A/N: An attempt to re-imagine Frozen from a different perspective. Thank you in advance for reviewing this story.
Disclaimer: Frozen and all of its attributes are owned by Disney and not by me.
Chapter One: Well, when life gives you lemons...
The hot, stale air inside the cargo hold of the tallship gave Hans such nausea that he wondered if he would ever get his sea-legs, as the crew of the ship called it. The thirteenth prince of the Southern Isles thought that after a few days at sea, he would have adjusted. Unfortunately for him, he had been confined to the small, dirty stall that presently he was sharing with a large, grumpy Fjord horse. After his less than pleasant departure from his home, the only passage that would be afforded him was aboard a cargo ship, headed to Arendelle, of all places.
From what Hans had heard, the country's monarch had been isolated for years, but was about to make her coronation. He wasn't given much choice of a destination, but maybe, if he lucked out, nobody would have heard about what happenned in the Southern Isles. If the country was as closed off as its royal family, then maybe he would be able to blend in.
The one lantern swung lazily from side to side overhead as the boat rocked with the tide. The horse, for his part, seemed to be just as dazed by the uneven keel of the boat as Hans was. It too was being sent away, after gaining a reputation for kicking. Hans kept as much distance as he could, and the horse was fine with this. Hans sat in a pile of straw with his bucket, hoping that he would be able to keep his lunch down, a slop of porridge with onions. In his pocket were a few slices of lemon, which had been given to him as protection against scurvy. Hoping it might also help his stomach, he took a slice out and went to eat it, bracing for the sour taste.
The horse nickered and looked at him from the other side of the stall.
"Stay over there...um, whatever your name is," Hans said warily. "Just stay on your side, okay?"
The horse came closer. Hans eyed the horse's famous hooves and scooted against the wall.
"Stay back!" Hans shouted.
Now, the horse was towering over him, looking at him eagerly.
"What do you want?" Hans said, scrambling to his feet. The horse nickered again and sniffed at the slice of lemon in his hand.
"This? You won't like it," Hans warned. "But go ahead, have at it."
The horse eagerly chomped up the lemon, then whinnied.
"You like it?" Hans was surprised, but fed him another slice, to the horse's great pleasure. "They told me you didn't have a name. Well, I guess I'll call you...Sitron. How's that? Seeing as you like them so much."
Noticing that Hans was out of lemon slices, the horse snorted defiantly and went back over to its own corner of the stall.
"Sitron it is, then," Hans said, smirking. "Fitting for a gelding with such a sour disposition, anyway."
Seeming to understand the insult, the newly-named Sitron snorted again defiantly.
"You're welcome, by the way," Hans said as he sat back down in his pile of straw.
##
Three days later, they had made more than half of their journey. Hans' seasickness still kept him confined to the cargo hold, and as the crew were too busy to spend more time in the hold than was necessary, Sitron was Hans' only companion.
"They told me you kicked someone," Hans said in the afternoon, sharing a stale biscuit with Sitron. "Bet they deserved it, huh?"
Sitron snorted in agreement.
"I know what you mean, buddy," Hans said. "I have twelve older brothers, and they all could use a swift kick from someone like you."
The horse, disinterested, had his head in a feed bucket, but Hans needed someone to talk to.
"They ganged up on me. They always made me feel like nothing. Less than nothing. And then...well, I have to show you something."
Sitron watched as Hans took off one of his gloves. Putting a piece of straw in his hand, he closed his eyes and concentrated. In an instant, the straw burst into flame, then crumbled into ash. Sitron, spooked by the sudden flame, whinnied nervously.
"It's okay! Don't worry," Hans said soothingly. "Look, I've always been able to do stuff like that. But my brothers...they hated me for it. Called me a freak. That's why they got rid of me. I don't know how or why I can do this. But a few weeks ago...well, I tried to defend myself, and one of my brothers got hurt. So they sent me away."
The Fjord horse still looked suspicious of Hans.
"I figured you might get it, that's all," Hans said, looking away. He heard the sound of the horse's hooves getting nearer and then Sitron was sniffing at his pockets again.
"Oh, yeah. Almost forgot. They gave me these this morning," Hans said, giving Sitron another lemon wedge.
##
When the cargo ship finally reached the fjords of Arendelle, Hans couldn't wait to be on dry land again. Still, he was worried. What if word had somehow reached Arendelle about what happened in the Southern Isles? What if everyone found out about what he could do with fire? He was nervous, to say the least. That was usually when Hans made decisions that other people found, well, crazy.
"Captain," Hans said as he was disembarking from the ship, "How much for the horse? I have need of one while I'm here."
The ship's captain laughed and said, "You want to buy that thing? Was going for sale as a work horse in the mill, I think. There are stables in town where you can buy a fine horse, one that won't kick you for attempting to ride it.
"I'll pay double what the miller wanted," Hans said, fishing into his pocket for his small bag of silver coins, his one admission for his banishment.
"Suit yourself," the captain said. Sitron was brought up from the hold and when the crew fought him into his tack, he was given to Hans. Sitron eyed Hans suspiciously when he took the reins and tried to lead him down the gangplank.
"There's lots of lemons for sale in the port market, but we can't get there without leaving the ship," Hans said. At the mention of lemons, Sitron eagerly trotted past Hans with such enthusiasm that the prince almost fell into the fjord.
"Good luck with that horse, then!" the captain shouted.
Hans caught up with Sitron and, after negotiation with the last lemon wedge he had, convinced Sitron to let him ride. Astride the horse, Hans almost felt like he might be able to find his own place in Arendelle.