To Arendelle

(A/N: I think I might try to continue this and see how it goes over. Hopefully for the most part there will be updates everyday, but this will probably be the last, or second to last, update for a little over two weeks as my computer is being sent off to be fixed, so apologies in advance. Thank you for the reviews to this story. Hopefully it will prove itself a good read in time. This is probably the one time in the whole story lyrics will be put in. I hate lyrics added into stories, but given the song kind of has a huge bearing on the overall plot, and ties so tightly with both Hans and Elsa, this is the exception. It'll be referenced a good number of times.)

There was darkness. Mist. Silence. He was wandering an endless plane. Lost. What was this place? Soon he stopped, trying to hear something. Anything. Anything that would let him know he wasn't alone.

But he was always alone...

"Did you ever think even once that there could be something more precious than a throne to be found in Arendelle?" a voice questioned the young prince. He blinked and turned. There was a mirror. Reflected in it was himself. His reflection had spoken to him? Surely it must have. There was no other explanation. And for some reason it didn't seem so unlikely in this place.

"The throne was symbolic," Hans answered bluntly. "It wasn't the power I wanted. Not completely. It was the recognition. It was the ability to say to them, 'look, I made something of myself'."

"You could have made something of yourself," his reflection answered, placing his hand on the mirror. Hans reached out, mimicking the gesture and laying it there. He said nothing in response. "You could have found contentment, a place of your own, love… You could have had all you desired for so long…"

"Not everything," he murmured. It wouldn't have made his brothers love him… Of course it hadn't anyway… Had he really thought it would, or had he just wanted someone else to suffer as badly as him?

"Enough," the reflection stated. "You would have found enough."

"It will never be enough…" Hans hollowly answered.

"It might have been," his reflection said. Hans closed his eyes tightly, leaning his forehead against the mirror and feeling tears slipping from his eyes.

"It might have been…" he agreed. "But we'll never know now, will we?"

"And whose fault is that?" his reflection asked.

"You sound like our brothers," Hans dryly remarked.

"But it's true," the reflection stated.

Hans was quiet. "I know…" he answered. "Believe me I know…"

"You don't remember when you were me, do you?" the reflection asked.

"If I didn't remember, I wouldn't have been able to act the part so well," Hans said.

"The part you acted was a mask," his reflection said. "An overdone one, might I add."

"Who asked you?" Hans bit, frowning at the reflection.

"Chameleon Prince, you're a mix of all of your masks. The bad and the good, the miserable and the joyful, the pain and the relief… You just haven't put the proper puzzle pieces together yet," the reflection said. "Look at me. Remember me. Remember who you are," the reflection said.

Hans looked. He looked but he couldn't look for more than a few seconds. He never could. Dryly he laughed to himself. Really what else had he expected? "Go away," he said.

"How can I? I'm you," the reflection said.

Hans suddenly drew his sword and spun, slashing it and shattering the mirror into a million pieces which rained as far as you could see. Two shards fell into his eyes. Another pierced his heart. "That 'me' died long ago," Hans said to the remains of the mirror. But in the million shards he could still see himself reflected, shaking his head disappointedly. Condemningly. Hans let out a shaky breath and fell to his knees, holding his body closely to himself and letting silent tears fall.

Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining,

This icy force both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining.

He heard his brothers singing the legend in the back of his head. "You have always likened the prophecy to Elsa… Perhaps now it is your turn to be the frozen heart worth mining," the reflection of himself whispered from all directions. Hans covered his ears and bowed low to the ground, trying to tune it all out.

Frozen

The prince's eyes flickered open to the sound of seagulls. He closed them tight again with a soft groan then sat up, rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm. He blinked towards the porthole and gazed out of it in silence. A dream. It had just been a dream... Just a dream... On the deck above he could hear the voices of his brothers and of the crew...

Years Ago

There were thirteen princes born to the Southern Isles. Thirteen because life in this climate and world was hard and dangerous. To have only one child to your name was as good as a death sentence to your family name. The King and Queen had had thirteen, a difference of fifteen years between the eldest and youngest. It was nothing short of a miracle they all had survived into adulthood, even despite being royalty, and everyone knew it; but they had had their ways… They had protected each other, from the eldest down to the youngest… At least once they had… At first… That had ended long ago, it seemed. He could not remember love in his life.

In order from eldest to youngest there was as follows:

Caleb was eldest and had taken the name of Moren on their father's recent death for reasons Hans had yet to figure out for all those who had taken name changes. Jürgen was next. Lars was third. He, on father's death, had taken the name of Mael. the twins were Rudi and Runo, who on father's death had taken the names Rhun and Duach. Though he called them twins, they had been born a month or two apart from one another. Rudi had been premature and would not have lived if not for certain 'connections', so they were told, though those connections were never revealed. Then there came Justic, then Franz who was also called Neb. After him were the triplets Calcas, Connyn, and Coth. Then came Kelin-Sel, Iscawin, and finally Hans.

In the first, second, and third years came Caleb, Jürgen, and Lars. Five years passed with nothing and then plague struck. The king and queen had nearly lost them all. Rudi and Runo had come next that eighth year, only two months thereabouts between them. They had been insurance there would be an heir. Another two years passed before Justic was born, an accident, and Franz one year later, the eleventh year. They had sworn no more after that.

In the thirteenth year there was a kidnapping and ransom attempt on the eldest and fifth sons, as well as an assassination attempt on the rest along with the king and queen. Enter the triplets, Calcas, Connyn, and Coth. They had been born as extra insurance. Well, Calcas had been. It wasn't as if triplets were the plan, and Connyn and Coth were unwanted surprises. At first the queen was bitter towards them, but it was not long before her heart accepted the existence of the other two, though it was apparent that Calcas was favored. All children that came after Calcas became liabilities, unwanted and undesired extras, though it could not be said their mother, at least, did not eventually grow to care something for them; but mother had been ill and had been too weak to spend time with her children, by then, and the woman became only a face. There but not there.

The last three of them came in those two years after the triplets, starting with the sudden birth of Kelin-Sel. Conceived the same year the triplets were born, he was a January baby and was followed by Iscawin less than a year after. Their mother was at the end of her ropes. The thirteenth brother, Hans, came in the fifteenth year, and then the queen had been exhausted and would bear no more.

By the time Hans was weaned, it was believed the queen was on her deathbed, spent and drained by years of sickness, childbirth, and tending and nursing and mothering; though to be fair, by the time of the twins came, the eldest at least had been old enough to start helping take care of his siblings, followed by the others in time. They continued to help for the rest of their mother's child-rearing days, along with various nannies and servants who, to be completely honest, had cared for them more than father had. Caleb was father's favorite child. You could almost think he was the only one.

The older children helped with the younger, as was expected in a family of such massive size. The king made sure of it, alarmed about the queen's lurking death and determined to take as much pain and exhaustion from her as possible. Year by year the queen grew weaker and weaker, tired of this hard climate and her sickness. Their father unfeeling and cruel and too indifferent to care, their mother slowly dying and too weak to care for them as she wished she could, the children were left only with each other, and the task of raising his siblings fell heavy on the shoulders of Caleb. Frankly, their choice was protect each other - more or less - or watch at least one, if not more, of their brothers die from neglect or too little food or goodness knew what else. Not that the caring had gone on for long before it was every man for themselves, and any protecting done was because of a sense of duty.

When Hans was about twenty or twenty-one, the queen had finally died in the night. To be fair, she had survived beyond her life expectancy by more than a decade. As to Hans, strife began in his twelfth year of life, when certain signs that had already been present in him began to manifest and grow, and resentment and dissatisfaction were apparent. Of course, they always had been, but at twelve they truly and totally sprang to life.

Though he was far from the only one, his change was most prominent and outwardly visible. Caleb, Moren, saw it first and acted immediately, attempting to keep Hans busy with duties and more responsibility to preoccupy him from thoughts of rebellion or contempt or resentment. Anything to protect father, of course. For a time it worked, but it soon became not enough as jealousy and longing for a throne of his own began sprouting in his mind. Moren had convinced father to give Hans even more duties and even more responsibility, hoping it would work a second time and work better if it came from father instead of him. Look where that got them in the end. Here.

Present Day

When the ship had put out to sea, heading towards Arendelle. Hans had felt only dread and apprehension. He didn't want to go back there. It was the last place he wanted to go. Namely because he couldn't help but suspect that his siblings were bringing him back to face the trial and execution they hadn't been able to deliver. He shook his head bitterly and rose, throwing on a shirt and making himself presentable to go up on deck. He checked himself briefly in the mirror. Never more than a few seconds of looking. He didn't want to see. He turned from it quickly and went up to the deck. Exiting the cabin he was in, he closed his eyes and breathed the salty air in deeply. A smile pulled at his lips. He loved the sea and the smell of the sea air. He loved it almost as much as Jürgen seemed to. He glanced over at Jürgen. His brother looked so at home here. He got down and dirty with the crew without even a second thought and looked happy.

It wasn't often he saw Jürgen look happy unless it was a malicious sort of happiness. He seemed completely at ease there, though, helping with rigs and sails and whatnot as Moren shook his head hopelessly. Moren disapproved heavily of the wild children of the bunch, namely Jürgen and Franz. He especially hated how Franz would sneak off to town to go drink and party with other young men. Franz's town friends all knew him by Neb. Neb was kind of his casual nickname. Franz was the one more gone by. Moren - who took a vow of silence at mother's passing - would rip hopelessly into Franz through Jürgen - his voice until recently - who would always later tell Franz to take him with him next time when Moren wasn't within hearing distance. Or within 100 feet, for that matter.

Hans shrugged. It wouldn't kill him to help the sailors too. Just to keep in practice. He cast off his coat and stuffed it in his bag before going to help the sailors like Jürgen was doing. It seemed the only time him and Jürgen got along was when they were sailing a ship together. Of course they couldn't afford—out on the sea—to do anything but get along. He liked those moments, when he and his brothers were at peace and working together… They were just too far spaced apart for it to ever mean anything long standing.

Hans, catching a rope Jürgen threw down to him, tied it fast and tossed a different object over to Rhun and Duach, who now were helping around the ship as well. In fact, they all were. Except for Moren who looked something akin to appalled that the princes were working right alongside the crew and learning from them like common, well, sailors, albeit with more decorum. Heaven forbid the princes do such menial labor. Hans caught sight of the eldest and noticed him shaking his head hopelessly at his brothers as he scanned them. Meeting Hans's eyes, Moren rolled his own in exasperation. Hans couldn't help but smirk before realizing with a jolt that one of his brothers had just made him smirk. At the same time he suddenly noticed he felt something like content. Quickly his smirk vanished and Hans shook his head. They were still the same brothers who bullied him and ignored and hated him. He should not be feeling a moment of contentment.

Hans turned to look out over the sea towards Arendelle. A grave and solemn and bitter and disgusted look crossed his face. It wouldn't be long before it was in sight. The Southern Isles and Arendelle weren't exactly spaced far apart. A few days journey, depending on the weather. A three or four day trip in ideal conditions, if that. They would see it by tonight or by tomorrow, wind, weather, and current depending. The crew began to get in a rhythm. Hans frowned as he heard the men humming, getting in tune with one another. Every time they got into a rhythm, a song was bound to happen. Of course Calcas, Connyn, and Coth were always the ones that began the music and singing. They were the musicians of the brood. Usually Hans would sit back and ignore it. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky this time. No sooner had they started the song when his eyes widened. No. It couldn't be. They wouldn't. Not that song, anything but that song!

Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining;

This icy force both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining.

The triplets sang the verse while singing in harmony. Hans spun around to yell at them to shut up, but the ball was already rolling.

So cut through the heart, cold and clear,

Strike for love and strike for fear,

See the beauty sharp and sheer,

Split the ice apart,

And break the frozen heart!

As they sang, the sailors tossed lines to each other or cut ropes and generally went about their business. Hans immediately started trying to get through the sailors and his brothers to reach the cabin. He didn't want to hear this! If he never heard it again it would be too soon. Frozen Heart. Oh god why did it have to remind him of her? Dammit, he never wanted to be reminded of either of them ever again! The chant portion began and Hans was immediately knocked off balance by a sailor who was pulling at ropes.

Hup! Ho! Watch your step! Let it go!

Hans fell into two others who were tossing something in the air. The sailors caught him and tossed him up, grinning wickedly.

Hup! Ho! Watch your step! Let it go!

Hans cried out as he flew upwards. The triplets caught him, grinning wickedly at him as if they'd conspired this whole thing.

"Beautiful!" Calcas said.

"Powerful!" Connyn continued.

"Dangerous!" Coth exclaimed.

"Cold!" the three said together, passing their brother from one to the other playfully, rubbing his hair and shoving him every which way.

"Ice has a magic, can't be controlled!" the sailors sang as Hans broke away from the triplets and made a lunge for safety again, almost cursing them out before deciding they probably wouldn't care even if they did manage to hear over the singing sailors.

"Stronger than one!" some sang, standing up and making Hans gasp, leaping back.

"Stronger than ten!" others echoed, making Hans yelp and jump forward again, looking at them in horror.

"Stronger than a hundred men! Ya!" the two groups sang together, closing around Hans and not even noticing him. Nothing new, Hans dryly told himself. He was used to being not noticed. He gave a frustrated cry, pulling at his hair then shoving violently passed them, bee lining for the cabin.

As the music played—the triplets, Hans knew, were providing it—the youngest prince realized very quickly he wasn't going to make the cabin with all the bustle on deck. He almost got beaned by a beam swinging around before Iscawin suddenly reached out, pulling him out of the path and smirking at his brother as the song continued, Iscawin of course singing along.

Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining,

The sailors sang as Hans scowled murderously at his brother and jerked roughly away. Iscawin laughed.

This icy force both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining!

Hans growled as he felt Jürgen seize his arm and spin him playfully around to the verse that was in the process of being sung. He released Hans, who spun with a cry and fell forward only to be caught by Justic and Franz, who were singing:

Cut through the heart, cold and clear,

Strike for love and strike for fear;

There's beauty and there's danger here.

Hans felt his arm grabbed and looked up, noticing Moren, surprisingly silent, pulling him away from the other two and to the front of the ship with Lars, Mael, where it was quiet.

"Split the ice apart!" the sailors could be heard singing as Hans blinked confusedly back at Moren, who was leaving again, then looked at Mael, who was leaning against the front of the ship. He was almost grateful to Moren; and to Mael for not singing. Of course, that disillusion ended with the next verse.

"Beware the frozen heart," Mael quietly and darkly sang, turning and looking directly at Hans. Hans felt a chill race through him as the third born sang those words so quietly. So darkly. It should annoy him… All it did was scare him… When Mael sang that verse, Hans felt as though it pertained directly to him and his treachery. Maybe it had… He'd never thought of it before. He'd always likened that song to Elsa. A sudden chill as he remembered Anna's words.

"The only one with a frozen heart around here is you!"

What if it meant him? If not the first half of the prophecy song, then the second half definitely. Hans blinked at Mael as the music died. Mael turned and looked back out over the ocean again, quiet and solemn. Hans swallowed nervously and looked that way too. Well, at least Mael wasn't sharing any of his dark and freaky poetry. Mael loved poetry. Writing it, reading it, anything to do with it… It and history. The third-born was particularly fond of incredibly morbid ones that used to give him, Iscawin, Kelin-Sel, and on occasion the triplets nightmares. The last notes of the music ended and all was silent again, say for the constant chatter of sailors or orders being called out by Jürgen or Moren. On occasion he would order them around too, but right now he didn't want to look at any of them let alone talk to them.

Frozen

Arendelle loomed in the distance. Hans looked towards it with a look of such resignation on his face that one would think he was a prisoner being led to the execution block. In fact, he was all but willing to guarantee that was exactly what was happening. His brothers were bringing him back to have him executed. He was all but counting down the minutes he had left. He felt suddenly tired and wavered unsteadily. Someone steadied him. He blinked and glanced over. Coth. With him were Connyn and Calcas, of course. "Easy, Hans. You haven't been brought back to face a chopping block," Coth assured.

"What would any of you care even if I was?" Hans bitterly replied. The triplets cringed and exchanged looks.

"We're never going to live that down, are we?" Connyn bluntly asked.

"Nope," Hans replied.

"Oh come on, Hans," Connyn said.

"You pretended I didn't exist for two years!" Hans shot. Connyn cringed, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"We aren't pretending anymore, Hans," Calcas said.

"Tell it to somebody who cares. I stopped a long, long time ago," Hans answered. "If no one was going to care about me, I certainly wasn't going to care about them."

"We never said we didn't care," Coth muttered.

"Trust me, you didn't have to," Hans answered. "Tell me you cared and say it truthfully." The triplets were quiet, guiltily avoiding looking at him. "I thought so."

"We're caring now," Calcas quietly said.

"Too little too late," Hans answered.

"It's been too little too late for all of us since childhood," Coth murmured. They couldn't say they'd cared about their older or younger brothers much either, come age eight. About the time they'd realized they were nothing. Hardly important enough to even be thought about or acknowledged.

"You weren't the only one who ended up treated like he didn't exist," Connyn sharply snapped at Hans.

"Oh give me a break," Hans said.

"Don't pretend you know what went on in our lives, Hans!" Connyn yelled. "Or any of ours, for that matter. You were too wrapped up in your own world to open your eyes and see you weren't the only one suffering and hurting!"

"Don't cross me, you useless…" Hans began, sneering darkly.

"That's enough. All of you," Justic sharply said, approaching the younger ones firmly.

"Oh go jump off the ship, Justic," Coth shot. "This doesn't concern you!"

"How dare…" Justic began before forcing himself to calm down. He had to be responsible. He couldn't get into a fight with them now. He had to be the mediator at the moment. "This behavior will not be tolerated in Arendelle, so you four best shape up and do it damn quick," he darkly growled at them. They were silent, looking down at the deck. Justic harrumphed and left. The triplets huffed. Calcas roughly nudged Hans before marching off. Hans rubbed his arm with a hiss of pain and glared after Calcas, imaging running a sword through his back. Connyn walked towards the helm to see how things were while Coth gave Hans one last sad look then went to check on another part of the ship. Hans inwardly cringed and shifted. With a frustrated growl he turned around and sulkily leaned against the railing watching Arendelle draw closer and closer and closer. Closer to his worst nightmares, that was.