A soft chorus of Vuelie filled the musky air of the church, the plainly dressed men and women stood on the wooden balcony above the main doors.
Hans stood at the foot of the rug at the altar, a look of fear hidden from the crowd of dignitaries facing his back. His twelve other brothers stood in line of succession to the stained glass windows, Katharine on the opposite side of Eric and the Bishop, a soft smile on her young face. She was, Hans had to admit, the picture of beauty. She was thin, tall, and had silky ash brown tresses of hair with a tiger lily pinned to it. Katherine was dressed in flowing white silk robes and matching gloves, a silver cross hung loosely around her neck. When one saw her, it gave one the impression of a guardian angel, someone who could always help when she could.
Erik was, at the moment, the only one at the altar without a form of headgear on, Hans and his brothers wearing coronets of varying sizes, and Katherine wearing a diamond tiara on her head. But that would only be for a few moments until the reading was finished.
The church was made entirely out of wood and fabric. Really just a giant tinderbox. If his powers got loose now, they would all be dead in an instant. He felt the eyes of a hundred people staring into him, analyzing him. He drew a breath and gripped his fists hard as the Bishop held the crown, a golden band with white pearls at the points. The eldest prince bent forward, and the holy man placed the crown on top of Erik's head.
He righted his posture, an apprehensive look on his face. The Bishop held out the velvet pillow, on it, the sceptre and orb. Both solid gold, the sceptre was dotted with pearls and gilded buttercup lucines, while the orb had a delicate tip in the shape of a resting conch, more pearls dotting the perimeter. Erik took first the sceptre, then the orb, turning to face the crowd of dignitaries and kings, trying to keep a calm face.
"King Erik, of The Southern Isles." The bishop finished. "King Erik, of The Southern Isles." The crowd chanted in unison. Erik released a sigh as a wave of applause and cheers of 'Congratulations' sounded throughout the church. He set the objects back on the soft pillow, and cast a suggestive smirk at Katharine. It was over. His brother was now King, Katharine was Queen, he was still a prince, but at least he was safe.
At least for the moment.
Erik walked over to Hans and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you, brother." He smiled at him. "What for?" Hans raised an eyebrow. "For keeping calm." Erik looked down at Hans' gloved hands. He took them both calmly, holding on tight. "Mother would be proud." the King hugged his youngest brother.
"You did good Erik." Katharine walked over and kissed her husband. "You did good." She smiled as the church began to empty out. "Well, we have a ball to go to. We don't want to keep the dignitaries waiting." The King chuckled. "You're right, let's go. Hans? I assume you want to come with?" The Queen offered to her brother in law.
Hans shook his head. The last thing he wanted was more time with people.
Erik looked uneasy at the idea as well, but Katherine didn't seem to notice.
"You'll be fine, Hans." The Queen said taking his gloved hand. The use of those four words made Hans sick to his stomach. Those words still haunted him, no matter how much he tried to get rid of them. He bit his lip and felt his hand warming in Katharines. But it wasn't a natural warmth. It was a sinister, hellish warmth.
"Katharine, my love, I think Hans wants to rest." Erik piped up, but his bride smiled. "Nonsense!" She said. "A little party will keep you awake. Come on." She walked off and beckoned for Hans and his brother to follow.
Erik cast a warning look at his brother, his once relieved green eyes now staring darkly at his brother like a slug he had found crawling in his breakfast. He took Hans' shoulder and gritted his teeth. "Hans," The new King scowled. "Stay out of trouble, or so help me I will-"
"Come on! We haven't got all night!" The Queen's voice called from outside. Erik groaned, and flashed his eyes at Hans before stomping outside to his wife as Hans was left to contemplate the new threat looming over his head…
Kristoff watched the dancing on the ballroom floor, the twenty couples performing a dance to match the jubilant tone of the occasion. Of the groups of dancing, Kristoff could point out at least eight of the men were Hans' brothers, and yet Hans was yet to be seen, as well as the King and Queen. His suit was a black jacket and breeches with a grey collared shirt and a mauve scarf around his neck. It was a cold evening in the Southern Isles.
He had considered joining in, but being busy with his ice business didn't leave him much spare time for his neighbors parties, and therefore, left him without the knowledge of dancing.
There were many beautiful women there, but Kristoff kept his eye out for the princess he'd met.
Instead, he got a shock.
A stout old woman with a mascara job worthy of a circus clown walked up to him and curtsied, her enormous hoop skirt refusing to bend with the motion. She was garish, to say the least. Her gray hair, if he could call it hair, was piled high above her head so it measured at least a full foot. There were more bows and ribbons on her head than the bunting in the ballroom, and her nose stuck out like a sore thumb. Or a broken thumb.
"Hello handsome!" She squeaked in a voice so desperate and unladylike it almost made Kristoff cover his ears, but he could tell this woman was aristocratic, probably of some royalty. He hoped he could just step into the crowd to lose this withered old crab, but she was on him before he could get away.
"Hello," Kristoff forced a smile. "I, am the Duchess of Weselton." She curtsied again, but her giant hairdo was revealed to be a wig, as it shifted on her head and the hideous woman straightened it with her gloved hands. Kristoff desperately looked for a way out, but saw nothing.
"May I offer you a dance, my valiant knight?" The duchess asked politely. "Ahh," Kristoff tried to think of an excuse. "I don't dance, ma'm." He said shyly. The woman cracked a smile, and the millions of wrinkles on her face appearing all at once. "Nonsense my dear! Two minutes with me and you'll be dancing for your life!" She cackled at Kristoff and grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the dancefloor.
Kristoff was trying the entire time not to go into hysterics. Apparently the duchess knew less about dancing than he did.
What this old prune called 'dancing,' was a series of movements that vaguely reminded Kristoff of some sort of method one tries to use to communicate with an alien. For all he knew, this woman was an alien. It made him feel slightly empowered until the Duchess grabbed his arm and spun him round, his eyes seeing stars from the speed he was going.
"Like a flamingo flying!" She complimented her own gawdy dancing as people started to stare, the Duchess stepping on Kristoff's feet with heels like mallets.
Thankfully, the song ended and Kristoff managed to get away, sure that one of his arms was wrenched out of its socket by that 'dancing.'
Suddenly, the royal announcer, Simon, cleared his throat and held his hands behind his back as Erik and Katharine walked to the raised platform that held the tall thrones for the King and Queen. "May I present," He called across the ballroom. "King Erik, and Queen Katharine of The Southern Isles." Simon bowed to the royal couple, and the chorus of bows began, ending at the back doors that led to the balconies. "Prince Hans, of The Southern Isles." The announcer stated as Hans was led to the stage, a sad look in his brown eyes.
Hans looked out at the crowd for anyone that could get him away from his brother and back to obscurity. He didn't want to be anywhere near his brother at the moment, much less a large party.
Then he saw Kristoff, standing to the side of the buffet, mooching a piece of carrot cake from the dessert table. The music and dancing began again, and the couple's again paired up, dancing the waltz. Hans cast a glance at Erik and Katharine, who were being introduced to the Duchess of Weselton, who quite irritated that Simon had mispronounced the name 'Weaseltown.' He managed to walk off towards Kristoff, who was now sipping a glass of wine the same shade as his collar.
He made his way next to the iceman, who seemed to be scouting the crowd for someone in particular. "Looking for someone?" Hans asked him, and the man's head jerked towards Hans and opened wide in shock. "Yeah." He responded after a moment, allowing Hans to get closer. "You clean up well," The prince folded his hands in front of him, caressing the soft fabric of his charcoal grey gloves. "So do you." Kristoff looked warmly at the other man. A moment of awkward silence passed between them, both avoiding eye contact. Kristoff broke the silence and loosened his mauve scarf. "It's warmer than I thought." Hans bit the inside of his cheek. It was warmer, whether from his powers or from the blazing hearths of the ballroom, he didn't know.
But he hoped and prayed it wasn't the first.
He nodded, unsure what to say next. He hadn't actually talked to Kristoff in twelve years, and now he just expected things to go back to the way they were? There was no mistaking it, they had drifted apart. And yet, there was hope.
Kristoff felt rather uneasy about this whole conversation, but his opportunity was right there for him. Right in front of him. Who was he to waste it? Running his rough fingers through his blonde hair, began began to talk.
"So, um," He rubbed the back of his head. "I've been thinking of something." Hans nodded. "I'm leaving the Southern Isles for a trip." Kristoff's gaze shifted back to the floor. Hans eyelids drooped curiously, drawing a low breath. "A trip?" The youngest prince asked. "Yeah, I wanted to see the world before I settle down." Kristoff smiled softly at his old friend.
Hans frowned. Kristoff was leaving? Though part of him was relieved, another side of him was broken hearted. He was glad Kristoff would be a fair distance from him yes, but a life without him entirely? It felt like it would leave him with an empty heart. It was so confusing, it made his head spin. "Why?" Hans asked breathlessly.
Kristoff raised an eyebrow. "Because I've never seen a life outside of this." He crossed his arms. "This, place." He exclaimed. "I want adventure, something new." He bit his lip at the thought of his wasted childhood, his wasted life.
"But there's adventure here." Hans spread his arms around the palace ballroom, as if proving his point. Kristoff shook his head, looking at Hans pathetically. "Coming from the prince who knows nothing outside of the palace." He asked Hans.
Hans' mouth opened in shock. "I know more than you ever remember." He left Kristoff with a cold stare.
Kristoff scoffed and walked off. Hans was keeping more from him, and if he wanted that, who was Kristoff to question the prince?
