Hans resisted as the white uniformed guards dragged him down the castle hall. 2 weeks ago, these men would have saluted and bowed, for he was their prince. Now he was a stain on the Southern Isle's otherwise noble reputation. It was quite a spectacle as staff, guards and nobility alike lined the hall to see the disgraced prince, worst of all being his older brothers.

"Guards, halt." It was Johan, the 4th oldest. "Hello, King Hans of Arendelle" The older sibling said with a mocking smile. He proceeded to immediately force his fist into Han's stomach, causing intense pain.

"You little shit. Because of you, fur and timber costs in my Duchy has doubled, because you had to piss off the Snow Queen!" He finished with another punch, one that knocked the air out of him. "Guards, carry on." This was the third brother to do something similar. Since his downfall, the Southern Isles had a number of trade issues with Arendelle. While not maliciously jacking prices up, Queen Elsa had also not done much to discourage independent merchants from doing the same. As a result, many Arendellian merchants had equated Hans with his home kingdom, and punished them as a result.

The group continued down the hall, and Hans by this point had figured out where they were going. What terrified him was that they were not going to the dungeon, they were going to his father's study. None of the boys liked a visit to their father's study, as it almost always meant a spanking as toddlers, grounding and scolding as boys, and an ass chewing as teenagers and men. And that was for minor offenses. As he approached the study door, his oldest brother Alexander stood in the corner, pretending to read a book, in order to have an excuse to stand there.

Alexander, being the crown prince, had surely given and taken his fair share of brotherly beatings, but Alexander had figured out long ago that wits and sharp talk was far more effective in putting his brothers down, whether playfully for his liked brothers or more cruelly for the others. The sad thing was that Alexander had traditionally stuck up for the younger princes, not liking the middle brothers that endlessly tormented the younger and weaker boys.

So the simple stare of shame and disappointment from Alexander hurt far more than any of the beatings he had received today, with the calm but sharp phrase "Father is quite… displeased, little brother. And frankly so am I." sting like salt in his wounds. He closed the book and proceeded to walk by, leaving his youngest brother to his fate. Two guards who had been flanking the study door opened the door as the three moved through to the study.

Standing in the dimly lit room was his Father, King Frederick II. He had grey hair and sideburns, a gaunt face scared by wounds from the last Great War, and a white military uniform with decorations won on distant battlefields. He wore gloves as he was self-conscious of his wooden left forearm, which had been a necessary sacrifice to save his life from an infection caused by a musket round. The boys had learned about it, as it was their father's favorite way to correct them when they misused the word "sacrifice" around him.

His back was turned when they entered the room, and he did not turn when he began to speak.

"Guards, leave us." That was never a good sign. King Frederick may have let guards witness a scolding, but if the guards were ordered to leave, it meant at least a 30 minute ass chewing or beating.

"Did you know, King Agdar and served together during Napoleon's Wars?" He asked rhetorically. Hans knew better than to answer yes or no, he had been through this before. "Southern Island men and Arendellian troops went toe to toe with the French Imperial Guard on numerous occasions. We were boys then, younger than you." He paused, finally turning to see his son. "No matter what happened, we stood by each other."He began to slowly walk up to his son. "We stood… together. We were the descendants of the Vikings, and we dared not to retreat and leave our brothers to die. He was my best man at my wedding, and I was his." The King quietly extended the fingers on his wooden hand.

"He was a brother to me." Without warning and with a speed that was unexpected from a man as old as he, he whaled Hans face with the wooden hand, with a sharp crack.

"A relationship built with the blood, sweat and tears of our countrymen, a trust whose foundation lies on a graveyard in Belgium, was just destroyed by you." Another smack.

Hand was crying, with a bruise already forming. "I…"

The King finally exploded. "NO!" With his face red with anger and his right hand pointing deadly jabs at his son's face. "I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING FOR THAT MAN AND HIS FAMILY! ANYTHING!" This time it wasn't a slap, but a wooden fist. "A QUEEN THAT IS MY GODDAUGHTER, AND I HAD TO SCRAPE, AND BEG TO EVEN MAINTAIN DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS!" Another fist.

Frederick paused, calming down, and ceasing to shout. "Family, blood or otherwise is everything Hans. I lost that family because of you." Hans openly sobbing openly with blood running from an open cut caused from his father's wooden fist. "You never give up on family."

Unexpectedly, his Father embraced his youngest son, barely containing his tears. "God boy, I thought I lost you." His right hand brushing through his son's copper hair, he squeezed hard. "I thought they were going to kill you." The King paused, removing himself from his son. The cold, calm father had returned.

"And they had every right to do so." He returned his hands to behind his back. "When that messenger bird arrived, I cut you off. I told them that you had acted on your own, and that if they pursued justice, The Southern Isle's would not retaliate in any way. I did say I'd rather if you faced our justice."

"What will happen to me?" Hans said, tentatively. He usually dared not interrupt his father's scolding, but he had to know his fate.

His father paused for but a few seconds, but to Hans it lasted minutes. "I don't know son. You are my boy, even if you have destroyed our relations with Arendelle. But you will be dealt with." With barely any emotion, he simply stated "Guards." Two soldiers entered the door, snapping to attention.

"Take Hans to the dungeon while I decide what to do."

"Yes Sir."

Whereas before he had fought out of spite, Hans let himself be dragged as his spirit had been crushed. His father had always been one for titles, and as such, he always used them when they applied. Even as children, he had always called his sons Prince. For him to refer to him as Hans instead of Prince Hans was no mistake. He may have not done it officially, but he had just disowned his youngest son.

…

It was a week before the door to the cell finally opened, revealing several Guardsmen with manacles.

"You are coming with us, Hans."

"Where too?"

The Guard smiled cruelly. A peasant born, he respected the pay and status, not the royal family. "A Bath and meal."

Hans recoiled in horror. According to their law a prisoner always was bathed and fed a decent last meal before… execution. He knew his father loved him, but his father had always stressed consequences. He knew his father would execute him if he felt he deserved it.

"No, NO!" Hans screamed as the soldiers grabbed the former prince and dragged him out of the cell.

…

He had fought the bath, but by the time his meal was served, consisting of his favorite foods and sandwiches, he at least partook in the food. He only had to be offered the food. Any refusal would merely quicken his demise. As he finished, the Guards dragged him to his feet and led him to the hall. While being escorted, he glanced out the window into the castle courtyard. A major military installation, soldiers drilled and trained in the courtyard. As he scanned, a sight filled him with terror. A platform stood, as it had always stood, except now it had a single noose dangling from the support beam, with an executioner standing by.

"No, No! NO! NO!" Hans screamed and fought as his mechanism of death filled him with terror, causing the Guards to resume dragging the kicking and screaming prince. "NOT LIKE THIS!"

The Guards led him to the main entrance, where he continued to fight, as Hans was terrified of the concept of hanging. They opened the door, where Hans' struggling and sudden burst of natural sunlight caused Hans to not see his father and the small group gathered to meet him.

"Well, that's attractive."

Hans paused. He knew his father of course, as well as his older brother Josef, but the women who just sarcastically mocked him he had never seen before, even though she was dressed as a noblewoman.

The guards let go, causing Hans to be utterly confused. This is not how executions worked.

"I don't understand…" Josef chuckled, leading even his father to join his younger brother in confusion. Preempting his father's eventually inquiry, He began to explain.

"Your Majesty, I may have given the Guards slightly different orders than what you ordered me."
The King understood at once. "You ordered them to prepare him for execution."

Josef began to burst out laughing. He had always been that way. The second youngest, Josef like Hans had not inherited any land, instead he entered full course into the army, leading to his current post as Captain of the Guard. Tall, well built, and with a normally grave and serious face to match his decorated white officer uniform, all of which betrayed his true nature. After many a lost fight, Josef figured out the best way to get back at his brothers was practical jokes and ploys. A born trickster, with the pranks leading to vastly disproportionate losses compared to the beating, the older brothers stopped messing with him. Not that the minor pranks stopped of course.

Recovering from the laughing fit, he regained his composure, and bowed to his father. "Your majesty, if you'll excuse me?" The King, while not a fan of Josef's jokes, could hardly be upset considering the massive military implications and setbacks Josef had to deal with due to strained relations with Arendelle. "Granted, Major." Josef returned to attention, clicked his heels together, before turning about and walking off while placing his cap back onto his red haired head, letting out another chuckle.

"So, you are wondering why you are here. I'll clarify that now." He turned and gestured to the woman. She wore a simple navy blue dress with white facings, with a face that was hardly memorable. Her hair was brown, done up into a simple plain bun. She carried a pair of books that she grasped with white silk gloves. And she had a nervous but dismissive expression on her plain face.

"Hans, meet Lady Johanna of Kurzheim."

Kurzheim was the smallest Island in the kingdom, only ruled by a lord. It had a few thousand people, a small port and a few local cottage industries. Isolated, it was too easy for the Lord and Lady of the Island to rarely visit the capital, which would explain how he had never seen Lady Johanna before, but what did she have to do with anything?

"Hans, I have figured out what to do with you. First and foremost, I have decreed that you are no longer in the line of succession, but your future sons and daughters are. Second, you are now forbidden to ever leave the Southern Isle's without my express permission." So far, so good, but that doesn't explain…

"And lastly, you are to marry Lady Johanna. As her father has sadly passed away, a man that I owe a debt to. I told him I would find a match for his daughter. As such, he will be the grandfather of Princes and possibly Kings."

Hans shuddered. Kurzheim was poor, dirty, and cold. Its garrison was considered a penal unit for minor offenses, and it struggled to maintain a profit for the Kingdom. It was the perfect place to send someone to ensure they didn't cause any more trouble. It was only a step above exile.

"Naturally, you are not to leave unless summoned to the Capital, which I will tell you right now boy, will not be very often." King Frederick walked up and patted his son on the shoulder, before smiling devilishly. "What's wrong son, it's a happy day- you're getting married in a week!"

Bit of Notes- As the original version had a few continuity errors, I re-released this chapter changing the battle Agdar and Frederick was at to Ligny and Waterloo, during the Napoleonic war. Sorry for the Retcon.