The following days bled into the next as Hans healed. When a week had passed, Hans found himself standing in the blacksmith's shop in front of his father and the new heir to the throne. Zian stood in front of him, looking between the branding tool, the oven, and his brother. Zian was shorter than most men, standing at five foot nine. His chestnut brown hair had tints of red if it was in the sun, and was kept cut just below his ears. His soft blue eyes surveyed the room and then they landed on the king. Twisting his hands, Zian spoke quietly.
"Father, is this necessary? I don't feel right about this. Johannes is my brother."
The king's eyes flashed and he scowled at his new protege. "Zian, you are the heir to my kingdom. It is imperative that you not only set an example to our people that you can follow the law, but that you can administer it as well. Branding this criminal is your duty as the next in line. Put your emotions behind you. They are useless in matters of the throne and will only hinder you, my son."
Hans couldn't help the biting remark that flew from his mouth, "Is that what you did, Father?"
The king curled his lip but did not respond, instead picking up the iron branding tool and putting it on the coals. The branding iron marked the criminals of the Southern Isles, a simple design of a capital F for fugitive and the royal seal below the mark. Truthfully, Hans had been surprised they even possessed such a thing. The crime was little in the town, and in the rural area of the country most of the people handled the law privately amongst themselves. Zian glanced at Hans and then sighed, picking up the iron when it began to glow. The twenty-seven-year-old paused again, and looked for all the world like he would refuse. Then his shoulders drooped, and he clenched his eyes shut, hand trembling as he spoke.
"On your knees, Hans."
The twenty-three-year-old convicted prince sighed, going to his knees with a wince. His back had not yet healed, but he suspected it never would. Hans watched his brother come closer, and with a feeling of dread he threw his head back and bared his chest. Closing his eyes, Hans tried to brace himself as fire slammed into his upper left shoulder and clavicle. Immense pain flooded his body, oh gods it burned. Hans screamed, clutching at his shoulder as the mark seared his flesh and Zian finally removed the prong. Falling onto his hands, he tried to keep his breathing regular and as the pain began to subside, he glanced up at his brother and father, anger surging through him as his eyes met his father's.
"I did not deserve this." Hans said no more, standing to his feet and swaying for a moment as he glanced down at the ugly mark. Turning, he nodded to the guards and they shackled him, taking him back into his cell.
A bit later, Hans looked up from useless musing to see Zian entering the cell. He tensed out of instinct, trying to not show his unease at his brother's entrance. Noticing his discomfort, Zian sighed and leaned against the wall opposite Hans, putting as much distance between them as the cell would allow.
"I am truly sorry, Johannes. Is your chest alright? How are you… how are you doing?" Hans muttered something, and Zian furrowed his brow. "Johannes, it's me. You can talk to me. I might be Crown Prince, but I'm still Zian. I'm still the boy who made mud cakes with you. The one who beat you at marbles and chess, and the one who taught you fencing and how to ride a horse."
He paused, waiting for a response, but when Hans only turned his head, Zian pressed on, "You know how Father has become in his old age. If I had refused, we both would've been branded, and the kingdom would have fallen without a prince to lead it. My… my sense of honor is not where it should be, but I can't let our kingdom fall because I've got a heart. You and I both know I never wanted this."
Eighteen Years Ago...
"Why do I 'ave ta look like dis?" Hans scrunched his face as he pulled at the cravat knotted at his throat, and Zian laughed, adjusting it as he pulled on his suspenders and pants.
"Oh Johannes, settle down. It's only for a little bit! Vale's inauguration as the Heir is in a few hours, Maman wants us in our best- the entire kingdom will be celebrating and we will be on display."
"Inag-wha?" The four year old made a face, crossing his eyes, causing his brother to laugh and tussle Hans' red locks.
"In-aug-ur-ation." Nearly nine-year-old Zian pronounced it slowly, eyes bright at the big word. "It's like a big party… it means he's becoming the prince."
Hans tilted his head as he watched his brother get ready. "Thought he was aw-ready?"
Zian paused again, trying to think of an explanation. "Err. He is. We're all princes-"
"Or princesses!" Came two cries of indignation from across the nursery, behind an ornate divider.
Zian scowled at where he knew Freya and Fahima were getting dressed. "Yeah, or princesses. The point is-" He stopped short to see Hans had wiggled out of his shirt, suspenders, pants, and was in the process of taking off his tights. "Johannes Westergaard of the Southern Isles!"
His strict tone brought little Hans to a halt and the boy's lower lip began to tremble, great big tears welling up in his big green eyes. Immediately, Zian knelt down and pulled his brother close, hugging him tightly. If Maman walked in to find her youngest child crying, there would be no supper for Zian, and likely no books for a week. Her latest pregnancy had made her normally calm demeanor a thing of the past, and harsh words simmered just below her surface.
"Oh, Hans. It's alright. Look, I don't like it either, but we gotta do this. It's what princes do." He started to help his little brother redress, and continued their discussion from earlier. "Vale is twenty-five now. That means he could legally take over and run the kingdom if something happened to Father. He can get married now, too."
Hans looked worried, and as Zian re-tied Hans' cravat, the little boy questioned, "Do we gotta leave?"
"Huh? Oh, oh no! No, silly. We still get to live here. Father is still young and healthy and all that- he's probably going to be king for a real long time. This party just makes everything official. It's like Father telling everyone, 'Look at my son, he's going to be your ruler one day!' or something." An eye roll accompanied this statement and Zian explained as Hans looked curiously at him, trying to figure out why Zian was annoyed.
"I think all the pomp and circumstance -that's a fancy way for saying all the fuss- is silly. I'm glad I don't hafta be king, it seems boring. I hear Father, Maman, and Vale going over books and letters and things sometimes, and it just looks exhausting. Everybody watches you and you can't do anything or have any freedom."
Hans frowned, shaking his head so hard he almost fell over. "Nu-uh! No king! Wanna be prince fuh-evah! Stay with Zi-Yon always!" He grabbed his brother's hand, swinging it back and forth with a huge grin on his face.
Zian chuckled fondly, tickling Hans stomach and then as they calmed down from a laughing fit, he helped Hans into the starch and stiff tailcoat waiting for him, both of them making faces as the fabric pulled and clung in all the wrong ways. Nodding approval at his brother's appearance, Zian quickly put on his vest and made sure it covered his suspender straps, jerking on his coat just as their nursemaid came around the corner and into the room.
"Children! The Queen and King are ready to receive you all. Is everybody ready?"
Right on cue Freya and Fahima stepped out from the divider with Illiana by the arm, all three of them dressed immaculately and the twins poised and looking like little ladies. The nursemaid nodded her approval, and then smiled warmly as she looked Hans and Zian over. "Well done, gentlemen! Well, come along then!" She turned and as the five children followed suit, Hans tugged on Zian's left arm.
"Thanks for hepping me, Zian." The older brother blinked for a moment and then smiled warmly.
"No problem, Johannes. It's what brothers do."
Hans groaned into his hands, shaking his head as the memory faded. "How do you think I'm doing? I'm exhausted and everything hurts, and I just want to disappear. I'm being brutally punished for something I didn't do!" He stood abruptly, standing at the one cell window, leaning his arm against his forehead as he looked out. A long silence followed, and Zian spoke quietly, sounding horrified.
"What do you mean, you didn't do it? Did… did the Arendellians speak in mistruth?" There was a glint of fury in his blue eyes, but it disappeared when Hans shook his head.
"No. No, I did what I was accused of… but I didn't have control of it. It was like… there were two of me and I couldn't control it, I wouldn't have done any of that!" Hans took a deep breath, realizing he was on the verge of a breakdown. Letting his breath out slowly, he continued, casting his eyes downward as he turned from the window and sunk to the ground, letting his head hit against the stones and then finally sending a cutting glare towards his older brother. "If nothing else, Maman taught me honor. Like she did all of us. Do you truly think I would have done this? I didn't even know the Arendellian princesses before we docked; how could I have planned this and had everything arranged so perfectly?"
His bitter voice surprised them both, and Zian bit his lip, shaking his head. "What's more," Hans continued, "Is the fact none of my family believe me. Like we weren't all told of the Brunnmigi and Näcken as children. Why is it that I am ridiculed for having been controlled by a Jötunn?"
Zian sighed and shook his head. "I just… Those stories are meant to scare little children into behaving and not wandering off. You can't tell me you actually believed in them!"
I didn't until one of them possessed me! Hans spat in his brain, but held his tongue. Instead, he averted his gaze and shrugged, wincing as the motion pulled both at his back and his brand. "What did you really come here to say, Zian? Or did His Majesty send you?" Hans' fingers clenched at his legs in anger towards his father. They'd never been close, but the treatment Hans had received since returning from Arendelle deepened his initial dislike for the man into a burning hatred. Zian frowned at the display of anger and sighed, moving forward to put a hand on Hans' uninjured shoulder.
"I came to tell you that in the morning you are to board one of our vessels, the Victory. From there, you will be taken to one of our lumber mines on the east island, and you are to spend five months there before returning here to carry out your next duty."
The next morning, Hans stood at the docks, surrounded by six of his father's best men, heavily bound and chained although he knew that would change after the ship set sail. Behind him, Hania and his mother stood, their eyes cloudy with unshed tears. Hania had snuck him a small roll and a horn of water before the dawn, and Hans had been grateful. He knew that while his father treated the upper management of his ships well, those in lower fleet positions could suffer greatly with hunger and thirst. He had bid her goodbye, and they had privately shed tears. He knew that she had only come to be there for him, and she would soon return to her husband and their small province on the mainland of the Northern Isles. She would bring her first child into the world without him there, and he would likely hear nothing more of the family until he had completed his seven years time.
He had not spoken to his mother, but he didn't need to- he knew where they stood. He knew she loved him, and he her. Hans was well aware she was torn between him and being loyal to the man that had been her loving husband for forty five years come the spring. He might not love his father, but he would not ruin his mother's happiness just to spite the man. They worked flawlessly as a pair, and both were well respected within the kingdom for their strides in equality and better conditions for the poorer workers amongst the village.
Zian had fetched Hans from his cell that morning, interrupting the last moments between Hania and Hans, and the older brother had paused for a brief moment and then nodded, crouching down to help his sister up. Once he'd stood, he had smiled fondly at her and wrapped her shawl a bit closer to her. "I have been assured that Hans will be as well taken care of as can be managed." His promise sounded heartfelt, but the other two had merely sent raised brows his way. Clearly, he was not as well-versed in the welfare of those in lower ranks as the other two were. When his reassurance was not returned, Zian's smile had slipped off his face and he had ducked his head, muttering something to Hans about how he hoped the journey was smooth, and that he wished his reform was speedy so they could be reunited.
Though Hans was no longer a prince, he was allowed to dress a bit better than he had been within the cells, and he had a plain jacket slipped on him while in the cell, and though it was not the tailcoat he had favored as a royal, he found it better than nothing and had nodded to his brother in thanks even as he felt the heavy chains clasp firmly around his ankles and then his hands wrenched behind his back, chained and tied with a rope. His brother had sent him an apologetic smile and interlooped the chains of Hans' feet and wrists together, attaching an iron ball. It had been then that the king's men had come to collect the ex-prince and Hans had tried to not shirk back at their intimidating statures.
Nudged forward, Hans flashed back briefly to his arrival home after his crime, and winced at the memory of Radford as he quickly shuffled, wincing as his bare feet met the boarding plank and splinters bit into his feet.
As the ship set sail, Hans' gaze met his mother and sister, and then he lifted it, gazing off in the direction he knew Arendelle to be, a heavy pang of regret settling in his chest.
I wish everything had gone so differently, Anna. I'm so sorry.
Turning away, he clenched his eyes tight and followed the commanding officer to his bunk to be unchained and given his first orders.
A/N: Ya'll tell me your thoughts and ideas! Yay for character development, right? I wanted to show that not all of his siblings are jerks, after all everybody has their good and bad points. The main thing is to remember that the older three brothers would have been raised as potential heirs to the crown, so they're a bit sharper with tongues and feelings. They are defending their kingdom from the 'threat', and have been mostly taught to not let their emotions cloud their judgement, etc. But the further down the bloodline you got, the more freedom the children were allowed to have, and so protocol and duty were drilled less and less into each child.