FRIEND OR FOE? QUEEN ANNA
She is somewhat surprised by his honesty. And so, it seems, is he. He is miserable. She knows she should revel in that, in the fact that he is being punished for what he did to her, that he recognizes that he deserves every misfortune that comes his way. She SHOULD find some sort of satisfaction in that. SHOULD.
Instead, all she feels is pity.
“No, wait,” she says, her hand reaching out for his, though she quickly recoils. Of all the hands she could hold, his is not one of them. But she does not want him to leave. Doesn’t want him to feel like he has to escape, to hide from her. Their time together may have been short, but she HAD cared for him. And though most of what he’d said had been blatant lies, she’d known of his disdain for his brothers and all they represented. If he’d told the truth, then she truly felt bad for the fact that he was being punished by the men he hated most… and the men who hated him most.
“You’re… you’re speaking with the Queen. You can’t just leave the conversation unless I tell you to.” Was that how things worked? She wasn’t sure, but it’s as good of an excuse as any to get him to stay, to fulfill her morbid curiosity about what had become of him since she punched him off that boat.
Curiosity. That’s all it is. Any girl would be curious about what her ex-fiance’s life looked like in the aftermath of their relationship. It was perfectly normal.
“I KNOW that’s not what you were gonna say. You can tell me what’s on your mind, you know. We were engaged once.”
he still wears a pair of gloves.
this time, it is more comfort than it is to masquerade after all, there is no other ease like the one he finds when he decided that covering himself up nearly fully in order to hide the bruises, to elevate the sense of pretence, can be an armour in and of itself. it allows people to come close, but they won’t touch him. can’t, with the layers he would insist he wears again and again.
i always thought she had a thing for dirt, anna once commented in passing when asked of elsa’s needs to cover her hands - and she’d been naive. she was too trusting. she looks once at hans’ own covered palms and never blinked twice on why he’d never cared to take them off. not that reminiscing would matter - no, he’d only brought it up because the princess-turned-queen he knew had surged, beyond expectation, and tried holding on to him.
and hans - well. he’s never really taken it lightly when he feels the sense of safety he creates for himself is threatened. but he doesn’t raise his hands in defence, nor does he pulls away dramatically. he winces, hard, and feels, for a second, fear. it’s instinct at this point: to always assume he’ll be hurt for one thing or another.
but no hit comes, even when he expects them, and the queen pulls her hand away. hans tells himself that it’s alright now. breathe.
❝ yes. ❞ he agrees mechanically, not knowing how it is that his voice can come out, but it did. ❝ that’s why i asked the queen to excuse this humble presence of mine, your majesty. ❞ the bitterness of her title bitten through his teeth leaks through, though hans quickly reprimand himself for it. he cannot afford to jeopardise the safe-enough status he’s acquired, even if he feels trapped by it. he does not need to be punished further.
❝ with all due respect, my queen. it was a sham engagement. ❞ it didn’t mean anything, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t. it was done to further a selfish purpose, yes, but - apart of him had been ecstatic, wasn’t he? to marry her. to have a life with anna. ❝ there is nothing to gain in being around me. ❞
