The icy wind had carpeted the streets of Arendelle with a silence that did not belong to the kingdom. The flags hung still, frozen at half-mast, while the flakes continued to fall, without pause, without clear origin.

From the balcony of the great hall, Hans looked out over the city. His gloved hands rested on the stone railing, and his breath melted into the cold air with each controlled exhalation. The square, normally full of life, was now an almost motionless sea of white. A few citizens trudged about, clustering near the communal fire pits the guards had improvised.

“We will resist,” he murmured, his expression serene. “We will not let winter defeat us.”

Behind him, the royal officials waited in silence. No one questioned his quick decisions: firewood distributed, warehouses opened, constant patrols in every district. It was, in everyone's eyes, what a good leader would do.

Hans stepped inside, closing the balcony doors behind him. The fire in the fireplace offered barely a whisper of warmth, more symbolic than real. He approached the map spread out on the table, which offered no answers, only uncertainty. Anna had gone off to find Elsa.

“Every minute that passes, Arendelle needs someone to act, not wait” he thought, sliding his fingers along the edge of the map. "No one has any idea what's really going on. Elsa is an obstacle, her ice power will make everyone's fears leave her behind. And when Anna returns, they will see me as the savior. No one will be able to say I didn't give them what they wanted."

The fire crackled softly as Hans stared at the map, the smile on his lips as perfect as ever, but in his mind, the strategy was already laid out, and there was no turning back.

Footsteps approached down the corridor. Hans looked up serenely at the Arendell officials and turned to the door with a calm smile, as polished as it was convincing.

“Come in,” he said in a firm, gentle voice. “Is there any news?”