Kristoff didn't know why he had come down to the dungeon. He had no reason to go, but he also had no reason not to go. Except that its sole prisoner almost killed his wife and sister-in-law. But that didn't bother him as much as it should. The walls were cold and wet and reminded him of the many times he sought shelter in the cave near the base of the North Mountain when it was too late to continue the journey up. Of course Sven was with him to keep company and heat, but the reindeer wasn't with him this time; he was in the stables with Anna's and Hans' horse.
Hans.
He had come down to visit Arendelle's most hated villain. Kristoff stopped on the third to last step, wondering if he should go back. His ears strained to hear a noise (maybe the ex-prince was asleep and snoring softly, or keeping himself busy by drawing on the layer of dirt) but none came. There was, of course, himself breathing calmly through his nose, and the muffled sounds of guards and servants laughing and talking and working.
A chain rattled and a bitter, surprisingly strong voice came out from around the corner. "I know you're there ice-seller."
Kristoff nearly jumped at the sudden noise. He hadn't expected Hans to know who he was, let alone guess it was him.
"I suppose you don't do that anymore, though. Now you're just a king. How lucky you must feel."
The king swallowed and went down the final steps. His padded shoes were soft against the cobblestone floor as he went in front of the cell's bars. Hans was slumped against the corner of the wall. Half of his face, covered in shadow, made Kristoff shiver. The other side of his face glowed in the moonlight, almost as pale as the moon itself. Anna had described his eyes as dreamy and his complexion as flawless, but seeing him here, like this, he wondered what she was talking about. His eyes were dull and large, purple circles hung under them. His skin was ashy, all the rosiness from his cheeks and nose had long since gone away. The prison clothes, a baggy shirt that barely covered his shoulders and cotton trousers, gave away his thinness. He was always thin, with just the slightest touch of muscle, but now he was nothing but bones and skin pulled on a little too tight. If Kristoff didn't know better, he wouldn't think this was Prince Hans of the Southern Isles.
"I don't." His voice was soft. "Feel lucky I mean. I know I should but…" He looked away at the lantern hanging on the wall. Besides the moon, the lantern was the only source of light. It dimly lit up all the cells save for the occupied one.
Hans stood up, chains rattling against each other. "Do you miss it? The ability to do whatever you want without worrying about her? Without worrying about anything?" Hans limped over to the cell door (the limp was courtesy of his eldest brother, who couldn't help but beat on him before sending him back) and wrapped his fingers around two thick bars. "Do you miss freedom?"
Kristoff snapped his head back towards the prisoner and scowled. "My love for Anna outweighs my homesickness. And I'm king; I have enough freedom."
That made Hans snicker. The king had never heard anything so bitter.
"You're royalty now! You have no freedom. If you slip up, there are consequences that could mean your life. You have to go to every royal ball, every royal christening, have to keep every nearby kingdom happy or you risk war, have to keep your own subjects happy or you risk being overthrown. The crown is heavier than you thought, King Kristoff. Much heavier."
Kristoff frowned. "And you could handle it better? You nearly sent this and your own kingdom to war! Murder is something that costs your life, royalty or not."
Hans shrugged, adjusting his shirt to cover more of his shoulders. "Murder means a death sentence unless you can justify it. With Anna, well the plan was to wait with dear little Anna but plans can go astray, it wasn't murder on my part; it was Elsa's fault, it was her who froze Anna's heart. And I was giving out the death sentence to Elsa, who almost killed her dear little sister." The prisoner said the last words with a low voice and a scowl that could give children nightmares. "Everyone would think of me as a hero."
And with that, he stepped back from the cell door and sat down on the pile of damp hay Hans called his bed. From the shadows came a small thunk! which Kristoff could only imagine was Hans' head resting on the cold wall. He sighed softly, closing his eyes.
"I envy you, Kristoff." There was hesitation before the other's name, thinking about adding a king before it and deciding against it.
It made the king's expression soften. There was something terribly human about the way he said those few words. It was so different than his charm around strangers and his bitterness towards those he knew.
Kristoff turned on his heel and went up the stairs. But before he was up 5 steps, the king stopped.
"Would you like more light down here?"
"Very much."
Kristoff nodded although Hans couldn't see and continued up the stairs.
For the first time in a long time Hans smiled. But it wasn't because of Kristoff's generosity.
