~ Misnomer ~
"And which one are you?" A cultured voice asks, sharp hazel eyes appraising him behind an ornate fan.
He steps back and bows low with practiced ease, the image of gentlemanly charm. "Prince Hans my lady, it's a pleasure to meet you."
The fan flutters quickly in her hand as a slight frown marred her porcelain face. This is the only indication of her frustration, but the Prince's eyes catch everything.
"Forgive me," she forces out, "but I meant which brother specifically."
He'd known exactly what she'd meant. "The youngest my lady." He smiles politely, teeth flashing. Even his eyes are disarmingly warm, as if filled with inherent kindness.
Her fan snaps shut. "The 13th," she mutters. The change is instantaneous as her chin tilts up and her lips thin, full of airs and graces. She hums a dismissive noise, eyes already straying to the other party guests assembled in the ballroom.
He wryly wonders what excuse she'll use to leave and is not disappointed when she turns back to him. She says an unconvincing apology, but the Prince knows he's no longer worth the effort of politeness.
"I think my father wishes to speak with me, so I'll bid a good night to you Prince Hans."
"Of course," Hans says, and lets his mouth slip, as if disappointed. This makes her hesitate, and he knows from past experience that if she can't find another potential suitor later on then she might approach him again. A woman like her only spent time with him as a last resort, or to ask where one of his brothers were.
When he's left alone his fingers flex at his side, and he takes a glass of champagne from a servant to stop his hand from clenching into a fist. His green eyes scan the crowd as he takes to the sidelines once more, searching for an easier target. He'd been foolish approaching the Princess of a neighboring kingdom. She was bound to know who he was as soon as he uttered the name 'Westergaard.'
No, it was better to find a potential wife in an exotic land, far away from any mention of his father or brothers. Unfortunately he couldn't exactly refuse the Northern Lord's invite based on a technicality.
"Hans!" Someone calls, rough and sharp. Klaus, he thinks, and pretends not to hear, slipping into the crowd.
He's not quick enough as a hand grabs his shoulder and Hans whips around, mouth falling into an easy smile even as he inwardly sneers.
"Not so fast little brother, you're coming with me." Klaus grins, his large hand tightening until Hans is forced to switch tactics.
"Under what charge?" He says with a touch of aloofness. Klaus was the exception with this, showing his other brothers such a bold face was inviting humiliation.
As predicted, the hand left his shoulder as vague annoyance glittered in Klaus's eyes. "No need for that, its just an informal gathering in the next room. Be thankful you were invited."
"I'm honored," he says wryly, amused and without a note of sincerity. He sees no alternative but to follow, since he doesn't want to cause a scene. Catching sight of the weather outside, his brow rose. Snow spurred by harsh winds lashed at the windows. Despite this, the room felt cosy from the warmth of the fireplace, and none of the guests dancing seemed to even notice the storm.
Hans blinks in surprise when he finds seven of his older brothers waiting in a much smaller room, immediately feeling sweat prickle the back of his neck. He stifles his unease, taking a slight breath, mastering his control once more. He knows instinctively that Klaus has led him here for amusement at his expense.
Henri was discussing trade, and Hans notices that Markus is barely standing, drunk. He looked awful, and something vicious and satisfied shoots through him before he turns attention back to the others. Klaus saunters over to the twins, each of them laughing as they pour wine.
"Travelling around the North Mountain to get here was certainly tedious, but the wine makes it worth the hassle!" Says Rian, one of the identical twins. Both of them were tall, gaunt boys prone to mischievous cruelty.
"Right you are! I'm surprised the Northern Lord decided to host this party though, the snow is much fiercer than usual." Says his mirror Rion.
Klaus raises his glass and Rian obligates by topping it up. "It's the Ice Queen, she's kicked up quite a storm." He grins.
Harold, one of the eldest, glances up, his gaze sharp. "Don't talk such nonsense, that's just a fairy tale."
"It's no lie that Arendelle lies untouched, a ghost town, the merchants and lords who visited on the day of her coronation still missing. Who's to say that Ice Queen Elsa is just a myth?" Klaus shrugs lazily, a sharp smile still hanging on his lips.
"Mm, he has a point Harold, besides its best to keep your beliefs to yourself. I hear folk around these parts take the subject very seriously, they get antsy if you question it." Fredrick drawls, stirred into conversation as he lounged in a chair.
Hans leans against the far wall, remembering stories he'd heard from servants, merchants and sailors alike. All of them said the same, that the once proud kingdom of Arendelle was now covered in ice and snow, entirely unapproachable by sea or on foot. A constant snow storm hung over the land, and its heir Princesses Anna and Queen Elsa, along with the kingdoms populous hadn't been heard from since it had started.
It was thought that they'd all frozen to death.
"You can't take the crazed words of an ice harvester seriously. He was half starved, and who knows how long he was out in that storm for when he escaped the kingdom." Henri dismisses matter-of-factly, putting logic forward as usual.
This was news to Hans, and he perked up. He'd always held an interest in Arendelle. He'd planned to visit the kingdom on Coronation day as well, had studied its trade routes, farming and various other things with a fantasy that one day...
Hans shook that thought away. The fact that the disaster had only happened a few years ago made it feel all the more fresh, more real. But he was still bitter he'd been held back from visiting by his father, even if it had spared his life.
"What did he say about Queen Elsa?" The words leave his lips before he can stop them, and he inwardly flinches when their gazes swing to him. The easy going atmosphere shifted as some eyes narrowed, while others lit up in sadistic joy.
Henri pushed his glasses up his nose. "The mountain man claimed to have seen Queen Elsa fleeing, ice trailing in her wake across the fjord. He said that with just a gesture, snow had burst from her hands."
Rian grins, eyes on Hans. "Magnificent isn't it brother? Of course such a monstrous act has earned her the title; Ice Queen."
Rion dances closer towards the youngest prince, glee lighting up his green eyes that all the Westergaard brothers shared. "Yes, yes! Perhaps the only way for you to earn the title; 'King' is to do something equally terrible Hans, something fit for a monster."
"Oh but he's already a monster," smiles Rian, following in his twins shadow until they both come to a stop before Hans. The young Prince keeps his gaze level, back straight as one of them leans in, voice deceptively soft. "Tell us, how does it feel knowing the very first act you committed coming into this world, was murdering your own mother?"
Hans would have started violently had he not heard these words religiously. The Cursed Son, Unlucky 13, and other such names had been whispered in the castle since his childhood. Even without that, he would have seen the truth of his birth in his Father's cold, empty eyes.
Markus downed the wine in his glass, and scratches his beard. "Heck it must be the only thing he's accomplished in his life. Maybe you have a talent for causing pain, Hans."
If you ever visit my kingdom when I finally rule one Markus, killing you will be one of many accomplishments. Hans thinks, but doesn't outwardly react.
Rian traces the lapel near Han's collar lightly. "I really don't know why you were invited to stay here along with the seven of us, you're an eyesore."
"Untrue brother," said Rion, suddenly flicking of his wrist. Hans's mask splinted and broke free as he openly flinched, feeling the contents of his brothers drink splashing into his chest, red wine soaking into the material. "Now he's truly an eyesore."
The twins and Markus laugh, the sound bouncing off the walls.
Hans's lips pull up into a thin, sharp smile as something that has festered within him for years scorches his stomach. His gloved hands shake minutely as he struggled to filter his emotions, but in his head a loud roar drums in his ears. White, hot rage assaults his bloodstream, and he's unsure what he would have done had a loud smash not sounded from the ballroom.
Harold turns sharply and strides from the room, each of the brothers following.
Hans stumbles and fights, roughly shoved to the side by the raging winds. He manages to stand for just a moment, but he's hauled back, hitting the frozen ground a second later.
If he remembers correctly, this was all Klaus's idea, which meant it was probably a bad, life threatening one. They'd decided to help the guards, who had run off into the blizzard, disappearing from sight in seconds. His brothers and several guests from the party had followed, torches raised and swords ready.
Han's blinked snowflakes from his eyes, disorientated. He'd been left behind, with the sword at his side as his means of defense. Defense against what remained to be seen, but after the window in the hall had shattered, the guards had been adamant it'd been caused by her.
'Imagine it Hans, you might actually get to be useful for once and die a hero!" Rian had laughed.
"Or perhaps he'll really kill Elsa and return home a hero! Wouldn't that be fiendish?" Rion gasped in mock dismay, before grinning and running into the snow storm after Markus.
Hans stands again, and walks on, gritting his teeth against the cold. He'd been walking for what felt like hours and found no one. Something was definitely off, and his survival instincts bid him to turn around.
A grunt escapes him as the wind changes, slamming into him and making him lose his footing. This is getting ridiculous, he frowns, raising his face to the raging winds.
The snow crunches under his hand as Hans lifts himself up, preparing to rise when a chill runs down his spine. He glances down slowly, and bulks, twisting away frantically. Large, ugly streaks of red pooled in the pure white snow below him. There was no sign of a body, but the amount of blood has his usually strong stomach turning. Glancing up, long, deadly spikes made of ice reached out towards him, coated in the same red substance that dripped to the ground.
His fingers curl in the material of his coat, feeling the wine soaked garment underneath freeze against his skin.
Then, Hans hears it. A beautiful, haunting sound that rose and fell with each new breeze of snowflakes. His breath caught, eyes widening as his limbs froze, terror seizing him. He'd heard the rumors, the stories, but it was another thing entirely to hear the song with his own ears. It was unlike anything he'd ever heard before, full of longing and heartbreak, so palpable he could feel it settle into his bones, make his teeth chatter.
Death, she sang of death. His heart beating into overdrive, Hans realizes with no short amount of terror that the song was growing louder, which could only mean she was drawing closer.
His sense of self preservation snaps him alert, and Hans springs forward, his boots crashing down on the snow. Everything was biting into his skin, the cold chill in the air seeming to freeze the joints of his bones as his limbs began to ache. Run, his mind screamed. Run!
'All who hear her song are fated to die from a Frozen Heart.' His old governess had said, before shaking her head and smiling kindly. 'Or so they say.'
But no matter how fast he dragged his legs through the mounting snow, Hans felt no closer to safety. There was no light to guide him, no signs of a town, or even a cabin. The Northern Mansion had been left behind somewhere but he dared not turn around. The song drifted behind him like a specter, a reminder not to stop, but where could he go?
His foot snags on something in the ground, and Hans grunts as he hit the snow once more. Shaking the white flakes that clung to his skin aside, his eyes widen as the raging winds suddenly settled, revealing the landscape for the first time. A sheer drop awaited him not three feet away, the rest of the Northern Lands spreading out before him like a desolate wasteland of ice and snow.
A cool breath of air danced across the back of his neck, and Hans's blood froze in his veins. Turning slowly, his eyes honed in on the dark figure that approached, the surrounding blizzard parting before her.
The last verses of the song trail off as a shot of ice sped through his body, seizing his heart in a powerful grip as the fall of her white hood falls back.
She was beautiful. The Prince realized it was a word commonly used these days and didn't mean much anymore, but she was, in all senses of the word. Her hair was long, and fell in a heavy braid down her shoulder, soft strands of white with flurries of snowflakes holding it in place. The paleness of her skin made her look almost ghostlike.
Her eyes were blue, and despite the steady, cold way she regarded him, Hans knew people, he prided himself on them. So it caused him to hesitate when he caught the flecks of warmth hidden in her gaze. Hans latched onto this, rising smoothly from the ground and trying not to tremble.
"Queen Elsa." He murmurs, glad his voice wasn't shaking despite the rattling of his nerves. He folds into a bow that only requires him to take his eyes off hers for a moment.
Small white hands fold neatly in front of her in a gesture that was entirely regal. Her eyes drift down his form, before snapping back to his face, her own revealing nothing.
Hans straightens, his eyes drinking in her image. Her body was hidden under the furs of her heavy cloak, and her expression was so closed off he couldn't catch anything from her to work off of.
His hand brushes the hilt of his sword at his side, and she immediately tenses. He stills, unsure what to do. Green eyes sway to the spikes behind her, and his throat tightens.
Drawing the sword from its scabbard, he quickly holds up a hand when her eyes harden. "I-it's alright." He smooths out the hesitation in his voice, and forces his body to relax, making himself as nonthreatening as possible. With a quick flick of the wrist, the sword flies from his hand to the ground several feet away. Hans then gives his best smile under the circumstances.
"My name is Prince Hans Westerguaard, of the Southern Isles. Allow me to formally apologize, it seems you were unjustly attacked."
She raises a brow, not budging an inch, but he's rewarded with the soft cadence of her voice. "Give me the reason behind this attack and I will tell you if it was unjustified." Queen Elsa then gives a slightly amused smirk that had his heart doing an odd thing in his chest.
Hans gives a slight bow, feeling oddly foolish that he's still practicing something so formal surrounded by blood and snow. "Northern Lord Elvar claimed to have seen you outside during the gathering in the ballroom. As I understand it, the window shattered from the storm, and the guards immediately raced into action, running out into the blizzard to find you."
He scoffs quietly. "I volunteered to help, along with several of my elder brothers, but had we been thinking clearly we would have realized that we'd leaped to that conclusion without any evidence. There was nothing to indicate that you'd attacked the mansion personally."
Elsa blinks almost languidly. "I did attack the mansion. This is my blizzard you're standing in, everything in it belongs to me. If the glass shattered, its because I willed it to."
Hans feels himself stiffen, his certainty in his safety wavering before splitting apart. Elsa's eyes had darkened, but she remained immovable. He couldn't tell if she delighted in terrifying him or if she was just being honest, her ruby red lips were pressed into a thin, grim line.
A burst of movement caught his attention, and Hans turns wide, disbelieving eyes to see Markus standing there, his image blurred by the raging winds. Markus looks at Hans once, then the Ice Queen, fear ghosting over his features. Elsa says nothing, doesn't move an inch.
The youngest Prince had been certain there was nothing left inside him that could dare hope for affection from his brothers again. But to see Markus turn with no hesitation in his eyes, and run away from the sight of him in danger so utterly guilt free made him pause. It was as if a knife that had always been wrenched in his gut had suddenly been twisted, and yanked out. Yet Hans can feel nothing but cold seep into the wound.
"One of your brothers?" Elsa asks quietly, so softly he almost didn't hear her.
Hans watches Markus scramble away desperately, tripping in the snow as he ran. "Yes," he says, no disappointment in his heart, only a buried, painful smile.
The Ice Queen watches his brother dispassionately for a moment, expression almost thoughtful. Just as he figured she would turn away, Han's eyes fly wide when she briskly raises a hand, twisting her wrist in a sharp gesture.
The ground trembles as ice shoots up from underneath, shaping into sharp, deadly spikes that rip into Markus's leg. He cries out, falling to the snow and clutching at his knee, blood seeping into his clothes.
Elsa's hand is still raised, and she holds it steady as she looks back at Hans, eyes dark. He watches his brother in much the same way she had, no mercy or compassion in his heart as Markus writhes in agony on the ground. However, something heavy settles in the pit of his stomach, weighing him down. His brothers cries became hysterical when Elsa raises another set of spikes from the ground, splintering out towards him.
"Don't." Hans breathes, eyes widening when she turns back to him. A part of his mind screams in frustration, because surely he was not saving his malicious elder brother. For years he'd prayed for his death, but facing it, Hans could only bow his head.
Elsa's red lips part, and Hans felt his heel draw back automatically when they dipped upwards into a rueful smile. The expression looked so genuine it could have fooled someone more trusting, but Hans feels his heart beating rapidly against his rib-cage. Those eyes...
She was enjoying the power she had over his fallen brother. He didn't know why he'd thought she'd be any different from the stories whispered to children and grown, terrified rulers alike. This woman with delicate features was deadly, and he suddenly understands the familiar look in her eyes. It had been in the twins many times as he'd learned their games throughout the years.
'Monster' they'd called her at the Northern Court.
"Please," he murmurs, inwardly wincing when it came out forced. "Don't give Lord Elvar another excuse to come attack you." He tries to reason instead.
"I'm afraid you're still clinging to a misapprehension." Elsa tilts her head demurely. No, I'm really not, Han's keeps his face perfectly blank even as he reaches behind him for the knife under his belt.
"I incurred Elvar's wrath on purpose, because he attacked my palace in the mountains. He didn't have a reason to, but I understand one isn't needed when you're attacking a Queen who froze her kingdom."
His fingers pause, wrapped around the hilt. Her voice had shuddered, only slightly, but just enough for him to catch it. For a moment she'd seemed almost genuinely pained. Hans sets his jaw, hoping his silver tongue won't fail him. "Queen Elsa, what happened at the coronation two years ago- "
Between one breath and the next she was suddenly before him, her face inches below his as she flashes white teeth. "Prince Hans," she hisses quietly, as cold and impervious as the snow. "If you think I'd discuss such a thing with you, then you're sadly mistaken."
Hans lifts the knife slightly, his face expressionless. Yet his mind whirls like the furious wind that lashes around them.
'Perhaps he'll really kill Elsa and return home a hero! Wouldn't that be fiendish?' He could hear Rion so clearly, the word 'hero' slipping from his grasp again and again like soap in a bathtub.
'Nuisance' they'd called him at the Southern Castle. For the 13th son who'd killed his mother, there was no grand title to his name. Not King, nor Hero, not even Monster.
If he killed the Ice Queen, would he even be rewarded with anything? Hans weighed his options, mind turning uncomfortably fast before stops himself, his hand flexing out of a fist. Speculation got him nowhere. If he killed her there was no guarantee the storm over Arendelle would disappear, but if he let her live...
"Forgive me your majesty, it's just- your song was filled with such loneliness." He knew he was treading a dangerous line, but his instincts had carried him this far. "I did wonder if this blizzard was linked with the fact that its the anniversary of the coronation. Would it be illogical to assume you were hurting over it?"
Elsa's eyes widen in shock, and in that moment it was if she'd been stripped of her finery to reveal something raw and utterly human underneath. Hans smiles in the privacy of his mind, before starting when her hand reaches out.
Her fingers brush against his cheek, cool to the touch, but not ice cold as he'd assumed. Her eyes search him for secrets, and the fragile look on her face had his fingers slip free from the dagger.
"You heard my song...aren't you afraid that I'll freeze your heart?" She asks as white frost burst from under her hands, trailing up his jaw as if to illustrate her point.
Hans shudders violently under her touch but doesn't move, noting the resignation, the hollowed out look in her eyes. He chuckles weakly, startling her. "I don't need to worry about that. My heart froze many years ago when-" Hans stops, eyes widening at the near slip of his tongue. How was it he'd become so unguarded when facing a woman who could kill him in seconds? Markus writhed on the ground not too far away as a reminder.
But seconds pass and Elsa just stands with him, seeming to realize something that he'd noticed the moment she'd pulled back her hood.
You're eyes are just like mine.
It was then that Markus decides to stagger to his feet, screaming in pain as he limps away. Elsa draws her hand away and Hans is almost surprised to find himself rocking forward on his toes. He has the most reckless urge to kiss her hands.
"Why not kill him?" She asks tonelessly, watching his brother as he ran. "He abandoned you." Her brow creases, her straight, regal form curling in on itself as she clenches her fingers. The spikes of ice shuddered, growing longer and reaching out towards Markus as he panicked, heaving himself away.
Hans chuckles shortly, giving a warped smile. "That's what brothers do."
Elsa looks at him in surprise, before turning away. She looked strangely smaller. "The ice and snow have a way of leaving a person raw and utterly exposed, in some ways, we're at our most honest when faced with the harsh cold." She glances back at Markus, her gaze far away.
"For some, it strips back enough layers that it reveals a persons true nature. It unearths monsters." Elsa murmurs, pale hands shaking at her side as she stands lost in the sea of snowflakes.
Perhaps it's just another cruel facet of the cold, but he feels a need to be near her with an intensity he didn't know he was capable of; visceral and instinctual and all the way down to his bones, every fragment of himself magnetised to her. There was something in her that mirrored himself, and he felt it so keenly it stole his breath.
Hans let the mask drop for the first time in a decade. Ideas, plans and double motives falling away for just a few seconds. "I somewhat lied before...the real reason I can't kill Markus is because he's more use to me alive rather than dead. If I returned home without him I'd be blamed for it. It's no secret that I've hated him for years, so my brothers would think of this as taking advantage of an opportunity to get rid of him."
It was then that Elsa finally turned her back on Markus, the spikes in the ground wilting at her loss of attention. She frowns slightly at him, trying to read his expression, and he realized with shock that he was actually trying to make her feel better.
She smiles slightly, so soft and genuine it almost hurt to look at. Ah, thinks Hans, this is the Elsa who lived before the Ice Queen took over.
He wonders what sort of ruler she could have been had she not caused a blizzard on the very day she'd been crowned Queen. He wanted to know, but her secrets were buried deep, it would take skill and time to peel back those layers. Hans shudders from the chill in the air, his hands coming up to rub at his arms. Elsa finally seemed to notice how cold he really looked, as she steps away from him.
"You should go, I can part the storm just enough to give you a clear way back to the mansion." She'd drawn back into herself now, a sudden and unwanted abyss between them.
He doesn't know what to say, but feels a nagging sensation in his gut. Hans knows the importance of timing though, and he wont ask her to take him with her. He needed to plan, to regroup himself and make sense of exactly what he wanted from her. Because surely he doesn't want something as ridiculous and useless as her company.
"You have my gratitude." He bows, stiff and false.
When he straightens she just nods, and walks past him. Her presence feels like gravity along his skin but when he turns she's a clear foot away, standing neat and formal.
He watches as she lifts her hood once more, shadowing her face. "You seemed angry, when Markus left me I mean." He speaks up, and smiles when their eyes meet. "I was just curious as to why."
Elsa glances away, a fierce wind playing with the strands of her hair that escaped her braid. "I suppose I have a fondness for ignored younger siblings." She says, hushed and guarded.
Hans suddenly remembers Princess Anna, Elsa's younger sister, and he wonders not for the first time what had happened to her. The Prince watches, transfixed as Elsa steps back into the raging snow around them, her cloak seeming to melt into the very air as she finally disappears from view.
Hans wraps his arms around himself once more and turns away, noticing that a path had opened up before him. True to her word, the winds parted, revealing a clear way through for him to follow. Sighing, Hans starts forward, annoyed that he hadn't asked her how he could find her again in the future. She probably wouldn't have told him anyway.
He stops as he passes the spikes still left in the ground that had injured Markus. Taking off a glove, he steps close enough to brush a fingertip along one spike, so cold that it tries to stick to his skin.
The delight of it sings through his veins, and as he walks away the prince lifts a hand to his jaw, tracing the touch of frost that she'd left behind.
He finds Markus collapsed not too far away in the snow and lifts him to his feet, hooking an arm around him. As the faint lights of the mansion beckoned them closer, Hans thought he felt a breath of cool air on his neck, but when he turned back there was nothing but the snow surrounding them. He smiles and continued forward as something fierce and hot gripped him viciously tight.
We'll meet again Queen Elsa, he promises silently, green eyes glittering darkly.
It's suddenly, perfectly obvious what he wants and though the title of Ice King is unorthodox, he finds it a very fitting name for someone like him.
ooo
Hope you liked it! I've wanted to write something for Helsa for ages. (I think they have allot of potential to be very interesting. Hans's line to Elsa - 'Don't be the monster they fear you are' is totally to blame for me shipping them.) I didnt use any names from the disney book; Frozen Heart because I don't personally accept it as cannon. I might continue this. If I did it would be by either adding another chapter or just writing a sequel for it, but we'll see. ^^
Please review! Hours to make, seconds to comment! xxx