The evening was quiet. Freyja wouldn't leave her room out of grief. After dinner, Hagen and Fiona finished organizing the new master bedroom. Between the funeral yesterday and moving in Fiona today, Hans was exhausted. He hit the bed and was out cold.

A blood curdling scream snapped Hans out of sleep. He barely had time to register that it was early morning before instinct had him leaping out of bed and running to the source. His brothers joined him in the hall, converging on the woman's screams echoing throughout the palace.

Oddly enough, the screams were originating from Garth's room. The brothers filed into the room, but Hans had to turn away from the scene.

Freyja was hysterical. Her face was covered in tears, which was more than his brothers could handle, since they froze upon seeing her. When Hagen realized what had happened, he ran to her, wrapping her in a blanket and turning her around. "Look at me," he commanded.

Her eyes were bloodshot as she screamed, "My baby!"

Garth was who Hans couldn't look at. He was perfectly still, swaying at the end of a rope, his long hair obscuring his purple face. Bjorn and Vernon rushed to take down his lifeless body.

"Everybody out!" Hagen ordered, trying to keep everything under control.

Raoul turned and herded his younger brothers back into the hall, where Leif and Jakob stood, their mouths hanging open. Hans was glad for an excuse to leave the room. Bjorn and Vernon carried Garth's body downstairs, while Hagen escorted the Queen to her room. She never stopped screaming.

The brothers looked at each other, at a loss for what to do. Even Raoul was flustered, unequipped to handle something as emotional as suicide. "Um... Everyone remain calm."

"How can we be calm?" Nikolai snapped.

"He's not... He's gonna be okay, right?" Leif asked timidly. No one wanted to answer.

Hagen emerged from Freyja's chambers. "Jakob, Henrik, keep and eye on her and calm her down. Raoul, come with me. The rest of you, back to your rooms!" Hagen commanded, and no one argued.

When it came time for lunch, the brothers trickled in. When Hans arrived, only Leif and Brandt were already sitting down, looking more somber than usual. A minute later, Jakob and Nikolai arrived.

"Where's Henrik?" Leif asked.

"Still with Mom," Nik replied, the usual edge gone from his voice.

"Is it that bad?" Leif inquired nervously. Nik and Jakob gave him a hard look.

Freyja had never lost a son before. Sure, Evan and Ivan were denounced, and even Hans for a time, but they had shamed the family name. They had deserved Freyja's wrath. Garth, however, was gone for good. Being the seventh out of thirteen brothers had to have its drawbacks, but did he really see suicide as the only answer?

Hans wished he would've seen the signs, wished he could have said something to make him reconsider. How could he have known? Garth was always quiet. How was Hans supposed to know when his thoughts turned dark? Garth's empty seat beside Hans unsettled him, and he scooted to his left.

Henrik appeared then, but without the Queen. When asked what happened, he responded, "The girls came to comfort her. I'm not qualified to deal with with women's emotions like that." He sat down, running a hand through his curly hair. His green eyes were tired already.

"I don't think any of us are," Nikolai added.

"Gotta keep 'em at arms length," Brandt said, rolling his eyes. "That's too much crazy for me."

"Hey," Jakob snapped, leaning over the table to see him better. "That's still our mother."

"And she's as weak as a waif. She used to be strong," Brandt said, shrugging.

"What do you know of strength?" Nikolai interjected.

"Yeah, how would you feel if you lost your spouse and your child in one week?" Henrik added.

"Thank goodness I can't relate," Brandt said, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow.

"Then shut the hell up!" Henrik shouted.

"That's enough," Hagen ordered, appearing with Raoul, Bjorn and Vernon. The brothers stopped their bickering. "We discussed the proceedings. We will send off Garth in two days. Everything else will continue as planned."

"I suggest calling the doctor for Mom," Henrik advised. "She's not calming down. Fiona and Mila are with her now."

"Good, she could use a feminine touch right now. I'll call the doctor after we eat."

"I just can't believe he's...gone," Leif said, looking at Garth's empty seat.

"It was unexpected for all of us," Raoul said, adjusting his glasses.

"I just wish there was something any of us could have done to prevent this," Hans chimed in. "Shouldn't there have been signs?"

"Generally speaking, few things are truly random," Raoul said. "It is also widely said that 'hindsight is 20/20.' The past is clearer than the future, and you can begin to notice patterns once you are experienced."

"Well said," Vernon praised, then he translated. "Yes, you're right, Hans, but sometimes you don't see the signs until it's too late." Hans hug his head in defeat.

After lunch, the doctor came to give Freyja something for hysteria, as well as to prepare Garth's body for the funeral. Two in one week. Hans wasn't looking forward to it. Even with the drugs, Freyja refused to come out for dinner, so it was quiet. No one knew if she was actually eating, but for every meal, Hildegarde brought her a tray of food.

Later on that evening, Hans decided to look around the family sitting room. He saw Fiona's lamp and table, and was reminded that change was coming soon. Hagen and Fiona were a great couple, and they would make wonderful monarchs.

Still, Hans didn't want to leave the past behind. He looked at the family portrait hanging on the wall, painted about a year after he had been born. King Erik was holding Hans, Queen Freyja was holding Jakob, while the rest of the brothers clustered around them. Hagen, Raoul, Bjorn and Vernon stood stiffly as unwilling teenagers. Evan and Ivan could barely sit still, one of them pulling on Garth's long hair, the other giving his twin devil horns with his fingers. Brandt, Henrik, Nikolai and Leif made up the foremost row of children. Erik and Freyja were beaming over their brood.

How far had they come from the happy family in the picture? Two dead, two disowned, and the remaining ones were defined by who knew Hans' secret. Half of his own family hated him for an accident, and he had no idea how to redeem himself in their eyes.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and a servant answered. Hans wondered who it could possibly be at this late hour. He tried to listen to their exchange, but the guest was soft-spoken.

The servant then looked at Hans. "Why, he's right here, actually."

Hans walked over, and when he saw the woman in the doorway, flanked by two men, his jaw dropped. "You came..."

"Of course I did," Queen Elsa said, wrapping her arms around him.

Hans could barely believe his eyes, but her cool arms snapped him out of his shock. He returned the favor and felt her melt against him.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

Hans smiled and stroked her white-blond hair. "It'll be alright. Come in, please. Sigurd, Magnus, good to see you again. I'll take it from here," he added to the servant, who ran off.

"Your palace seems so much bigger than ours," Elsa said, looking around.

Hans heart soared now that Elsa was with him again. "It's sprawling, for sure. A wing for the family, a wing for guests. We almost always have someone in town."

"Wow. Impressive."

"Not as impressive as you." Did he really just say that? Hans wanted to smack himself.

Elsa giggled, a musical sound. "You're too kind."

"Really, I mean it. Those trolls didn't stand a chance."

"I couldn't have done it without you," she said, pink creeping into her cheeks.

"I'm not that special," Hans said dismissively.

She grabbed his hand. "Yes, you are."

Hans smiled, knowing he didn't have to hide anything from her. As long as she didn't see him as a monster, he didn't need to worry about anything else. "It's late. Let me show you to your room."

Hans led them up the stairs and to the Visitor's Wing on the right, opening the first two bedrooms. "My room is on the other side of the stairs on the left...if you need me."

"Wait! You need to tell me how everything went. Coming back, the funeral, how has it been?"

Hans smiled at her eagerness. "It's been a rocky road." He touched her cheek, enjoying the coolness of her soft skin. "I don't want to trouble you with it before bed. We can talk in the morning."

Sadness crossed her face. "I just... If there's anything at all that I can do-"

"You can smile," he teased.

She smiled, but continued. "Really, I want to help in any way I can."

He hugged her, burying his face in her neck. He could feel her silky hair, could smell her sweet perfume. "You already are," he whispered in her ear. He kissed her forehead and said, "I am so happy you're here. It's just been a rough day. I promise we'll talk more tomorrow. You have my word."

Elsa nodded. "Good night, Prince Hans."

"For you, just Hans."

"Good night...Hans."

Hearing her say his name was like an angel choir. It stirred within him a comfortable warmth, much unlike the angry inferno.

"Good night, Elsa." He brushed his lips against hers, nearly missing, but hitting them enough that her blue eyes snapped open. Before she could react, he slipped out the door.