A/N: So sorry for the temporary hiatus! Last week, I had a surge of inspiration for Game of Thrones. I had to cram to get my predictions out in time, right before the penultimate episode! If GOT is your thing, go check out my version of the last two episodes called Blood Or Iron? Anyway, I've kept you lovelies waiting long enough for Inferno! Enjoy!
By the time Elsa and Hans got back to the palace, it was after dinner. Raoul was the only one left at the table, meticulously stacking the plates. He noticed Hans and Elsa entering and turned. "Ah, you've returned! Did you enjoy yourselves at the market?"
Elsa held up her bags, full of souvenirs for everyone back in Arendelle. The green scarf for Anna, a red vest for Kristoff, a set of golden sun buttons for Olaf, a leather harness for Sven, a new stationery set for Kai and Southern patterns for Gerda's cross-stitching. "I would say so!" Elsa beamed up at Hans, who wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"Excellent!"
"How were things in our absence?" Hans asked.
"Typical."
"Anyone ask about us?"
"Absolutely! Ergo, a typical afternoon," he chuckled, rolling his eyes.
Hans rubbed his neck, embarrassed. "Of course. They still think we're traitors."
"I'm afraid so," Raoul replied, though Hans hadn't phrased it as a question.
"But you don't?" Elsa asked, trying to stay positive.
"Surely not."
"Why?" Hans inquired.
"Hagen was perceptive. Any mind not clouded with fear can see that domination is not your goal. Even if you had been intimidated by all of us, you've had plenty of time to kill me here and now, as well as before, yet you do not take the opportunity. Instead, we're conversing."
"So you're not even scared that I have fire powers in the first place?"
Raoul adjusted his glasses thoughtfully. "For the most part, I rely on my own eyes and mind to tell me what is real. I've never seen a demonstration of your power. However, as I have an incredible mind, and Bjorn has his outstanding strength, why shouldn't you have a talent that is uniquely yours?"
Elsa smiled at a gaping Hans. He couldn't believe Raoul was so calm. One of the candles on the table had gone out, so Hans decided to prove his power in a small way. He pinched the wick, as if to put it out, but when he removed his fingers, an orange flame flickered to life.
Raoul's eyebrows shot up, and he grabbed Hans' hand to inspect it. "Fascinating..." Hans shifted as Raoul turned his hand over, as if looking for a lighting mechanism.
Pink crept into Hans' cheeks, and Elsa giggled at his discomfort. "In the small minded, we inspire fear," she said. "In others...wonder."
"Indeed," Raoul said, releasing Hans' hand. If you don't mind, I would like to see more, but it can wait. I'm sure you're exhausted."
"Yeah, we can talk more tomorrow," Hans assured him. "Would you happen to know where Bjorn is?"
"Training," Raoul replied.
"Thanks." Hans kissed Elsa's forehead. "You put your bags down. I'll be upstairs in a bit."
"Take your time," she said, heading to her bedroom.
Hans clapped a hand on Raoul's shoulder. "Thank you...for everything."
"It was no trouble at all," he said, the corners of his lips lifting into a rare smile.
Hans left, heading down a stone staircase to their indoor training area. Sand bags, chains and rope hung from the ceiling. Different sized logs were propped up against one wall for lifting. There was a ring on the left for wrestling, and a table in the opposite corner for breaks, next to a water basin and some cups.
As Hans walked in, Bjorn was using two chains with rings to pull himself up in the air. The hair on his bare back was matted with sweat as his huge muscles rippled with the workout. "Bjorn, you got a minute?"
He did one last pull up before dropping to the ground and landing with a thud. He wiped his brow with his gorilla arm and turned around. "It's the runt!" He wrapped an arm around Hans' neck and dug his knuckles into his head.
Hans winced, suffocated not only by the strong arm around his neck, but also by his pungent workout odor. He was surprised by the sudden friendliness. He staggered as Bjorn released him, but recovered quickly. "So about earlier..."
Bjorn grunted, his whole demeanor shifting. He grabbed a towel to dry off. "Missed my morning run because of that shit."
Hans scratched his neck nervously. "Sorry about that..."
"Not your fault," he said, hanging the towel over his shoulder. He waved Hans over to the table. "Come."
Hans followed, but stopped short when Bjorn plopped one arm on the table. "Oh no. You know you're going to win."
"I'll go easy on you," he winked.
Hans sat down opposite Bjorn the Bear and hesitantly offered his arm. They clasped hands and pushed. Hans could immediately tell that his older brother was holding back, so he put forth more effort. "What made you vote for my innocence?"
Bjorn pushed a little harder against him. "Hagen had a point. Besides, I'm not afraid of a little fire. On top of it, I hate Nikolai."
The latter was news to Hans. Due to his momentary loss in concentration, Bjorn slammed the back of his hand into the table. Hans blinked. "Best two out of three?" They reset, and Hans added, "What do you have against Nikolai?"
"Ugh. Why do they call him The Snake?"
"Easy," Hans said, gaining the upper hand. "He's slippery, devious and his words cut deep."
"He's never killed a man," Bjorn grumbled, pushing back harder. No doubt he only needed his bare hands to do the deed.
"But his words can poison the mind," Hans muttered, squeezing harder.
"Humph. Snake my ass. More like a whiny, annoying fly I want to squash." He almost had the back of Hans' hand touching the table.
In a last ditch effort, Hans sent heat to his hand. Not enough to burn, just enough to make him jerk and lose the round. Bjorn waved his hand. "You cheated!"
Hans smirked. "We each have our strengths."
Bjorn smirked back, grabbed his hand, and pushed with all his might. Hans' hand smacked into the wooden table with such force, he was almost certain his knuckles would be bruised for the Coronation. "I win."
"You got me," Hans said, holding both hands up in surrender.
They stood up together, laughing. Hans rubbed his injured hand, and Bjorn clapped him on the back. "Good game, brother. You're okay."
"Thanks. You, too."
"Ignore the Fly," Bjorn said.
"I'll try," Hans replied, rolling his eyes.
"Let me know if you want me to teach him a lesson. It would be my pleasure," he said, cracking his large knuckles menacingly.
"Will do," Hans said with a smirk. Already, he felt much better about his family. There weren't as many rotten apples in the bunch as he had initially thought.