Chapter 8:
The Good Doctor
A/N: Special thanks to those of you that are reading and reviewing, it really helps the creative process knowing someone actually reads/cares! Hope you're enjoying.
He'd found the whole thing to be quite unnecessary, but when given choice between cleaning the stables or seeing a doctor to talk about your feelings, one tends to choose the latter. Although, since riding Sitron was out of the question, Hans didn't mind visiting the stables now and then to steal some time with his only true companion. Either way, Prince Hans' time with Dr. Svedsen was a break from his chores around the castle, and one of the only times he got to dress and act as a prince again.
Since he'd been home, King Elias demanded that Hans have two sessions per week with the psychologist. He'd come to enjoy his time with Dr. Svedsen, although he spent a great deal of the time lamenting about his childhood and reworking everything that had happened in Arendelle to his convenience. Dr. Svedsen, however, seemed happy to see that Hans sincerely enjoyed helping with the duties around the castle; he said it was 'character building.'
Hans started to see his visits with the good doctor as a way to exercise his demons, and in part it had become a bit of a game. Within the first few visits, he'd thought he'd successfully duped the doctor into believing that he was a victim in the matter, only to figure out that the doctor was much smarter than Hans had given him credit for.
Today was an especially important session; the ship from Arendelle was supposed to port any moment now, and Hans was all over the place in terms of how he felt about the whole thing. Lars was returning, most likely to be taken straight to the dungeon to await the trial, and Princess Anna had laid out some pretty ironclad stipulations to accompany her on her visit.
At this point, Hans wasn't even sure if he would see the scorned princess, let alone talk to her. She demanded that she stay in an entirely separate wing of the castle and receive absolutely no contact from both Lars or Hans. Naturally, King Elias obliged.
Fine by me, Hans thought to himself. Although, he was more than well aware that her testimony very well could seal his fate. In any other instance, he would apologize and charm her, get her to see things from his perspective. He knew it was a lost cause, but then again, even with everything Arendelle had thrown at him, he had still come incredibly close to usurping the throne. It was a testament to what he was truly capable of when he put his mind to it.
Hans sat up straight on the green, velvet sofa in the parlor. His posture was impeccable, his head held high. He smiled politely, his gloved hands clasped in his lap. The autumn sun shined brightly and warmly through the draped window nearby, painting the room with its yellow light and specks of dust floating around the room, caught in its rays. The chamber door creaked open, and in walked Dr. Svedsen, silently.
"Good morning, Dr. Svedsen," Hans greeted through perfectly aligned, white teeth. The aging doctor, much shorter in stature, peered at Hans through his metal framed glasses, juggling the papers in his hands in front of him. He adjusted his grey tie, then his golden-buttoned vest, before sitting at the grand, mahogany desk a few feet away.
"Good day, Prince Hans," he greeted with a slight sigh. "And which Prince Hans is with us here today?" he asked skeptically. Hans' eyes widened, his mouth agape. He shook his head and furrowed his brow.
"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking me," he uttered innocently, looking quite puzzled. Dr. Svedsen narrowed his eyes before jotting a few notes down on the papers upon his desk. Hans fidgeted with his hands, glancing around the room nervously.
"You seem anxious," Dr. Svedsen observed, Hans shrugged lightly. "Care to share how you're feeling today?" Hans opened his mouth to speak, but closed it once more, his face deep in thought. Dr. Svedsen simply looked on patiently, awaiting Hans' response.
"I don't… really understand why I have to be here," Hans finally spoke, slowly.
"I believe you do know why you have to be here, Prince Hans."
"King's orders," he sighed, acknowledgingly. Dr. Svedsen removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes, slightly agitated.
"You know that's not the only reason you're here, Master Westergaard." He put his glasses back on and folded his hands upon his desk, staring at Hans with his beady, black eyes. "You have to accept responsibility for your actions, as well as find the cause of your actions in the first place. You're here because you need guidance. You're here because you need help," Dr. Svedsen explained, although the tired tone of his voice would suggest that he'd told him this many times already.
"But, I am responsible. I truly regret how things happened in Arendelle. I tried to save the kingdom, I really did. I was desperate, I needed to end the winter before we all died," Hans explained, urgency and sorrow riddling his words. The act wasn't working, and Svedsen was not accommodating of the theatrics today. The doctor kept his face and composure calm.
"We both know that is not the whole truth. You are reverting back to your original story, which is a pity considering how much progress we've made these last few sessions." Hans' innocent, earnest face transformed before the doctor. The prince's eyes darkened, narrowed, his mouth turning up into a wry smile.
"Touché," he purred. He leaned back, stretched, his demeanor relaxing. "How many more of these sessions do we need, anyway?" he sighed, his tone now flat and bored. He crossed an ankle over his knee, extending an arm across he back of the sofa.
"As many as it takes."
"And what's the prognosis, doc?" Hans said, his smile vastly inappropriate for such subject matter. "Do you deem me mad?"
"You, my son, are a narcissist," the doctor said matter-of-factly. Hans rolled his eyes, scoffed.
"Oh, please."
"You suffer from a hero complex, illusions of grandeur, possible split personality disorder…" he began to list. Hans even looked slightly offended.
"Anything good on that paper?" he asked, frustrated.
"Not that I blame you, per se. It would suggest from your stories of your childhood that you were conditioned to be this way, a victim of circumstance."
"Sounds like you're letting me off the hook a little, there," Hans grinned, his tone lightening up.
"Oh, no, no, no. You see, you may be a victim of poor parenting, but that does not excuse your actions. Therein lies the problem. You alone must take responsibility for your actions." Dr. Svedsen paused, studying Hans from his seat. "I understand the princess arrives today?" he ventured. Hans' smug smile dissipated, his face falling to stone, unreadable.
"That's what they are saying," Hans said curtly, clearing his throat uncomfortably.
"Tell me about what happened with Princess Anna in the library," the doctor requested. Hans shook his head, chuckling nervously, although there was no humor. He waved his hand dismissively.
"I already told you that-" he began.
"I'd like to hear it again," the doctor insisted, sternly this time. Hans clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. Dr. Svedsen began to write on the paper once more.
"Alright," he hissed. "Just…stop doing that. It's distracting." Hans straightened his jacket, Dr. Svedsen set the quill down. Once again, he folded his hands nicely in front of him upon the desk, leaning in and trying to suggest an open, receptive body posture. Hans took in a sharp, staggered breath. "The Princess had been gone for some time. When we went to Elsa's castle on the North Mountain, she was nowhere to be found. Last I knew she was off with a strange man, trying to find her sister," he sputtered off.
"You're deflecting," Dr. Svedsen observed aloud. "Tell me about what happened when she entered the library," he reiterated. Hans' head bowed as he remembered. He zoned out, recalling the memory as he described it out loud.
"She came in weak… frantic." He paused, visualizing the moment. Sadness drenched his words, and yet as he spoke he felt nothing.
Odd.
"Go on…"
"She threw herself at me, said Elsa froze her heart and she needed me to kiss her."
"Why didn't you accept her request?" the doctor asked. "Were you angry at her?"
"Yes," Hans said quickly coming back down to earth. "Of course I was. She was off cavorting around with some strange man, one she ended up with a mere two days after our engagement, I'll have you know-" he began rambling.
"Then did you refuse to kiss her as a punishment for inadvertently hurting you?"
"Who's side are you on?" Hans asked, beginning to squirm under the doctor's relentless questioning.
"I'm not on any sides, Prince Hans. You know that," the doctor assured.
"She was going to leave me anyways, be it through death or through running off with another man."
"If you had accepted her kiss in the library, do you think she would have ended up with the other man?" the doctor asked. Hans stared into thin air, mulling over that thought.
"I think…" he began, trying to find the right words. "I think that my kiss would have been of no use to her." The words actually stung a bit, coming out.
"I think that your compulsive fear of rejection caused you to reject her before she could reject you."
"I don't agree," Hans said quietly. "And anyway, she never would have forgiven me for what I was going to do to the Queen."
"Forgiveness is a very powerful thing, your majesty," Svedsen explained. "Forgiveness, ultimately, is more for you than it is for the other person. One cannot carry burden upon their heart without it showing through the cracks of their character. I doubt the Princess meant to hurt you on purpose."
"She said nothing happened with Kristoff," Hans said quietly, more to himself than to the doctor.
"It sounds like a lot of your actions with Princess Anna were a result of a very simple, very preventable misunderstanding."
"Among other things."
Silence. Then…
"I am to understand that you are not going to be seeing Princess Anna while she's here?"
"She won't see me, no."
"Your homework, Prince Hans, is to ask the Princess for forgiveness."
"I have," Hans exclaimed, shaking his head. "I've sent multiple letters to Anna and Elsa. They've never responded."
"No, you must ask her in person. There is a difference between hiding behind words and paper as opposed to asking for forgiveness in the flesh. It means more, it's much harder."
"And forbidden. If Elias finds out I breeched my parole to see her I will be stripped of my title for sure.'
"Then I guess you must decide if redemption is worth the sacrifice for you," Svedsen deduced. He looked down at his papers, writing down a few more sentences. He looked up at Hans through the glass of his spectacles. "You're resourceful when it suits you, you'll find a way."
The session with Dr. Svedsen left Hans' brain swimming. Usually, he had no problem chatting with the doctor, but today's was especially hard to stomach, with the arrival of Anna and Lars. He paced the corridor in front of the dining hall, biding his time until kitchen duty was to begin.
How was he supposed to ask Anna for forgiveness when she refused to see him? Worse, how was he supposed to gain her favor when it was forbidden? He wasn't about to risk his last shred of freedom and dignity to grovel to the harlot. He might have felt remorse for the way everything panned out in Arendelle, but his crippling failure and soiled name was punishment enough, let alone having to apologize, which he'd already tried to do.
Multiple times.
Hans continued to stroke his ever-growing pride, and then he heard the shouting.
"This way!" a uniformed guard yelled, escorting another man down the corridor quickly. Hans recognized the man as the royal doctor, but not Svedsen. It was Dr. Roahl, the doctor that had assisted to the brothers and the royal family anytime they had fallen ill. He watched the men hurry past, wondering if his brothers were all in good health.
Another two guards followed, Hans grabbed one by the arm as he hurried by.
"Is everything alright? Is something wrong?" Hans asked, confused. The guard looked around nervously, reluctant to answer. "Are my brothers well?" he asked, the panic in his voice increasing.
"I am not at liberty to tell anyone," he said sternly, eying Hans up and down. "Especially you," he added, before turning and running after the others. Hans was confused, but he knew it was time to report to the kitchen, so he figured he could ask Marguerite if she knew what had the guards in such an upheaval.
When he entered the kitchen, the staff was equally shaken. He watched them scurry around the kitchen, pulling out various ingredients well before lunch. He noticed Marguerite in the middle of it all, rambling off instructions to the kitchen staff.
"What is going on around here? Did I miss something?" Hans asked, grabbing the stout woman by the shoulders and turning her towards him. She blew a loose lock of hair back from her eyes, patting him on the stomach lovingly.
"Just trying to put together some stew," she smiled through her panicked eyes. "I'll save you some, you need to eat!" she insisted. "Hansy, dearie," she began, taking a deep breath, "you're not going to be needed on kitchen duty today. I am relieving you." Hans shook his head.
"But why?" he asked again. "Someone needs to tell me what is happening this instant!" he demanded, feeling like a prince again. The staff quieted, Marguerite approaching calmly.
"Princess Anna has arrived," she said quietly. Hans rolled his eyes.
"Well, I am well aware that she was arriving today, there's no need to-"
"I'm afraid she's very ill," Marguerite interrupted. Hans stopped speaking, unsure of how to respond to that.
"What is her ailment?" he asked.
"They aren't sure, she fell ill towards the end of the voyage and they have been unable to break her fever, she's hardly conscious," Marguerite said, tears in her eyes. Hans knew that she didn't know the princess, aside what he'd told her, but ever the bleeding heart, Marguerite couldn't keep the tears from falling when she would hear an emotional story. When Hans told her the story about his mother passing away, she'd cried for two hours straight. Hans cleared his throat, waving his hand at her.
"She's tough; I mean, if she can survive a frozen heart-" he began, detached.
"They don't think she'd going to make it, Hans," Marguerite clarified sadly.
That was it? No redemption? No forgiveness? Sure, even moments ago he would have rather beg for mercy than beg for forgiveness of the young princess, but now that the choice was being taken from him? Hans never liked being told No. He turned back to Marguerite, more eager.
"Where are they keeping her?" he asked, his voice low as to not alert the rest of the kitchen staff. Marguerite turned from him, shaking her head.
"Ohhhh, no. I can't tell you, sire. Strict orders-" He interrupted her sentence, turning her back towards him, staring sadly at her with his deep green eyes, pleading. "No, Hans! I can't tell you. It will be my neck and yours!" she whispered harshly.
"Marguerite, this might by my only chance to apologize for what I did to her," Hans spoke slowly, strongly. "I would never tell anyone you told me. If I am caught, I will take sole responsibility for my actions."
"Hans…" she warned.
"Please, Marguerite. I-I…I didn't even know how important this would be to me until I realized that I might not ever get another chance." He stared intensely at her, and she reciprocated. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Quietly, subtly, she leaned in an whispered:
"She may or may not be resting in the old wing, your mother's old bedroom chamber," she divulged. "But if you tell anyone I told you I will deny it to my death," she added quickly. Hans nodded, placing a loving kiss upon the top of her head.
"Thank you, Marguerite. You're an angel." He turned in a hurry to begin running off.
"Oh, Hansy?" Marguerite called out. He turned walking back towards her as she grinned. "The room is heavily guarded."
"Of course," Hans groaned.
"Well, when a lovely Princess is staying in the same castle as the cad that broke her heart and left her to die, they tend to be well-protected," Marguerite rationalized. Hans narrowed his eyes.
"Very funny." Hans exhaled, leaning against the kitchen block, drumming his fingers across it as he thought. "How am I supposed to get in there?" he asked aloud.
"Well, I have an idea…" Marguerite said happily. "But you're not going to like it…"
Hans absolutely could not believe he was doing this.
Then again, as Svedsen had said, forgiveness wasn't just for the other person. It was for yourself. And as a narcissist, who did Hans love more than himself?
Nobody.
…Maybe Sitron.
But these thoughts comforted him as he crouched down, hidden on the bottom rack of the rolling food cart that was on its way to Princess Anna's guestroom. He quietly waited as the unaware servant wheeled the cart down the corridors, whistling an annoying and unfamiliar tune, and hand delivering the one person that was supposed to be nowhere near the princess.
Hans' back ached, his knees stung, and he knew that one quick peek under the tablecloth that dressed the cart would send him straight to the dungeons.
The cart slowly came to a stop.
"I have the soup as requested for Princess Anna," the servant announced to the guards.
"Very well," replied one of the guards, moving to the side. Hans heard the creaking of the chamber door opening, and the cart began to move forward again.
"Set it over there, by the fire so it doesn't get cold," someone instructed. He assumed it was one of the nurses. Sure enough, the cart was wheeled over by the fireplace, the bottom rack that housed a hidden prince instantly becoming quite warm. "Thank you, sir."
Hans could see through a crack in the tablecloth; he watched the servant leave with the door closing quietly behind him. More to the left, he could see a young nurse, wringing out a cloth over the wash basin. Hans could feel the temperature of the cart steadily getting warmer and warmer. He began to sweat, mostly from the heat but slightly from the nerves.
The nurse continued wringing out the cloth, slowly turning and walking towards the bed. She gingerly laid the cloth across Anna's forehead, who moaned in response. Hans couldn't see the princess clearly, as it was quite dark in the room with the curtains closed, save for the light of the fireplace. The same fireplace that was slowly cooking Hans alive.
"Princess Anna, can you hear me?" Another nurse asked. From what Hans could tell, there were only the two. Anna didn't respond.
"Let's allow her rest a while, she is not ready to eat," one of the nurses said to the other. Quietly, both nurses left the room together, just before Hans rolled out from under the cart, gasping for cooler air.
Hans quickly removed his jacket and gloves, relieved to be out from under that blasted food cart. Once he'd collected his breath, Hans took a look around the room. His stomach dropped; he hadn't been in this room for years, not since his mother had died. Everything remained the same; the tapestries she had hand-picked, the chandelier he used to look up at as he lay beside her while she read him his favorite stories. Even in the corner, Hans could see his very own baby bassinet, the same one she used to sing to him in as a baby.
Hans' throat went dry as he recalled the memories, the last memory the most aching of all. He looked towards his mother's large, canopy bed. Princess Anna lay in the middle, looking so small among the pillows and blankets. At first glance, Hans could have even sworn it was Ava.
But it wasn't his beloved mother.
It was just Anna. A girl he thought he'd loved at one point. A girl that held his fate in her hands, even still.
He walked towards her, slowly, very clearly remembering what it was like approaching the very same bed, his mother lying in the same position. He remembered that day like it was very recent, and carried it on his heart every day:
It had been a short, crisp, Autumn day. 8-year-old Hans had spent the earlier portion of that day chasing after his brothers, begging each and every one in one way or another to play with him, anything to keep his mind off of what was happening to his mother.
No one did.
So, he'd spent most of that day at the foot of her bed, reading various books and stories from the library, just awaiting any moments with her where she was coherent. He was in the middle of reading a wonderful story; The story was about a knight that was an outcast, who conquered a dragon that was holding a princess prisoner and in turn became loved by all. Young Hans heard his mother stir.
"Hansy?" she spoke, her voice thin, her eyes remaining closed. He closed the book, crawling up the length of the bed and snuggling up close to her, draping one small arm across her chest.
"I'm here, mama," he whispered. She turned her head towards him, their noses almost touching. Her emerald eyes fluttered open.
"So you are," she sighed back, a small, frail smile breaking across her pale face. He stared lovingly at her freckled face, one he'd gazed at a million of times. He could count every single freckle if he had the time. "Are you being a good boy?" she asked. He nodded
"Mama, when can you get up and play with me?" he asked her, his voice trembling. He already knew the answer to his hopeless inquiry. The doctors had already told the king in front of young Hans days ago; his mother would not be getting up to play again. Her eyes saddened, her eyebrows lowering.
"I'm afraid I won't be able to do that again, Hansy," she spoke, agonizingly. She shushed the devastated prince as he began to weep quietly, tears escaping his large eyes and falling down his round, pink cheeks. "Don't cry, my darling,' she instructed, choking back tears of her own. "There is nothing more I would rather do in this world than play with you," she assured, clutching him to her as tightly as her weakened state would allow.
"I need you here," he said as she smoothed his fiery, amber hair.
"You don't need anybody," she smiled. "You're the strongest, bravest prince I know. And I know twelve princes," she jested. Hans allotted her a miniscule smile among the tears. "You're going to do great things, my son. Important, wonderful things. As long as you keep your heart soft, don't let it harden."
"I don't know what that means," Hans admitted, sheepishly.
"It means…"she paused, swallowing. It was hard for her to speak, she was so tired. "It means don't be like your father or your brothers. Stay kind, be a gentleman. Marry a pretty girl and live happily ever after. Can you do that for me? Can you promise?"
"I promise," Hans sniffled.
"Remember that you aren't like them. Remember that you are special," she instructed.
"I will," he said quietly. He remained on her chest, the tears falling, when he realized that her chest was no longer rising or falling, she was just still. He glanced up at her, she looked as if she had fallen asleep, but even the young prince knew better. He shook her, lightly. "Mama?" he asked. She remained still. "Mother…" he tried again, shaking her harder. He began to gain ferocity as he shook her harder and harder, his panic setting in. "Wake up! Mama, please wake up!" he screamed.
Guards burst through the door, followed closely by Dr. Roahl, who was much younger then. They cast Hans aside, hurrying over to the Queen and trying to revive her, to no avail, in front of Hans' very eyes.
Hans shook away the memory, along with the tears, as he stared at the Princess sleeping in his mother's place, a cool rag draped over her head. He neared the bed, quietly kneeling beside her.
"Els…Elsa…" she murmured. Hans was taken aback, before he realized she was probably having an intense dream from the fever. "Elsa, where…are you…" she mumbled. Hans sighed, he suddenly regretted coming in here at all, she was too sick to talk coherently, let alone forgive him. He began to rise when he felt it, her small, weak hand resting upon his on the bed, skin to skin. She squeezed it gently. "Don't-don't leave me," she said, her eyes remaining closed.
Hans crouched back down, unsure of what he should do. He wanted to slip away, preferably out the window to avoid the guards, but her hand stayed upon his. He knew she wasn't asking him to stay, that would be absurd. But for a brief moment, he remembered what it was like to feel wanted, to feel needed.
Ever so gently, he placed his other hand on top of hers, rubbing it gently.
"I'm here," he whispered. He watched in awe as her lips curled into a comforted, frail smile. Then, slowly, it began to disappear. Her eyebrows crunched together, her eyes never opening.
"Wait…"she mumbled. "Hans?"
Hans was startled by the door opening, the nurses returning to check on the princess. They rounded the corner in time to see Hans crouched down beside the princess, their eyes wide and bewildered.
"You're not supposed to be in here!" one of the nurses said, angrily, the other running to alert the guards. Hans held both hands up in silent surrender.
"Please, don't…" he implored, but it was too late.
Three guards rushed Hans, taking a hold of him roughly, and leading him out of Anna's chamber door.
