Complications (Hans and Elsa)

0.19 Goodbyes

Author's note: I am completely sorry for rushing this chapter. It wasn't supposed to be like this, Hans was supposed to die. I don't know why I opted for this, but anyway, this is the last chapter. 0.20 would be an Epilogue or whatever. This is sucky and yeah. But thank you for the support. I'm almost on 12K and I just... I love every single one of you. Thank you for staying with me for eight months! Goddamn, you are all so amazing! I might post the draft for this chapter. I might. Anyway, byeeee!

With regards,

Athena.

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The fear in his eyes was evident as his hands gripped on the edge of the ship like vises. Lightning speared through the grey skies as thunder boasted its audacity, the rain pelting on the cobblestones and wood like steel. He shivered underneath the lack of warmth, the film of sweat already a bother to him as he looked back at the castle doors and wondered if the snow queen had cursed him upon hearing the news of his departure. But of course, that would be impossible. Albeit he had caused her so much, she would never do such a thing. He knew this as if he had spent his life with her. It wasn’t impossible to know such things as she was an open book when it came to the people she loved and cared for. She wasn’t as cold as the rumors had perceived her to be – if there were any, anyway. So he turned on his heel and swallowed his cowardice, the determination set in his figure.

He faced the less picturesque view of the disturbed fjord, the purple waves tumbling over each other, wrestling each other in the midst of the spray. He hoped to God that he’d live through the journey back as he wished to at least see the faces of his brothers before his demise. He wanted to see if there was any human beneath the mechanical mess they’ve turned into. It wasn’t because he wanted to know if they had the heart to spare him. He wanted to know if the stories his parents were fabricating behind closed doors were valid. His childhood wasn’t enough proof for him, because he’s sucked in a thought that everyone changes through time. And albeit that may seem crazy, he’s still up for a risk even if that meant he wasn’t to return to Arendelle. Not that he desires to ever come back, anyway. It would be bliss to forget. All the pain, he’d like to erase them completely.

But was that really the case? Or was it because he wanted her to miss him, to feel like the lost puzzle piece of her broken jigsaw? And with that, he continued to pace around the ship.  It could be both, he mused, but he could only handle one. And right now, one was more than enough to ponder on, and it seems like she had won the debate.

He doesn’t want her to win.

It’s not like he’s being a petulant six year old who just cannot get his way around his mother, but it was just that she had won all the battles, and this time, he’d like to take home some hammered trophy – metaphorically speaking. A profanity has took off from his chapped lips, followed by another, then a hundred, as he slammed his fisted hand on the pile of wood and kicked an empty bucket overboard. Part of him wanted to take that broken down trophy and skid towards Copenhagen, Denmark, whilst the other was pulling on his hair, forcing him to stay for her. Easy it may seem to tie reins around his neck, but he found it difficult as the latter was winning.

It always did.

A servant, who seemed to be at least eighteen or sixteen, trotted towards his lugubrious figure with unmeasured ease. “Sir, the ship leaves in five minutes.” The boy stated as he looked at the pitiful royal with compassion. “Are you all right?”

He straightened. “I’m fine. Can you please inform the captain to grant me at least another five minutes?” in which, it turned into two hours, at most.

---

He waited for her until the sky stopped weeping, waited until the sun began to perch on the twilight, waited until winter gave him a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, and waited until they were blanketed with darkness and the thick white sheet of December. He stood by the foot of the ship, waiting as he did ten hours ago to come out of her ivory castle with her silver and golden veil, and the smile that covered the pallor of her face. The despair in him was too much to turn down, not now when all was too late, not now when she finally broke him. But, travail never included patience, he now knew of this as he pushed past his crew and ran towards the open gates, his face a scarlet red, his heart beating like it had never beat before. The desire to find her was too much, as were the questions that were echoing through that thick skull of his. He wondered why he had ever thought of leaving without saying goodbye, why he was a fool not to realize what was in front of him.

He found her in that stale room she was always in. There were no tears in her eyes, no smear on her face. The only thing that was staining her immaculate beauty was the frigid façade she always carried as she wasted away her time with the only thing she knew. He watched her underneath the glow of the candle sitting just above her. How could such a lovely creature ever waste her time doing a chore that was meant for someone of age? He wondered so as he sauntered silently into the hollowness of her chamber. He stood by her desk and pressed the heels of his hands on the edge, and cleared his throat.

She looked at him through her eyelashes, still underneath the spell of her work. “I believe you missed your ship.” She stated coldly without lifting her gaze.

It infuriated him, but instead, he decided to stay curt. “Yes, it did.” He replied.

She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. “I thought you were in a hurry.”

“I wasn’t.” He gritted his teeth.

She sighed as she placed the parchment on the side and took another letter. “If you weren’t, you would have said your goodbyes.” She smiled wickedly as she reached for her letter opener.

“Goodbyes aren’t really my thing.”

She clamped her teeth on her lower lip as she contained a pestering smirk. “Is that so?” she raised her brow.

He nodded.

“So I believe this has to do with business then, Prince Hans?” She waved her letter opener and managed to stay placid.

He rolled his eyes as he placed his hand on top of hers. “Would you please stop doing that?”

“Doing what exactly?” She countered.

He ran his hand through his hair. “Goddamn it. Do you always have to be so frustrating?” he asked. “Don’t answer that. I expected you to run after me like women do in novels. I expected you to plead, to – to at least freeze the fjord or something to come and get me. I wanted you to ask me to stay.”

She stood and rolled her eyes. “Expectations often lead to disappointments.” She smirked.

“Please stop.” He pressed the tips of his fingers on his eyelids, completely vexed.

“I don’t run after people.” She stated. “And I don’t beg.”

A laugh escaped his throat as he shook his head. “But I do.” He said as the question burned in his throat, begging him to spill.