"One week left."
Hans scratched another line into the wall and looked around with a smile. "One week left before I leave this dump!"
After being deported back to the Southern Isles from Arendelle, his brothers had told him that he would be going on a solo trip to La Isla de Los Villanos.
"Is it in the Caribbean?" he'd asked. The exotic-sounding Spanish name excited him.
"Yes," answered King Franz, his oldest brother. "It's a very small island, and very secluded. You won't have to worry about a lot of tourist traffic."
They'd also told Hans that he didn't need to pack anything, that everything he needed would already be on the island. He hadn't suspected anything until about a week later, when he realized that the island that the ship was quickly approaching looked rather rocky, and was shrouded by darkness and fog - nothing like the sunny paradise he'd imagined! But when he'd turned to the captain to ask if they had gone the wrong way, he suddenly found the sailors grabbing his arms before one of them held a ominously sweet-smelling cloth to his face! He'd shouted at them, threatened to have them executed for mutiny and treason, but this did nothing to stop the world from turning black.
It wasn't until he woke up in a small, dreary room with cold stone walls and a single, iron-barred window that the warden told him the truth. That "La Isla de Los Villanos" was Spanish for "The Island of the Villains." That it was a prison island where only the most malicious villains were incarcerated. That his brothers had sentenced him to a year in exile as punishment for his attempts on the lives of the princess and queen of Arendelle.
"They lied to me!" Hans shouted indignantly. "They led me to believe that I was going on a vacation!"
"Like how you led the princess to believe that you loved her?" the warden snarked. Then he laughed. "Karma's a jerk, buddy. Welcome to the real world."
For most of the time, he'd been alone, but about two weeks ago they'd moved a new inmate into the cell with him, a man who looked to be at least three times Hans' age. Since arriving, he hadn't spoken a word to Hans, instead sitting alone on the metal bench along the wall, staring into the corner, as if he were in his own world. Hans hadn't bothered to make any attempts to communicate with his new cellmate; he was too busy silently plotting his own vengeance.
Hans' smile turned sinister. He reached into the right pocket of his pants and pulled out a small glass bottle filled with a reddish-pink liquid. He'd used a tiny amount of gold that he'd happened to bring with him to buy it from the inmate in the cell at the end of the hall, a crazy old woman with grayish skin and purple hair who was constantly muttering "Yes, he'll pay . . . the Emperor shall pay!"
In a week, the ship would come to take him home. Once he arrived back in the Southern Isles, he'd feign remorse for his behavior in Arendelle. It wouldn't be that hard; after all, he'd feigned love for Anna, and she'd believed him like the fool she was.
After two weeks or so of being home, he'd tell his brothers that he felt so awful about how he treated Anna and Elsa that it was eating him up inside, and the only way to make it stop would be to apologize. A letter wouldn't do; he'd have to go back to Arendelle and tell them he was sorry in person.
This would raise suspicion among his brothers, of course, but he would continue to act as though his intentions were pure and innocent. In fact, they could all even come with him, if they'd like, just to keep an eye on him so that he could prove to them that he was telling the truth.
Upon their arrival in Arendelle, Elsa would hold a banquet, of course, as such was the common custom in any kingdom when other monarchs visited. By the time it started, he would have already found a way to slip the poison into the wine, and planted just enough evidence to place the blame on the chef. Then, during dinner, he would only pretend to drink, but the others wouldn't know any better . . . leaving Hans as the sole living heir to the thrones of both Arendelle and the Southern Isles!
"They'll all pay," Hans said with a grave satisfaction. "They'll all pay for the way they've treated me! I'll show them that they can't keep me from the throne!" At this point, he suddenly felt the urge to laugh maniacally, but he repressed it; it would be too cliché, and Hans was anything but a cliché. So instead, he stood in silence, reveling in the genius of his plans.
"You don't want to do that."
Hans turned around. His cellmate was still facing the corner.
"Yes I do," Hans replied.
"No, you don't."
Hans narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why? Why don't I want to do that?"
"You just don't, trust me," his cellmate answered as he turned his head to look at Hans for the first time in the conversation.
Hans couldn't help but laugh. "Why the heck should I trust you about anything? You've said exactly fourteen words to me in two weeks, all of them within the last thirty seconds!"
"Just trust me, alright? I know what I'm talking about."
"Do you?" Hans retorted. "Do you really? What are you even here for, anyway?"
His cellmate turned to face the corner again without answering.
Hans looked back at the lines he'd etched into the wall and sighed. "One week won't come soon enough," he muttered under his breath.
"Revenge is a hollow victory. Even if you get away with it, it won't make you feel any better."
Hans wanted to scream.
"Who died and made you the boss of me?" he snapped.
"I'm just trying to save you . . ."
"Save me from what? From being the king of two kingdoms? From having everything I've ever wanted? I don't need saving, and even if I did, it's not your job to save me, so just leave me alone!"
Hans turned his back to his cell mate. "I wouldn't even be stuck here with you if it weren't for Anna," he huffed. "I'd already be the king of Arendelle if she hadn't gotten between me and Elsa. But no, she couldn't just stay in the palace and let herself freeze . . ."
"You left a girl to die?!"
Hans rolled his eyes and turned back around. "No," he answered, "I deliberately let her come with me so that she could stop me from killing her sister."
"You're a despicable, selfish monster!" His cellmate was standing now.
"You're one to talk!" Hans yelled back. "You're clearly not a saint if you're here!"
"I did what I did for my daughter! You're here because you tried to kill two innocent girls just to get what you wanted! And at least I know now that what I did was wrong! You, on the other hand, are plotting revenge on the same two girls for a situation that's your own fault!"
"So what if I want revenge? You can't stop me!"
"You don't get it, do you? You might think now that you want to kill people, but you WILL feel guilty about it later! And the guilt will gnaw at you and haunt you forever and never go away no matter how hard you try to make it!"
"How do YOU know how I'll feel? Did YOU grow up with twelve older brothers who always treated you like you were invisible?"
"No!"
"Have YOU lived your entire life feeling like you were just a pointless spare in case of the impossibility that there happened to be twelve unfortunate accidents?"
"No!"
"Then you're nothing like me! How do YOU know how I'll feel? How do you know -"
"BECAUSE I TRIED TO AVENGE MY DAUGHTER'S DEATH AND WOUND UP KILLING SOMEONE WHO WASN'T SUPPOSED TO DIE!"
Hans' stopped, his eyes widening. His cellmate still had his fists clenched and was breathing heavily. But after a moment, the look on his face melted from one of anger to one of pain. Then, he suddenly sank back onto the metal bench and burst into tears.
"He was my best student . . ." he sobbed. He ran back into the building to save me from the fire that I started . . . and I just let him die!"
Hans was speechless.
"And his younger brother was just devastated!"
"There were . . . two of them?" Hans asked, his voice all but a squeak. The parallels were eerie.
His cellmate nodded. "There was an explosion right after he ran in," he continued. "At first everyone thought we both died. But when the younger one found out that I'd escaped - that his brother had died for nothing! - he tried to kill me. His friends stopped him, but they shouldn't have. I'm a monster and I deserve to die!" With that, he continued to weep bitterly.
Hans turned away slowly, feeling . . . how did he feel? Shocked? No, it was stronger than that. Disturbed? Closer, but still not quite. He felt almost numb, but at the same time, so pained. He'd never known a feeling quite like this one before. As he pondered this, he heard his cellmate quietly sob, "I'm sorry, Hiro . . . I'm so, so sorry, Tadashi . . ."
They didn't speak to each other again for the rest of the week. On the last day, when the warden came to escort Hans to the ship, he turned to look back at his cellmate one last time. His cellmate glanced up at him. For a brief moment, they exchanged a sort of sad look, but it was cut short when the warden grabbed Hans' arm and pulled him away.
That night, Hans couldn't sleep. For the last week, he'd been plagued by dreams of his time in Arendelle as he slowly put into action his plan to seize the throne. But as he'd relived these memories, he hadn't had the same sense of satisfaction and victory that he felt as he'd experienced them firsthand. No, this time he felt a sense of overwhelming shame as he watched himself treat Anna and Elsa in a way that could only be described as cruel.
What's more, he couldn't help but feel . . . sorry for them. Once, when he watched as he broke Anna's heart and left her to freeze to death, he'd felt his own heart break for her just before he was overcome by the desire to punch his past self in the face. Later in that same dream, when he drove Elsa to tears by lying that she'd killed her own sister, he came to realize just how much agonizing devastation he'd thrust upon her. As he raised his sword to strike the fatal blow, Anna suddenly appeared in front of him and froze solid, and he woke up from shock. That had been several nights ago, and such dreams had refused to leave him alone since.
Hans sighed. He got up out of bed, left his cabin, and walked to the railing at the edge of the deck. Then he looked up at the sky. It was nice being able to see the stars again after so long on that dark, foggy island. He hadn't realized until now how much he'd missed them.
A cold breeze picked up then, rather strong and sudden. Even with gloves on, his hands felt cold, so he stuck them in his pockets. But there was something in his right pocket. He pulled it out to see what it was and found himself holding a small glass bottle filled with a reddish-pink liquid, which glistened in the moonlight.
At this, Hans was disturbed.
"'I'm a monster and I deserve to die!'" his cellmate's voice echoed in his mind. All that life-ruining guilt brought on by one person that he killed on accident . . . so how would Hans end up feeling if he killed fourteen people on purpose - twelve of them in his own family? He shuddered at the thought now, and again at the fact that he'd been relishing in this very thought just a week earlier.
No, he wouldn't end up suffering like his cellmate . . . he couldn't . . .
He looked up again and stared towards the horizon. Then he looked back at the bottle in his hand. Then, he closed his hand around the bottle, held it back behind his head, and threw it as hard and as far out as he could. With a small splash, the bottle vanished beneath the waves.
Hans leaned forward on the railing and took a deep breath. Suddenly, he felt different: almost liberated, but not quite. But now he knew how to feel completely free.
He went back into his cabin, sat at his desk, pulled out a piece of paper and a pen, and began to write a letter. He would send it as soon as the ship arrived back in the Southern Isles.
"Dear Anna . . ."
