Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or its related characters. Such is the property of Walt Disney Animation Studios, Walt Disney Pictures, Jennifer Lee, John Lasseter, and, of course, Hans Christian Anderson. I'm just borrowing it for some non-profit entertainment.
Cut From the Same
Chapter Three: Tea Cup
'Willaham won't go for it. Maybe if Elsa had killed me. But not as things stand right now.' Those were Prince Hans' exact words and the Duke took them to heart. King Willaham of the Southern Isles won't go to war with Arendelle. Not the way things turned out. Not with his brother so clearly in the wrong and the sisters so clearly painted as the victims. Maybe if Elsa killed Hans instead of deporting him.
And that was the answer. That was what to the Duke had to do to convince the Southern Isles to take up the cause. As he told his own Queen before leaving Wesleton, Prince Hans would be the key to the Southern Isles' cooperation and support in their siege of Arendelle. At the time, the Duke planned for the Prince to be his political ally. To talk to his brother the King and convince him of the Ice Witch's evil. Now the Duke knew that wasn't going to happen. But the Prince could still be of use to him. Hans could still deliver the Southern Isles' military to Wesleton.
All the Duke had to do was kill Prince Hans and make it look like the Icy Tyrant was responsible.
The question then became, how was he to do this since he had no magic of his own?
The easy answer was to seek out another ice witch. But aside from the fact that the Duke knew of no such witches, he was also leery of soliciting them for their services. Even before his experience in Arendelle, the Duke was distrustful and suspicious of magic makers. The events with Elsa only reenforced these beliefs. A witch or other magic maker could not be trusted. He would have to seek another avenue for framing the Snow Queen.
An apothecary perhaps? Maybe there was such a thing as a 'freezing draught' that could mimic the effects that Elsa's ice powers had on people. Or an alchemist. Maybe there was a way to transmute the effects of a frozen heart. The Duke decided he would explore both options.
He did not know much about where to find such things within the Southern Isles. Every town had at least one apothecary, just like every down had at least one surgeon, butcher, baker, forester, woodcutter, etc. But the trick wasn't just to find an apothecary, but to find one of loose moral fiber whom was willing to brew poisons and potions for the right price. The same went for an alchemist. It wasn't so much a matter of finding one, but rather finding the right one.
Luckily, the Duke had two able-bodied, resourceful, and highly persuasive men at his disposal. Men whom were there with him in Arendelle and witnessed the Winter Witch's evil. He could send on in one direction and the other in the other direction. They knew what to look for and -if they knew what was good for them- wouldn't come back until they got it.
"A draught that will duplicate Elsa's 'frozen heart' attack." He snapped his fingers. "I don't want to see either of you again until you find it! Go!"
…
The door was yanked open, rather violently and Morgan had to take a step back as a gust of cool air rushed out of the room.
"What!?" Demanded Queen Elsa. "What could possibly be so important that you can neither wait until my regular audience hours nor can be spoken in front of others?"
"Well, I-" Morgan fumbled. He had never actually said the words 'I have magic' to anyone before. They had always either always known, as in the case of his parents and elder brothers. Or found out by witnessing his remonstrant said powers as in the case of his younger brothers, their immediate attendants and staff, and his mentor. Not once did Morgan ever have to verbalize the burning power that coursed through him.
"Well you what?" Demanded the Snow Queen. "Make it quick, Minister. Its best not to keep me waiting. Remember, you're here to placate me after your brother's attempt on not only my life and my throne, but also my sister's life, innocents, and heart. Its best not to vex me further."
She did make a very valid point.
The Southern Isles, and himself by extension, were already skating on thin ice (no pun intended) with this woman. It was not in his best interest to take forever with his declaration and try her patience. "I just thought you would want to know that- um, that you and I are the same. I mean, not exactly the same. Polar opposites in fact. But we're still the same. Cast in the same forge or- or cur from the same cloth."
The Queen raised a single snowy white eyebrow. "You're not making sense, Minister. How can two things be polar opposites yet exactly the same. You're just wasting my time. Good day."
She made to shut the door.
He jammed his foot in the door before she could. "Wait!"
"What are you doing!?" She demanded, suddenly looking very alarmed.
"I need you to know!" Morgan insisted.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously and frost formed on the doorframe and handle. "Prince Morgan, Minister of War for the Southern Isles, I should not need to tell you that you are attempting to force your way into a lady's private chambers which is not only the epitome of ungentlemanly behavior, but also the act of a scoundrel. I see now that you're no different than your brother. Now please remove your foot or I shall remove it for you!"
"Its not like that!" Morgan insisted. Well aware that he already messed up fantastically and at a loss as to how to improve things.
"Get back!" That command was punctuated by a wave of cold air, frost and hale being blasted at his mid-section.
Morgan flew backwards a few paces. When he recovered the door was already slammed shut and Elsa was in the process of locking it.
"No, wait!" He threw his hand up at the sound of a key clicking in a lock. An arrow of flame shooting out of his hand unbidden. Damn it! He hated it when his powers did that.
The arrow found its mark right dead center of the door handle on his side, turning the metal red hot. There was a startled and slightly panicked yelp from the other side and the whole door froze over with a single solid sheet of ice. Damn. Well, he'd really done it this time. Maybe he shouldn't have accepted Kurtz request and come here as the Southern Isles' representative. He had no diplomatic training and only seemed to be making things worse.
Morgan climbed to his feet and knocked on the ice sheet that covered her door. Each rap of his knuckles causing melted droplets to trickle down the ice. "Your Majesty?" He called through the door. "Elsa, are you alright? Sorry about that. Sometimes it does things on its own without me wanting it to. The magic, I mean. My magic. It does things when I'm angry, or stressed, or frustrated. I didn't burn you to bad, did I? Elsa? Your Majesty?"
Behind the ice sheet the door once again opened and the blurry, distorted figure of the Snow Queen once again appeared. "You did that?"
Morgan nodded, not sure how clearly she could see him though her sheet of ice. "Unintentionally. But, yes."
"With magic?" She pressed.
In answer to that, he placed one hand at her eye-level on the ice and let the heat flow out of him, melting a hole in her barrier just being enough for them to speak face to face. His hazel eyes locked with her crystal blue ones when he said, "Yes."
…
The Duke tossed the bottle up in the air with glee. Catching it in his hand, he brought it close to his eyes and gazed at the clear, faintly blue, liquid within.
"Oh-ho, splendid. Splendid." He smiled, giving the big mustached man a congratulatory pat on the backside. "And you're sure it will work?"
The bodyguard was about to respond with instruction given to him by the apothecary. Mix it with a little bit of tea, use sugar to conceal the flavor and the drinker should be dead within a few days. Repeat dosage will cause a sooner death. Signs that its working will be symptoms of hypothermia. Shivering, clumsiness, slurred speech or mumbling, etc. It was not exactly like the 'frozen heart' that Princess Anna suffered at the hands of her sister, but it was as close as a non-magical person could come.
The mustached guard did not get to vocalize any of this, however, as the Duke waved his hand dismissively and continued with his triumphant rant. "Of course it should. I have absolute faith in you! Oh, Prince Hans, you could have been my greatest ally, sharing in our revenge against that Icy Witch! But, sanely, since you will not be my ally, you will be my pawn. The southern Isles will join Wesleton against Arendelle! One way, or another…"
Once again the Duke lifted the bottle to his eyes and allowed himself to indulge in a preemptively celebratory maniacal laugh.
…
Elsa watched, wide eyed with marvelous surprise as her ice began to melt under the Prince's hand. It trickled down to soak the carpet, but she didn't care. She was mesmerized by the display of magic. Real magic. Like hers, yet not like hers at all!
He met her eyes through the gap he made. Smoldering hazel, as if lit from an inner flame. Funny, she'd thought the exact same thing the first time she saw him in her throne room, now she began to wonder if they really were lit by an inner flame. Fire magic. Like she had ice magic, he possessed fire magic.
"Yes." He said. Eyes desperate for her to understand. She wanted to melt under that burning stare. "May I come in?"
Then she remembered their situation and who exactly each of them was. The Snow Queen of Arendelle was not about to invite the War Minister of the Southern Isles into her bedroom! Nope. Nope. Nope. Certainly not! But, he was the first magically gifted person besides herself she'd ever met -or even heard of for that matter. She wanted to talk to him. Now that she knew, she wanted to talk to him a lot! How did he and his family cope with his powers? Did he lock himself away too? From all twelve of his brothers? How did he manage that? She never heard of any magical terror befalling the Southern Isles, so he never must have had an episode like she caused. How did he maintain control? She wanted to know! But she was not going to invite him him.
"No." She told him. "But I'll come out."
As Anna's love thawed her fear and allowed her to lift the winter from Arendelle, so too did her excitement at having met another like herself helped her to lift the ice that barricaded her door. Elsa stepped out and smiled awkwardly at the Prince -at Morgan.
"Is there someplace we can talk without being heard?" He asked.
"Or seen." Elsa nodded, excited. "I want you to show me more of your powers."
She grabbed his hand and dragged him down the corridor and down the stairs.
"Its not for show-boating, ya know."
Elsa wasn't listening. She lead him out of the palace through the same door she escaped from on her coronation night. But in stead of fleeing with him across the water as she did that night, she paused on the bank. Elsa cast an appraising glance up at the wall, then a second one across the water. "Its still light enough that no one should notice a bit of fire." She said, with mrs excitement than she'd allowed into her voice in years. "Show me more of your magic."
Morgan likewise cast his eyes upwards at the wall, then across the water, just as Elsa did. He planned to share his secret with her, he did not plan to reveal his secret to all of Arendelle. Almost no one out side of the immediate staff and attendants of the himself and his thirteen brothers knew about his magic. But her eyes were so big and pleading with a fragile, ernest excitement. Morgan sighed. Holding out his hands, he let his power flow through him, up from his core and down his arms to pool in his hands.
Eyes wide, Elsa peered at the live flame in his hands as if fire were something she'd never seen before.
"I've never met anyone besides myself who had the magic." She muttered, more to herself than to Morgan. "You're the first I've ever met. For the first time in forever…"
"I, uh…" Morgan began, suddenly feeling a little awkward. "I've met one other. He was my mentor until I came of age and he just sort of… left."
Her crystal blue eyes snapped from the flame n his hands to his own hazel eyes. "You've met others like us!?"
"Just one." He was quick to assure her. "He taught me how to… regulate my powers. He said its impossible to ever have full control since the magic is tied to emotion and you can't control how you feel. But you can channel your feelings in different way so that your magic doesn't blow up in someone's face when you're angry, or scared, or stressed."
"I wish I had a mentor like that." Elsa crossed her arms over her chest, turning slightly to the side, avoiding eye-contact.
Morgan extinguished the fire in his hands and placed one warm palm on her daintily frosted shoulder. "I was lucky." He said. "But it looks to me like you've got your magic well in hand now. And nothing truly terrible happened in the end. I am sorry for the part my little brother played in the whole fiasco. Hans learned the art of getting himself into trouble from our other brother Asher. What he didn't learn from Asher was how to get himself out of it again."
"He tried to kill me and left my sister to die!" Elsa reminded him.
"I know." Morgan nodded soberly. "Willaham has him confined on Freja Island. He won't bother you or anyone else ever again."
"Freja Island…" She repeated, considering. "Is that one of your prisons?"
Morgan smiled. "Uh, no. Its the location of my late mother's summer estate."
Elsa looked disappointed and ever so slightly annoyed. "So he's basically relaxing in a huge mansion as if nothing ever happened?"
…
It was getting a little lonely. All the empty rooms of his mother's estate. With nothing to do but watch the hours tick by.
Hans sprawled on the floor of the library in front of a large grandfather lock. He watched the pendulum swing by, following the motion with his eyes and echoing each of the ticks with a click of his tongue. He was board. Very, very, board. Was this how she felt? Anna, growing up in her palace, cut off from her sister, left with no other companionship. Gosh! No wonder she was all to happy to believe every pretty line he spoon fed her.
With a sigh, Hans picked himself up off the floor and dragged himself out of the library.
He got a running start then slid across the polished wood floors in his socks, just as Anna showed him. But the thrill was short lived, his elation declined as his feet slowed. Hans paused to gaze at the paintings that lined the corridor. He leaned against the wall next to a whimsical portrait of Forseti, the ancient god of justice and truth.
"Oh, don't look so smug." He said to the painting. "I'm sure there are plenty of jerks like me who succeeded where I failed."
Hans turned from Forseti, his eyes skating over a romanticized scene of cherubs frolicking in a flower-filled landscape, and settling instead on one depicting Beowulf's ill-fated confrontation with the dragon. "How 'bout you? You not only slew the vicious beast, but also the evil witch. How'd you do it?"
But the painting gave no answer. Beowulf did not turn his attention away from the dragon long enough to answer the Prince's question. He was oil on canvas and therefore could not speak. Hans heaved another sight. He'd started talking to the paintings on the walls. Now he truly had hit rock bottom.
"Pardon me, Your Highness. I don't mean to interrupt your… conversation," entered the Butler, "but the Duke of Wesleton is back and demanding to see you again."
Hans' eyebrows came down at the mention of the Duke. He thought he was very clear the first time the man came for a visit. He and Hans were not allies in Arendelle, in fact, the Duke's guards interfered with his plans and nearly ruined things at Elsa's ice fortress. Hans knew how to deal with magical persons. Goodness knew he had enough experience with Morgan. Her powers were tied to her emotions, just like Morgan's are. If he could have just talked her down… But no! Mustache-Man and Clean-Face had to charge in, crossbows blazing and set her off even worse than she was before. Honestly, if that chandelier hadn't fallen, Hans didn't know what he would have done.
If the Duke's interference ended there, Hans wouldn't be quite so wary of him. But now he, apparently, resented Elsa so much so that he was determined to go to war with Arendelle and he wanted to drag the Southern Isles into it. Hans already messed up once and because of it he might have lost his brother's love. Morgan was so mad at him, he didn't even turn around to hear his apology before leaving for Arendelle. He might not even come to visit Hans when he did return. For all Hans knew, he would never again see his big brother so long as he was confined to house arrest.
No. Hans was going to be carful not to mess up in the eyes of his brothers this time.
It wasn't about feeling bad over manipulating Anna with her bright, bright eyes. Or trying to kill Elsa who just wanted to be left alone where she couldn't hurt anyone. It wasn't even about the fact that he knew WIllaham wouldn't listen to him. No. It was about the fact that he messed up big time. Hans was determined not to mess up again.
"Tell him to go away." The Prince commanded.
"Very good, sir." The Butler left.
Hans went back to the paintings. Suddenly, resuming his conversations with Beowulf and Forseti seemed very silly. They were just flat color after all. Should he go sliding down the bannisters? Or climb the roof to look at the clouds? It was to early for stars, but clouds could be just as interesting.
The Butler returned again. "Apologies, Your Highness, but he won't go away. He's rather insistent."
Hans sighed. "Alright. I'll meet him. Briefly."
The Duke was waiting in the same parlor that overlooked the inlet. He turned around when Hans entered and once again smiled.
"I understand your desire to send me away after our last meeting." He said. "I imagine one would not take kindly to having a mere acquaintance ask you to go to war on their behalf. I came here to offer my sincere apologies. Will you sit?"
He indicated a table already set with fresh tea.
Hans stared at him skeptically for a moment. But it was tea. Really, what could be so bad about sitting down to tea? To hearing the old man's apology, and then sending him on his merry little way. After a moment's pause, Hans pulled out a chair and sat down opposite the Duke.
The old man passed him a cup.
Hans accepted it, still scrutinizing the Duke for any signs of duplicity. Growing up the youngest of thirteen brothers, Hans learned to recognize when he was being played. It was just being very good at reading people. It was what allowed him to manipulate Anna so completely. But while Hans could tell the Duke did have an ulterior motive in this meeting, he just couldn't tell what it was.
He sipped his tea thoughtfully, pondering all that he knew of the Duke of Wesleton.
He was greedy. Hans remembered all to well how he protested he giving out of cloaks, blankets, and soup. How he sent his two bodyguards to kill Elsa before Hans was ready to have her killed. How he still tried to play the role of the victim after Elsa finally gained control of herself and restored the summer. All of that told Hans the Duke was not one to be trusted. There was duplicity in this meeting, but he couldn't yet see what it was.
Hans took another sip of the tea. He didn't know what kind of sweetener was used in it, it wasn't quite sugar, but it was delicious!
"Alright, you wanted to apologize. So apologize."
The Duke ported himself a cup of tea, but did not drink it. "I realize now that I was overstepping my bounds by asking you to speak with your brother on Wesleton's behalf. You are already on probation with them and my request would have placed a strain on your own standing. I apologize."
"Hm." Hans muttered as he sipped his tea. It really was rather good. He pored himself a second cup. "Well, its nice that you admit it."
"When you're as old as me, young man, you learn to own up to your mistakes."
That struck a nerve. Hans' mind immediately jumped to Anna and all the mistakes he made with her and her sister. He sipped the tea some more, if for no other reason than to have an excuse not to speak. He really might have liked living with her. Maybe not so much with Elsa too, but Has would have liked being with Anna. He took another sip of the tea.
"Well, I've said my peace." The Duke stood. "I'll leave you be."
He never once touched his own cup of tea.
…
(A/N: On the subject of the potion the Duke is using on Hans, I have taken some creative liberties with it, but the idea is not a complete fabrication. Hypothermia can be an adverse drug reaction of antipsychotic drug use. Antipsychotic drugs can influence thermoregulation. Even before its psychotropic properties were clear in the early 1950s, the first manufactured APD, chloropromazine, was used to suppress compensatory responses to body cooling in surgery (artificial hibernation). )