd remember to feed you?"

"So what do you intend to do with me, Your Majesty?" he shot back.

"You will pay for your crimes." The temperature dropped noticeably in the throne room. "You will live out the rest of your miserable life in prison here. In the very same cell you locked me in."

The prince scowled. "How merciful, Your Highness," he spat. "At least you won't forget I'm there, won't you?"

"In place of sending you back to the Southern Isles, I have requested Lord Elgin deliver a letter instead, explaining what you have done here and your punishment." She turned on her heel and walked back towards the dais. "What, do you think, are the chances they will even write back, let alone demand I release you?"

Hans' mouth went dry.

"This conversation is over." From the top of the steps, she glanced backwards. "Sieg!"

The burly man from earlier appeared.

"Take him away."

"Yes, my queen."

Too shaken to resist, the prince allowed himself to be led away.

The great doors swung shut and Elsa let out a deep sigh of relief.

It had been her first sentencing as a monarch. At least I didn't freeze him.

She waved her hand and thawed the ice that frosted the sides of the room, making a silent note to keep better control of her emotions the next time.

Then again, it had been the man who had broke her little sister's heart.

"Prison is too good for him," she said aloud, and instantly regretted it.

Could she really bring herself to sentence someone to death? Arendelle had always been a small but peaceful kingdom for years; criminals were far and few in between. Elsa was always aware that being queen had its good and bad sides – as well as the ugly.

She had spent those lonely years in her room studying and reading, devouring the castle library's books. Her life had been one of intense preparation to ready her for the burden of queenship – and of controlling her powers.

There was always the risk, of course, of keeping separate her identities as Queen of Arendelle and the Snow Queen.

But she knew her duty to her people and her kingdom.

Elsa had very nearly failed. On that snowy mountain, in the ruins of her beautiful ice palace, she had been the icy and terrible Snow Queen who had nearly killed two men.

She shivered. She had been so close to losing herself and throwing away everything she had fought to protect her whole life.

He had saved her. The young queen scowled.

As much as it galled her to think of it – this man who had trampled on her sister's heart on his way up to her kingdom – Hans had stopped her from losing herself completely.

And afterwards she had woken up in the castle dungeon; confused, afraid, her hands shackled. They had brought her back, even bothered to drape a blanket over her.

Elsa's jaw firmed. He was a snake, a monster. He only acted in his best interests.

Surely he had his reasons for bringing her back? Hidden motives, no doubt.

Belatedly, she realized she had been so focused on keeping her anger in check, she had forgotten to ask him why.

"Make yourself comfortable," growled Sieg with just a touch of vicious delight, pushing Hans into the cell and slamming the door shut.

"Why can't people just let me walk in for once?" muttered Hans as he picked himself off the ground.

Hands on his hips, he surveyed his new lodgings. The high-ceilinged construction made the place drafty; a wooden bench with pillow and blanket completed the room. The barred window showed him a magnificent view of the fjord, now thawed, ships bobbing gently in the swell.

He grunted and stared down at the familiar bed.

Hans waited for the ice to settle before letting his hands drop. "Queen Elsa!"

Silence answered him. When the mist cleared, he saw her lying still, surrounded by ice fragments; one of the guards at his side took a step forward.

"No! Don't touch her!"

Gingerly, he crept forward, careful not to slip. Dropping to his knees beside her, he pulled off a glove and fumbled at her wrist for a pulse.

The thin thread beat steadily under his fingertips. The prince let out a sigh of relief.

"She's alright. Just knocked out."

He pointed at the balcony. "Help him." The free soldier nodded curtly and rushed to hack away at the ice that still threatened to push him off the cliff. Behind him, his companion rubbed his neck after being freed from Elsa's ice prison.

Hans gently touched Elsa's arm. "Your Majesty?"

Her head lolled, eyes closed. Elsa moaned softly but didn't wake.

He slowly gathered her into his arms and stood up, cradling her head protectively against his chest. "We will take the Queen back home to Arendelle," he announced, beginning the walk out of the fractured ice palace. "Princess Anna is not here, but we will take care of her Majesty first."

"Yes, your highness."

The long ride back down the North Mountain was quiet. Hans rode ahead, Elsa in his lap, ignoring the mutters from the men behind.

The winter storm seemed to have subsided a bit, now that she was unconscious. The prince looked down at the woman in his lap. She looked much younger than her twenty-one years; so much more – vulnerable.

He tightened his grip around her shoulders and urged his horse out of a snowdrift.

Back at the castle, there were more angry mutterings when he tried to bring her back to her room.

"She tried to kill me!" insisted the Duke of Weselton, pulling himself up to his fullest height. "She's a monster!"

Hans fought back the pricklings of a headache to come. "My lord Duke," he said as patiently as he could manage, "Queen Elsa is the crowned Queen of Arendelle, you cannot possibly confine her in her own dungeon like a common criminal. She was scared and confused, and she certainly didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Glancing down at Elsa, he added swiftly, "and she is no more a monster than you or I."

In the end, just to placate the whining Duke (who was beginning to attract unwelcome attention), he reluctantly agreed to have her confined in the castle dungeon. Hans was glad to note that the soldiers accompanied him unwillingly.

Hans had only been a little disturbed when the castle servants quietly suggested a specific cell in which to put their queen. Set apart from the others, it was solidly framed with thick wooden beams.

A pair of shackles he had never seen elsewhere before lay in the centre of the room.

It had taken him a minute to put two and two together – and he felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman in his arms.

Her powers were potentially a danger to the people around her; the people she loved. He had seen it for himself that disastrous night. Obviously, she had been shut away until she could control them – or otherwise.

He laid her down gently on the wooden pallet; touching the rough blanket, he wondered if it was even necessary for him to cover her – did ice queens feel the cold?

She stirred in her sleep, brows knitting; instinct took over and he spread the woven wool over her.

As he rose to leave, his eye caught the shackles and his lip curled in disgust.

But Hans hesitated. Surely it was better for everyone if she was restrained. The young prince stooped to pick up the shackles. The tiny keyhole on the side suggested that the key for it was the equally tiny silver key on the bunch the guards had given him.

He unlocked the shackle, noting how smooth the key turned, and weighed it in his hand.

The prince was no expert in metalwork but he could appreciate the care taken in the chains. It was obviously a last, desperate resort by worried parents trying to protect their daughter from herself – and the people around her. As a disturbing touch, the silver key had a diamond snowflake inset. What kind of parent could think of these things – and know they might have to stoop to this one day?

The kind that actually care about their children, said a nasty voice in his head. A muscle worked in his jaw as he briefly recalled his own childhood.

Hans gently pulled back the blanket and took Elsa's hands in his. Quickly, before he could regret his decision, he fixed the shackles on and locked them.

He didn't fail to notice how perfectly the cuffs fitted her slim wrists.

This was stupid, reflected Hans as he left the cell. This entire venture was stupid. The Duke's men's involvement was fully expected (he had recognized the Duke as a kindred plotting soul), and they had served their intended purpose well; there was all the opportunity he needed to finish Elsa and avoid doing the dirty work himself. After she was gone, taking care of Anna would be a trifle.

But he hadn't. He had saved her.

"Stupid!" muttered Hans furiously, beating his fists against the stone. "You were so close!"

So close to the throne. The fight left him all at once; the disgraced prince slid bonelessly to the floor. Years of surviving, plotting, deceiving – all thrown away because he had felt pity.

And Hans knew pity was not something he could afford.