Prologue: Memories of a Legend
Life was so simple.
The dying sun had cast a heavenly glow on Hans' figure, as he raised a wooden blade to the sky, glancing down briefly at the book in his hands. A laurel crown sat crooked atop his damp, crimson locks.
Anna paused midst destroying their makeshift city, lifting up her mask to watch him atop the grassy knoll.
His lips were stretched over a gleeful grin, gasping with laughter as he flipped through the dusty pages. Green gems shone between crinkled eyelids. The red rug tied to his shoulders fluttered in the breeze.
His voice was hoarse when he screamed:
"The Gods created a boy in their image with hair and cloak the color of flame!"
"And when their youth came of age,"
Something about this made her eyes flutter shut. Something warm. Something… familiar that made her heart flip in her chest.
It made her hyper aware of the sun scorching skin, kissing her freckled arms and cheeks. A pleasant warmth that made her head loll back.
"He took to the skies on the mighty Jinn!"
"And sought to cleanse the land-"
Of a wicked man's sin.
Gods, she hated playing the bad guy.
But Hans looked so beautiful playing the hero, letting Kristoff lift him onto his shoulders—pretending to be the dragon of legend and tossing his head back to let out a fearsome roar—and knotting his hands in golden locks, as they charged down the hill.
Her fingers acted on their own, grabbing her mask from where it had fallen in the grass by its horns, while she withdrew her own sword.
A hero would only ever be as good as their foe.
"With the God's will and a blade made of light, he sealed away the evil within the man, and returned peace for all through-out the land!"
She crumbled with the breeze, clutching Hans' sword to her chest, and letting out a wail when she finally landed on the earth.
Their little brother, Olaf, sprinkled grass over her body, and howled in victory.
When her teal eyes fluttered open, Hans was kneeling over her, surrounded by a sun halo, flicking grass from her cheeks.
"The Gods called the Jinn back to heavens and sealed him in an egg till the next hero came," he whispered, "And as payment for the hero's scars, they emblazoned his cheeks with the ash of the stars."
And he stroked the skin below her eye where her freckles lie, smiling all the while.
Olaf latched onto both of their fingertips then, squeezing tightly. His eyes were shining with tears.
"Hans, can we—um—can we….I just want," and he took a deep breath, counting to three like Kristoff had taught him, "Will we still see you when you become a hero?"
Her brother's russet eyebrows had furrowed, a little unnevered—no doubt.
"Why would I leave you guys behind?" he asked, pulling his finger away to bring Olaf closer, "You all can come live with me in the castle."
"Playing swords and eating chocolates till we turn green." Anna giggled, sitting up, wrapping her arms around his tiny frame.
"What's that?" Olaf asked, sleepily curling against Hans' chest.
She nosed the curls at the base of his neck, humming in response. A tale for another time; she'd nearly forgotten the boy had never tasted the sweet delicacy. For now though, she let herself relax into the warmth of her brothers, nuzzling closer when Kristoff finally conceded and wrapped himself around them with a grunt.
Hans was their beacon of hope—the open door to a brand new life where they didn't have to wonder if they would eat tomorrow.
What they would eat tomorrow.
Who got new clothes and who wore the hand-me downs.
Which one of them slept with a blanket and who slept on the cold floor.
If only the legend was true.
And if not, well, they would create a new one.