You Have Made Your Brother a Whore
(A/N: Trigger warning flashback that may need to be rated M, according to two reviewers who have warned I could, and will, be reported for it. Given Frozen's platform, and given how touchy a subject matter it is, I can see their point. It wasn't meant to offend. I actually meant to raise awareness to this taboo topic and bring attention to a real danger out there. Raise awareness that in fact no, children aren't always as safe as they seem, and yes, things this horrible do happen and they happen often. It's a reality that can't and shouldn't be hidden from, and the more people who are aware of the danger the better and safer children can be. I've changed the rating of the whole story to M now, as the mystery referenced in the description is pretty gruesome, but let me know if it should be. In my opinion it's not overly bad, the worst the flashback gets is a close call, but feel free to skip the whole thing. It doesn't need to be read. Though it's the bulk of the chapter, its only bearing on the plot is exploring Franz's past, giving an idea of just how long he's been a 'partier' - read PTSD alcoholic - and showcasing the start of Hans's hatred and distrust of him, the point where his relationship with the middle brother fell apart. Not that there was much of one to start. It will be referenced in future stories, possibly, and gives a bit of backstory to the woman Justic ended up marrying, as well as hints at the reason for the resentment felt between Franz and Justic over the latter's choice of wife, etc. It's basically a 'history' chapter. And shows the darker side of Franz and just how macabre he's willing to get despite being the laid back one of the bunch.)
"What is your sister smirking about?" Kristoff asked as he and Anna watched Elsa reading something.
Anna grimaced. "She's rereading a letter of Hans's from about a week ago, the latest one she replied to," she answered. It was usually a week between each letter.
"Huh, prince has a sense of humor. One Elsa shares. Go figure," Kristoff said, shrugging.
"I guess. Whether it's intentional or not, it apparently tickles Elsa's funny bone," Anna wryly said, frowning.
"I take it you're not pleased?" Kristoff asked, smirking.
"In a word? No," Anna answered. "It's just weird, you know. To think she shares anything in common with Hans. I mean they don't even like each other and yet I've never seen her smile, or heard her giggle, as much as she has since the correspondence began."
"In war you kind of have to lighten the mood with humor," Kristoff said.
"I know. It's sort of interesting how many emotions I see go across her face when she reads letters from him, actually. I mean, I saw her go from misery to laughter in this last one alone. I don't like it," Anna stated.
"You think she's growing fond of him?" Kristoff asked.
"Eww. No," Anna said, obviously disgusted at the idea of it. "But… I don't know. I'm just worried. Hans knows how to play you, you know."
"I know," Kristoff answered, nodding. "Chameleon Prince."
"I don't trust him," Anna said.
"Neither does Elsa. Heck, his own brothers hardly trust him. I don't think even he trusts him," Kristoff said.
"Right. So why does Elsa always have to be so eager to receive his letters?" Anna asked.
"Hey, it's not like she's receiving them from anyone else. The ones she does get are usually proposals, or offers of political marriages, or requests to meet. She's not into anything like that. I guess Hans is a refreshing change. He's not after anything from her, and I think she appreciates that there's at least one guy out there not looking to get more than she's willing to give," Kristoff said.
"None of his brothers are either," Anna pointed out.
"Don't bank on it. Pretty sure every one of them that's single has considered it. Iscawin certainly has," Kristoff said. "They're just not persistent about it. Well, Iscawin is, but still. I'm thinking Elsa is basically just a correspondent to Hans. She's kind of his link to sanity and peace. I mean the guy's on the front lines of a war. Pretty sure he's not thinking about how much he hates her when he's writing her. She's his respite, I guess. For now. When this is all over it'll go back to normal, I'll bet."
"I suppose," Anna relented with a sigh. She still wasn't comfortable with this, though.
Frozen
Hans's eyes scanned the letter, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Elsa's response?" a voice asked. Franz Neb.
The youngest prince frowned, looking over, then turned attention back to said letter. "Yes," he answered, finishing it off.
"I knew it. You always smile when you're reading them," Franz said.
Hans blinked and blushed faintly, to his own annoyance. He frowned over at his sibling. "We share a sense of humor and a wit. Sue me," the youngest prince defended. He opened the leather book on his desk, where he stored all her letters, and tucked it in. "I'll respond to her when I have something to report."
"You've sent her a letter every week on the button since the start. I'd advise you write her on schedule with or without any news to report," Franz replied.
"I will," Hans stated. "I always have."
"I'm surprised you two are keeping up at least a semi-cordial correspondence," Franz remarked.
"There's no time for grudges in war," Hans replied. "I'm more focused on keeping my men and myself alive."
"You know what would be good for their morale? And yours?" Franz asked.
"I swear to god if you say a brothel…" Hans began.
"A brothel? Great idea! You read my mind," Franz cut off. "Let's go."
"Franz!" Hans shot.
"Oh come on. Loosen up. Do you really intend to be a virgin your whole life?" Franz asked.
"For your information, it isn't that hard," Hans shot. "What is your obsession with sex anyway?"
"It's fun and can be a good workout," Franz replied.
"So is breaking horses. I don't see you doing that," Hans said.
"That is life threatening. Sleeping with a woman isn't," Franz replied.
"Don't be too sure," Hans replied, smirking.
"Point taken," Franz admitted. "But then I've never been a horse person."
"And I've never been one for women," Hans said.
"Men?" Franz asked.
"Franz!" Hans shot sharply. "No, just no."
"Fine, fine. If you were, Moren would probably cauterize you anyway," Franz said. "Dad may have been a tyrannical dictator, but he was a progressive tyrannical dictator. Moren is less tyrannical less progressive."
"No kidding," Hans dryly said, rolling his eyes.
"Look, I'm not asking you to participate in any of the distasteful stuff. Come with me and we'll keep it just a bonding experience," Franz said.
"Make it a tavern instead of a brothel and I'll go with you. But no women. And for the love of all things decent, don't drink yourself out of your head. Please," Hans pled.
"You're taking all the fun out of it," Franz said.
"Fun for you, maybe, but the first time you brought me with you to a place like that and drank yourself into a stupor… Do I even need to continue?" Hans seriously said.
Franz had visibly paled and stiffened. After a long moment he answered, "Please don't… Alright. I won't drink myself into a frenzy, and I won't abandon you to go off with some tavern friends."
"Yeah, because I've never heard that before," Hans said with a scoff. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt though. Again." Franz was quiet, looking distant. Perhaps there was even a look of regret and shame in his eyes as he remembered the incident Hans had referred to. Hans, seeing this, sighed and glanced away. He turned back. "Look, I shouldn't have brought that up, okay? Let's forget I said anything. We'll have a good time without getting drunk, or in your case gratified, and it'll be good."
"No, you have every right to bring it up. And keep bringing it up," Franz quietly said. He looked at Hans. "I screwed up that day. Badly. More horribly than I ever had before or ever will again… It was a horrible, horrible mistake, and you were the one who paid the price. You had every right to grow to hate and mistrust me after it…" He still remembered his father's words to him when it was discovered what had happened…
Flashback
"You have made your brother a whore!" father furiously bellowed at his child. Twelve-year-old Franz quivered in terror before the man, eyes wide. Father was right. The reality of that struck him harder than anything ever had. He had made his baby brother into a whore. No, no he hadn't! Nothing had happened, he'd stopped it! The little one was sobbing in their near-to-weeping mother's arms. She tried so frantically to sooth him, but Hans wouldn't be soothed, and mother kissed him and tried so desperately to assure the young one, and there was just so much happening and so much he was trying to process…
"Hans, I didn't mean…" Franz began, reaching towards him. The six-year-old gave a little scream, burrowing further into their mother's arms. "Hans…" Franz began, withdrawing at how frightened his sibling seemed of him.
Mother looked at him with such anger, such disappointment, such… such hatred… He had never thought a mother could look at her own child in that way, and he wanted so badly to stop existing in that moment. Frankly, at this point the middle prince wouldn't have blamed their father for having him thrown in the dungeon or executed on the spot. Father turned to the guards. "Take the boy out of my sight. Such a blow to royal pride will not be tolerated." Of course. Royal pride. Why would the man care about Hans? "He is to receive twenty lashes. Draw them out." Franz felt his heart drop and his stomach twist, but he didn't protest. He didn't fight. He didn't argue. He deserved this. He knew he deserved this. Frankly, had he been ordered to he would have run himself through for what he had done…
Earlier That Night
"Of all the nights to give me the task of babysitting you," Franz said, holding his little brother's hand in annoyance as he walked.
"Where are we going?" Hans demanded uneasily. "Mama said don't leave the palace." The little boy looked around in fear and wonder. He had never been away from the safety of the castle before. He'd never seen the town or anything beyond the palace walls, say for what could be viewed through his bedroom window. It was all so big!
"It's none of your business. You just stay close and don't tell mother and father. Or our brothers. Or anyone. It's a secret, Hans, do you understand? It's a secret."
"A secret?" Hans asked, eyes wide.
"Yes, and I'm trusting you to keep it," Franz said. "Promise?"
"I promise!" Hans exclaimed, ecstatic that one of his siblings was actually taking him into a confidence. They never had before, none of them.
They approached a building. It was loud and looked warm and inviting, but Hans smelled alcohol. He didn't like that smell. One of the council members sometimes smelled like that, and then he got really, really mean and dangerous. Franz pushed open the door and entered, holding Hans's hand tightly. "Neb!" a group of people called out. Some of them looked as old as Caleb was, and others looked as old as Franz did. Franz looked more like fifteen because he was already starting to grow facial hair. Franz's voice was already breaking too, so he sounded older. And he was very tall for his age. Rudi said he'd stop growing early, though.
"Who is Neb?" Hans asked.
"It's my nickname, now stay quiet," Franz answered, frowning at his sibling. "Go over there in that corner and read your book. Don't talk to me when I'm with my friends. I'd be the laughing stock if I brought my tagalong baby brother over to them. Stay put and don't move."
"But Franz…" Hans began. He gasped as his brother let go of his hand and walked over to his friends. Hans stood in place, mortified. He'd never been away from the palace before! What was he supposed to do? He shifted uneasily, looking at all the strange adults around, then went to the corner Franz had pointed him to and sat down to read and hope no one bothered him.
Frozen
Franz and his friends drank and laughed without shame or letup, revelling in the debauchery of this place. In fact, the middle prince had completely forgotten about his brother about an hour in, having drank himself into a stupor. Hans, meanwhile, was feeling very uncomfortable. Everybody was looking at him funny. Maybe that was because his clothes were nicer than any of theirs. Mommy always said to be careful about that, because then people would know he was a prince and not everybody liked daddy. As far as Hans was concerned, most people didn't like daddy. At least, that's what Jürgen claimed. Franz had changed into peasant clothes, but hadn't given him time to.
"Little boy. What are you doing in a place like this? You're too small," a man said, frowning worriedly.
"Too rich," another sneered less concernedly, more maliciously. Roughly the man poked him. Hans looked up at them, wide-eyed, and tried to curl in on himself to disappear. "Boys like you don't belong here. They get hurt. Badly."
"Leave him alone," the first man ordered the second. "You're drunk. It's time to go." The second scoffed, but nonetheless followed.
Hans watched after them uncertainly. What did the man mean by 'they get hurt'? Hans shifted uneasily, suddenly much more acutely aware of the gazes fixed on him. He wanted to go home, he decided. He whimpered and climbed off of the chair to find Franz. He went towards the table where he'd seen his brother and company. "Franz," he said, tugging at a coat that looked like his brother's. The person turned and Hans gasped, jumping back with eyes wide. This wasn't Franz! But-but Franz had just been sitting here five minutes ago! He'd seen! Hans turned and hurried back to his corner. Maybe his brother was looking for him there. He would sit there like a good boy and not move until his sibling found him again.
Frozen
Half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half. Hans was near panic and fearful. He stood on the chair, frantically searching for his brother. He wasn't here. He wasn't coming! Had Franz forgotten about him? Everybody always said he was the most forgettable, and Runo had told him that if he went missing no one would care. They did care, though, didn't they? They had to! But then where was Franz?
"Franz?!" he called out. "Franz!" he shouted more fearfully, voice breaking. "Franz, where are you?! Franz!" Shivering, Hans sank back down into the chair. No one was coming. Had he been abandoned? He got left behind… He whimpered and curled up, starting to cry. He didn't even know where he was!
Franz, meanwhile, was gods knew where, drunk and laughing and joking with his friends. They'd left the tavern almost three hours ago, now. He couldn't shake the feeling he was forgetting something, but it probably wasn't important. He'd remember if it had been important. "Did you see the little boy in the tavern?" one of his friends asked.
"What was a child that age even doing there?" another scoffed.
"Maybe mommy and daddy got fed up with him and left him there for some stranger to pick up and employ," a third said.
Little boy? That sounded familiar, but Franz was a little too drunk to be able to focus in on the memory that was coming to mind, so he let it go. "Humph, the owner of that tavern will be all too happy to take him in, if that's the case," Franz said. "I hear he uses children as servants for all sorts of things, like cleaning and slaving away."
"That isn't the worst he uses them for. Sometimes they have to sleep with the patrons," an older boy, pushing 17, darkly remarked.
"Little kids sleep with adults all the time. They get scared or don't want to be alone, so they crawl into their parents' beds, or the beds of someone who they think will protect them," Franz said with a scoff. His littler brothers always crawled into his bed, much to his chagrin. Or into mama and papa's. Of course at twelve years of age the true meaning of those words wasn't realized by him, at least not immediately.
The older boy looked incredulously at Franz as if he wanted to say something, then decided Franz was too young to hear it. "Right. Let's go with that."
"Father tried to have an investigation done on the owner of the tavern, but then he called it off for some reason," Franz continued. He wasn't sure why father had wanted to have the place investigated, but he made it a point not to ask questions so didn't. "I think he was threatened with something so he let it go. Father is a coward," he finished.
"Or he was protecting you or your brothers or your mother," another of his more sober friends, one of the few actually decent ones he had, pointed out.
"None of my brothers after me mattered. I don't think even I matter," Franz scoffed. But it was possible the King was protecting his flower child, Caleb. Whatever the matter of it, it didn't concern him.
"I hear the tavern owner's daughter is as miserable as her father," the seventeen year old said.
"Given who her father is, I can't say I'm surprised. I actually feel sorry for the poor thing. I hate to imagine the things her father did to her," the more sober friend gravely stated. "Whatever the matter of it, if that child was abandoned there, his parents should be executed. You would think they would at least pick a more decent place to leave their little one. A church, maybe? Odds are they will have ruined the boy beyond repair by throwing him to that man."
Franz shifted uneasily. He wasn't sure he liked or trusted how those words seemed to strike him. The feeling he'd forgotten something was coming back harder now, and through the fog his mind was in from the drink, an image was starting to appear. He just couldn't pick it out. "What did the boy look like, again? I didn't see him clearly," another person said.
"He was a pretty thing, probably about six. He'll be a favorite, for sure. Red hair, I believe, and the greenest eyes I've ever seen outside of your family, Neb," one stated. Franz had gone whiter. "Err, Neb?"
Franz blinked then shook his head. "That's because he isn't outside of my family! Dammit, Hans! I forgot all about him!" the middle prince exclaimed. "I have to go back and find him!" Preferably before the tavern owner or his daughter did. "Hans!" Immediately the middle prince turned and ran to seek his sibling. His friends were visibly shaken at the outburst and nervously exchanged looks.
Frozen
"Little boy, why are you crying?" a girl questioned.
Hans, sniffing, looked up at her, frightened. She looked maybe sixteen, he decided, but she sounded younger, like fourteen or less maybe, so he wasn't sure. "I got left behind," Hans answered. "My brother… he forgot about me…" Or abandoned him, a darker thought said.
"Aww, that's not nice," the girl said. "Come with me, little one. I'll take you upstairs. You can stay with father and me until he comes back. We own the tavern." Hans didn't like the idea of that. Something told him it wasn't safe, and he'd learned long ago that if it didn't feel safe, it likely wasn't. His brothers taught him that. He almost never felt safe around them, and he almost never was. He shook his head, but didn't speak. "Come now. I won't hurt you," she said. Hans curled in on himself more. "I'll go get my father. Maybe he'll make you feel safer," she said. Hans simply nodded. He didn't think he wanted to stay here, he decided. But where could he go? He didn't even know the way back home. This was a part of the Southern Isles not in view of the palace. The girl, seeing he wouldn't reply, turned and left.
Hans sniffed again, looking uneasily around. Only a few people were left. There were lots more women now, he noted. They were dressed very improperly, he decided, and were getting very friendly with the men left over. They weren't supposed to act like that, and neither were the men returning the advances. He didn't understand what was happening or why so many were suddenly disappearing in couples. There were some that stayed back and didn't pair up with women. He didn't know if he wanted to know why. He also didn't like how some were looking at him. They looked at him like Uncle, and sometimes Aunty, looked at Caleb, Jürgen, Lars, and Kelin-Sel, and like the strange man who had once come had looked at Lars and at him.
Soon enough the girl came back, and with her was a man who looked him over appraisingly then smiled, approaching. "Hello, little one. Are your parents here?" the man asked.
"No," Hans mumbled shyly.
"How did you get here?" the man asked.
"My older brother brought me, and now I can't find him," Hans said.
"How old is your brother?" the man questioned.
"Twelve," Hans answered. "But he looks and sounds fifteen because he's already growing facial hair and his voice is starting to break and go deep."
"What do you think happened to your brother?" the man asked.
Hans was quiet, appearing suddenly devastated. He looked to the ground. "I don't know," he replied. "He left with other people, his friends. I think he forgot me… Or abandoned me…"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, and you don't know how to get home," the man cooed in a sympathetic tone. "You can stay with us, if you'd like. I take in many little lost children, or abandoned ones. You'll have to work, of course, to pay your way, but it won't be so bad. Some chores, here and there, some…"
"The servants do chores, not me," Hans dryly deadpanned to the man, looking less than impressed at the insinuation. He could have sworn the man's eyes lit up even brighter. "Oh, you're wealthy," the man said. Not that he hadn't judged as much already from the clothes, but it was a matter of how wealthy. "So, you don't know how to do chores like cleaning, then?"
"I do some chores. Father says he won't raise useless children, so he makes us work sometimes," Hans defended. "Just… not often. Or on much."
"Well, I have other jobs you can do," the man said.
"I like working with horses," Hans offered, daring to let his guard down slightly. If he was going to live here forever, now, he might as well do something he liked and was really good at it.
"I was thinking more along the lines of… keeping people company," the man said.
"Like talking to them?" Hans asked.
"Something like that," the man replied. "Adults get lonely at night too, you know. They like to snuggle other adults, when they do. Sometimes even children. You would have a warm bed and make them very happy." Hans looked uneasy. "Come now, little one. I will show you how you would help them."
He offered his hand. Hans eyed it uneasily then looked longingly towards the window, willing Franz to come back… But he didn't… Tears welled in the little one's eyes and soon he sniffed, wiping them and taking the man's hand hopelessly. He had no choice, he knew.
Frozen
Franz ran as swiftly as he could, shoving people out of the way and doing all it took to get back to the tavern. How far had they wandered from it, dammit?! "Hans!" he shouted again, hoping against hope that Hans had wandered out to search for him. He knew better. They had all been taught very young that it was best to stay in one place if you got lost, so Hans wouldn't have moved from that tavern. Tavern. At this point in the night the place would be more a brothel! And his brother… His baby brother was in the thick of it and at the owner's mercy! Suddenly the words of his older friends were starting to make a bit more sense, and he didn't like that they were. He double timed. Where was the place, already?! He didn't have time for this!
Frozen
The man led Hans upstairs with his daughter. "Take the little one and get him bathed," the owner of the tavern said to his daughter. "I'll make him some food and get him a little something to drink." The food would be drugged so the child wouldn't scream and would be too out of it to fight. The drink would be a strong alcohol so the first experience wouldn't be painful. It was best to make it seem as pleasant as it could be, so the little one wouldn't be as desperate to escape it as he would normally be.
"Yes father," she replied, taking Hans's hand and leading him to a room where a bath had been prepared earlier. It was supposed to be her bath, but now it was the boy's. Good. It meant she was off the hook for tonight. If father really liked him, she'd be off the hook for a few nights. She would have to make sure the man took a shine to the little boy. It was a depressing and selfish way to think, perhaps, but sacrifices and all that. "You never told me your name," she remarked. Hans was silent, not giving it. Oh well, it didn't matter. He'd get a new one anyway. "Undress now," she said.
"I can bathe myself," Hans said, obviously very edgy. Hmm, this one was a clever little thing, wasn't he? Suspicious and constantly on guard. Which meant his home life couldn't be as easy as she'd first thought. Perhaps he was neglected or bullied or beaten up. There were signs of an abusive household, after all; and there was no other reason he'd be this on edge and paranoid around her.
"I know you can, sweetie, but there's a special way this bath works," she lied. There were special rituals and soaps she would use to make him more appealing for father or potential clients, but the bath in general worked like any other.
"A special way?" Hans asked, slightly curious.
"Yes. Now be a good boy and undress," she said.
Hans continued to hesitate. Soon, though, he tentatively began to remove his clothes. He didn't like to, though. Kelin-Sel always told him never to take off his clothes if anyone that wasn't mommy or daddy or his brothers asked him to. Eventually he got into the bath and watched the girl warily, eyes almost challenging her to try anything. She just hummed, pretending she didn't notice, and gathered some soaps and oils and the like.
"These will make you smell very nice and make your skin very soft," she explained.
Hans looked dubious. His skin was already soft. His family wasn't exactly working class. He supposed she meant softer, though. She returned with the soaps and oils and began washing his hair. She let him wash his face, and while he did she began to wash his neck. Shoulders. Upper back. Middle back. Lower back… Hans yelped, jumping as she went lower than lower back. He shot her an 'if looks could kill' look. "Don't touch me!" he sharply said.
A child should not look that murderous, she realized with a chill, withdrawing before she fully thought it through. Recovering from the surprise of seeing that look, though, she smiled at him and went back to doing exactly what he'd just told her not to do. He tried to hit her, but she caught his wrist. "Easy, little one. I'm not going to hurt you," she gently said. "Why are you so jumpy?"
"Because Lars says not to let anyone touch me below the waist," Hans answered matter-of-factly.
"Your mommy touched you below the waist whenever she changed your diapers as a baby," the girl pointed out.
Hans blinked and looked a moment uncertain and confused, bravado fading. She made a point, after all. Mommy and daddy had both done that, and a lot of his big brothers too. It wasn't bad then, so why had Lars said not to let it happen now? Then again, Kelin-Sel said not to undress in front of strangers, so maybe it had something to do with that. His resolve came back and he shifted away from her. "Don't touch me," he repeated seriously.
She frowned. This wouldn't be as simple as she thought. She put on the smile again. "Here, little one, play with this," she said, giving him a toy to use in the bath. She gave him space. When he was preoccupied playing, she could chance things again. After a while the little one began to get engrossed in the play, ignoring other things. She waited a moment more then went back to washing him. He didn't seem to notice this time, beyond an annoyed and wary look that told her he was still on guard. Probably not enough, however, to be of much use to him. She began washing his tummy.
Frozen
Hans, busy in his pretending, soon tuned out the actions of the girl. The servants washed him sometimes too anyway. They weren't strangers, of course, but this girl wasn't doing anything they hadn't. Except for when she was washing below the waist, but she'd stopped now, so… "How does this feel?" she suddenly said in what Jürgen called a 'husky' voice. Though what dogs had to do with it Hans had no idea.
"Feel?" he asked, confusedly looking at her. Just then his eyes lit up in realization and he gasped sharply, realising she was below the waist again, this time in front. "Stop it!" he shrieked, splashing her then throwing the toy at her face. His little heart was suddenly pounding a mile a minute, and his eyes were wide in horror and fear.
She laughed. "It felt good, I can tell," she said, pointing at the place she'd been touching.
He looked confusedly down then up at her again, not quite getting it. The way she was looking at him, though, made him feel ashamed and humiliated. He whimpered slightly then murmured in an embarrassed tone, "I want to come out now."
"Alright, little one," she agreed. He quickly got out of the bath. She opened some oil and began applying it to his body.
"I don't like this," he said. Again, servants had done such things before, more for mommy but sometimes for them on special occasions, but this didn't feel right. Any of it.
"Stop being difficult, brat!" she said sharper than intended.
Hans's eyes narrowed. See, confrontation he could do. It meant he got a feeling of power back. "Then stop doing things I don't like!" he ordered.
"What are you going to do to stop me?" she sneered.
"I order you to stop!" Hans insisted as she got rougher, holding him painfully now.
"Excuse me? Order?! What am I, your servant?!" she demanded.
"You're my subject, I'm one of this land's Princes, and if you don't stop this right now I'll have you whipped!" Hans snapped viciously.
Frozen
The girl's reaction was immediate. Her eyes widened in terror and she literally leapt back about four feet with a gasp so loud it echoed in the room. She looked at him in disbelieving horror. The-the prince?! One of the king's sons?! No, no that wasn't right! He was lying! No king's son would be in a place like this. "You lying little bastard!" she screamed, suddenly slapping him as hard as she could, sending Hans to the ground with a shriek of pain. Stunned, Hans staggered quickly up and tried to get away, but she leapt on him again. "Come here, you little worm!"
"Help!" Hans screamed. "Guards!" Not that any would come, it was just reflex at this point, to call for the guards when he didn't have his family around or a blade in his hand.
"What is going on here?!" the owner's voice suddenly boomed. The girl gasped, paling, and turned to her father, wide-eyed.
"D-daddy…" she began, obviously terrified.
Hans shoved her and ran to the owner, forgetting his state of undress. "She hit me!" he said. "And she touched me where I told her not to and she scared me!"
The tavern owner, however, seemed unaffected by this, and in fact appeared more interested and amused by the little one's state of dress and the way the boy was now clinging close to him for protection. "There, there, little one, she won't touch you again, I promise. Lillith, go to your room. I'll deal with you later."
"N-No, please," she pled, voice breaking.
"Now," her father commanded. Her mouth quivered and she began to cry, running from the bathroom. Hans, stunned, watched after her. Had he hurt her when he pushed her, or was she just scared her daddy would lecture her or beat her? He didn't like seeing her cry, he decided, or seeing that expression on her face. It made him uneasy. It was the expression Lars and Kelin-Sel got whenever Uncle or Aunty was alone in a room with either of them, or whenever they thought they were alone with either of them. Or both of them. Caleb always had no expression while Jürgen always looked ready to snap. The man turned to Hans, smiling. "Come, little one, wrap yourself in a towel and let's eat something. What's your name?"
Hans blinked up at him but said nothing. He pulled away and wrapped himself in the towel. He didn't like this. He didn't like how the man wasn't giving him his clothes back either. He didn't have much choice in things right now. He hated being out of control and feeling powerless. It never ended well when he did. Subtly he began scanning for an exit strategy, while following the man into the tavern to eat. He was good as exit strategies. He always needed them for everywhere. In case his brothers, at least the meaner ones, caught him unaware.
Frozen
The girl, Lillith, peered through the cracks in her floorboards that looked down on the tavern. She saw her father with the little boy. He had placed the child on the bar and was letting the patrons all subtly watch from their positions. The child ate, oblivious to the looks he was getting or the inquiries those visiting the bar were making to her father. She stood up and looked around. Well, at least father would be preoccupied with the little one soon enough. If she'd done a good job, the child would keep father busy a good long time and maybe he'd forget about punishing her. In case he didn't, though…
She went to her window and looked out. She shouldn't run. Whenever she did, he found her and it was always worse. On the other hand, if the little boy was indeed royalty… There was something that could be gained from that. She could hold him above their heads and demand her father be taken away forever. Then the other little girls and boys he kept here would be released. They would never be okay, but at least they'd be out of this place. And so would she. For the sake of everyone her father kept under his authority here, she hoped the little prince sucked it up and gave the man a good time. Quickly tying together some sheets, she made her escape silently and ran from the tavern.
Frozen
"I'm dizzy. And I feel tired and sick," Hans complained in a murmur. He was hardly aware he was being picked up and carried somewhere. "I want my mother. I want Franz! Where are they?" He was hardly even aware of what he was saying, anymore. The food tasted good but strange, and the drink he'd had was disgusting but he'd drank it to be polite anyway.
"Your brother left you, remember? He abandoned you. Mommy and daddy probably told him to," the man answered.
"They didn't! Mama loves me!" Hans insisted.
"Then your brother doesn't, and maybe he was jealous and took you away from them so you could never go home again," the man said.
"He wouldn't do that," Hans fearfully replied, drawing back and looking at the man worriedly.
"Then why hasn't he come back?" the man questioned. Hans felt his heart drop. It wasn't true… It couldn't be true! …But if felt like it was… Tears burned his eyes and he sniffed, looking down. "Don't worry. You have a new family now," the man said. Hans was quiet. Maybe they'd be better than his old one, the little prince decided bitterly. He shouldn't be bitter, he knew… He was too young to be bitter, Lars always said, but he was.
He felt himself laid on the bed. Everything was so blurry. He felt like he should sleep, but he couldn't. "What's happening? Why can't I see well?" he asked the man.
"Relax, little one. You don't need to see tonight," the man replied. Hans felt the man doing something. He was vaguely aware it was something below the waist and he was vaguely aware that he was supposed to be telling the man off, but his tongue didn't want to work. He whimpered, shifting and trying to scramble away, but the man pulled him gently back. "Lay still, boy. It won't be so bad if you cooperate."
"What won't be bad?" Hans finally managed to whimper, sobbing slightly. Something was wrong. He wanted to get away, but either his body wouldn't work or he was being held down. He couldn't tell. He just knew hands were places they shouldn't be. Or rather hands were trying to be where they shouldn't be. "Let me go!" he insisted, making a desperate attempt to throw himself off of the bed. It didn't work. The man just growled and pinned him all the firmer.
"The sooner you cooperate, the sooner we get this done," the man said.
"Franz!" Hans screamed frantically in the last desperate hope that his brother had come back and would save him. "Franz, help me!"
Frozen
The girl ran through the streets, lightly panting. "Hans!" she heard a desperate voice cry out. "Hans!"
She stopped, looking in that direction. She saw a young boy racing towards her and the tavern desperately. He looked like the little boy. Her eyes lit up in realization. Maybe this was his brother. If this was his brother, that meant this running person was a prince! If he was a prince, it meant she could put her plan into effect.
"Excuse me!" she called as he was running passed.
He stopped, looking frantically back at her. "Have you a little red-haired boy anywhere? Greenest eyes you'll ever see in all your life," he demanded.
"As a matter of fact, I have. My father has him," the girl replied.
"Oh thank god it wasn't the tavern owner," he gasped out.
"My father is the tavern owner," she said. "And you won't find where he has your brother if you don't cooperate with me."
Franz stiffened and slowly looked at her. Was this girl seriously blackmailing him? "What?" he icily asked.
"You don't have time to get defiant, prince. The longer you dally, the more likely my father is to be doing things to the little one that a grownup would hardly be able to handle," she said. "I help you, but in return you help me."
"Take me to my brother or I'll kill you!" Franz freaked.
"That won't get us anywhere," the girl replied.
Desperation shone in the older prince's eyes. "Fine!" he finally blurted. "I swear on penalty of death I'll grant you whatever you wish, just get me to my brother!"
"Follow me," the girl replied, racing back towards the tavern. Franz followed her closely.
Frozen
Franz and the girl raced into the tavern. Franz ignored the drunks reaching for him or praising his looks and calling him over with offers of money. He stuck close to the tavern owner's daughter. She led him downstairs to a locked door. "Is he in there?!" Franz demanded.
"No, but other children are. The sooner you free them, the sooner we reach your brother," she said.
"I have no time for games!" Franz freaked.
"You're right, you don't. He's probably already doing things to the little one. Hans, was it? Best you do as I say. The day I trust royalty to keep their word is the day pigs fly," she replied.
"Damn you!" Franz freaked. Oh she was clever. He had to give her reluctant credit. She wasn't as dumb as he'd suspected she'd be. He turned to the door, worry in his eyes, then grimaced and immediately began trying to break it down. Well, that was doing crap all. If his older brothers were here then maybe it would work, but this wouldn't. He scowled then drew his sword, jamming it into the lock. It didn't work. He withdrew it, more and more frantic each second, and looked around the ground. Seeing two small instruments, he dove for them, grabbing them up, and turned attention to the lock. Quickly he began picking it. Soon it clicked. He could have cheered in victory.
The girl threw open the door and a group of terrified children looked up. "All of you, stay here and don't come out just yet. I'm going to come back. We're going to be okay and get away from this place, I promise. No one up there will hurt you anymore," she said. Franz blinked at the little ones in disbelief. The rumors had been true! He felt sick to his stomach.
"Where is my brother?" he hollowly, numbly, asked.
The girl nodded to him and ran up the stairs. He followed her quickly. She ran up to the second floor of the tavern and down a hallway. Darting into a living area, she looked around. "Daddy's room is in there!" she said, pointing to a room.
Just then Franz heard his brother shriek his name and nearly panicked. He bolted instantly for the door and leapt into it with his full body weight at stop speed. He probably should have checked if it was locked or not before resorting to breaking it in, but what was done was done. He drew his sword, rushing inside, and his eyes widened in horror. His little brother lay on the bed, and the man above him was ready to take things to the next level. A level that went beyond the fondling happening now. For a second Franz couldn't find his voice. When he did, though, he shrieked in rage, "Get off of my brother!" He lunged at the man without even a second thought and tackled him off the bed. Immediately he went to run the person through, but the man was swift to recover from the surprise and caught his arm, scowling. The girl raced to the bed, grabbing Hans and running out of the room. Right now she had to get the boy and the children out of this place. What befell the prince she didn't care; as long as this time she got away for good.
Frozen
The girl and the children were all huddled in hiding in the bushes outside of the tavern, waiting for either the man to come searching, or the prince to emerge victorious. The girl doubted the latter, but who knew? The back door opened and the children all held their breath. The girl held Hans, now limp and borderline unconscious, closer to her body.
Hans's eyes weakly flickered open to see the figure. He was too big to be Franz. His heart dropped. His brother was dead, he must be! Suddenly, though, the bigger figure fell with a groan and lay still. A moment later Franz emerged, looking down at him and shaking visibly, even from here. The girl rose quickly, eyes wide. "Daddy?" she asked fearfully. Immediately she ran out of hiding and came to Franz's side, looking down at the man in horror.
Franz looked over at her. "He'll survive," he remarked. "Barely. A doctor is coming. I sent one of the men to fetch one."
"They listened to you?" she breathed.
"When they saw what I did to your father? Yes," Franz darkly answered.
"Wh-what did you do?" she questioned.
Franz looked down at him. He began to chuckle. Darkly. More darkly than a boy his age should have ever chuckled. "I cut off what mattered to him," he finally answered, totally nonchalant. "He won't hurt any little kids again. Or you. At least not like that." Franz looked over at her and snatched back Hans, glaring at the girl. "And you'll pay for your blackmail. Your father will be the least of the evils you would have suffered by the time I'm through with you and your audacity."
"Let the little children be kept away from here and helped," she answered.
"Why should I?" Franz sneered.
"Because your brother was almost one of them no thanks to you, you drunken idiot!" she screamed at him, slapping him viciously. Franz started, blinking rapidly, then suddenly looked ashamed. He tuned to the child in his arms.
"Okay," he finally relented. Like that the nightmare was over. Or beginning… His brother would never trust him or look at him the same again…
Present
Franz took the whipping boldly, embracing every strike and gritting his teeth savagely. He needed to weather this, he had to. He tried to preoccupy himself. The children had been presented to father, and father had ensured they were sent to a proper orphanage. That wouldn't help them, Franz knew, but at least it was better than being there. The tavern owner was allowed to live. In prison. He'd avoided death only because the punishment Franz had inflicted on him had been far worse than execution, or so father had said. The girl? Franz hoped she'd hang, but Justic had taken a shine to her, highly impressed with the wench's smarts. Franz wasn't. As far as he was concerned, she should have stayed a wench. Then none of this would have happened. He supposed he knew that wasn't so, this had happened because of him and his debauchery and that was the end of the story, but it helped to pass the buck to that stupid whore.
Justic had ensured she was allowed a position as a servant in the palace. He had said she had saved their brother and the child slaves and the harlots in the tavern all, as well as herself, so didn't deserve punishment and should in fact be given a position in the palace. His brother wanted her close always. Two minutes and his sibling, the one closest to him of them all, no less, and who he'd most cared for, had come to love a stranger more than any of his own brothers. Not only that, but Justic had also advocated for Franz's being whipped. Traitor. Franz felt like spitting at him. The middle prince hoped the girl would prick her finger and that the injury would get infected and that she would die…
And all of this was thought only to try and erase the guilt from him, but it was him. It was all him. He had made his brother a whore. Perhaps the man had not been able to get all the way, but what he'd done was enough for anyone who learned of it to think it justified calling his sibling just that, should they want to, and that was something he would live with forevermore…
End Flashback
"You have made your brother a whore!"
Those words rang in his head to this day. He would never forget them. It was an incident he wanted to erase from history, wanted to forget ever happened… But he couldn't, and it had happened, and it would always be there to remind him of how horrible of a failure he was at being a big brother and a man. He started, feeling Hans place a hand on his shoulder. He looked at his little sibling guardedly. Tiredly. Curiously.
"You need to stop," Hans said. "It's done. Nothing will change it, but what happened then… It's so long ago now I can hardly even remember it. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. You came through before it could get there. I can't say I forgive you for it, but I don't hate you for what happened that day. Not anymore. The blame game? There's no point to it any longer. You made a mistake."
"Yes, but never before had I made one that costly. I never have since," Franz stated, looking down and away.
"It's done," Hans said. "Accept that and move on as best you can. I have, and so I know you can too." Franz was quiet. Finally he sighed and nodded, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezing gently. Hans nodded back with a smile, and the two continued on towards the tavern. "What did you ever do with that man's... err, 'parts'?" Hans wondered. "Please tell me you fed them to him."
"Humph. I kept them as a trophy," Franz replied.
Hans froze and blinked blankly. "You're kidding, right?" Because that was kind of... macabre and deeply disturbing. It wasn't normal.
"Nope. I had Rhun pickle them and stick them in a jar," Franz said, absolutely no hint of exaggeration in his tone. Hans grimaced but didn't say anything. Doing so would probably be a bad idea about now. He just nodded and let it go.
