We do not own 'Frozen' or any of its characters.
"Frozen Again: 'But the Greatest of These is Love"
Act V
Chapter 21
"Twelve Angry Princes"
Hans Westergaard realized that his birth title, 'Prince Hans of the Southern Isles' meant little to nothing anymore in this kingdom of his father's homeland. The sapient young man was aware that he no longer held even the least ranking, minimal position of being the youngest, unwelcome, ostracized son of this realm.
But that was mostly his fault.
Although Prince Hans had resigned himself enough in his lifelong family-imposed guilt of being the conduit of his sainted mother's demise, it had been a rough road growing up. It was coupled by the inferiority complex that his twelve older brothers instilled in Hans since his earliest memories, spurred on all these years by Master Rügen's abject cruelty and their father's aloof indifference concerning his youngest offspring.
But even now as a mature man, through his deepened faith in the Higher Deity and his true love devotion embodied for his ideal lady, Elsa of Arendelle, Hans had almost come to terms with setting aside his past.
Now that bleak, unyielding past was about to bite him with its cold, harsh viciousness once again. But this time, Hans wouldn't have to face it alone.
From some crazy sense of loyalty that the former professional loner thief never claimed to own, Eugene insisted on standing beside Hans and Kristoff and Aged P as they were being led into the trial, if only to show his support for their innocence about to be put to the test in this unwarranted trial.
Although Corona's Captain Schmidt had come to an agreement with Captain Jorgensen to proclaim Eugene's freedom as the Royal Prince Consort of Corona, even upon his cleared name, Eugene refused to abandon his companions.
So even though he was no longer constrained by the law – Who? What?! Where!?! – nor would he be treated as a felon by the swift jury trial – More like a kangaroo court! – Eugene would stand at his friends' side, through thick and thin. In doing so, proving that he had learned a lot more from Rapunzel's tender decency than he would ever let on.
"Hey, Kid. You should follow Muscles' example over there. Our Norske friend isn't letting the enormity of this stupid kangaroo court trial get to him. Look! Cool as a cucumber under pressure. Just like yours truly." With a narcissistic click of his tongue, Eugene, who never could hold said tongue, especially in trying circumstances, comments to a worried browed Hans.
The pair of brothers stare in interest at Kristoff Bjorgman's closed-eyed, almost sleepwalking-like entrancement as Eugene murmurs a low whisper to his younger brother. With a shrug, the thief directs Hans to observe how the third member of their incarcerated little ragtag quartet had been wordlessly, almost self autonomously marching forward at a similar clipped pace that they themselves had been prodded on by the royal guards.
The three handsome young men, upon entering the Castle, had been following the two captains of the guard who were hauling Aged P between them down Egeskov's ornate with armor and trophies and paintings, amongst other guy-stuff crowded in its hallways.
"What's up with your blond friend, Rider?" Big man Captain Schmidt had been observing the companions of the erstwhile thieving prince, whom he had been sent by his true ruler, King Friedrich, to fetch and bring back home.
"I think it's a religious thing." Tightlipped Flynn Rider may not have been sure what Kristoff was up to, but he had a feeling that the tall Norwegian Ice Harvester with the tightly closed eyes and vague, disinterested attitude had something good going on. Mystical psychic powers or some such Wind Whisperer magic inherited from his far-out Snow Queen Mom and Nature warlock Dad was something that big lummox Schmidt shouldn't mess with interrupting.
"Huh?" With a perplexed, disembodied look on his rugged features, Kristoff pulls himself momentarily out of his all enveloping communiqué with Sven to make sure he was watching over a certain fuming ginger cutie, for the past twenty minutes or so.
"Perhaps you do not fully comprehend the lugubrious consequences that accompany a judicial trial in Denmark as I do, Storbror." Finally answering, with far more gravitas in his velvety whispered voice than usual, Hans addresses his more blasé brother in a staid tone concerning the somber crimes they had been charged with – traitorous sedition and revolt inciting violence against the Danish state.
"Don't sweat it, Sideburns. As a lifelong fugitive from the law, with my stunning mug on so many wanted posters across the lands, I'm more famous than good 'ole St. Nick." He tries to make light of the trouble, but Hans wasn't buying. "Look, I've been on death row before. While it is, by no means, a euphoric feeling, the criminal sentencing phase of the whole shebang is a piece of cake." For years, the larcenous Flynn Rider had been experienced at walking the tightrope line between the straight and narrow vs the crooked and easy that his talents at thievery usually slipped him through the cracks thereof.
Infamous master lockpick Flynn Rider prided himself on knowing his way around the prison and out of it again. He now gives his fellow accused being corralled into the Royal court docket a nonchalant and arrogant shoulder shrug smirk.
"Right, Schmidt, old buddy?" Eugene turns to the stoic faced, squared jawed, unimpressed Captain of his home Corona guard. The big-boned, moustached man merely rolls his eyes in response, far too accustomed these past five years of putting up with this unworthy scoundrel running off at the mouth, if only for Princess Rapunzel's sake.
"Grrr… We've never been buddies, Rider. And never will be." The large framed, dark haired man contradicts the one Royal member of his kingdom he fell at liberty to disregard.
"Aww. That hurts me right here, Schmidtty." Flynn Rider dramatically places his hand over his heart with that trademark smirk up at his eternal good cop/bad crook rival.
While his counterpart Captain Schmidt was trading insults with his fellow Coronese 'comrade ', Captain Jorgensen's Haeran Army training told him to keep a close eye on the strangely deadpan big burly blond of all the four men.
Jorgensen's cautious gaze spanned over that redheaded Little Lord Fauntleroy and even sleepy eyed Aged P, his pride in his job keeping the wily lot all closely guarded by himself and his Egeskov lieutenants.
As the prisoners are transported into the expansive, high ceiling, red rug laid out, but-by-no-means-inviting throne room, they are led up to a partitioned section of the Royal court where they would stand trial behind the bar. That area was meant to keep visiting dignitaries and certain segments of people above and separate from the 'lower class' peasants that were once allowed to attend the King's court date to witness trial sentencing.
"Well… If they give us a fair hearing, we can explain to them about Aged P's failing eyesight and his honest mistake with the gems." Optimistic about telling the truth in all things, Kristoff was a little more wary of the equanimity of the situation when his suddenly hackled senses could pick up so many bad sentiments and unwarranted bias floating around nearly every occupant of the throne room.
From the intimidating guards to the haughty page boys to everyone who looked down at the group of them upon entering the throne room, particularly the disowned Prince they never thought they'd see here again.
Especially when the wide double doors of the Royal courtroom are swung open and an imposing assembly of men – ranging in ages of young to middle-aged –and all of the striking handsome high-class deportment stride in.
And that sickening, untoward feeling in Kristoff's gut only multiplied by twelve.
That's when a stoic, normally altogether calm, cool and collected Prince Hans Westergaard physically and mentally stiffens with an underlying unease of rattled fear.
Kristoff notes how, with a sucked in breath of tense trepidation clearly written on the redhead's face, Hans' nervous adrenaline shoots up exponentially as he looks up at the entrants into the throne room.
That's when the nearly dozen Royal princes of Denmark begin to stream in through the large ground-floor King's courtroom with a bitter cold attitude surrounding them, directed at Hans.
The politician Prince Anders, the scholar Prince Lars, the Minister of Defense Prince Ivers , the businessman Prince Mattias, the naval Kommander Prince Jurgen, the agriculture Minister Prince Peiter, the King's solicitor Prince Berte, and the world traveling hunter Prince Franz.
As each man, rousted out of his bed at this early morning hour passes by, they scrutinize Aged P, Kristoff and Eugene with displeased, haughty eyes, though barely any of them even gave Hans a sidelong glance. One by one, they take their places at the double rows of seating on the right side of the throne room's raised dais to dutifully stand in as Royal court jurors.
Each of them seemed to purposely avoid eye contact with their youngest sibling on the direct opposite side. With mild interest in assessing his new 'big brothers', Eugene notes how Hans quickly averts his now almost frightened green eyes, his head down. His hands still constrained behind his back dig their nails into his palms' flesh until Hans nearly draws his own blood in apprehension.
With a resigned countenance on his bearded salt-and-pepper features, Crown Prince Kaleb has a rear door whisked open for him by a bored looking, skinny young bailiff, with the pair of spoiled rotten Westergaard twins trailing their oldest brother into the courtroom arguing.
"But Kaleb—! There he is! That cheap, old shyster! Kaleb! You have to convict him! Send that two bit Prussian Jew crook to the gallows!" As fiercely fiery as his orangey reddish hair belied, Prince Rune had already talked older brother Kaleb's ear off as their most powerful brother was dressing in his Royal robes of a judge about the Prussian jeweler's guilt in this matter.
"Ooh." Prince Ruddi, who, as always, was a few steps behind his twin, when he demonstratively clutches his gangly arm around his own fearfully gulping, oddly shaped, long neck at the very thought of a public hanging.
"Rune. Be still." With a few terse words and a raised hand, Prince Kaleb silences his bad tempered younger brother and the tittering scoffs of many of the older brothers in the jury upset at being roused from their beds to serve as jurists. That ill will sentiment was directed at insufferable pariah of the family, Hans, and his shady choice of friends.
For the past few months, the Crown Prince of Denmark had assumed the dutiful rule of the kingdom that his infirmed, bedridden sickly father King Herbert, could no longer perform. As eldest big brother in charge of his clan of a dozen younger siblings, Kaleb also had become quite proficient keeping in check and subduing their varied temper tantrums and blown out of proportion problems, so as not to bother their father the King.
Even if it meant presiding over a quickly arranged cage trial at this ungodly hour of 6 AM at an intent Count Rügen and Egeskov's dutiful Captain of the Guard, Jorgensen's request. If only to get his annoyingly whiny lillebror, Rune, off his back, frustrated Prince Kaleb would reconcile himself to do so.
Of course it would all have to end up being on the eve of the King's important 70th birthday celebration garden party.
If we Westergaards didn't have bad luck…
"But! I want to look that old geezer in his one good eye and give him a piece of my mind for ruining my life with my finicky Eugenia…" The ornery 34-year-old twin with the ruddy complexion and fiery mass of spiky red-orange hair, starts to stalk towards the left side of the room where the four litigants were seated at a close watch by Haeran Army trained Jorgensen and his guard surrounding the accused.
"SIT DOWN, RUNE!" Kaleb's explosive deep voice thunders his brother into quiet submission as a cowed Rune backtracks his way to sit soundlessly beside his chortling in ridicule twin. Rune pushes back Ruddi's annoying wilted tuft of yellow 'sticky-uppy' hair ferociously to vent his own growing anger.
Kaleb then deliberately takes slow steps directly down the front to make his way towards the king's carefully prepared throne that his eldest son only occupied during courtroom situations thus far.
There Prince Kaleb had, on occasions such as these, been given the responsibility of being sole magistrate of the land in his father's stead. 'Judge' Kaleb had taken to sit in ultimate judgment under the Codex Holmiensis Danske Jyske Lov – the Danish code law of Jutland that all monarchs ruled this land with since the 13th century.
Prince Kaleb, after all, was as eldest son of King Herbert of Denmark and Crown Prince heir apparent, one breath away from gaining utter totalitarian control of Danmark's Scandinavian Jutland peninsula and archipelago of over 440 named islands, and 1.4 million citizens. While the drawbacks of responsibility and the weight of the laws resting on his crown for his kingdom was great and demanding, so were the rewards to his day by day growing egoism at the promise of a great rule to come.
So why shouldn't I proudly hold my head high when sitting on this throne? It will be mine someday soon.
Every now and then a cold errant thought snaked its way into the normally aggravated and frustrated, yet stable 48-year-old Crown Prince's psyche.
As he sits quite comfortably down in his father's throne, more and more each time, Prince Kaleb deems to direct his glance over the quartet of defendants. His cool gaze nominally glazes over first that the fidgeting old jeweler that Rune was having so much trouble with, then that burly Norske blond brute that Ruddi insisted was an invader from the North.
His blue grey eyes then glaze over the purported thief who had been unduly fortunate to move above his station in life and marry a Royal Crown Princess, and yet sink again into the depths of his sordid former profession. At last, Kaleb's penetrating stare finally lands upon his father's disowned, despised, unwanted youngest child that none of them thought they would ever have to see again.
After all, in a game of lots, Prince Jürgen won the decision to sell dishonored Prince Hans to work as a slave cabin boy for a dirty, old, gnarled and ruthless, washed up Dutch sea Captain with a heading to the other side of the world in a vain search for the mythical fountain of youth.
Now he had made his way back here, wearing the prestigious officer's naval uniform of a Sjoforsvaret Kommander, no less.
What deceit and lies have you been weaving to land you in such good strakes in the Navy of our neighbors to the north, Hans? What have you been up to these past two years, little brother? And again you ended up inNorway, the scene of your crimes, no less. That pristine, unsullied land of the midnight sun seems to have some maddening fascination and lure for you…
"First, we will deal with the more serious case of sedition that Count Rügen has clearly delineated to me for my role in judgment and sentencing over. We will get to your case later, Rune. But now we must wait for the Master to serve as prosecutor in the arraignment of these mens' aggressive and egregious crimes." Prince Kaleb's piercing grey eyes penetrate his statement with a look of disappointed contempt and accusation cast directly upon Hans.
All through the boy's youth, Kaleb, twenty-three years Hans' elder, had kept aloof and indifferent to the unlucky thirteenth child of this realm. He, unlike many of the others, viewed Hans with more disdain for causing their dear sainted mother Queen Louise's demise than the competitive contempt many of his other brothers also held in conjunction along with that blame.
To Kaleb, who had been destined to inherit his father's throne since the day of his birth, Hans was merely an unfortunate accident that claimed the life of the mother that Kaleb, Anders and Lars perhaps, remembered as a vibrant, energetic and beautiful force. But Queen Louise's lively, vivacious nature had lost its luster once the endless multitude of sons came rolling in year-by-year at their power-hungry father's incessant demands.
And latecomer Hans was, by no fault of his own, other than being born, the unfortunate straw that broke the proverbial camel's back.
That inward cold tendency that had been passed on by pitiless King Herbert was embedded in every one of his sons icy blueblood veins as well as being hammered into their mimicking minds of their cold frigid father's attitude. Each one wanted to satisfy their grasping parent and gain better placement and control for themselves in this kingdom someday.
That coldness that ran rampant in each of their veins made it impossible for any of them, even detached, logical and intellectual Prince Lars, to ever thoroughly forgive the outcast little boy who so disrupted their world.
Hans took away the maternal first love that, for some of them, was the only light to shine through the twelve young men's frost covered hearts. With her shining, influential light gone, there was little hope that any of her coldhearted sons would ever find the warmth in their hearts to forgive the little, unloved outcast of the Westergaard family that their mother named 'Hans' on the last day of her life, which just so happened to be the first day of his.
While those twelve sons had become twelve angry men now with that frigid fractal of an inherited ice shard mirror running covertly through their lifeforce, kept chilled by jealousy, anger and greed, conversely, Hans had matured into a fine God-fearing young man. The red-headed youth had been separated enough from his father's cool persuasion, under the warm tutelage of the nuns of the Convent of Noble Maidens instead, to be raised as a different man than his older twelve brothers.
The flaming red hair of the mother who baby Hans, however inadvertently, had killed, was a constant reminder to each of her children of what that despicable child had done. They had blamed Hans all his life for taking away what little warmth they ever had in this household, when each young boy and teenager alike of them were told their Mama was never to come home again because of him.
"Tell me… Hans…" It seemed almost painful for Kaleb to utter the wretched boy's name aloud. "Why do you wear the officer's naval uniform of our neighbors to the north in the Sjoforsvaret?" While waiting for Rügen, Kaleb idly questions Hans directly with the sudden query out of curiosity to the young man who was, quite unknown to them, the current Vise Admiral of the Sjoforsvaret.
"Who cares where the Squirrel got it?! Get on with it, Kaleb, so we can get back to sleep!" Garrulous Prince Peiter yells out when a tightlipped Hans quietly keeps his own counsel at Kaleb's inquisitive, probing question. Peiter, like several of his other brothers, may have found some degree of kindness under the influence of their princess wives over the years, but that small minutiae of warmth still did not extend to little brother Hans.
"The proceedings cannot commence until Count Rügen arrives, Peiter." Kaleb responds, though his eyes were uniquely trained on Hans, still waiting for a response.
But Hans chose not to implicate anyone else nor drag the good name of Queen Elsa into this trial where he had pledged to give a plea of guilt for whatever crimes Count Rügen laid before him. Though Anna and Eugene were out of the woods, Kristoff's innocent life may still hang in the balance hereupon should Hans not comply to the evil manipulator's demands.
The gentleman in Hans would never mar the dignity of a lady by bringing Queen Elsa's good name up before this kangaroo court trial nor ever give allusion to the two of them having any affiliation whatsoever.
Especially not even a hint of the sought-after relationship that would never come to fruition now, as far as a despondent Hans could ever see in his dishonored worthless self.
But no such chivalrous strain ran through Eugene Fitzherbert's self-preservationalist psyche, despite half of the same blood running through his veins as Hans and almost every blinking other man in the room, it seemed.
But his half was more controlled by the blood of a hot tempered gypsy who once upon a time instantly melted the cold ice of the King who sired many male children.
From 0 to 13 brethren in a month's time? Sheesh, these guys are an intimidating lot of bozos. I don't blame you for never wanting to talk about the clan, never mind getting away from them, Sideburns.
They may be mildly charming and blessed with good looks, en masse - I dare say that must be in inherent trait of the Westergaards. Except perhaps for those twins near the tail end… That one looks like a science experiment gone wrong! Your Mama's side of the family definitely!
Anyways…in removed appraisal of the gang of them…my blushing bride will be pleased to find that none of my dear big brothers can hold a candle to my stunning good looks.
Eugene's errant thoughts full of vanity and bluster at his own gorgeous face as he was secretly assessing the horde of princes seated across to the right, are interrupted by the large double doors of the vast throne room being quietly cracked open.
And clandestinely, in slips perhaps someone who could give Flynn Rider a comparative run for his money in the area of both dashing good looks and arrogant vain knowledge of it.
"Didrik! Where have you been?! Antonia said you didn't go up to your room last night!" Already acting like his father, Prince Kaleb angrily berates the lothario scapegrace—the King's sixth son.
When Prince Didrik continues to move in silence, Kaleb runs a frustrated hand through his own dark brown, rather graying hair as his tall and dapper, undeniably handsome younger brother stealthily tries to scuttle into the courtroom unnoticed.
"You look a mess. What the blazes happened to you?" Prince Mattias, who was in the seat beside the empty one in the 'jury box' waiting for Didrik, quizzes the disheveled Prince with incredulity on his thick eyebrows in a throaty mutter.
Fixing his loosened pink tie, classy Didrik wordlessly takes his seat beside his no nonsense businesslike brother. The ladies' man Prince's hair had left its perfectly slicked back with brille cream neat coif to have his hair spread limply across his comely forehead's dark shadowy right eye socket.
As the dark-haired man sits in deeply sullen silence, his gloved hand continually covers what appeared to be a bloodied split lip beneath his dapper handlebar moustache. But Prince Didrik does glance up, beneath the well-placed thick shank of black-brown bangs masking his swollen black eye, across the room to meet Hans' slit eyes from his seat.
Before anyone else could question though, a secretive side entrance to the throne room whooshes open with a blast of cold air. A dark figure chooses this moment to step out from behind the parted maroon colored red wine drapery curtain from the enfilade suite of rooms to enter the Egeskov throne room.
"Master Didrik has been up to his typical abysmal antics with his usual sordid company, no doubt. But it looks like those larks have landed our resident Casanova in a world of trouble this time. I wonder what her name was? The females I have been subjected to meet of late have been rather too spirited and feisty." When it came to his own dastardly brand of underhanded innuendo, Count Rügen of Wurttenberg was a pro.
The sly snake of a villain oozes hidden insults galore as he enters the room, each of the princely brothers immediately coming to attention for their longtime instructor.
"I'm surprised he's graced us with his much desired presence this early morn." The treacherous blackmailer had taken into account each and every one of Didrik's indiscretions over the years and had used them to lord over the King's chief diplomatic envoy time and time again to manipulate his wicked finger on many across the continent.
The daybreak tussle with that devil boy, his little ginger girl friend named 'Anna' and the other commoner cretins at the hidden dungeon exit at the chapel resulted in an unfortunate capture of the group by Egeskov's annoying Captain of the Guard, rather than the summary execution Rügen had intended.
With a foul taste in his mouth for women, who scorned him at every encounter, the fencing teacher had cleaned himself up from all the bruises and ruptured rib cage injury that that devil's little girlfriend inflicted upon him earlier.
But finally, Count Rügen would be able to punish the loathsome creature who had now fallen prey in the manipulating man's masterful trap at long last.
And the law would have to be on his side.
His good fortune in this aspect seemed to be merely due to the red-headed devil boy's magnanimous chivalry for the sake of one greedy little gemstone dealer.
Rügen's flaring eyes and sneering bearded face aims at Aged P, Kristoff and Eugene, and his nemesis Prince Hans most of all, as he takes several threatening steps towards the left side prisoner dock.
There, Captain Jorgensen of Egeskov and Captain Schmidt of Corona were each stationed like twin towering posts on either side of the four (Technically three and a half, thanks Schmidtty.) defendants.
"Then, shall we begin, gentleman?" Judge Prince Kaleb calls the sleepy-eyed group to order as Prince Jürgen must prod from behind a deeply studying bookworm Lars to pay attention. The studious scholar's spectacles slip off onto Ivers' lap that the brown haired, handsome Danish diplomat on Lars' other side quite complacently rescues and replaces onto his older brother's face.
"Yes, the sooner the trial is over with, the sooner we can get back to our lives." Prince Anders coolly states as the man running for Chancellor takes on the lead responsibility of foreperson of this twelve man jury.
"Master Rügen? Your case of sedition is a rather grave one. Pray, elucidate for us your argument against these three men. I have already considered and ruled from the bench to release Prince Consort Eugene of Corona from his part in this matter under the rule of jurisprudence. The Prince will stand above the law in diplomatic compliance with Denmark's peaceful treaty with Corona to the South. Corona's Captain of the guard has thoroughly assured me that there will be repudiation and a reprimand to the Prince Consort for his part in any crimes here when they arrive back home in Prussia, forthwith." Glad to have at least that distasteful, perhaps internationally insensitive business out of his hands, Prince Kaleb glances from Eugene to Captain Schmidt, who nods.
Kaleb then looks self righteously back down to Eugene, who once again rolls his eyes.
"Please step down from the witness stand, Prince Eugene." Kaleb says disdainfully as he looks down his similarly Roman nose down at Eugene, who uncannily bore a chiselled-jaw, striking resemblance to the man, minus the dignified moustache and salt and pepper beard.
Though Flynn Rider would NEVER admit it.
"Look, I know you're the Boss Man here in your Pop's place. But I made a promise to some good friends back home. So, I'm not walking out on this old geezer or either of these kids, after all we've been through together. Not with that sadistic wacko on the loose in your court slinging false charges and jacked up crimes. Pardon me for sneering at your beloved Master Rügen, but the guy is a cruel, malicious leech. Someone has to say it. And I've got the scars on my back, amongst other unmentionable places, to prove it, if you need further evidence." To Captain Schmidt's apologetic headshake, Eugene candidly continues to speak out against the villain, pointing a finger at his sleek backside, fully ready and rearing to go on display.
"Please remove your member of the Prussian Royal house from the prisoner's dock so we can get on with this kingdom's affairs." Kaleb ignores Eugene's valiant attempt to bring down Rügen, to dismissively direct his address at Captain Schmidt to collect the misguided young man who was defaming their lifelong fencing instructor and King's cousin.
"Yes, thank you, Prince Kaleb. Let us be rid of this thieving refuse from our noble castle." Rügen murmurs, his evil intentions on Hans more important to him right now than personally seeing that the gypsy's son would not survive to return to this noble household ever again. A raise of his eyebrows to several of his henchman standing right behind the curtain was enough to ensure that once Eugene Fitzherbert left this throne room, he would not survive his return trip back to Corona.
At first Flynn starts to put up resistance - which Captain Schmidt was wont to combat for years – but Hans speaks up at last, interceding.
"Please, don't argue, my friend. Have no guilt in being granted your freedom to fly away. We will stand before the court to voir dire – 'speak the truth'— in the French legal phrase, in hopes that the law must be honest, just, reasonable, and according to the way the people will show the truth.'" Hans quotes words from Denmark's Danske Jyske Lou,the Danish code of law.
Eugene was keenly listening to him for some grandiose secret code scheme that the lowly thief had yet to decipher amidst Hans' lofty words.
"But –" Eugene shakes his head, not quite content with cutting and running, though it was the easiest thing for a sneak thief to do. But he kinda had grown attached to these two kids, never mind that crazy promise he'd made to Big Nose about looking out for his Aged P.
"Just…stay close to Captain Schmidt and the guys on your trip back. May the Lord keep yourself and Princess Rapunzel safe, should we not meet again." With a quick, brotherly smile, Hans whispers a somewhat disquieting warning to Eugene. The Prince of the Southern Isles selflessly advises the ever revolving plan still being hatched in his intelligent head that was about ready to be put into practice.
"Don't worry about us, Eugene. It'll all work out. Help is never far away. Things will start looking up…soon." Industrious Kristoff, on the other hand uses his mental powers of nature to send a more positive, clear-cut message to Anna's cousin. Kristoff taps his nose with a knowing smirk that was as reassuring to Eugene as being told Santa Claus was bringing you – say, a castle- for Christmas.
Oh, Blondie you already gave me that one. And all the perks that go with it.
"I hate when people do that." Eugene murmurs as his flatline eyes scrutinize the blond Ice Harvester's signals and then allows Schmidt to hustle him down from the high suspect's podium where the four accused men had been partitioned.
And out in the hall's east wing, just like ships passing in the night, Rapunzel, Emma and Elsa follow Frederika's lead towards the throne room's double doors to peek in, just as Eugene is hustled out the side entrance by Schmidt.
"Now that that regrettable portion of this incident has been dealt with, we can get down to the serious crime of –" Judge Kaleb starts to speak out from where he was eager to put finish to this entire exhausting early hour fiasco as swiftly and succinctly as possible.
But petulant little brother Rune was as impertinent as he was impatient.
"My future life lies in ruination all because that dirty old crook over there stiffed me on the fine piece of jewelry my Eugenia deserved! That crime trumps everything! I brought my case to you, Kaleb, days before old Rügen here came up with his charges against Hans and his seedy friends. So, I think my case should be presented first!" Like an irritable little kid fighting for attention, Prince Rune's reddish complexion only seemed to spread across his entire face all the way down to his neck, apposite to his childish behavior. Even though he was addressing the weighty subject of his broken engagement to the Russian Crown Princess, Rune couldn't help but come off like a spoiled brat.
"Fine, Rune. We'll try your case of the State versus Mr. Agapios Porcius and the fraudulent piece of merchandise you purchased in good faith." Kaleb reads the paper his mealy-mouthed bailiff had drawn up for this trial that an irate Rune brought to his big brother over a week ago, accompanied by the rejected engagement ring as evidence A.
"And don't forget, the old geezer has to pay for reparations for both my injured hurt psyche and the mental distress that he's put my poor Princess Eugenia through!" Rune, rather over dramatically, and thoroughly with disingenuous insincerity adds on his own personal grievances like the true spoiled young man he was.
"Mental… distress…? Yes, the court will certainly take that into account, Lillebror." Prince Kaleb responds in a rather bored voice as he patronizes his impish younger brother's bad temperament once Rune gives his opening statement of the charges.
"Mr. Agapios Porcius. Step forward to the bar, please." The princely judge projects his deep baritone voice towards where aged P, Hans and Kristoff were standing behind an enclosed set of gated wooden posts.
Hans, though his calculating mind was busy, scrambles to help the elderly man's failing legs to stand trial at the bar.
"Yes, your Majesty." Aged P's deeply accented voice couldn't have given a better opening title to the Crown Prince who was so close to ruling the Danish Empire that he could taste it.
"I am merely as yet the Crown Prince standing in as magistrate in my ailing father's stead." But Kaleb's silent smirk is wiped off his face when Aged P begins to speak.
"Oh, then you'll understand me, since you have an old decrepit Papa yourself. But I've got to start by apologizing to your little brother, bless the poor boy. When I hear all the pain and emotional anguish for your lovely little lady caused by my aged eyes failing me on that pretty engagement ring I had set especially for your intended bride, my boy, my old ticker aches." Aged P's demonstrative chest thump gives more of an honest, forthright apology than a deposition of testimony, for having no counsel.
"If you just told me about the problem, son, I would have certainly replaced the imperfect ring at absolutely no cost to you, free of charge and right away." The old Prussian Jewish jeweler calmly starts to explain his no-questions-asked, consumer friendly exchange policy directly to Prince Rune across the aisle who was serving dual-duty as the defendant challenger for the prosecution and a member of the jury in the open and shut case.
"But that isn't the point! My Eugenia was so offended that she won't even talk to me after breaking off our engagement! You know how humiliating a slap in the face that is, old man, to have your fiancé throw this 'dim-witted, substandard, counterfeit ring' – her words, not mine – that I was led to believe was of great treasure and import, according to your sales pitch, thrown back in your face! And it was just before I was to present my girl and her esteemed family to my father, the King of Denmark! No excuses for inferior goods and workmanship will do! You deserve corporal punishment!" After shaking his fist at Aged P in the air, Rune's high-pitched lispy voice caterwauls in livid anger at the older man leaning against the dock.
He grabs his twin brother Ruddi by the neck and throttles him violently, slapping his cheeks until the poor man's already addled brain was rattled some more, eyes rolling around in Prince Ruddi's muggy, homely head.
"Rune! Silence in the court! Sit down!" Prince Kaleb was at his wit's end with his raucous brother of the set of twins making an exhibition of themselves.
Schooled, Rune sheepishly takes his seat, with a sputtering, coughing Ruddi thusly collapsing into his ill tempered sibling's side.
"We will have civil discourse in this courtroom, or your case will be dismissed on the grounds of disruption." Elder brother Kaleb lays down the law in his courtroom where a pin drop could now be heard for the silence he commanded from the throne.
"Now, where was I?" Judiciary magistrate Kaleb rubs his pounding temples before speaking again. His eyes open slightly larger when he sees his wife Emma peering in the side door vestibule with the coffee she had offered to fetch for him and the others before he left their bedroom this interrupted, sleepless dawn.
"Ah, yes. So your plea is 'guilty by unintentional accident'. Danish law is clear in received goods and services being paid in full contractual agreement to the full extent of the law. Since your end of the deal has not yet been fulfilled on your side, no matter for what reason, your sentence for passing on inferior quality goods - considering leniency in extradition cases - is twenty-five years in regular prison. That is your sentence. Take the prisoner away." Cold, hard, and precise, Prince Kaleb had served as magistrate of this land for several years now, presiding over many local cases. He was unaffected by any emotional outburst concerning his strict adherence to the ruling law whenever he represented the King.
"Your Honor! I demand to speak a word for this accused man. Under the second line of the Codex Holmiensis, the Danish law of Jutland's guidelines, states that even he, a foreigner, deserves representative council in our court!" Hans astounds everyone by suddenly striding forward to take a place at the bar beside a reduced to sniffling tears Aged P, halting the old man from being dragged away by Captain Jorgensen's guards.
The elderly man realized all at once that the twenty-five years imprisonment meant he would live out the remainder of his waning days behind bars with strangers rather than with his son and daughters and maybe new grandkids back in Bavaria at his beloved jewelry store working with all those sparklers and gold engraving skills he cherished.
Aged P looks up through his jeweler's magnifying eyepiece glass that was continually attached to his eye socket up to the prismatic redheaded hero with a small glimmer of hope.
Hans smiles kindly down at the old gentleman with a generous hand over Aged P's bent over hunched shoulder. "Have I your permission, Sir, to speak on your behalf as I must?" Hans asks in that comforting melodic tenor, until he gains Aged P's sniffled nod in utter gratitude to the refined sophisticate the lowly jeweler called 'friend.'
Kaleb gives a glance to Prince Berte, who, though not a criminal law attorney, was trained by the King's legal team for legislative litigation of his administrative regulatory law in banking and real estate contention issues rather than criminal cases. But at least he had some knowledge of the law.
Prince Berte strokes his Van Dyke pointed brown beard, more interested to hear their reviled youngest brother Hans' defense of this wayward old man than the rest of his brothers.
After a few moments of consideration, the legal advocate of the princely group nods. He had been impressed with Hans reciting the greatly recognized Codex of Denmark law. Berte always had a curiosity for every angle of the law he had entered the practice of.
"Proceed." Meeting his eyes, Kaleb gives his disowned youngest sibling a brusque nod of acknowledgment.
Hans was emboldened to give both Berte and Kaleb an appreciative smile before continuing. Although, neither man returned the warm, hopeful gesture, their cool stares were as imperturbable as the rest of the Westergaard clan gathered with every eye glued upon Hans.
Many other young men his age may have been thrown off their game by such a daunting, intimidating crowd. But not Hans. No, when it came down to it, he knew he himself to be an eloquent speaker of the highest order, in the art of persuasion.
At least, he still hoped he was, for the sake of Eugene's friend's old father.
"Thank you, Your Honor; respected jurists." Hans looks on the twelve apathetic men glaring at him across the expansive room as if they were strangers, rather than the dozen resentful brothers he knew well to never have favored him, sitting on the jury. The svelte young man greets them with a conciliatory nod before addressing the subject at hand he had undertaken.
"Ahem." The redhead clears his throat, focusing all his mind to succeed for the sakes of the pair of men at his two sides. "In the Danske Lov, it has been stated that 'it' – meaning the law – 'must meet the needs of the people and speak plainly so that all men may know it and understand what the law is.' While this Prussian countryman has faced extradition charges for this crime of fraudulent passing on of goods, I can attest as material witness to him being quite forcefully and violently made captive by Count Rügen and his unsanctioned minions. And, I may add as a matter of due course, no one in authority had properly explained the charges against Mr. Porcius in accordance to the law." Hans certainly struts his stuff when it came to expressing in highly educated, noble terms the simple facts. His well composed diction and fine eloquence had each and every one of the audience enthralled, though they would never admit it.
"Should Mr. Agapios Porcius – after relating to us his increasingly ill physical condition and loss of eyesight as of late, as well as his worry and concern for his two unwed daughters, along with pride in his business— which kept this fine upstanding Bavarian citizen and industrious small businesses owner from admitting it to even himself – be permitted to rework the precious, delicately sculpted ring, and set into its specialized gold embossed, exquisite craftsmanship that he is well known for, genuine precious stones and brilliants of even more value and greater worth than agreed upon by the participants originally." Hans begins his 'client's' argument in true lawyer-ish long-winded speech that was quite articulate.
"In this proud court of Denmark, the Danske Lov has been established in reasonable justice according to the ways of people. Would not this industrious hard-working businessman and true artist, who helps drive the economy of a nation with his work ethic tenacity and hand-honed skills, be wasted in a prison cell? Should not we, through noblesse oblige, grant this humbled and aged defendant, honest and true, some beneficent leniency by giving him a second chance, allowing his return to his gifted and talented work under arrangement of payment by giving back to society, and in-so-doing be able to fulfill the receipt of his contract at a later date?" With the eloquent speech of a grand orator, Hans Westergaard gives his plea for Big Nose's father with all the learned deportment and intensity, denoting the inspired terms of the Danish code of law embedded within the heart of this argument the clever man had put to memory and soul.
"Here, here, Hans." Logical Prince Lars breaks the silence by speaking quite out of turn from where he was seated in the front row of the jury pool. He himself, an academic man, had just read and reread the renowned Codex manuscript enough times to recognize that his youngest brother had just quoted from memory some of its most poignant lines verbatim in his moving argument.
Anders, Ivers, Mattias and Jurgen all stare back at Lars in shock as they then turn to their debased little brother across the way with intrigued gazes. Though several of the brothers were coldly raising eyebrows and objections, they could not help but listen raptly to their littlest brother's convincing and stirring oration.
That is, until the destroying angel, the man of sin decries his foul opposition to regain sway.
"No. Not well put it all, Lars! I object resoundingly! That devil is simply trying to bewitch us all with his deceitful eloquence. Remember the Son of Perdition himself was to be the clever 'falsifier'. Whereas, the Heavenly Host never stated as such. Your Honor, the defendant's Council is incorrect here. The Danske Codex does not sanction the accused to be allowed to make amends for his criminal behavior by simply replacing the goods without due punishment for this lowly riffraff's attempted thievery of one of our brethren." With the great Accuser reflected in his black eyes, Count Rügen pipes up here, striding across the room to stand as intimidatingly close to the raised bar of the corralled defendants as the loathsome man could.
The evil manipulator saw that the red 'devil boy' had some influence on his well-trained soldier princes, despite his years of indoctrinating them to despise the repellent redheaded creature. So he had to change the tone of the conversation.
"Yeah!" Rune petulantly chimes in, not quite understanding all of Master Rügen's words, but he had a feeling they were in his favor.
Hans turns to give Rügen his most defiant, devastating glare back.
"Master Rügen. I understand your acrimonious rancor against myself. But please, I beg of you, do not circumscribe this elderly gentleman's unfortunate accident and connect it to your antipathy of me. I had hoped that this court of Egeskov still had a fair and just trial system to amply display before the many representatives of European nobility currently gathered here on our premises." With a lofty mien in his fine comportment, Prince Hans responds with high class dignity and raised head; as compared to sneering Count Rügen's dark, unsavory discourse towards his fellow man.
Just then, after seeing to 'Prince Eugene' being led outdoors to the stables under Maximus' charge to keep him tightly under wraps, the Captain of the Corona Guard, Schmidt, returns to the Egeskov throne room, as if in cadence with Hans' thinly veiled warning of outside kingdoms' disapproving view of Danish Law not being carried out properly.
Along their ousted journey to the stables for immediate departure, the talkative thief had apprised his forever good cop/righteous rival of their fellow Prussian citizen, Aged P's situation. Flynn had sworn to stay put with a recovering Maximus and degrade himself to ask – very nicely – for Schmidt to at least go back in to oversee that the court trial wasn't 'bamboozling the old geezer'– Flynn's crass words exactly.
"Your Honor. Respected peerage." Hans bows his eyes to Kaleb and his dozen other brothers graciously to present his proposition. "For the consideration of time, if I may be so bold as to address directly the accuser in this matter as I stand in as Mr. Agapios Porcius' counsel, and have your permission to speak on his behalf, with full knowledge of the facts of the case." Hans says with utter calmness and civility as he turns his hopeful face towards the jury seated on the right of the judge on the throne, parallel to where he was still standing at the bar beside Aged P and a meditating Kristoff in the prisoner's dock.
"Well… This is highly unheard of and unstructured in our court system for one prisoner to stand counsel for another. But since this case is of such an unorthodox nature… And there are no other attorneys at hand willing to defend at such short notice…" Overwhelmed, Kaleb could not believe the audacity of this disowned son of the crown, never mind the fact that Hans too was up for trial in another case. But Kaleb could not fault Hans for trying. In fact he was rather impressed by the young man's honorable endeavor.
Again Kaleb rubs at his tired eyes as he tries to make what could be called the fair and equitable decision before speaking.
It was just then that Princess Emma's stately calming figure softly coughs to call her husband's attention to the side vestibule where she and cakes and hot coffee were being offered in her own and Frederika's sociable hands.
"We will take a short recess to deliberate this matter and partake of the hot coffee and tea my dear wife has brought to wake us up to face such difficulty. Gentleman." Prince Kaleb sits back in his throne as Emma personably approaches and serves her love his black coffee just as he liked it.
Giving Hans and Kristoff a toothy grin, though neither, so absorbed in their confab spotted her, Rapunzel was close at her heels to dole out the lumps of white sugar which motherly Princess Emma instructs her with silent finger signals for her husband.
Plop! Plop!
"Why thank you, Princess Rapunzel. I am sorry that our hospitality must drag you, too, into this regrettable situation at this ungodly hour of 6 AM as well." Politely, Kaleb makes a little small talk as he sips his hot coffee and rubs at his headachy brow with a smirked grunt.
"Headaches again, my dear?" Well-mannered with her British accent, Emma passes her coffee carafe to Rapunzel.
"The weight of an entire kingdom at the crack of dawn. Father mustn't hear of this mess on his birthday." Whether it was genuinely caring for his parent's happiness on his special day, or how it would look against himself when the King was finally to come downstairs to greet his visiting dignitaries and guests, Kaleb brushes back his gray streaked sepia hair. Emma sympathetically meets his eyes and rubs her plump comforting fingers to his temples in circulating motions.
"But I'm sure the crown Princess of Prussia understands what that means. Wait…the Crown Princess of Prussia…" As he lets that wonderful hot coffee slip down his dry throat, Kaleb realizes what he was saying. The prince almost spits out the delectable black liquid as he looks to where the sweet Princess with the spiky cocoa brown hair and large, all-enveloping green eyes was pleasantly dropping sugar cubes into his brothers' coffee mugs, blissfully unaware.
"Emma… It's her husband who was involved in this serious matter!" Prince Kaleb whispers almost fearfully of the consequences to Emma's new regal Prussian friend.
"Don't worry, Kaleb. She is stronger than she looks." Already proud to have met such an independent, plucky young woman even in her tender first stages of pregnancy, Emma whispers back in Kaleb's ear as she rather matronly dabs a handkerchief to his slightly damp with coffee splutter beard.
The couple watch the petite girl 'dance' from Prince to Prince on the twelve man jury with her sugar cubes and winning smiles, while sneaking glances at Elsa and her unobservant 'beau' who was in a huddle with Kristoff around his 'client' across the room.
"I should hope so." Kaleb could not, for the life of him, imagine how such a sweet and congenial young Royal Princess could have gotten mixed up with a smarmy, seamy, under-handed criminal thief who was so crass and full of conceit and self absorbed arrogance for his undeniable good looks and overconfident bluster that he himself could have been a Westergaard.
Ehh!? Now my head is really hurting!
Shaking his overloaded head, the eldest crown Prince chides himself for even blithely conjecturing such an outlandish thought and insult to the Royal lineage of proud Danish heralded hereditary.
"Ah, there's my Frederika with some much required coffee and breakfast for us early morning warriors. We must all stimulate the little grey cells in our brains from such dull subjects as the 'all-inspiring and revered Codex Holmeinsis manuscript of Danish code of law.'" Prince Anders mocks with a scowl at the thought of deliberating over the Danske Jyske Lov – the laws of Denmark Civil Code that established uniformity of the law of Denmark since the 13th century.
Anders pings a finger against the hardcover, thick book that brainiac brother Lars had been poring over to brush up on his vast knowledge of the Danske Lov law that little brother Hans had just schooled him on.
"This must be very boring for you, ladies. It is a serious and tedious process that you will not enjoy attending it all. We will be finished with it promptly and rejoin you as soon as possible." Diplomatic Ambassador Prince Ivers politely accepts a steaming cup of java from Princess Frederika, who had calmly walked into the throne room as if she owned the place.
"On the contrary, brother Ivers. We ladies of the court will be a gratified audience to sit and witness the brilliance of our men and the fine justice system of our impressive Danish kingdom's exemplary laws in their execution of seeking truth." Princess Frederika speaks softly with her most charming voice to her comely brother-in-law. She offers a drawn eyed Ivers – who had not seen much sleep himself this night – for many far more pleasurable reasons – one of an array of sweet Danish treats from her platter, which he denies.
However, her own husband, Anders, as predicted, could not abstain from snitching the pair of Danish butter cookies to go with his morning coffee. Instantly that put the dour politician already in a better frame of mind for the sweetness of extra sugar Frederika sprinkled, with coy smiles upon it.
The foreman of the brotherhood jury has his senses quite bowled over entirely when, biting into the sweet cookie, an icy cool cream is poured into his coffee, provided by that new maid with the icy blue eyes and just as creamy, oh so touchable skin…
Those eyes…There's something so familiar about her large and exotic, almond eyes…the adorable sweet charm of her little nose… the elegantly graceful shape of her face…that alluring, tempting curve of her—
"Have I…met…someone in your family before?" Studying the young blonde critically, Prince Anders filibusters a great deal of the lissome parlor maid's time as he stands from his foreperson's seat to tag along with Elsa. The Chancellor places a halting hand on her startled elbow sleeve as Elsa tries to assist in pouring out the cream for Frederika and Emma each time they fill a Danish Prince's coffee or tea cup.
"Perhaps…my mother mentioned being…acquainted…with you in her youth, Chancellor...Sir." Without making full eye contact, Elsa tactfully answers Anders' query without telling a fib, as when she was a teenager, Idun had told her numerous stories about the dashing but cold second prince of the Southern Isles attempts at wooing her, before her father, Agdar, had literally swept her mother off her feet.
She also concurrently avoids Prince Didrik's curious stares at all costs when she distractedly approaches to offer him cream, which the normally well-groomed, flirtatious man silently accepts, without even looking up at her in pangs of guilt.
"Ah, yes. I'm sure I remember her…" Anders squints in attempted recollection with his insincere politician's eyes upon her graceful movements. He feigns memory of another servant from another time in his past that he wasn't particularly interested in remembering.
But 'Elsie the maid' still intrigued Anders' attentions as she continues to proficiently weave through the princes holding their coffee cups out for her creamy service. The tall, dark, imposing Prince could not help but follow her gaze, which he noticed was so intently enamored with a certain redheaded young man in counsel with his new client, Aged P. But Hans himself did not see her adoring expression, nor that yearning look on her face that could shut out everyone else in the room, save for him.
Yet prying, cold and calculating politician Anders noted it, as his sharp mind circumspectly marks and remembers everything his senses were trying to remind him of.
"Why thank you, Elsie. It is extremely kind of you to be ready and willing to serve your lords at this early morning hour with such a cool steady hand." With a pat to her trembling hand before returning to his seat to ponder, the polished politician Prince Anders, quite taken in by enigmatic Elsa's somewhat distracted, sweet and shy, demure smile in return, is yet again outwitted by his coquettish wife.
Princess Frederika knew that dangling such a lovely maiden before his hungry eyes so early in the morning, proffering something sweeter than this Danish sugar covered butter cookie would be more satisfying than that comforting first sip of hot coffee and allow her to exercise a little freedom with her unorthodox request to his now mellowed mood.
"Anders, dear. If you and your brothers have been satisfied by our early morning repast. do permit us to offer those poor men standing trial over there some of these leftover refreshments, before they spoil. The pitiable creatures appear as if they had not eaten in days! That boy appears so thin as a rail that he may not even make it to the sentencing phase of your quaint little proceeding. As good Christians, our society demands that the least we can do is give them a kringle or muffin or two before they wither away. Come Elsie, Princess Rapunzel." Frederika's melodic alto-pitched voice sings with kind wheedling inflections and feminine charm rather than merely asking.
But the wily Polish Princess knew that Elsa had already mesmerized her political man with that appealing, yet reserved enticing smile that scheming Frederika knew she could lead her coffee and tea wielding treat tray hauling team across the way without objection.
"If you must, Frederika. Though, I can't see why you wish to waste your efforts. I must warn you that boy has always been a wayward lost cause. Hmph, imagine dragging us up at this unseemly hour just for Hans and his indecorous cohorts." Haughty Prince Anders mumbles that last bit, as several of his uppity or irritated brethren callously join in his ill sentiment with their scoffs and complaints about their despised youngest sibling, not so veiled nor hidden under their collected breaths.
"Mrs. Patmore's danishes and kringles are too good for the likes of Squirrel and his deplorable, low-class cohorts!" Prince Franz enjoyed Egeskov's resident chef's pastries far too much to be willing to share them with that dreadful, disowned little brother.
"At least the pest will get his comeuppance at last, now that he's gotten mixed up with a squalid crowd of criminals." Haughty Prince Berte practiced in enough law to denounce the illegal class Hans had sunk to now associated with.
"Yeah. We won't be shamed by our black sheep of the family making trouble anymore in other kingdoms, as well as defacing ours, once Kaleb gives him the long, harsh sentence that Squirrel finally deserves." Snobbish Prince Mattias always held other nations' opinion of theirs in high regard, mainly due to his flair for international business dealings.
"Or worse, if Master Rügen gets a hold of him…Hehehe…Maybe it would be more humane for us to vote for that public hanging the twins suggested." Now Prince Jürgen had been in the Søværnet Navy all his life to not be crass with his rough language and chortles concerning the pariah of the family.
Elsa's wide azure blue eyes widen in horror at the gathering of amused men who were either nonchalant, blasé or crude concerning a fellow human's life and death sentencing, never mind their own flesh and blood. The thoughtful young woman was appalled to feel, in the very air entrenched in Egeskov's throne room, the Danish princes' deep-seated hatred of Hans. She listens, astounded as to the angry tone in one after another of their cold taunts and rude comments from where she was just finishing serving the cream for their delivered morning coffees.
The Ice Queen inwardly shivers in fear, looking into each man's chilly eye upon Hans and seeing that their resentment had been so inbred into their psyches towards their youngest brother. How could he receive a proper hearing and a just ruling with them as jury? Their anger and resentment towards him was so palpable, she doubted there would be little familial lenience in their already prejudiced decision about his fate. Kristoff and that older gentlemen would suffer beside him, as well, if Elsa herself did not act.
But how can I, one insignificant person, move other people's hardened hearts?
Frederika leads a trembling, insecure in her own mind Elsa by the arm with a wide-eyed Rapunzel trailing behind with her sugar bowl to the opposing platform. There, the three remaining defendants standing within were conversing while stoic Captain Schmidt and Captain Jorgensen kept a personally eavesdropping Count Rügen paces away during the short recess.
Elsa, as if in a wispy illusion, had to keep every one of her icy safeguards in check with each gaining step as she watches Hans address the pair of men, discussing some subject of imperative import, in the serious yet velvety tenor tone that she loved to hear ringing in her ears.
With each step, Elsa squeezes Rapunzel's free hand in her chilled frosted tipped ones. She and her cousin follow Princess Frederika to approach the turned back of the eloquent, well spoken, slender redhaired man.
Prince Hans' stunning rear appeared every bit as attractive as his breathtaking profile face with his celestial nose and delicious sideburns that still sent chills up a besotted Elsa's well chilled spine…
With a poke from a stunned silent, wide-eyed Kristoff, who had been so engrossed in his other extrasensory mission that he had not picked up Elsa's mental signature even at such a close range, Hans was just about to turn around to greet the entourage of ladies, though he had seen only Frederika in his peripheral vision serving coffee.
The Danish Prince starts to spin around on his well turned tall black booted heel…
When I am afraid, I will trust in you. In God, whose word I praise, in God I trust; I will not be afraid. What can mortal man do to me? Psalm 56:3-4
Her every tingling tensed senses confused and shattering like crackling shards of frozen fractals all around, the Ice Queen's fearful, tearful eyes glimmer with hope intermingled with anxiety and pleasure and distress. All these emotions were trapped in the orbs of her azure blue eyes in a thousand refractive ways as she recalls those men's words, replaying over and over in her head of their unfamilial cruelty and embittered coldness…
'Moreover, I will give them a new heart and put a new spirit within them; and I will remove the heart of stone from their flesh and give them a tender heart.' Ezekiel 36:26
'Therefore do not fear them. For there is nothing covered that will not be revealed, and hidden that will not be known.' Matthew 10:26
'So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.'Isaiah 41:10
'For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.' Isaiah 41:13
Hearing these choice, encouraging Biblical verses echo through the spiritual girl's head to drown out the princes' divisive scathing denigration of her love, Elsa's eyes flicker from their instinctive fear into an inspired determination.
With a glance at her elegant, bluish long finger-nailed hand that tightens into an assured fist, Elsa's trembling lips set into a definite straight line of resignation.
Queen Elsa of Arendelle turns on her maid's uniform stocking-ed heel and runs from the throne room, the creamy milk frothing over her pitcher spilling over in milky ice puddles on the red carpet ground when she does.
"Snowflake?" The Danish prince looks at the wind gusted slammed shut door with deeply knit brows of instant concern and soulful recognition of his elegant, delicate Queen whom he wished would be anywhere but here.
It WAS her presence I felt here before. But she wants nothing to do with me…Can you blame her, Hans? Disowned, disgraced, and now I am publicly reviled for being a delinquent aberrant criminal in my own former kingdom. How dare you had ever even momentarily fantasized of anything more between your pitiable self and the unblemished Royal Queen ofNorway?
His worst nightmare written clearly on his dashing features, Hans Westergaard was confused by the sudden appearance and just as sudden disappearance of the woman he could no longer deny in his heart that he loved.
Despairing himself, Prince Hans grips the bar firmly, trying to regain his composure, while staring forlornly after where Elsa had just disappeared from.
Vigilant and vengeful Count Rügen notices his discomfort, and comes close to chopping off Hans' other hand that was still clutching the bar, with his swiftly extracted sword swinging down hard on the wooden ledge.
" 'A heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil… '" Even Lucifer himself quoted verses of Scripture for his own dastardly gains, and Rügen's pretentiously loud-spoken outtake from Proverbs of the Old Testament proved that fact in this instance to make his point well affecting to his listeners.
"Now don't get a big head, Devil Boy, or I'll have to openly slay you on the spot. Even if you have tricked your brothers into allowing you these trial privileges, I know that you are still my prisoner here." With these venomous words, Count Rügen turns and hisses with bared teeth at Hans directly in his face with a meaningful slam to the fenced in platform stand.
The darkly angry menacing man leans over the wooden partition and whispers for only Hans' ears to hear: "Once they release you to me after this mock trial, after I'm done with the torturing, there will not be a single part of your scrawny body that will be left interested in pretty little blonde maidens ever again." The evil man drips raw malice and venom as Kristoff has to be restrained by Captain Schmidt not to intercede and come in contact with vile Count Rügen as Captain Jorgensen takes a stance between Rügen and Hans.
"Master Rügen, please withdraw your weapon and stand down so we can continue this trial and quickly wash our hands of its stench. Ladies, put away your confections and take your seats in the audience in the balcony if you must. Just please let us get on with this time consuming mess so we can continue on with the rest of our busy day for more important affairs." Prince Kaleb dismissively commands from the throne at the contentious confrontation between the men.
Count Rügen, with his rival Jorgensen breathing down his neck at Prince Kaleb's backing, is forced take a step back from Hans and slide his sword back into its sheath.
"Stench, indeed." The vitriolic villain venomously taunts his longtime adversary of a 'red devil boy' with some devilry of his own. "We will cleanse the air of Satan's sulfur and brimstone once I rid this land of King Herbert's final mistake." Count Rügen murmurs beneath his breath and begins to cackle, feeling the end game for repulsive Prince Hans Westergaard in sight.
He walks several paces away with a smirk, certain of his own prosecutorial skills to win the day against the already prejudiced jury against the young Prince. The Count would simply have to stoke all twelve men's angry flames of memory he had implanted since their youth, as he always did along the way.
And once and for all, he would have his revenge.
Rügen's glare encompassed all twelve of the princes on the jury, plus the Judge Magistrate sitting on the throne's ruling bench in this criminal trial with his wheedling persuasion yet again.
The collected Princes of Denmark did not disappoint their Master.
All together deriding, mocking and condemning Hans as the exiled outcast he was born to be, the Danish Princes added up to twelve angry brothers. They all still scorned with disdainful contempt down at the detestable boy who stood in the crosshairs of their harsh verdict, with almost palpable spite and vengeful, unforgiving malice for what he had taken away…
Sjoforsvaret – Royal Norwegian Navy
Søværnet - Royal Danish Navy
Danske Jyske Lov – the laws of Denmark and Jutland Civil Code
Kringle - Danish type of powdered sugar covered donut
Hello, Frozen friends!
I hope you enjoyed this courtroom installment of the drama going on in Hans' homeland of the Southern Isles! Those 12 brothers of his may have found some semblance of kindness concerning their wives and polite manners when it comes to strangers, but they all have that icy cold resentment for their youngest brother running through their veins.
Poor Hans! It seems, even after all these years, they still blame him for their dear departed Mother, Queen Louise's demise! Between their Father, King Herbert, who yet has a sliver of ice penetrating his heart to be frosty and domineering and out for world power; and evil Count Rugen, who's been there instilling hatred for Hans and rivalry between the princes for decades, Hans & Kristoff & Aged P are sure to be convicted!
But maybe there's an icy maiden of light to shine the truth of love and forgiveness upon frigid Egeskov's cold, harsh justice system...
We'll have to wait and see what Ice Queen Elsa has up her elegant sleeve to rescue her Prince Charming from his ill fate!
Thanks for reading! Your kindly reviews are welcome! ^_^
God bless!
HarukaKou