Wow, long time no type.

I feel awful you guys. I promised you all another chapter over three month ago! Yikes. I should just stop making promises with how often I am unable to keep them!

Well, that aside, anybody go see Disney's Cinderella? What'd you guys think of it? AND what did you think of the Frozen short?! I was thrilled! The Hans part was pure gold. ANYWAY, I have a nice LONG chapter full of fun stuff for you! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hans or the right to his brothers! Everyone else is... mine. And I shall do with them what I will. Hehe.

Tales From The Southern Isles

Chapter 23: To Care, Or Not to Care

...

The first sounds that echoed into Hans' dream world were that of a loud crowing...

Crowing? As Hans slowly edged into conciousness, the distant, aloof sound became more and more clear. It was a... rooster? There were no roosters near the palace! It must have been a stray from the village. What an absolute nuisance!

Hans grimaced and rolled over in his sheets, flattening his face into his pillow. The pillow case was too scratchy. What kind of fabric softeners were the maids using these days? It even smelled strange. Frowning, Hans turned his head marginally and groaned as another loud squawk from the rooster blasted up through his window.

Saints above, that was annoying.

"We hear you Ol' Red!" someone screamed suddenly. It was a young boy's voice. Definitely not any of his brothers. Wait... Cracking his blurry eyes open, Hans quirked a brow as he took in the incredibly small room in which he had slept the night. Reality burned into his awareness as intensely as the morning sun rays that spilled in through the drapes of his tiny four paned window. This was the inn. He was staying at the inn.

Another erruption from that obnoxious rooster split the otherwise tranquil silence of the morning.

"Red! I said we hear you! Be quiet now!" the same young boy screamed. If this was the inn, then that was probably Coal. As if to confirm Hans' supsicions, a second voice cracked like a whip through the atmosphere.

"Coal! Stop screaming! It's six in the morning!" shouted a woman's voice. And that was the mother.

Hans grabbed the pillow and pulled it over his head as Coal answerd his mother with a rebuttle that it was Ol' Red's fault for starting it. The mother then proceeded to converse with unholy, loud vocals just what Coal's morning chores were and that he better get started on them right away.

It seemed like ages had passed by the time their conversation was concluded, Hans was ready to throttle something. Dear God. Was this shouting ritual to be a morning routine?

Shortly after, the sound of the front door opening and closing with a torturous squeak and then a bang, caused Hans to jerk in surprise. Clearly, sleeping in would not be an option in this place. With a begrudging growl, Hans dragged himself out from under the bed sheets and lumbered over to the window to glare out into the yard.

Despite the circumstances, he could say he was at least somewhat relieved to be awake. His night had been filled with nothing but strange, disconcerting dreams. One of which had included a gaint snow ball flying through the sky and knocking him clear into a wagon full of horse manure. Horse manure which apparently he'd been shoveling. Strange dreams indeed. Sighing loudly, Hans leaned against the side of the window sill and looked down into the drearly little inn yard.

Chickens were everywhere, clucking and cooing as they bobbed around, pecking the ground occasionally for grub. And there atop the hen's house sat Ol' Red. The rooster devil squatted with his head high, quite proud of his handy work in making everyone's morning miserable. Hans pursed his lips but soon after his eyes found a different object that caught his attention. Just then, entering the chicken coop walked the slim form of Frida. She wore an apron, the end bunched in one hand as she scooped chicken feed out of the hanging fabric with her other, scattering corn and lettuce across the ground. The chickens trailed her, snatching it up as she walked along.

Her long, wavy black hair hung mostly loose around her face, and she moved with a surprising amount of grace for a plain little palace maid. After making sure the hens were distracted with eating, Frida ducked into the hen house and reached to gather some eggs, putting them safely into her apron. She had almost made away free, when suddenly Ol' Red sprang from the roof of the hen house and flapped after her skirts, squawking and snapping his beak at her heels.

Frida squeaked and darted away franticaly, shouting, "No Red! Get away you mean old rooster!"

Hans watched the comical scene in amusement as the young woman made her escape from the demented chicken and finally found refuge in the house. Chuckling and shaking his head, Hans stepped away from the window to pick up his travel bag. Dropping it onto the bed, he rifled through its shabby contents, all the while grimacing in distaste. It didn't seem fair that after having everything else taken from him, that even the menial task of getting dressed would no longer give him the smallest gleam of satisfaction.

Already he was missing his fine, bold colored tunics with their custom fits, gold buttons, white cuffs and soft, silk fabrics. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Hans resolved to not let his mind linger on the past. He had to look forward.

...

Frida made a quick start of breakfast, making certain her father was able to eat before heading out to work.

"Father what do I have the Prince- I mean, Hans, do while you are away?" Frida asked softly as her father hastily shoveled his eggs into his mouth.

"Well darling, I don't much know about that," he managed between mouthfulls. When he finished, Frida took his plate to clean it.

"I imagine he will want to have some space to himself. Doubt you'll need to have him do anything. Just let him alone, and don't worry about it unless he happens to ask your opinion. It's highly unlikely he will," George smiled, putting a gentle hand on his eldest daughter's shoulder. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then was gone, off to work.

Frida swallowed and hoped her father was right. If she was lucky, she wouldn't be the one having to worry about how to entertain Hans all day. He'd probably already had in mind to do just what he wanted.

A few moments later, Frida was finished in the kitchen and went to tend to the fire place when Beth came into the living room. She was so quiet Frida didn't notice her until she asked,

"Is Prince Hans up yet?"

Frida nearly jumped and turned around with an aggitated look.

"Goodness you are as quiet as a mouse sometimes!"

Beth only smiled guiltily.

"Well? Is he?"

"No, not yet," Frida responded with a grin. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Beth replied sheepishly. "How long do Prince's usually sleep in?"

Frida took a moment to ponder that.

"Well, I'd say it's different with each one. Usually their breakfast at the palace is served at nine in the morning, so they are all up and dressed by then," she answered at last, putting the iron poker back on its stand by the fire place. Beth's eyes bulged.

"Nine in the morning..." she breathed out in astonishment. "I had no idea somebody could stay in bed so long... Except for when they are sick I mean," she giggled lightly. Frida giggled too.

"Palace life is far different than anything you could imagine."

"Do you think he'd mind if I asked him about it?" Beth asked curiously. Frida shook her head rigorously side to side.

"No... not a good idea," Frida discouraged flatly. She couldn't imagine how home sick she would be if she had been forced to leave the palace when it was her home. As it was, she already missed the splendid hallways and swooping banners. The immaculate stair cases and tall, incredibly carved wooden ceilings. And she was just the maid! No way on earth was she going to allow the subject to be bought up around Hans.

Beth looked a little deflated, but she was not the kind of girl to stay down for long. Frida had always admired her little sister's positive attiude. Even if she had the knack of being a little abscent minded sometimes.

Frida moved back into the kitchen to make sure her mother wasn't overwhelming herself by trying to make up a big, splendid breakfast. It wouldn't do if they went on, continuing to pamper the ex-prince when he was trying to fit in like a normal man.

Rebecca was cooking up some bacon and hashbrowns along with a side of wonderful smelling toast. Frida wasn't going to go as far as saying the meal was too fancy... it was more on the typical side of the pendelum... though the hashbrowns were a special added bonus. Frida decided not to rebuff her mother and instead helped her finish preparing the food.

Cole found his way back into the house from feeding the horse, the goats, and the pig and smiled eagerly, very ready for some food. Frida had just gone to set the table when she heard heavy, male footsteps coming down the stairs, and Hans appeared. It would take a long time before Frida wouldn't be taken off guard by seeing him in regular clothes. And yet, the sight of him still took Frida's breath away. He was by far the most handsome man she had ever seen. Even with how dark his moods were, he was sickeningly attractive.

"Good morning," Frida greeted, when she realized she might have stared at him too long.

"Sleep well?" Frida asked, continuing to set the plates around.

"Yes, well, up until that rooster," Hans replied, straightening his vest and coming around to the table.

"Oh, yes, sorry about that. I'm afraid it's one of Ol' Red's most irritating habits," Frida apologized. Hans quirked a brow at her.

"One of?"

Frida smiled but left it at that. It was only a second later that her mother and siblings came into the dining room and were setting the breakfast onto the table.

"Good morning Hans," Rebecca greeted cheerily.

"Morning!" Coal beamed. "I fed and pet your horse this morning. And I cleaned his stall. You're welcome. He's a nice horse! Can I ride him?"

"Coal!" Rebecca admonished in mortification. Hans just grinned.

"I don't know. Maybe. If you think you can handle it," Hans replied taking a seat when all the others did. Frida couldn't help but show some surprise. She hadn't exected Hans to be this... accommodating. Especially since last night he'd made it quite clear his horse was his most prized possession.

"Never mind Coal," Rebecca laughed nervously. "He's not allowed to ride. He's too small. Besides he has school to do, with his sister today," she reminded with a sharp look her son's way. Coal pouted but took up his fork and began chomping away at his food.

Beth was still star struck, by the dazed look in her eyes, and she stared across the table at Hans while he ate. Frida had to give her sister a small kick to the shin under the table before Beth came back to reality and rapidly started eating, her cheeks pink from embarrassment. Hans hadn't seemed to notice. That... or he was a good actor and pretended not to notice. Frida was leaning towards the latter.

Breakfast was over soon, and while Frida started to clean up, Rebecca took Beth and Coal upstairs into their bedrooms to start their school work.

Frida had just finished washing a dish and turned to stack it away when her heart stopped at seeing Hans standing in the kitchen door way. How long had he been there watching her?

"They don't go to the village school?" Hans inquired, folding his arms and leaning against the door way. It was an incredibly casual stance for him to take and it caused Frida's ears to burn with strange unease. It took a moment for Frida to realize what Hans was asking.

"They are a huge help here at the inn... so it works out better for them to have home studies. That way it won't interfere with their work schedule," Frida answered, slowly returning to her dish washing.

"Is that what you did?" Hans asked.

Frida blinked and looked over at him.

"Before you became a maid, I mean," he supplied.

"Yes, I worked here," Frida answered, wondering why he was suddenly so curious about her.

"And what will you do now? Now that you won't be working at the palace for a few weeks," he went on. Why was this beginning to feel like an interrogation? Narrowing her eyes slightly, Frida looked at him with some small bit of suspicion. Just what was he trying to get at?

"Keeping an eye on you, for one thing," she responded. Hans' brows reached upwards towards his auburn hair line.

"Will you now?"

Frida flushed. She hadn't meant it like that!

"I have to make sure you don't get yourself caught by the local authorities," she responded swiftly, "The king asked me specifically to make certain you learned to fit in."

"I can handle that on my own," Hans rebutted, on the edge of sounding bitingly defensive. "I certainly don't need a maid trailing my every move and thinking she has to educate me about peasant life, thanks."

Frida bristled. There he went with his wretched pride again! He had just started to get pleasant too! Well, he was about to find out that she didn't intend to put up with that kind of attitude.

"As much as it pains me to say, you do need to learn a thing or two about peasant life," Frida argued hotly, "For starters, we simple folk don't get offended when someone else offers to lend a helping hand. In fact, we call that 'generosity', and it's looked up to with great respect in our village," Frida snapped.

Hans' eyes sharpened and he leaned off the wall to stand up to his full height, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Frida continued.

"I didn't have to offer to help you in the first place, did I?" Frida prompted. Hans opened his mouth again, but Frida cut him off a second time.

"No! But I did, and you know why? Because it was the kind thing to do. And that's what we peasant folk are all about. Being kind and helpful to one another. Those who only look out only for themselves will stick out like a sore thumb in this community, so you better either learn to start thinking about what others need, or at least pretend you care," she huffed, turning back to her dishes.

"I care," Hans retaliated crossly, pacing up. Frida heard his footsteps but did not turn to face him. Instead she kept scrubbing, mercilessly at the plate in her hands.

"Since when have you done anything that didn't revolve around helping yourself?" Frida spat back. She could hear his sputtering, his struggling for words, his mouth flapping open and closed to no avail.

"Give me that," he said at last, his hand unexpectedly striking out to snatch the dish away from her grasp. Frida gasped.

"Hey! What are you-?" she protested angrily, but the words died on her lips as Hans boldly moved into her position by the sink and took over washing the dishes. Frida watched on in a state of bewildered shock while Hans finished up the last of the dishes, scrubbing them thouroughly and with no small amount of passion before stacking them in a pile. When he concluded, he spun around to face her.

"There, happy now?" Hans practically growled, yanking a dish towel from the counter top to dry his hands with. Frida, taken off guard by not only his actions but his question, couldn't think fast enough to answer before he threw the dish towel back and stalked past her out of the kitchen. Swallowing, Frida glanced to the stack of clean plates.

She'd never in her life seen a man wash the dishes. Not even her own, loving father...

...

Hans hardly paid any attention to where his feet were taking him as he charged out of the house and into the yard. His mind was too worked up, his temper too ablaze to put thought to where he was going.

Who did that little maid think she was?! Accusing him of having not a care in the world towards his country folk or those in need around him!? How could she stand there and make all those wholly undeserved claims when she didn't know anything about him?!

The nerve! Of course he cared about his people! Why, he hadn't tried to murder a queen just to have everyone bow to him when he was king! It wasn't like he hadn't put any thought in the world towards the citizens that would be under his rule! He wanted to be looked up to, yes, respected, yes, loved, yes, but he also knew he would never have gotten any of those things if he wasn't prepared to be an excellent leader!

Just like his father, all Hans ever wanted was to be a good sheperd to his country. To be a ruler people would revere for generations as a compassionate, mighty king! All he had needed was a chance. ONE chance, and he would have proved his worth to all. To his brothers, to his people, to himself!

But no. That chance had been perminantly ripped from him, and now he had nothing better to do then stand around in a kitchen had have petty quarrels with a maid.

Well, at least he'd showed her. The look of pure astonishment on her face had been a great satisfaction as he'd taken charge of those dishes. He'd made them sparkling clean too, he had. However, he still didn't feel like the task had done enough to completely relieve him of the horror he'd felt at not having an answer for her when she'd asked that impertinent question of hers.

Why could he not recall a single time in his life that he'd done something for someone else? Surely there had to be plenty of instances! He just hadn't been able to recall any under those heated circumstances. Yes.

But... if that was the case, why was he struggling to recall any even now?

Hans clenched his fists tightly, a hot, bitter anger welling up within his heart. He had good intentions! He truly did! He wanted to help others! But if so, what was his problem? Why hadn't he? Why could he not say a single thing in defense of himself?

Before Hans knew it he realized he was standing in the barn, with the smell of freshly forked hay and horse, and goat and pig all mixed together. Hans sighed and paced up to Sitron's stall. The stallion was greedily nibbling up his breakfast and didn't mind in the slightest when Hans entered to lean against his side and stroke his mane.

This ritual had been a common occurrence at the palace stables. More times then Hans could count over the years, had he wandered out to the barn for some sollace, for some time away from his infuriating brothers... Sitron was quite accustomed to hearing all about Hans' troubles, and aiding in taking his owner's mind off of them.

"She's the most disrespectful girl I've ever met. The most rude, presumptuous, naive little girl!" Hans blurted to his horse.

"She doesn't know a thing about me, and yet she thinks she can lecture me all about my problems. Well guess what? I didn't ask her opinion, and I don't want it! Just because my brothers gave her the task of giving me a place to sleep doesn't mean I have to submit myself to her," Hans ranted on.

Sitron merely flicked his tail to swat some flies.

"I know, she's a pretty thing, but she's not worth all this trouble. I tell you. Ever since I met her, she's been nothing but a headache," Hans continued. "I don't know how to talk to her. Just when I think I'm making progress with some normal conversation, she pipes off with something and gets me all riled up!"

Sitron snorted loudly through his nose, bobbing a head down to itch his front knee before going back to eating.

Hans sighed and closed his eyes. If only he didn't care so much about what that little imp of a maid thought, then maybe he wouldn't be so touchy about the things she said. But somehow, he doubted that would be as easy as it sounded.

"I just wish everything wasn't so... hard..."

Hans then felt a soft nudge on his arm and opened his eyes to see Sitron nuzzling him gently with his muzzle. Hans smiled lightly and ran a hand down the horse's forehead to his nose.

Next door the goats bayed for attention, one of them climbing up with its front feet to look over the stall and stare at Hans with wide, curious eyes. It bayed again.

"Sorry, I only share my thoughts with horses," Hans grunted. The goat wiggled its nose and then dissapeared once more behind the stall door.

...

The palace halls were not nearly so decretive and pleasant in the east wing. They were too quiet, too dark, too cold. Needless to say, it was not often that Councilman Snodtroff took a walk towards the soldier quarters of the castle for the purpose of keeping up with necessary inspections.

This was mainly because he had never particularly enjoyed any business with the soldiers, and intentionally kept their interactions rather limited. Prince Günter and Prince Hubert were regularly the men in charge of supervising the militia and keeping the palace guards in line, and they preformed this duty very well.

But due to recent developments, the councilman had a specific reason for traversing the dreary halls to the soldier's quarters this morning: He needed to see Hans in person, locked in that cell, safely away from the rest of the world where he could no longer mettle and devise more chaos.

Turning the final corner of the east wing, soldier guards lined the hall way to the barrack's entrance. They stood a little straighter upon his approach and Snodtroff only had to pause a moment before they opoened the doors for him to enter.

The barracks were in immaculately clean condition, and the troops who were present all halted their activities to stand and salute the councilman as he passed by into the holding cell area which was in the next room over.

To Snodtroff's surprise. Günter and Hubert were just turning to leave and they stopped to meet him in the hall way.

"Councilman," Günter greeted in his stiff way. Hubert did not speak. Snodtroff bowed his head briefly.

"What brings you down to the holding cells?" Günter questioned.

"I have come to see how our newest prisoner is holding up," Snodtroff replied. The twins exchanged a brief look.

"He is not in the best of moods at the moment. He has not spoken to anyone, nor will he. Trust us, we've tried. You can peek in on him if you like, but that is all," Günter stated.

Snodtroff did not like the way Günter spoke to him as if giving orders, but knew there was no point in arguing with the Prince.

"Very well, show me to him," Snodtroff agreed. Günter turned and led the way to a private cell with a large wood door frame, made with fine carpentry so that even the strongest of men could not break it down. There was a small seeing latch located towards the top of the door, and Günter pulled it back so Snodtroff could peer inside.

The cell had been given some amount of furnishings; a finer bed, a desk, a dresser. The hay on the floor had been swept away so the stone beneath was cleaner than usual, and the barred window had a small set of drapes hanging over it. Snodtroff pursed his lips, thinking how these homey additions might have been just a little too generous for their psychopathic Prince.

And the Prince himself? He was lying on the bed, propped on his side, with his back towards the door, reading a book. After a long moment, Snodtroff stepped back, and Günter re-shut the hatch.

"Is he eating?" Snodtroff asked, forcing more concern in his tone than he truly felt.

"He's eating fine," Günter replied.

"Good. Well, I have other matters to attend now. Good morning to you."

And with that, Snodtroff turned and left the soldier's quarters.

...

Günter looked back to Hubert warily as the councilmen exited. Only when Snodtroff was gone from sight and hearing did Hubert breach the silence.

"Do you think he suspected anything?"

"Nahhh," Günter responded, folding his arms. "Snodtroff fancies himself too smart for his own britches. That there was a walk of a man wholly satisfied and feeling in control. He doesn't suspect a thing."

"Our double won't be able to keep his face from view for very long if the Councilman makes a habit of coming down to check on him," Hubert pointed out.

"I'll make sure his visits are monitered and infrequent," Günter murmured in reply.

"As long as you're sure this will last," Hubert commented.

Günter shifted his weight and then nodded that they be leaving. He had a sword training session with Viggo shortly and didn't want to be late. Especially since he had more fort routine checks to conduct later that same afternoon.

He was having to keep a watchful eye on the new recruits, since Axel was reporting further unrest within the country's smaller leaders. Rumor's were spreading fast, to Axel's understanding, and where politics were discussed, everyone had a different opinion. It would not take much for the people to begin rebelling. Especially since Fredirk had just decreed there was to be a temporary cease in trade and shipments from other kingdoms. Fredrik had announced this news publicly, but the brothers were well aware of what was really going on.

The truth was that their relations with the kingdom of Corona had come to an uneasy stand off. Corona had recieved news of Prince Hans' misdeeds towards Arendelle, and in responce had sent word that they would no longer be shipping their many valuable goods to the Southern Isles. Corona and Arendelle were closely aligned kingdoms that had supported each other for centuries. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Corona would withdraw their services from the Southern Isles in an act to side with Arendelle and its Queen after the grave reality of what Prince Hans had done.

Naturally, Fredrik was working hard to open negotiations, and soothe the situation back into order, but until then, he had to keep panic from sweeping through the isles. He had sought to do that by fudging the truth slightly, in favor of making the claim that he was the one who had innitaited the cease trade, only temporarily, while he and the council finished sorting out the after math of their politcal troubles relating to Prince Hans' disgrace.

However, the risks with this scheme were high. If the public were to find out what was really going on, there was no telling how they would react... Günter just hoped that he and Hubert had a sharp enough eye to spot out possible traitors in their midst.

...

And there you have it! A few different fun things in this chapter! Mention of the Frozen short (I was more than happy to improvise it into my story), mention of Tangled's kingdom of Corona, and more Hans/Frida interaction!

Leave some reviews for this poor, desperate writer who needs her readers to come back! ;)