A/N: This story focuses mostly on Hans and his development after what transpired in Frozen. The woman will play an important role in this story, but will not take the spotlight. Elsa, Kristoff, Anna, Olaf, and Sven will all make an appearance in this fic at one point or another. My goal is to keep everyone in character and have them re-engage later on. I will add more character tags as they make their appearances.

Summary: Post-movie. As punishment for attempted regicide, Hans was sent away by his brothers to live out the rest of his days in slavery. Bought by a mysterious woman, the former prince soon learns that he may have another shot at gaining Arendelle's throne – all through the powers of a rare and explosive gift. Hans-centric. OC; no romance, minimal sensuality.

Words: ~2,800

Restrained in posture, Hans glowered behind the outgrown strands of hair that obscured half his face. Two heavy cuffs kept his wrists locked together, attached to a long chain at his collar. Clothes mussed from weeks of being hauled town to town, Hans could only take shallow breaths in resignation, as he'd felt his pride slowly dither.

Surrounding him was a collection of various antiques and vases, all assorted by shape and color throughout the room. Paintings hung from the walls, packed side to side, and lined over the humble fireplace. The cottage didn't feel necessarily cramped, but still made Hans crave the fresh air. His attention wandered towards the door.

His buyer – the woman who owned this property and everything on it – stared at him in amusement from her chair. She couldn't be any more than one or two years older than him.

Her lashes, heavy with powder and imported beauty goods, were dark and threatening. Thin lips were brought into a sideways smirk, framed by a round, smooth face. Whatever was on her mind was his guess, but seeing her hold his paperwork in her hands would never make him regret spitting at her during their first encounter. The auctioneer threatened to flog Hans, but the woman silenced him with an offer instead. Proudly collecting her exiled prince, she tied him to her horse and led him away, flaunting him like a trophy.

He never felt more humiliated.

Hans wanted to spit at her again, but felt too weary from the journey to retaliate in any way. He could have sworn that his legs were ready to collapse beneath him, surrendering to the exhaustion that taunted him ever since his brother-king sentenced him to exile.

"So, pet," the woman mused, lightly yanking the chain. Hans stumbled forward some, barely catching himself. He was drowsy, exasperated. "You should thank me. I gave good coin for you, despite the auctioneer insisting I invest in someone—" Her hazel eyes, sharp and greedy, shot up and down his figure. "Someone more apt to hard labor."

Blood coming to a boil, his upper lip curled into a bitter snarl. Hans had nothing to prove here – there was no need to smile and nod in feigned delight. His patience had withered weeks ago. "Who are you? And what do you want? What would a witch like you need me for, all the way out here?"

A reasonable question. The mysterious woman loved in a cottage far from society, nearly an hour's walk from the nearest town. She seemed to be doing well for a recluse – coming off as experienced and self-sufficient, with a fair amount of crops growing on her land. Why she would need help when her property was clearly well managed baffled him.

Hans could hear the clucking of a chicken outside and the squeaking of a weather vane above. It made his hair stand on end, reminding him that there is a world outside this shabby house.

The woman chuckled, rising to her feet. Layers of delicate fabric overlapping her shoulders shimmered in the light; they looked expensive, but old, remnants from a much more forgiving time. Her voice was thick like oil, words strung together by threads of loneliness. "My name is Pedrine. And I'm not looking for a thug to stomp around my house," she paced around him, lazily dragging the chain along. "I need a light hand for some help. And I was bored."

Quickly, Hans began to process this very carefully. He was still bristling, but the stranger's words resonated in his head.

So he softened his voice, if only to gain more information. "What do you want me to do?"

"Oh, darling," she cooed, delicately brushing the hair from his face. He winced. "I'd never want to hurt you."

"If that's the case," he replied flatly, proffering his hands to her. "Set me free."

"Aha!" Pedrine stepped back, smacking his hands away. "That's an exception. What I can do, however, is a favor." Chain still in hand, she walked towards an old box at a nearby table and told Hans to hold it. "If I am to have you, you must look your best. Your dishevelment is unacceptable."

Floorboards squeaked beneath his sore feet as he shuffled backwards as best he could. "You don't own me," Hans hissed again, tempted to bash the green box against her skull. He rubbed his stubble-ridden cheek against his shoulder in agitation.

"I'm not so sure about that. The bill of sale says otherwise. It is your name on the paper. Now, come," Pedrine led him to a back room, tugging whenever he straggled behind. Hans watched her deep brown hair bounce with every step, mocking him in its haughtiness. "I can't stand the stench of you any longer, to be frank."

"I can walk just fine," Hans retorted as his heels barely left the floor.

"Your shaking legs say otherwise. How long has it been since you've eaten? I hear royalty aren't used to going long without food," she laughed over his scoff.

Hans' eyes adjusted to the light in this room. It was dimmer, the curtains blocking out most of the sun. He noted a large tub filled halfway with water in the corner, and a smaller hand basin atop a counter. A variety of things were hidden away in cabinets and drawers, the number of stacked items making the room feel rather cramped.

"You're filthy. Bathe here." A slender finger pointed to the tub.

"What? In this rot—" Hans then noticed his reflection in the mirror.

It was worse than he thought.

A bruise ran up his arm – probably from when he was kicked on the road a week before – and stubble coated his chin. The dust and dirt on his head made him cringe. And he was sure that odor was coming from him. Maybe taking a bath in here wouldn't be as bad as he thought. Given his situation, it was the only option. Hans stepped forward, just by a little.

"I thought so, dear," Pedrine took the box from him and set it aside. Walking to the tub, she dipped a finger in and pulled it away. "Ah-! Much too cold."

The prince watched in shock as she flicked her hand to the side, as if flipping a switch. He heard a bubble and pop coming from the tub, and raised a brow as she tested the water again. "Much better. Get in." The scene ended as quickly as it began, small sparks receding back into her flesh.

"What?" Confusion marked his face. "What did you—"

"I'm not cruel enough to let you bathe in the cold," Pedrine said matter-of-factly, wiping her hands on his sleeve.

"That's not what I meant. How did you—?"

"Let's put it this way," she giggled, unlocking the binds. "If you try to flee, you'll get something worse than that bruise. I'm going to turn away now. Undress, and get in."

He saw a flicker of light in her hands, like a match. For a moment, he was scared, but was equally just as worried that he'd hallucinated the whole thing. Hans didn't know which scenario was worse – that he was trapped with a woman who could boil water with the flick of a wrist, or that his eyes had started to fail him and trick him.

Every cell in his body jolted to life as he heard the chains drop to the floor. The metal collar around his neck, however, stayed. "What about—"

"No, that remains," she said, toying with the shorter chain dangling from it. "Just in case." Spinning back on her heel, she told him to hurry and get in the water.

The nerves in his body were screaming, ready to grab this woman and drown her in the tub. She's foolish to turn her back on me, Hans thought, clenching his fists. He bared his teeth, bristling with annoyance.

But his instincts told him to shut up and obey. The gestures she made reminded him so much of something else he'd seen before. Quietly, he kicked off his boots and socks, feeling an immediate wave of relief. Keeping his eyes fixated on her, he slowly removed his weathered breeches and shirt, setting them aside. He planned to burn those clothes one day; they were given to him in prison. Finally, he walked backwards to the water – still keeping his eyes on her - and felt its warmth as he slipped inside. It was comforting, but he knew something was odd.

Sensing the grime slowly break away in the water, Hans sighed. He looked at Pedrine. This woman. She is not—She is not ordinary. Elsa burst into his mind's eye and realization struck. Oh, no. This woman is definitely not ordinary. I've seen this before. But the sudden surge of heat in the water proved that whatever this woman could do was not exactly congruent with Elsa's abilities.

"Are you in there?" she huffed, crossing her arms.

Hans rolled his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I am." His voice cracked.

"Wonderful!" Opening the box, which creaked in response, Pedrine pulled out a bar of soap and set it aside. "Rather dark in here, isn't it?" She lifted her foot and opened the curtain farther as she kept looking through the box. "Here we are."

Pedrine's eyes shot over to Hans, taking note of various scratches and bruises that marked his body. It appeared as though the few weeks he spent being dragged from trading post to trading post were more brutal than she imagined. Her bias against nobles would have usually made her perceive him as a simple weakling, devoid of any real-world experience as he spent his days being tended to hand and foot. Yet, the abuse his body suffered managed to make her grimace in disgust. Invisible ants marched up her arms, making her shudder.

There was a particular wound between his shoulder blades that looked as though it was in the early stages of infection. Considering Hans never uttered a complaint about his injuries, Pedrine felt oddly impressed at his stoicism, taking in each scar and scratch and bruise. She shook her head and grabbed a bucket – this wasn't the time to dwell on his travels.

Without asking, she dumped a bucketful of water on his head, making him growl in protest and shock. "Why you—!"

"Shut it," she ordered, and inspected his face with her hands. "You princes. So delicate."

"Haven't you mocked me enough?" His shoulders rose defensively.

"Not nearly." She ignored him and leaned in closely, running her fingers along the side of his face, as if wanting to count every stray hair. The scent of her perfume rolled around in his nose – it made Hans feel dizzy and he pulled away from her, the water splashing idly against the side of the tub.

"Just leave me be. I can take care of myself."

"And, no, not yet," Pedrine pulled out a razor and leveled it against his cheek. He recoiled, feeling the threatening sharp edge of the blade. "Hold still. You're not used to grooming yourself, are you?"

Quiet, Hans kept his eyes downcast. The sore muscles that laced his body began to give in to the warm water, relaxing while he fought against lingering drowsiness. Gingerly, Pedrine began to shave him, meticulously cleaning away the excess hair until there was no hint of a neglected beard and the stories that came with it.

This was too intimate for him, having a stranger lean over the tub, inspecting his face, brushing away red strands of hair and wiping away the dirt that found its way behind his ears. It was a soft touch he did not recall experiencing since he was very young – when the servants gave him what little patience and tenderness they had left. Pedrine gently wiped away the dried blood that dotted his back. Goosebumps formed on his shoulders and he didn't know why.

Being so close, Hans could finally see more of Pedrine's delicate features. Her eyes read experience and grief, but her neck had a complimentary feminine curve surrounded by thick brown curls. Olive skin glistened in the shards of the light that broke into the room, appearing human yet armored at the same time. For a moment, the prince swore he saw a scar at the base of her neck, but a bunch of hair had fallen in place, getting in the way.

She made him lean his head back as she cut away at his bangs. Each snip made him twitch uneasily. "I'm not going to hurt you," Pedrine's nails acted like combs, picking apart matted strands until she was satisfied. "Almost done."

"I don't understand," Hans' shoulders were still tense, his eyes switching between being tightly shut and wide from nervousness. Then he decided to glare at her in the eyes. Make her feel uncomfortable – but she was unfazed. "Tell me! What did you do the water? Answer m—"

Pedrine gripped his shoulder tightly and squeezed, and Hans grunted. "That burned!" he said, inspecting himself. No marks.

"Be quiet. Can you do that for me?" Her tone shifted – darker, more commanding.

Hans did not understand what set her off, but he settled back in place. A small bit of fear collected in the pit of his stomach. Vulnerable and endlessly alone, he could only subside in surrender – but he intended for that to change.

Getting nothing but a grunt in return, Pedrine continued to tend to the dirt that clung to his body. Each smudge was a bad reminder for him, and she knew it.

"You know," she said, scrubbing behind his other ear. Her nails dug into his neck, holding him in place. "Everyone's heard of the thirteenth prince of the Southern Isles by now, although the royal Arendelle sisters pressed all the guests to keep things quiet."

Hans said nothing, but simply furrowed his brows as he listened.

"My opinion?" Her cloth was then cleaning the muck between his fingers, which limply rested on her palm. "My kindness is more than you deserve."

Thousands of little words were building up behind his lips, a small army of agitation and superiority. This woman will drive me mad. His other hand gripped the edge of the tub as an act of self-control.

"Trying to kill two girls." Pedrine clicked her tongue. "Trying to take a kingdom. My dear, what were you thinking?"

A phrase he'd heard a million times before.

Red hair dripping from bucketful after bucketful of water, Hans reached up to touch his face. It was smooth. Clean. Normal again. With a sigh of relief, he allowed himself to inwardly smile over that much. A word of gratitude almost escaped his mouth.

Splash—

Pedrine bitterly threw the cloth into the water in front of Hans' chest, jerking her head in disapproval. "The rest, you'll clean up on your own." She motioned to his lower body. Groaning, Hans wiped the droplets off his face and glared at her.

"When you're done, you'll find a change of clothes in the chest over there. Make yourself look presentable." The door slammed behind her.

Finally.

The ex-prince rolled his head, hearing a quick crack in his neck multiple times.

Alone.

The weight of the collar made Hans feel weary. If there was one reminder he wanted to crush, it was the collar. It was dehumanizing.

What little sunlight that poured through the moth-eaten curtains gave him something to think of. Each beam danced on the floor, blooming with color through crystals that dangled before the window. Hans wanted to bolt out of it and, although it didn't look too sturdy, the threat of a woman who could tame fire was enough to tame his urges.

Escaping wouldn't be as easy as he'd initially hoped. Careful calculations would be necessary. Pedrine was smart, observant. She bore a similar elegant beauty and sharpness that Hans had seen in Elsa, but she handled her powers with much more confidence.

Elsa.

He wondered what the royal sisters of Arendelle were doing as his aching hand reached for the cloth to finish up, stomach growling the whole time. Energy quickly fleeting, Hans knew he should work fast and get to dinner before he'd collapse – embarrassingly – in the tub.

The sooner Hans would get to dinner, the sooner he could find an opportunity to escape. It was just a matter of time before she let her guard down, allowing him a precious opportunity out of the dreaded cottage.

After all, as the thirteenth in line, Hans exceled at waiting, and this was a game he was more than willing to play.