Say You're Sorry || Elsa & Hans
Honestly, Hans hadn’t imagined he would ever return and the concept never bothered him. Why should he want to go back? The bitter taste of failure still lingered on his tongue on occasion when he remembered the destruction of his perfect plan. He had no desire to relive it, nor to waste his time with the inevitable disdain of Arendelle’s royals.
"No, Hans, arguments will not be tolerated! Your silver tongue will not save you from your fate this time." His eldest brother’s voice echoed distantly through his mind, turning his lips down in a dark frown as he approached Arendelle’s castle gates upon his mount Sitron’s back.
Diplomat was a job Hans could fill quite nicely for any other kingdom on the planet but Arendelle. No matter how much charm he slathered on, his brothers had sent him to the only two women on earth he knew would be immune to it. And nothing frustrated him more.
The sooner he could concoct a plan to remove him of these duties, he thought, the better.
For now, he had a part to play and he intended to play it well... or to play it well enough so that Queen Elsa of Arendelle could not dispatch him as she doubtlessly wished she could. Women were emotional creatures and the two royals who inhabited here were, as far as he could tell, even more emotionally unstable than most. It could work either to his benefit... or not, depending on how he was received.
He did hope that he gambled correctly when he assumed a new queen could not afford to send his head home as a gift to his oldest brother.
Within the castle gates, he dismounted Sitron, handing the reins to the nearest waiting stableboy with instructions that his horse was to be treated with the utmost care. The boy nodded and Hans caught something nervous behind his eyes as he led the horse off toward the stables. With little more than a thought for it, he glanced back up at the castle itself, pressing his lips together pensively. It had been over a year since he last saw Arendelle, during the summer before last. Fall was upon them now, inviting a chill into the air that signaled the coming of winter.
Despite the time that had passed, however, he recalled where the throne room lay. He gestured to the Isle men who flanked him on either side as he began to walk, hands tucked behind his back in a poised, regal manner as he made his way toward the entrance. One long, arching hall later, he arrived outside the door. The doorman who stood there did not bother to hide the scowl of distaste on his features before he slipped inside, brusquely announcing the prince's arrival to the queen.
A strange confidence had already begun to well inside of him. Perhaps he did not share her magical powers, but he had powers of his own that she could not even begin to understand. He considered himself to have an exceptional mind, and paired with his crafty disposition, it made for a lethal pair.
But he would make the Queen of Arendelle believe his tricks were over with if he had to.
"Your Highness," he announced, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. When he reached the base of the steps that led up to the throne, he bent to one knee, giving an impressive and sweeping bow before rising again. "As you know, I come from the Southern Isles bearing the goodwill of my brother. He sends his best wishes to you and your sister." His smile widened a little. "Arendelle is certainly quaint this time of year."
