A/N: I seriously can't thank all of you enough for the amazing response to this series! I am grateful for each and every one of you that clicks on these chapters. You are where the magic truly lies!

WARNING!: One more time, Helsa haters, I suggest you read something else. Not saying you're not allowed to R&R, but I think everyone – yourself included – will be happier if you simply find something else you'll enjoy reading more.

Enough of the intro stuff. Here is the second chapter of Inferno!

When Hans woke up on his cot on the third day, he rubbed his eyes, not wanting to open them. He was not looking forward to reuniting with his family.

"You did what?" King Eric had bellowed when Hans had returned the previous year.

Hans had been presented to his father in cuffs, more like a prisoner than a prodigal son. He had rolled his eyes, already tired and ashamed of the crimes he had unintentionally committed. "I went to the coronation like you asked, and when shit hit the fan, I thought I could take over."

The King had buried his face in his hands, fuming. His dark, greying beard had twitched in agitation. "We've never asked much of you, Hans," he had said, gesturing to the severe looking woman on his left, Queen Freyja. "We ask you once, just once, to represent our family at the orphaned Queen's coronation...and you go and commit treason? Attempted murder!"

"Father, you don't understand. She ran-"

"I understand enough," he had said, rising from the throne. "I understand that my youngest son is utterly incapable of doing anything. You may still be my son, but I hereby strip you of your birthrights and sentence you to one year of stable duty. Maybe living like the other half will give you a better appreciation for your Princely privileges."

"Father, please, you can't do that!" Hans had balled his fists and fought back the orange glow. Freyja's eyes had widened.

"I can, and I will. I am King, and what I say goes!"

Hans had hung his head and was dragged to his new room in the servants quarters.

Now, his eyes were still closed as he hung his head between his knees. The ship lurched into port. He took deep, slow breaths to prepare himself.

A crew member knocked on his door, calling to him. "We've made-"

"I know," he replied, rising from the cot for the last time, at least for now. He knew he wanted to return to Arendelle, but he had to set things right with his family first. He hoped that this year's welcome wouldn't be as brutal as last time.

Hans disembarked and headed for the throne room. No escort, no cuff, which was already an improvement. When he opened the door, he stopped in his tracks.

"Hans!" the man on the throne called, looking much younger and thinner than the King. Hans blinked and advanced a few steps. The man on the throne looked nearly identical to Hans, though the hair was a bit darker and the sideburns were missing. He also had brilliant blue eyes.

"Hagen?" Hans asked, incredulous, running up to him for an embrace.

"How was your trip? You didn't get into any more trouble this time, did you?" Hagen asked, throwing an arm around him.

"No, I... Where's Father?"

Hagen, firstborn of Erik and fifteen years his senior, gave Hans a grave look. "Two days ago, he fell ill. The doctors aren't sure how much time he has left."

Hans was at war with himself. Sure, he hadn't been happy when he was stripped of his title, but King Erik was still his father. He ran out of the throne room towards his father's private chambers. Hagen called after him, but Hans just kept running. Once he came to his father's oak door, he paused. He raised a tentative hand and knocked.

"Come in," a voice replied from within. He opened the door and saw his mother, Freyja, sitting beside the bedridden King. He rushed to them, but the Queen narrowed her grey eyes upon recognizing him. "I thought you were the doctor."

"What happened?" Hans asked, ignoring her tone.

Even though his father had always been a large man, he seemed to be drowning in the plush pillows and silk blankets. His fair complexion was now positively ashen. His dark beard had grown dull and grey. Even his flimsy eyelids seemed too heavy for the once-strong King.

"You forget we are growing old. Soon, Hagen will marry Fiona, and they will be King and Queen of the Southern Isles. As for your father and I...well, life has run its course."

Hans felt the sting of tears in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. With all his anger drained, he reached for the King's hand.

"Don't touch him," Freyja barked, her grey eyes frenzied. She stood, as if to physically stop him.

"He's my father. I need to say goodbye."

He reached for his father's hand again, but the Queen swatted him away. "And Jakob was your brother, yet he still wears the scars you gave him."

"I was five! It was an accident."

"You will not hurt anyone else in this family as long as I'm around," she swore, nose to nose with her youngest son.

Hans balled his fists, desperately trying to control the inferno raging inside him. Always the observer, Freyja noticed the subtle movement. "You still haven't learned, you petulant child."

"I'm twenty-four," he argued.

"Yet you still have temper tantrums."

Hans closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to imagine Elsa's cool hand on his shoulder. "I've changed. Please, let me explain."

"I have heard enough. Now, get out."

"Mother, please, let me-"

"I said, 'Get out!'" she screamed, her eyes a dark and stormy grey.

Hans strode out of the room and slammed the door, leaving behind a slightly singed handprint. He nearly bumped into Hagen, who had only just now caught up with him. "I tried to tell you that Mother's been in a foul mood since Father fell ill."

"Tell me about it," Hans grumbled.

"So, you didn't try to take over her kingdom again, did you?" Hagen asked, chuckling ad leading his little brother down the hall.

Hans wasn't in the mood to laugh. "No...I actually saved her."

Hagen stopped in his tracks. "You what?"

"It was nothing," he replied with a dismissive wave. "Just her stupid sister and some rock trolls."

"Stupid sister? The one you wanted to marry?" When Hans only rolled his eyes, his older brother guffawed and smacked him on the back. "Well, obviously she's not the best judge of character if she said yes."

"Just shut up," Hans muttered, trying to get away from him. He'd barely been home for fifteen minutes, and already he wanted to board the next ship bound for Arendelle.

"Hey," Hagen said, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Don't take it too personally. Why don't you freshen up and relax?" He stopped by a familiar door.

"Is that-?"

"Father said your sentence was to be for a year, and you seem to have redeemed yourself with the Queen of Arendelle. Maybe Father will bounce back after dinner, so we can talk about more permanent arrangements." Hagen opened the door, and the room inside was exactly as Hans had left it.

His bedroom was simple: a four poster bed, a desk with a lamp, and a wooden dresser. He walked inside as if it was all a dream, as if it would dissolve out of existence if he so much as touched anything.

"Oh, and one more thing."

Hans turned to Hagen in the doorway. "If you want Mom to calm down, try putting the gloves back on. Couldn't hurt."