Discalimer: I do not own Frozen or anything referenced in this fic.
| Flickering Flame, Frozen Throne |
There lies in the churning waters of Europe, a set of Isles, commonly called the Southern Isles. The people of this land are poor, forced into poverty and disease by the ruthlessness of their leader, King Brevik. The king was as tyrannical as he was handsome, and his iron fist impossible to escape. Wherever people attempted to complain about the king or his way of doing things, the Southern Inquisition was there to silence them, whether through bribes, or more commonly, force.
King Brevik is notoriously known for sleeping around, having many concubines and whores service him, and give him children. In fact, his wife, the Queen, only bore him one son, his youngest. This boy's name was Hans, named after the Queen's father. But the king ignored the babe, as his youngest would never inherit the throne. When his mother fell deathly ill, only Hans was there as she died. The king had not even attempted to save the woman, as he felt no love for her, or for anything save his own insatiable greed. On her deathbead, Queen Aria told her son these last words.
"Survive, my son. Survive so that you may be a better king than your father."
It was then she died, Hans crying his eyes out with one thought. Survive.
'I will be a better king than father, mother. Even if I have to get my hands dirty, I will become a king. For you, mother.'
And so would begin Hans' journey as he left the castle. No one would stop him, as no one cared of the youngest son of the King. This is where our story begins.