A Brother's Counsel

"Good evening, Lars," Hans hailed the older man who was sitting at the desk, reading a book. Hans made sure to call him from a safe distance, outside of the library door, so as not to startle him in the middle of his reading. Heaven knew that Lars had reason enough to fear him already.

"Ah, Hans," said Lars as he stood and turned to face his youngest brother. Hans was always struck by how pale Lars' hair was, almost a white-gold color, uncannily reminiscent of Queen Elsa's. "I was hoping to have a word with you."

"About what?" Hans stepped into the library and looked around at the shelves that lined the walls. Lars had spent so much time here when he and Hans had been younger...

"Arendelle," Lars replied. "You have been shutting me out ever since you returned from there. For that matter, you have been shutting everybody else out as well. There is something that you haven't told me about your journey, and it's more than just Queen Elsa's accusations against you. There is something else you're afraid of..."

Hans laughed. Lars' castigation sounded to him so much like Anna and Elsa on the night of the coronation that he could not help but laugh.

"Hans?" The look of surprise and injury on Lars' face stifled Hans' laughter.

"I'm sorry, Lars. You just reminded me of something I overheard at Elsa's coronation: An argument between her and her sister Anna."

"Anna..." Lars said. "You strayed from the plan, and decided to marry her rather than Elsa... Why?"

"Elsa had been in seclusion all her life, and Anna was much more... open... than Elsa. I thought it would be easier." And I botched my introduction, mistaking the one sister for the other...

"It wouldn't have made you king, though. Not unless... not unless you murdered Elsa as well."

"That had occurred to me as well," said Hans. "I still thought it would be easier."

Lars sighed. "You are not a killer, Hans." From any of his other brothers, it would have been an insult, but Lars made it sound like the highest praise. "Killing is never as easy as it sounds. I suppose you found that out for yourself, seeing as Elsa is still the queen of Arendelle."

"It was harder than it sounded, yes," Hans agreed, "but not for that reason. As I said, I met Princess Anna shortly after my arrival in Arendelle, and I quickly deduced that it would be much easier for me to marry her than Queen Elsa. However, Anna and I still needed Elsa's permission to marry, and Elsa refused to grant even that. It was then that Anna scolded Elsa in almost the exact same way that you just scolded me: She asked why Elsa kept shutting her out, why she kept shutting the world out, what she was so afraid of... and then Elsa revealed her magic, conjuring a wall of ice around herself."

"So that's why their parents kept them in seclusion," Lars said. "They didn't want Elsa to hurt anybody with her icy magic."

"No doubt," said Hans. "And then..."

Hans continued to relate his experiences at Arendelle, as he had done with Father Kierkegard earlier that evening.

"Only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart," Lars said. "Come, Hans. Take a look at what I was just reading."

Hans walked over to Lars' desk and looked at the book, open to a page somewhere in the middle.

"Much of the earlier parts are more agreeable to our father, I would guess, and to most of the others as well," Lars commented, "but these middle chapters help me escape from their madness."

...Love your friends truly, as I have loved you truly. There is no greater act of true love than to lay down my life for my friends. You are my friends too if you do this...

"That's just what Father Kierkegard said!" Hans exclaimed. "The Book of Johannes, he called it."

"You've gone to see Father Kierkegard!" Lars exclaimed, and Hans could hear the smile in his voice. "He has been a good friend to me as well, one for whom I would gladly lay down my life."

"Just as Anna laid down her life for Elsa," Hans said.

"Just so," Lars agreed. "You know, I suggested that you attend the coronation of Elsa and try to court her because I suspected that you would be much happier in Arendelle than here."

"Yes, I agree."

"Despite everything that you've done since then, I still think that's the case."

"I'm not going back to Arendelle; Queen Elsa would freeze me solid if I tried; or perhaps Anna would do worse. I agree that anywhere would be better for me than here, but not Arendelle."

"I suppose our father the king wouldn't be pleased to send you anywhere in any case," said Lars. "It is unfortunate."

"I am honestly past caring what would or would not please Father," Hans admitted. "According to him, I can't do anything right. He's worse than our brothers."

"Nonetheless, don't act rashly," Lars advised. "Consider every possibility before you make your choice. I know that it looks like you've used up the last of your options, but trust me: You haven't."

Hans was reminded of the chest full of gold that Lars had given him last year, in honor of his twentieth birthday. Every gold piece remained inside that chest, since Hans had not had any reason to spend it. His journey to Arendelle, for example, had been paid for by his father.

Moreover, until now he had wanted to avoid arousing rumors by spending what he had never been able to spend in the past. But now... "Every possibility... Let me see your maps."

Hans and Lars pored over the maps of the Southern Isles and the surrounding lands. As Hans' goal was to avoid Arendelle to the north, they quickly disregarded that particular map.

"Corona looks interesting," said Hans, pointing to the area thus marked on one of the maps. "South of here. How are our relations with them?"

"Friendly enough," said Lars. "A few years ago there was an unusual change in their military munitions, to which some of their soldiers did not take particularly well. Come to think of it, some of them have elected to come here and serve the Southern Isles due to our more conventional military ways."

"An unusual change in their military munitions?" Hans said. "What, do you mean they found some weapon better than a sword?"

"Strangely enough, they did indeed discard their swords for... a weapon similar to a mace or a warhammer, but with a much shorter handle..." Hans could hear suppressed laughter in Lars' voice. "and a broad, flat head."

"Like a frying pan?" Hans asked incredulously.

"No," Lars choked in a much more obvious, and futile, attempt to restrain a laugh. "Not like a frying pan..."

Neither Hans nor Lars counted the minutes as the library rang with their laughter.

Hans couldn't believe it. Lars had never lost his cool demeanor like this. Not a single laugh had ever escaped from this stalwart, studious prince. Nor from Hans himself, of course; he too had precious little to laugh about, and he felt as if twenty years' worth of laughter were attempting to escape from him in twenty seconds, erupting in excruciating joy from his chest.

This must be what Anna's relationship with Elsa is like, now...

With that sobering thought, the heat in Hans' chest subsided, and he recovered enough of his breath to speak. "Frying pans... Where did they get the idea to use frying pans as weapons?"

"Apparently," Lars replied with a chuckle, having recovered his breath as well, "they have developed a new style of combat for which frying pans were particularly well suited. Rumor has it that this fighting style was discovered by Queen Rapunzel herself."

Hans laughed again, but more briefly. "She has magic too, doesn't she? I wouldn't want to make an enemy of her."

"Indeed she does," said Lars, "or did, by all accounts, before she had her hair cut. But it is wise not to underestimate her even now that her hair is cut. She and her husband Eugene would die for each other, and that inclination towards self-sacrifice is stronger than any magic."

"Again, like Anna and Elsa," said Hans. "Let's see where else... Ah, I did command some of Weaseltown's soldiers once." He pointed to the region east of Arendelle, northeast of the Southern Isles. "Perhaps I could find welcome there."

Lars sighed. "Hans, if you are even thinking about setting forth for Weselton, you must stop using that insulting epithet. No matter how well you commanded the Duke's forces in the mountains north of Arendelle, they will never kindly to you unless you pronounce the country's name correctly."

"Weselton... Weselton..." Hans said. "I understand that Elsa has commanded an embargo between Arendelle and Weselton as well, so I can reasonably expect no trouble from her, unless I go looking for it."

"Keep in mind that the Duke is not happy about that embargo," Lars said. "If he is unhappy enough about it, then he might order an invasion of Arendelle."

"True," Hans acknowledged. "What about the Western Isles?" He pulled out a map of the two islands far to the west.

"A much longer journey," said Lars. "I would advise against it. My history books claim that the people there are descended from our ancestors' brothers who set out to conquer the Western Isles more than a thousand years ago, but for a prince of the Southern Isles to visit them... I'm sure Father wouldn't allow even me to make such a journey. Nor would I leave Skaggerik undefended anyway."

"Would it be easier to convince him to send me to Corona? Weselton?" Hans asked.

"Probably," said Lars, "but don't get your hopes up until you've spoken to him."

The candles were burning low, and the full moon hung high in the sky; it was quite late.

"Thank you for the conversation, Lars," said Hans. "It is quite late, and who knows what tomorrow will bring? Good night."

"Thank you too, Hans," said Lars. "I am glad that you were willing to talk to me about Arendelle. And... for my part, I enjoyed the jest, and I hope you did too."

Hans stared at him for a few seconds. That "jest" was the purest joy that he had shared with any of his brothers... even with Lars himself... ever in his life. "I wish we had done this long ago," whispered Hans.

Hans knew that he could not contain the fire that had rekindled in his chest, nor stop its eruption from his eyes. He hoped that he had turned away and left the library before his most beloved brother could see or hear the eruption.

By the same token, however, he had turned away too quickly to see that Lars, too, had tears in his eyes; he had walked away to quickly to hear Lars whisper "So do I, Johannes... So do I."