You requested that I not make Hans a fire-user. I came up with something a little different...

Hans walked to Arendelle Castle directly after sports.

He knew, of course, exactly why Elsa's hair was white, and it had nothing to do with her sister. Coming from a family of fire-users, he was well aware of the Arendelle family and their powers. And now Elsa—the girl he had had a crush on since fourth grade—was his people's worst enemy.

He'd always known it was a possibility, of course, but he'd managed to ignore that fact. Besides, he wasn't a fire-user. He was what was known as a Sput.

Fire-users developed in different ways, but the most common was a near-death experience. Traditional families would arrange one of these when the child was between eight and ten years old. Hans had been put through about five before his parents had decided that he was a Sput: someone who had parents and siblings who were fire-users, but wasn't one himself.

Being a Sput meant one of three things. Occasionally, very occasionally, Sputs were accepted for being Sputs. This was mostly in families with less pure blood, who had been fire-users for a shorter time. Sometimes Sputs were kept in the family but were treated badly, like a lesser person. The worst thing that could happen was that you would be disowned. Unfortunately, it wasn't uncommon.

Hans' family had kept him but made his life hell. He had twelve older brothers and every one of them was a fire-user. Hans was forced to clean their rooms, wash the dishes, do the laundry, take the last shower, and sleep in the attic. He was like a slave to them. On family gatherings, he was hidden away. He was pretty sure his oldest brothers didn't know he existed.

"Sputtie!" someone called. Hans whipped around, thinking that it was a classmate. How did they know? Luckily (or maybe unluckily), it was three of his brothers: Anders, the nineteen-year-old and Marcus and Max, the sixteen-year-old twins. "Sputtie-Sput-Sput!"

"What do you want?" hissed Hans.

"Now, that's not a very nice way to talk to your betters, little Sput," said Anders.

"You've made one flame in your life. I wouldn't say you're that much better than me," said Hans. Anders had made a flame after he'd fallen off the roof when he was five years old. He'd sparked and smoked since, but never made real fire.

"And you've made zero flames in your life," countered Anders.

"Look at his face. It's turning red. Maybe he'll blaze!" chortled Hans. In front of his parents, he couldn't tease his brothers, but it was his only defense, and he knew exactly what to say to which brother.

Marcus laughed but, at a look from Max, turned it into a cough. Anders' hair began to smoke.

"Cool it!" snapped Max. He had the darkest hair of all of them but the strongest powers. "You're smoking."

Anders patted his hair and found that it was hot. "Ouch!" he yelped. Marcus couldn't help but laugh. Hans chuckled inwardly.

"Will you guys just quit it?" said Max. "We're on a real, actual mission. And, as much as I hate to say it, Hans needs to help."

"Anna?"

Anna opened her eyes, but her vision was blurry.

"Sorry to wake you, dear…"

More than her eyes had been woken up… a memory had been, too, of a soft, sweet voice murmuring lullabies…

"Are you awake?"

Anna blinked and cleared her eyes. "Mom?"

Her mother was standing before her, dark hair in a bun. "Anna!"

She ran to her daughter and hugged her tightly. "Oh, Anna, darling, how could this have happened? You're an Arendelle."

Anna felt hurt. She'd wanted her mother to just talk to her, take her mind off the pain, not fuss about why she had fire powers! "I don't know. Why don't you have ice powers?"

"I just don't." The words had an undercurrent of unhappiness, like it was a sore subject for her. "Anna, I'm not supposed to be here."

"Why not?"

"Because you're a fire-user, and I'm your mother, and they don't want me to get too close to you!" she said angrily. "Why did you have to come here?"

"Elsa…" Anna began, before petering off. "She went missing and I had to find her!"

"Elsa?" her mother said in disbelief. "No. You should never have come. The first chance you get, I want you to leave here and never come back. Move away with your sister. I don't want you caught up in this."

"But—" Anna started.

"No. Goodbye, Anna," said her mother, walking out.

"Hans needs to" was, in Han's experience, usually followed by some disgusting task.

Hans needs to take out the trash.

Hans needs to clean the shower.

The toilet won't flush; Hans needs to fix it.

"Hans needs to help?" Never.

Maybe Hans shouldn't have been so excited to help them. Maybe he should have told them that he wouldn't help. But he was too eager to prove that he wasn't just a useless Sput. So he followed them to the castle.

On the way, Anders filled him in on what they were doing.

"We've been watching the Arendelle house and the younger girl hasn't come home since Sunday morning. She went to the castle and hasn't come out. We did preliminary testing on her and discovered that she had a very low chance of having ice powers, so that can't be it. We assume that she is being held hostage so that they can get her sister to come back. If we can go in and prove that, they'll have to do something for us so we don't spread the word."

Hans didn't quite follow that thought process but didn't object.

"We know you've been in before."

"Actually, I only—"

"You've been in before, we know," repeated Anders. "So you get to lead us."