Authors note: Thank you so much for all the reviews and comments. I especially want to thank a fellow author and beta Nightrain and Brownstone. I thank you so much, no amount of words will be enough to show how grateful I am to you...and I will continue to repeat it over and over lol
Any way I must warn you all...this is a very dark chapter... but other than that I hope you all enjoy the chapter and please review when done.
Some weeks later…
After a fifteen-year journey, the Queen Elizabeth finally returned home to the Southern Isles. From his study window, Hans could see a great number of people gathered at the port, cheering and waving, eager to reunite with their loved ones again.
He frowned, unable to find his parents among the crowd. Then again, there were a lot of people. Shrugging off his apprehension, he quickly sketched something on a piece of paper before sealing it into a bottle and dropping it into the sea. He then picked his bags and trunk and disembarked the ship.
He walked through the crowd, scanning through the sea of faces, but try as he might, he could find neither hide nor hair of his parents or siblings.
Just then, he heard someone calling him. He turned to see Kai and Amund (now that they were equals, Admiral Roaldsen insisted that Hans called him by his first name) standing next to a simple horse-drawn carriage, waving at him vigorously. Though he was rather disappointed that his parents were not to there to greet him, he was still happy to see a couple of friendly faces.
Grinning broadly, he ran up to them. "It's really good to see you again," he said, his voice slightly muffled by the bear hugs they were giving him.
"Likewise," Kai replied with an easy grin of his own as he and Amund took Hans' trunk and loaded it onto the carriage. "Maybe with you around, my work will be more bearable."
"You could always retire," Hans suggested as they climbed into the carriage.
"True," Kai replied, closing the door. He knocked on the carriage wall to signal the driver that they were seated and ready to go. "But…" he added, his voice dropping to conspiratorial hush, "I want to be there on the day your father gets dethroned."
Hans coughed, feeling a tad bit uncomfortable. "That might be a bit too farfetched, don't you think?"
"So you say…" Kai put in with a cautious whisper. "Your father had never been popular with the citizens and the recent political situation in the Isles has been rather volatile, so to speak. I'm afraid that he's losing control. Small-scale uprisings have been occurring with increasing frequency and I fear that a civil war may be imminent."
Hans felt his mouth run dry. That did not sound good at all. He was aware of his father's character as a monarch, but he had no idea that the country was on the verge of political upheaval. The revolution in France some fifty-odd years ago had proven that while the monarchy could be replaced, more lives could be lost the ensuing power vacuum.
Sensing the prince's discomfort, Amund decided to change the subject. "Why are we even talking about such dreary things?" he asked, giving Hans a hearty thump on the back."We should be celebrating the fact that our favorite Westergaard is here!" So tell me, m'boy, how's life at sea?"
"Not too bad," Hans replied, "Pirate activity has decreased considerably, but that doesn't mean that we should let our guard down. The crew is doing well, and we miss having you around. But enough about me, how about you? How's the retired life?"
"So-so," answered the older man, "It can get incredibly boring sometimes. I tell you, m'boy, once you become a man of the sea, there's no going back."
Hans had to laugh at that. Bless old Amund and his adventurous soul; if anyone could ease his mind, it would definitely be the faithful old admiral.
The rest of the ride was pleasant, what with all three men catching up and exchanging anecdotes; but even so, Hans could not help but notice the signs of economic decline. Several shops and establishments sat deserted and he could see a good number of townsfolk dressed in shabby, tattered clothing loitering in the streets.
However, as they neared their destination, the scenery began to change – grand boulevards lined with beautiful mansions began to appear, fancy shops could be seen displaying the rarest and most expensive trinkets, and the wealthy residents could be seen strutting in all their finery with their noses in the air, showing off their opulent carriages.
Hans could not believe his eyes. 'How could that be?' he asked himself, trying to make sense of what was going on. 'How could one side prosper, while the other languishes in poverty?'
Suddenly, the carriage stopped moving, and a burly, mean-looking gate guard peered through the carriage window. "Who goes there?" he barked, his beady eyes studying each one of the carriage's occupants. Upon seeing Hans, his stern expression broke into a friendly smile.
"Master Hans, is that really you?"
"Yes, it's me, Bjarke" affirmed the prince with a gentle smile, "Long time no see."
"You got that right!" Bjarke exclaimed, "It's so good to see you again!"
"Same here," Hans quipped, nodding. "Still working as a guard, I see."
Bjarke shrugged. "Eh… It puts food on the table."
"Did Father ever give you that raise?"
"Unfortunately, no," Bjarke replied, "But a man can hope." He leaned back and gestured to the other guards to allow the carriage into the palace grounds. "By the way," he added, eyeing the medals that adorned Hans' uniform, "I hope you could stop by the guard barracks later, the boys and I would love hear about all your adventures at sea."
As the carriage moved deeper into the palace grounds, Hans stared in awe as they passed the well-trimmed gardens, orchards, and vegetable fields that surrounded the palace. As they neared their destination, he could see that the castle had been greatly expanded in size and opulence. Gleaming towers of polished marble reached for the sky, beautiful sculpted ornaments adorned the graceful exterior, and the rooftops were ablaze with vivid vermilion shingles. All in all, it was a magnificent edifice that reminded him of the castles he had seen in his childhood fairytale books, but it seemed to as if all that superfluous beauty was simply there to mask the ugly secrets that lurked behind those walls.
Upon entering the palace, Hans nearly vomited on the spot. The foul smell which had kept him away from the palace as a child seemed to have gotten worse over the years. Using a handkerchief, he covered his mouth and nose, hoping that it would block out the odor and alleviate his gag reflex, but to no success.
Kai was the first to notice the youngest prince wincing in disgust. "Are you alright?" he asked, his kind face etched with concern.
"Yes, I'm fine," Hans lied.
"Are you sure?" Amund asked, looking just as worried, "You look rather pale."
"I can manage," Hans insisted.
Inside the great hall, they were greeted by the palace majordomo, Klaus, who was still as sour-faced as ever.
"I take that His Highness has had a smooth journey," he drawled, "Let's not keep Their Majesties waiting." He turned on his heel and motioned for the three men to follow him to the drawing room, which was covered in bright green, paisley-patterned wallpaper.
The moment the door was opened, Hans could no longer contain himself. The stench had gotten so bad that he ran to the windows and threw them open before proceeding to empty the contents of his stomach. He just hoped that no one had been unfortunate enough to be standing under the window at the time.
Kai, Amund, and even Klaus stared in disbelief. Hans was never one to get sick, not even seasick; so seeing him so profoundly ill greatly confounded them.
"Er– Maybe we should meet the king and queen somewhere else, preferably outside," suggested Kai, "Some fresh air might do him some good."
"Quite," Klaus agreed, his lip curling in disgust. Not wanting the prince to add more work by soiling the carpets, he led the group out to a balcony overlooking the gardens and had a great view of the sea. Breathing in the fresh air, Hans could already feel his constitution improving.
The majordomo seated them at a small table out on the balcony, and with a bow and a flourish, he left, leaving the three men to amiably chat amongst themselves while they waited for Hans' parents.
Eventually, the king and queen did arrive, and Hans could not help but stare in shock. This was the first time he had ever seen either one of his parents up close. Ever since he was young, any attempt to approach them, even for a hug, only resulted in him being kept at a certain distance, or worse, shooed away like a pest.
King Stephen was a heavyset man, with the countenance like a granite statue. His face was square-shaped and had a certain hardness to it. His beard and hair, once a vibrant brown, were streaked with gray. He wore an expensive, green brocade coat over a pair of black trousers, all of which was draped by a flowing ermine cape. Nested on his brow was the royal crown of the Southern Isles.
Queen Valhalla, in contrast, was a beautiful woman of willowy stature. She was dressed in a regal gown of green chintz, her blond hair was coiffed into an elegant bun, and she was adorned in ornate jewelry; but instead of awe and comfort, her beauty invoked a sense of fear, given how pale and mask-like her features were.
Despite his anxiety, Hans stood up and bowed. As intimidating as his parents were, he still had to follow royal protocol. Even so, the idealistic side of him still clung to the hope that his parents would finally stop ostracizing him and welcome him with open arms.
"Boy…" Stephen growled, the harsh sound making Hans wince.
In an act that could only be best described as pure guts, Kai spoke up to correct the king. "His name is Hans, Your Majesty."
"Yes, yes… Of course," Stephen muttered dismissively. He gestured for Hans to approach them. "Come here," he said rather imperiously, "Let us take a good look at you."
Hesitantly, Hans walked over to his parents, stopping when he was about four feet away. Somehow, this displeased Stephen, and in one swift move, he grabbed his son by the arm and pulled him closer.
Immediately, they began poking and prodding at him, much to his embarrassment. The twisted his head, this way and that, and pried his mouth open, their piercing gaze scrutinizing every single detail of his face. Never in his life had he felt so violated, they were probing him as if he was nothing more that a breeding stud; and to make things worse, they were doing it in front of Kai and Amund who were powerless to help him.
"His skin is much too dark," Valhalla complained, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the light tan Hans had acquired.
"A peroxide bath should fix that up," Stephen supplied.
"And his freckles?" the queen inquired, "They're just as revolting as ever."
"Just wash them down with arsenic soap," Stephen said, "That ought to do the job." He forcefully tugged at Hans' hair, which had grown out over the years. " And I think a haircut and a shave might be in order as well."
"Peroxide? Arsenic?" Hans began to protest, but before he could get another word out, Valhalla summoned for Kruse, the royal stylist. Quick as a flash, a tall, thin man entered the balcony. He was quite well-dressed and meticulously groomed, and he was peering down at Hans with sheer distaste.
"Groom him, prepare him!" ordered the queen, "I cannot have any one of my children appear in court looking like some wild beast."
"Leave it to me, Your Majesty," he said with a haughty sniff, "This will be an easy fix."
Despite his thin frame, Kruse was monstrously strong. He dragged the struggling prince into a bathroom where a pair of servants were waiting. Working quickly, they held Hans down, stripped of his clothes and pushed him into the tub.
Hans gagged, his eyes watering from the acrid fumes. It was bad enough that the water smelled awful, but it also felt like it was burning through his skin.
The servants immediately got to work, scrubbing at Hans' skin until it was raw. Rough fingers worked at his scalp, to the point that he was convinced that they were trying to tear off his hair; and just when things could not get any worse, he was doused with more of that foul-smelling solution, making him cough and sputter.
After he had been properly washed and dried, the servants dressed him into a set of white drawers, before leaving the bathroom with Kruse to pick up some clothes.
Left alone with his thoughts, Hans rubbed at his burning eyes, only to exacerbate the pain. But that pain was nothing compared to his emotional anguish. He should have known better… It really had been nothing but a ruse. They had only called him back just to torment and belittle him for their sick entertainment. In a sense, the were trying to make who he was, what he was, the admiral he had become, vanish.
When Kruse and the servants returned, they dressed him up in a formal suit consisting of a white jacket and black trousers, both with red trims, a yellow shirt, and an ochre waistcoat. They accessorized the outfit with an orange cravat, a dark red sash, and a pair of white kid gloves. The only remnant of his previous outfit were his boots, which had been polished to perfection.
They then set to work on his hair, but Hans drew the line at having them cut it. Eventually, they came to a compromise by having Kruse shave him down; the end result were a pair of sideburns that nicely framed his face.
As he looked into the mirror, Hans could barely recognize the person staring back. Not a trace of the gallant fleet admiral could be seen, all he saw was some browbeaten stranger wearing expensive clothes.
Kruse leaned back, pleased with his handiwork. "There… Now you look presentable," he quipped, "Let's just hope your parents will approve." Taking Hans by the elbow, he led the young prince into the throne room where Valhalla and Stephen were waiting.
When they entered the throne room, Hans realized that his parents were not alone. Sitting beside them was a woman about fourteen years his senior. She was modestly attired in comparison to the other royals – a black gown adorned with a white lace train, and her dark hair was hidden under a lace veil topped by a jeweled comb. But despite the simplicity of her dress, she carried herself with poise, the dignified grace of a queen.
Hans recognized her immediately. After all, who could not, given that she was the most powerful woman in the world – the Queen of Spain herself, Joanna Rosario Trinidad de Bourbon.
"Excellent timing!" boomed the king. "Now that everyone is here, let us begin… Queen Joanna, I'd like for you to meet our son."
The Spanish queen smiled and offered her hand. Like the gentleman that he was raised to be, Hans took it and kissed it gently.
"How charming," she murmured, giggling behind her fan, "Your letter does him no justice."
Hans paled considerably upon hearing her words. Letter? What letter?
"That's wonderful to know," Valhalla remarked rather offhandedly, "He's not quite the pinnacle of male beauty like his brothers are, you see…"
"Yes," Stephen added, "He's rather plain and dowdy."
Joanna laughed a light, twittering laugh. "Oh, I would beg to disagree… I find his appearance rather exotic."
"So is it a deal?" Stephen asked, a hopeful twinge in this tone.
"Normally, I would not agree to such terms," Joanna replied, "But your son seems to be quite handsome and charming, it would be a shame to refuse."
Valhalla clasped her hands in delight. "Then it's settled! You can marry him next week."
Marry!? So that was what it was all about. Everything made sense now – They did not want him back, he was nothing to them. He was but a mere pawn to be sacrificed for their personal ambitions; but enough was enough, it was time for him stand up for his own beliefs…
"No."
All this time, they had been talking about him as if he was not even in the room; but at that very moment, that single word, spoken so clearly and firmly, directed everyone's attention towards Hans.
Stephen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What was that, boy?"
"I said no," Hans repeated, "I do not agree to this union!"
Valhalla tittered nervously. "Excuse us, we need to speak with our son…" Along with Stephen, she rose from her throne and dragged Hans to a private room far away from prying ears. "What do you mean by 'no'?" she hissed once they were alone.
"It is exactly as I said," Hans replied, his voice as firm as ever, "I cannot and will not marry her. Why, I don't even know her."
"Don't you have any aspirations, boy?" Stephen thundered, "You'll be marrying a queen, and not just any queen, but the Queen of Spain– a woman of incredible wealth and power!"
But Hans was adamant. "So what? None of that matters to me. I neither know her nor love her."
"Love has nothing to do with it!" Valhalla snarled, "As a prince of the Southern Isles, it is your obligation to marry Queen Joanna!"
"Surely there must be someone else who's a better match," Hans argued. "Like my older brothers, for one."
"They're already married, you stupid, selfish boy!" his mother screeched, "The only reason why we brought you back was for this betrothal. Not only will this union prevent a potential war, but you will also cement a powerful alliance and secure for this family incalculable wealth. And you're throwing all these opportunities away for some insipid, childish fantasy?!"
"But I thought…"
"You thought what?" she sneered. "That we wanted you back? That we love you?" She cackled. "Don't make me laugh!"
"We only brought back your useless hide because of this and nothing more," Stephen added. "You will marry the queen, and that is final!"
It was in that moment that Hans felt his heart shatter. Nothing had changed at all… He had been far too optimistic, far too naïve. In the eyes of his parents, he would always be the unloved, throwaway, thirteenth son – nothing but a tool to achieve their sick whims. He would be married off, and they would simply move on with their lives as if nothing had ever happened.
"Well?" the king snarled, "Have you changed your mind?"
And that was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Fueled by anger, sadness, and disappointment, Hans pushed past his parents and ran, ignoring their demands for him to return. He just kept running, not knowing nor caring where he went as long as he could distance himself from the horrible, loveless environment that was his birth family.
And just so it happened, he somehow chanced upon Amund and Kai, who had been waiting for him. Upon seeing, his distraught expression, they immediately went up to him.
"Hans, what is it? What's wrong?" they asked, grasping him by the shoulders, trying to steady him.
But in his current state of mind, he could not answer. Instead, he pulled himself free from their grip and kept on running, only for them to call after him and give chase.
In this haze, he had somehow wound up on one of the turrets. He leaned over the railing and let out all his pain and anguish. He must have been quite a sight – a prince, dressed to the nines, bawling his eyes out, but at that point, he no longer cared. As he wept, the haze in his mind slowly cleared, and that was when he realized that he was fairly high up. Should he ever slip and fall, his death would be swift and inevitable.
'Death…' he mused. 'The only calm in this turbulent life…' Slowly but surely, he began to climb onto the window sill.
Meanwhile, Elsa was swimming up the canal the fed river water into the palace gardens. Based on the map that Hans had given her, her point of entry was in the tidal estuaries, where the river met the sea. She then swam upriver before taking a turn that would lead her into the palace canal.
Just then, she came across a large grate, quite possibly constructed to prevent intruders from entering the palace grounds through the canal. For most people, it would prove to be a great obstacle, but Elsa was not most people. Using her cryokinesis, she froze the metal until it was brittle and shattered it with little effort, allowing her to proceed towards the gardens.
Though she did not exactly have the fondest memories of the place, she was still awed by its splendor. The palace gardens were a lot more impressive than she remembered with their meticulously maintained hedge mazes, beautifully landscaped lawns, and the verdant trees laden with fragrant fruits and flowers.
She swam underneath the stone bridge that connected the two halves of the gardens and waited as per Hans' instructions. To pass the time, she decided to practice a few magic exercises. She wished she could have brought Olaf along for company, but she also worried that the talkative snow dolphin could potentially reveal her, and she was not eager on being captured and displayed again.
All of a sudden, someone screamed, startling her. Curious, she peered out from beneath the bridge to see what was the commotion, only to see a chilling sight – someone was attempting to jump out of a tower window, and it was none other than Hans.
To be continued…
Beta written by Nightrain and Brownstone.
Authors note: uhhhh...(Ducks behind a protective wall)
Fun fact: As crazy as it sounds back then Arsenic, peroxide and ammonia despite being poisonous, were used in many things like wallpaper, beauty products, soap, ect back then during the 1800...lets just say its a wonder how anybody survived that time period.
Any way hope you all enjoy the chapter, please review and stay tuned for the next chapter.