A/N: This is no ordinary fire Hans story.

Disclaimer: I don't own frozen, nor make any profit from this story. I am just a fan.

Chapter one

Fear will be your enemy

.

Elsa was on fire. Who knew someone so cold could burn? So instead of turning to ash; crumbling under her own weakness, she kept her jaw clenched and her focus on the man. The man behind the angry ice, her angry ice, edging closer and closer by the second to the edge of life.

It almost hurt, using that much power. That much of herself. It was as if the force was pushing against her rather than him. That was nothing new, though.

What scared her the most wasn't this. It was how amidst the racing blood in her veins and the trip of her heart, there was a thrill. Its fingers curled around her bones like smoke, gentle but suffocating. A lull that was a knife dressed as a daisy, and Elsa plucked it. She felt a surge of pure hatred, hatred for the men who had come so eager to kill her, hatred as cold and as hard ice.

She was bursting. There would be no mercy.

Nothing was more powerful than the grip of fear, and Elsa knew it as if it was a best friend. A very one sided friendship indeed. Today, they where working hand in hand with rage. The ragged shards surrounding her mirrored it to utter perfection. But that perfect girl is gone, yet some things are weaved so deeply within you, it cannot be helped.

Or controlled.

She was so intent on her purpose, so taken in her fear, in her anger, that she mistook the pounding of feet for her own heart (if ice could beat), and the sound of her name on a strangers tongue was lost to her completely. She furrowed her brows as rage continued to consume her steadily.

"Don't be the monster they fear you are!"

That was in sublime clarity. Oh, it cut right through her–

I don't want to hurt you..

Stay, away.

Monster! Monster!

–and struck the cord. Elsa remembered exactly where she was, although she'd never been aware that she'd forgotten. The smoke retreated, as if that too was afraid. Fear laughed, ringing, gripping, and her hands fell like melting snow as wide eyes met green ones. The horror of who she was stared back at her in an army, an army needed to face her. She couldn't breathe for the air choked her for it, leaving her breathless and gasping as what she'd just done tore through her mind.

And was that...

Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.

Your Majesty.

You can't marry a man you just met.

All you know is how to shut people out.

Close the Gates.

Her past followed her up the north mountain, one by one. Anna had come, and Elsa was unarmed, for all mantra had gone. She had refused too conceal, now she was incapable of it. At the time it had seemed achingly, gloriously right to hurl it into the wind. Then, by each word her sister had spoken, she realised that despite standing in her own power, she was weaker than ever, and the vicious wave of self-loathing plummeted down.

You can't be free you stupid girl.

Now here was another one, one she barely even knew. That itself frightened her even more. She wanted to move, to run, but everything was felt at once and the weight of it all anchored her down. The prince stared back in alarm, him too, unmoving. It could've been silent, if it wasn't for the sound of their ragged breaths and the winds ghostly howl.

He was doing the job she was supposed to have done. He was saving her kingdom... from her.

If she could trust her own judgement, let alone read anyone at all, she would've noted the compassion in his eyes. Still, she was surprised and somewhat calmed to find some comfort there, before his head snapped away like her stare had hurt him (as she expects it does), and Hans leapt across the room in fury.

There was a squeak as he halted, a click, then the air swooshed over her head. The Queen turned to watch an arrow pierce the wall with a sharp crunch. To her horror, she heard the unmistakable sound of bones breaking behind her, and a guttural snarl echoed horribly in symphony. She threw ice shards to the ground with a start, causing the unsheathing of numerous swords to join the cacophony of a serenade to her fear.

Elsa balled her fists as they begun to shake, Ice crawling up the walls in ominous shadows. Her chest clenched as she considered Hans, and it dawned on her she had just been rescued from herself. Elsa felt a wave of relief before nausea hit her. Had that very person just died for her sake?

Turning with a gulped breath, her darting gaze fell on his advancing face, and as relief filled her for the second time, Elsa found herself being tugged roughly away, the only explanation being a gruff, urgent command "Come with me."

Then afterwards, like a stuttered correction "Your Majesty." said with such admiring respect it made her shiver.

She almost laughed, and would've if she wasn't in sheer fright and running for her life, her hand clasped by a stranger who was currently skidding through her palace with tremendous speed.

Elsa couldn't help a brief, quivering smile, though. Being so conscious of formalities at a time like this seemed utterly ridiculous yet strangely endearing.

At the same time, she thought it rather strange someone would cling to it so tightly.

When they broke into the biting air, the sky had darkened to a murky black. It was then she noticed Hans.

His right shoulder was stained with blood, almost as dark as the oncoming night against his grey cloak. All colour had been drained from his cheeks. He looked grave, his expression deeply disturbed.

Elsa was about to ask if he was alright, and more pressingly, what the hell had just happened, when he composed himself almost instantaneously, becoming the poised prince she'd initially seen. At this, she raised a brow in quiet surprise, suddenly wary of his behaviour.

With a brief glance at her, he took her hand once more and led her down her own staircase, falling a few steps behind as if too keep guard. Elsa thought his protection was blatantly over-played, but considered it was simply because she was the newly crowed queen of Arendelle who had ice powers. Which only made it more baffling, if she's going to be honest. But then, everyone baffled her.

Whatever spell had been cast earlier broke the moment he put his hands on her waist. Before she could protest, she was hauled onto a horse. Just as her mouth began to open, a scold ready on her lips, Hans clambered on behind her, gripped her waist with one arm and pulled her onto his lap. Elsa was at the point of outrage, clawing him off with a growl.

"Did I say you could touch me?" She snapped, moving as far away from him as possible, practically grimacing. She regretted her rudeness immediately, but stubbornly bore a glower deadly cold. Elsa hated being touched. Her fraught nerves and fresh fear made her flat out loathe him for it. How dare he handle her so boldly? The thought itself made her seethe, and she was just about to poke the fire when he stooped down to stare right back at her.

Hans glared with such unexpected intensity, she faltered slightly, merely from the shock of it. The same eyes that had comforted her now burned with hate, and it sent a chill straight through her. She felt incredibly small, and despite being the one who wielded winter itself, she felt utterly powerless. But valiantly refusing to stand down, Elsa stared back just as hard, and for a moment she had a bizarre feeling he would kiss her.

When the look dropped effortlessly swift, as if he realised something, as if he simply a misplaced step, she questioned if she'd ever really seen it at all. Nonetheless she eyed him cautiously, puzzled immensely. Leaning back, she pursed her lips, waiting for the cold (or was it heat?) to emerge.

Instead, he bowed his head with the utmost, sincerest regard she'd ever seen in her life. It had her blinking back in speechless astonishment.

"Apologies, Queen Elsa, but my saddle was only built for one. Unless you wish to walk, I'm afraid you'll have to endure me, my lady." And with a radiant smile, a graceful snap of reins, they where galloping down the mountain at an alarming rate. Her hands flew to grasp the front of his cloak clumsily as she jolted backwards, wondering if the terror would ever end for her, and she focused desperately on stuffing down the bubbling panic inside.

A tiny voice in the back urged protest, but the honey drip of his voice and cheerful wit left Elsa quite conflicted and at loss. She didn't even get to inform him that walking suited her just fine, as she had walked the whole way up there previously, and she wondered how he could've forgotten such a thing.

She was never sure how to figure out people at all. Interacting was equally as daunting, so she closed her mouth and furrowed her brow while she pondered.

Her heart continued to pound wildly with each trod, and she jostled about like a rag doll. Hans kept trying to pull her closer despite her reluctance. Elsa, evidently, would much prefer to fall off, but the Prince of The Southern Isles had a firm hand.

To make matters worse, being out in the open, galloping through it, Elsa could see her magic in all it's glory. A terrible guilt flooded her for what she had done, Arendelle and Anna pressing upon her from within and breaking her apart as she tragically tried to hold the pieces together. Suddenly racked with staggering grief, she unwittingly clutched closer to Hans, searching for some consolation, prey to the darkness of her own mind.

"I'm- I'm sorry." She stammered, tears filling her eyes. No no no, don't cry, don't you dare cry! Hans looked down at her, concerned, if not a little confused. She hadn't meant to say that aloud. Now that she had, overwhelmed, steady sobs escaped her. Elsa tried hopelessly to compose herself but in a budding state of hysteria, the young queen could do nothing but grasp at the Prince in anguish.

"It's alright, your majesty. You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you." Elsa flushed as he spoke in hushed silk, her heart jarring. Upon realisation, she was instantly irritated by her own reaction.

She didn't trust him, and she certainty was not charmed, yet he held her life in her hands. She didn't know whether to be frightened or flattered by that. But his promise seemed so honest and her pain would take anything, anything to soothe it.

She didn't trust him though. Anna did. Sweet Anna, oh what had she done?

The battle swirled on inside the Queen as her tears stained his chest. In the distance, the thud of horses could be heard. It never occurred to her to ask him where they where actually going, until a hand reached into her hair and a tiny voice trembled.

"Elsa... I can't go back to Arendelle."

The first thing that struck her was the informal use of her name, and after the emphasis he had put on addressing her properly, this was quite irritating. She bolted upright to correct him, mystified by the fact she'd been so close in the first place. Her words died the moment she saw his face. He looked shaken to the point of nausea, his lip quivering as his eyes filled with grief.

He was completely vulnerable. Something within in her empathised fiercely, and Elsa wasn't sure what to do with that. Instead she opted for the obvious route.

"Why?" also, I can't either and I can't believe I didn't argue against this sooner because of course that's where we where going and oh my god I'm on a horse.

Hans looked too her then, openly desperate. "I killed him. I killed the Dukes man."