Arendelle was beautiful.
Hans had only been to the tiny island kingdom—a powerful trading center, despite its geographical size—once before in his life, when he was just a young boy.
He remembered his parents, the king and queen of the Southern Isles, bringing him to the christening of one of the princesses of Arendelle—Anne, was it? Something like that. He'd been forced to wear a particularly uncomfortable ruff neck collar, since they had been all the rage when he was five, and it was summer and unbearably hot in the chapel, and the baby princess was wailing, and Hans was fidgeting in his seat until one of his brothers—Adrian, the eldest—smacked him upside the head and ordered him to sit still. (One of his other brothers then slipped a slimy salamander down Hans's shirt, causing Adrian to smack him again for squirming throughout the rest of the ceremony.)
He hasn't been back to Arendelle in eighteen years. The kingdom was really just a large but modest-looking palace overlooking a small village and marketplace and the fjord. Not much else was known about the little island nation, as diplomatic visits between Arendelle and the Southern Isles always took place in the palace where Hans grew up. It was almost as if the leaders of Arendelle were hiding something back home. Once, when he was ten, Hans had overheard some foreign merchants muttering about the palace gates always being closed in Arendelle, keeping in some secret known only to the royal family.
But there was nothing secretive in appearance about Arendelle today, as the kingdom was bustling with visiting dignitaries and townspeople, all eager to catch a glimpse of the two princesses, whom, according to some, no one had seen in nearly thirteen years. (The one princess and the one queen, Hans supposed, since the elder princess, Elsa, had technically become queen when King Maurice and Queen Gertrude were lost. Of course. That was why Hans was in Arendelle in the first place—for the new queen's coronation.)
From his vantage point on the deck of the Henriette, Hans could see that the marketplace had been decked out in lush green garlands and colorful streamers, and the bridge leading from the docks to the village was adorned with purple and gold banners. A seemingly endless stream of guests and dignitaries was making its way across the bridge, toward the village square. Beyond that, the palace gates—was that…? Were they…? Yes! They were opening!
"Prince Hans?"
It was the French dignitary, a small, thin man with slicked-back dark hair and a goatee that resembled a sad attempt to emulate that of the Prince Consort Eugene of Corona. Hans could not remember the man's name to save his life (Pierre? Pyoter? Whatever, it was probably something generic, like Jacques), but he nevertheless felt a twinge of annoyance that he was not properly addressed as "Your Majesty."
I may not be an heir or a spare or the spare of a spare, but I'm still a prince, dammit!
No one aboard this ship respected him. He was a guest. The Southern Isles were just off the coast of France, and Hans's parents were away, negotiating trade terms with the Dutch, and the other princes were not attending Arendelle's coronation…because of reasons that Hans preferred to shove into the back of his mind. That left Hans, the youngest, to attend and save face for the Southern Isles. And since he was the only representative of his country, it made a lot more sense for him to sail with their French neighbors than to send a ship specifically for the black sheep of the family. Hans had protested that the French were too lofty and snobbish, but his brothers were having none of that. Someone, they argued, had to represent them.
Imagine the international brouhaha that would result if the Southern Isles sent no representatives to witness the coronation of a new monarch! The Northwest League of Europe would no doubt suspect that the nation guilty of such a faux pas was plagued by internal struggle and prey upon the weakened state. Or worse, they would suspect that the Southern Isles had ambitions to claim Arendelle for itself while the new monarch's power was yet to be consolidated, and relations with the rest of the League would crumble as the other nations banded together to defend Arendelle, a trade giant whom they were sworn to protect due to their precious investments.
Which meant Hans had to grit his teeth and bear the ridicule from the French servants aboard the Henriette, or they would rat him out to their masters, and then he would have no ride home. And then his brothers would hear of it, and all hell would break loose.
He'd learned to mask his frustrations, though, from twenty-three years of living in everybody's shadow. So he forced a smile and turned to the French dignitary.
"Yes, Jacques?"
The smaller man sniffed. "My name is not Jacques, Prince Hans. My name is P—"
"Ah, I see we've docked," Hans interrupted. "Excuse me, I've got to go get Sitron off this boat. He gets terribly seasick."
The deckhands were already leading his horse off the ship, so Hans left Not-Jacques, or Pierre, or whatever his name was, alone on the deck and disembarked.
Nearby, another crowd was disembarking from another ship. Hans recognized the golden sun emblem emblazoned upon a rich purple background as the crest of Corona. Another small island nation with a mysterious past, as their king and queen had locked the kingdom away into semi-isolation following the disappearance of their daughter. Much to the world's surprise, diplomatic relations had resumed between Corona and the rest of the League in recent years due to the return of the Lost Princess Rapunzel, who now served as liaison between Corona and much of the rest of the League. Speaking of whom…
Princess Rapunzel and Prince Consort Eugene were currently making their way through the docks, toward the bridge, flanked by a band of their purple-clad Coronan dignitaries. Giving his horse an apologetic pat, Hans hurried over to catch up with them.
"Hi, Rapunzel, Eugene! Fancy meeting you here in Arendelle. I thought I wouldn't see you two again until Christmastime!"
The petite young woman smiled and curtsied in greeting. "Hans! It's good to see a familiar face. Are your brothers here as well?"
"Nope, I'm here as the sole representative of the Southern Isles."
Rapunzel visibly relaxed. "Oh, good it's just you!"
"Just me? Thanks, Rapunzel." Hans feigned hurt. "That's just what I needed, another person to remind me that I'm a nobody."
He and the formerly lost princess had become good friends in the past five years, as they were about the same age and shared a love for exploring and a fascination with the world beyond their own kingdoms. As no one paid him any attention as a child, Hans would often slip away from the castle and eavesdrop on the merchants' and fishermen's tales of their travels. And having grown up for eighteen years in an isolated tower, Rapunzel now yearned to explore the world, the knowledge of whose existence she had been deprived for so long. Additionally, they shared a dislike of Hans's brother Franz, who would relentlessly pursue Rapunzel despite the fact that she had been married to Eugene for over three years now. Hans had still not forgiven Franz for ignoring him for two entire years when they were younger.
Eugene rolled his eyes affectionately at his wife. "Sorry about that, Hans. She's just relieved that she won't have to fight off Franz with a stick all night. She was biting her nails the entire time we were at sea."
Rapunzel shoved him playfully. "Hey, you don't know! Maybe Franz finds short, jagged fingernails and bloody cuticles a huge turn-off!"
Just then, a distant clock tower chimed half past ten.
"Sorry!" Rapunzel called over her shoulder as the royal couple of Corona hastened toward the bridge. "We have to go ahead now. I have to speak to Elsa before the ceremony, since, you know, it's a family thing…"
Oh, right. Hans remembered that Rapunzel and the princesses of Arendelle were first cousins, since the late Queen Gertrude of Arendelle and Rapunzel's mother had been sisters.
If the Plot goes well, Rapunzel and I could be first cousins-in-law…
The Plot. How could he forget the sole reason he was here in Arendelle today?
For as long as he could remember, Hans had disliked his brothers. Growing up, they would constantly band together to pick on him when their parents were away on diplomatic visits. He had assumed that the pranks and even the beatings were the result of childhood immaturity or adolescent aggression, even deluding himself into thinking that his brothers loved him despite their actions. But when he reached adolescence, he found that he was nothing like his brothers. They were bullies, plain and simple.
Things took a turn for the worse when Hans's parents insisted that he learn sword fighting. Hans had protested that it was unnecessary, as no one would bother attempting to assassinate someone who would never hope to ascend the throne, but, with fear in their eyes, Mother and Father had muttered that it was not for fear of assassination at the hands of a commoner. Hans's heart had leaped into his throat. Did they know what his brothers had been doing to him? He had been so careful to hide the cuts and bruises, as his tormentors had threatened on multiple occasions to make his life hell should their parents find out. So once they found out that Hans had been learning to defend himself, they confiscated his sword and dagger, only allowing him to possess the sword while in the public eye. Claiming that self-defense was excessive, they appointed him two bodyguards, but Hans knew they were his brothers' spies. He effectively became a prisoner in his own home.
The king and queen were aging, and Adrian would no doubt soon succeed them. But he was a fool. An inflexible stickler for the rules, rules that were quickly becoming arcane in this new century. The second-eldest, Hector, would no doubt steal the throne for himself after quietly murdering Adrian and his five-year-old son. That had sent of a wave of paranoia through the rest of the princes, and each of Hans's older brothers had built up his own personal army by courting the favor of the nobles and lesser vassals throughout the Southern Isles. And Hans, being the youngest by eight years, had no army of his own. The Southern Isles were on the brink of civil war, he'd overheard the commoners whispering in the marketplace, and the king's death would be the precipitant. Which prince will you fight for?
Hans himself wanted nothing to do with this divided, sorry excuse for a country. What was the use, if the throne was out of reach, so he couldn't make things right, and nobody knew who he was anyway? If he'd had his way, he would have jumped aboard the first ship headed for the New World, or even the Far East, and never looked back.
Then one day, the other princes had summoned him to a meeting while the king and queen were in the Dutch Republic. That was when Hans had found out he would be representing the Southern Isles in Arendelle. Queen Elsa, they had informed him, had become of age. Arendelle was about to open up a new chapter, as she would most likely undo the isolationist policies set up by her parents and maintained by the regent after their deaths. And despite the geographical distance, the princes wanted Arendelle for themselves, to build up their personal armies and line their own purses. Hans's job, they declared, would be to woo the new queen or her sister and win the favor of the commoners and somehow make his way to the throne.
"We'll even let you keep it," Hector had smirked. "Provided that you serve as the new figurehead, and we run the show from behind, of course." Of course. Hector was the mastermind of manipulation and cunning. He would be the one to cook up this disgusting plot.
Hans had swallowed, painfully aware that he was the only one unarmed in the room. His "bodyguards" were waiting outside the double doors to the conference room, but he knew they would finish him off if his brothers didn't. "And if I fail?"
"Don't bother coming back."
"But why can't one of you do it?"
"Are you scared?"
It would be futile to protest that the treaty that consolidated the League forbade the impounding of other kingdoms. Promises meant nothing to these men.
"All I'm saying is, no one in Arendelle would respect a prince who's a nobody in his home kingdom."
"That's up to you to figure out. Get the throne, get rid of the princesses, and don't come back until you do. And if you try to double cross us…" Hector then gestured at three small pieces of carved mahogany sitting on the table before him.
Chess pieces. A King, a Queen, and a pawn. Father, Mother, and me, Hans had realized.
Hector drew his sword and neatly sliced all three pieces in half.
Hans shuddered at the memory.
A bump from behind jerked him out of his dark thoughts, and he remembered that he was currently standing on the docks while the other guests were making their way toward the palace.
"Out of my way!"
Ah, that would be the Duke of Weselton. Highly unpleasant fellow. Hans made a mental note to stay away from him. He was on good terms with Hector and was probably there to keep an eye on Hans and make sure he did his job.
As the old man practically skipped toward the palace in glee, Hans sighed and turned back to get Sitron. He needed the comfort of a friend if he was going to complete his mission.
Around him, the docks were becoming less crowded, as the influx of guests was nearing a close. If anyone found it odd that someone had brought a horse to a coronation for an island kingdom (the "mainland" of Arendelle was just a larger, uninhabited mountain island that provided a waterfall backdrop for the kingdom), no one mentioned it to Hans. He had specifically asked to bring his horse to the coronation because it was the least he could do to get his friend as far away from his enemies as he could.
"Come on, buddy. Let's get you to the stables—"
"Oh!"
Hans jerked on the reins, bringing Sitron to a halt at once. He saw a flash of green, and then he realized that there was a girl sprawled in a little rowboat. The boat was tipping, but Sitron had caught it with his hoof, pinning the end to the dock.
He quickly dismounted and rushed to the girl's aid. "I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?"
The girl fished a piece of seaweed out of her strawberry blonde hair and scrambled into a sitting position. "I—Yea—No. No, I'm okay!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I just wasn't looking where I was going. But I'm okay."
There was something oddly endearing about the girl as she floundered about the little boat, slipping on her green gown and collapsing back on the floor. He quickly surveyed her attire: light green ball gown, dark bodice, hair swept into a bun and tied with a green ribbon. This must be a noblewoman or courtier either native to Arendelle or visiting from another kingdom.
So, minding his manners, he held out a hand to help her up and gave a little bow. "Prince Hans, of the Southern Isles," he introduced.
"Oh! Um, Princess Anna of Arendelle," she returned, curtseying awkwardly.
"Princess?" Of course! This was the younger sister of the queen, whose christening he had attended when he was five. Then he realized that this girl was his host and quickly bowed again. "My lady!"
Suddenly, the boat tipped forward, and Hans found himself flinging out his arms to break his fall before he landed on top of the princess of Arendelle. Coughing in embarrassment, he started to stand up, but then the boat tipped the other way, and they were thrown backward.
Damn you, Sitron!
"This is awkward," Anna mumbled apologetically, climbing off of him. She quickly corrected, "No—not you're awkward—but just because we're—I mean, I'm…awkward." She flailed her arms around helplessly as she searched for the right words before grabbing his hand to help him up. "You're gorgeous," she blurted. "Wait, what?"
Gorgeous? Hans? No one had ever noticed him before. For once, Hans found himself speechless. Should he thank her? Compliment her as well? Why didn't his etiquette instructor ever prepare him for situations like this?
Finally, he just stammered an apology for accidentally landing on her.
"What? No, no, no. It's fine. I'm not that princess of Arendelle. I mean, if you had hit my sister Elsa, that would be…yeesh!" She laughed nervously. "Luckily, it's—it's just me."
"Just you?" Hans repeated, not quite paying attention. What had Anna meant by "yeesh"? Was Elsa less approachable than her younger sister? That would certainly bring his brothers' Plot to a screeching halt, if Elsa was unwilling to take a suitor. Then he could take Sitron and get as far away from the Southern Isles as possible.
Just then, the clock tower chimed quarter till eleven. The coronation was starting in fifteen minutes!
Anna jumped in surprise. "Oh, no! The bells! The coronation! I-I better go. I have to go! Uh…I better go…" She glanced toward the castle then back at Hans and Sitron frantically.
"So I'll see you later?" he offered.
"Oh, uh, yes! Later!" She sighed dreamily, before shaking her head to clear it. "Well, uh…bye!" She gave a tiny wave before gathering her skirts and scurrying off.
Hans noticed that Sitron was smirking at him. That is, if horses could smirk. "What?" he snapped.
So Princess Anna may have taken a liking to him. That wasn't part of the plan…was it? But what if Elsa was a dead end? If Hector were here, he would probably just marry Anna and then stage a little "accident" for the queen. But Hans was not Hector, and he was very reluctant to hurt anyone, least of all innocent little Anna.
Well, Anna seemed to like him. That was a foot in the door, at least. Maybe he could explain his situation to Elsa and warn her about Hector.
But then he remembered the chess pieces, and his blood ran cold again. Mother and Father were in danger, too. He could not, would not, betray them.
Either his parents died, or the sisters of Arendelle died.
But Elsa and Anna were innocents, too. What was he going to do?
A/N: I do not take credit for the idea for this story. That goes to Slobberyblobber, who came up with an interesting theory for why Hans is the way he is. I'm not a fan of Hans, but I thought it would be interesting to see what would happen if Hans weren't evil.
Sorry if the dialogue isn't 100% accurate. I've only seen Frozen twice, so I have next to none of the dialogue memorized.
Reviews are kind of sort of cool.