Update! Sorry for the somewhat short chapter, but I'm still debating on what to do next. To everyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed this story, thank you very much! I Appreciate it!
Hans had managed to fall into a fitful and very shallow sleep, reclined against the cobblestone walls of his cell, but he was quickly and rudely awakened by the sound of metal striking metal, accompanied by annoyed shouting.
"Come on! Up, up, up! Breakfast time!"
Hans snapped himself from his position, and made his way to the cell door, searching for the guard responsible for feeding the prisoners today.
A Thinly built man, with arms like broomstick handles, dressed in a soldier's uniform far too big for him, made his way down the row of cells.
He stopped at every cell to dump a ladle full of some disgusting soup into the waiting buckets held out by the prisoners, humming as he did so.
Hans held out his own bucket reluctantly. Often he would skip meals, simply because he couldn't bring himself to extend the bucket expectantly like a whipped dog. But there was something familiar about this man, and Hans wanted to see him up close.
The prisoner two cells down from Hans' apparently felt the same way, because when the guard lowered his ladle into the pot for the prisoner's ration, the prisoner reached out and struck the pot, causing it to jump and splash soup into the guard's face.
The guard responded quickly and calmly. He slammed the metal ladle into the prisoner's face with apparently all the force he could muster, for Hans, and certainly every other prisoner in the wing, heard a sickening crunching sound as the prisoner fell backwards, holding his face with both hands as red streamed out between his fingers.
The guard served soup to the prisoner in the next cell with the presumably bloodstained ladle. The prisoner did not complain.
The man came to Hans next, and without looking up, he dipped the ladle into the soup for Hans' ration. When he did look up, the soup pot, ladle and all, immediately clattered to the floor.
"Hans!"
It took the fallen prince a bit longer to recognize the guard, but when he did, a similar look of shock spread across his face.
"Gunter?"
"Gods! What has Gustav done?"
Hans spread his hands, as if to illustrate the obvious.
"Imprisoned me, as you can likely see."
Gunter looked indignant.
"How can he imprison a prince, much less his brother, without trial?"
"There was a trial, though really, it could barely qualify as one. It was not a very public thing."
"This is an injustice!"
"As you might imagine, I could not agree with you more."
"What were the charges?"
Hans hesitated. He didn't have to tell the full truth
"I'm sure you've heard by now, of the incident in Arendelle?"
"Everyone in Europe has, I'm sure."
"I was there, the only one of my brothers I might add, for the coronation of Queen Elsa. When she froze the land, I tried to stop her, I tried to convince her to end the winter, but she would not listen to reason. In the end, I was forced to end her life, for the good of her own people. But I failed, I was shipped here in chains, accused of regicide. As you can only imagine, Gustav and the rest were only too happy to at last have an excuse to get me out of the way."
"Wh-what is your final sentence, Hans?"
Hans took on a forlorn look, his eyes cast downward.
"I do not know, it would not surprise me if it were death."
"No. That cannot be. Will none of your brothers speak for you?"
"Only Harald or Jarl might, perhaps Klaus. But it does not matter, they are too afraid of the rest to say anything."
Gunter cursed.
"I will speak with Harald, if nothing else, perhaps he can sway Gustav to be more merciful."
Hans smiled and reached through the bars to clasp Gunter's hands.
"Thank you old friend."
Gunter nodded and continued down the hall, shouting at prisoners all the way.
Hans was still smiling. No plotting, no intricate escape plan required, an opportunity had fallen into his lap once again, and this one he did not plan to squander.