There was no white in the woman's eyes. Only black from her iris to what should have been her whites. Her hair was tangled and silver and her face had too many wrinkles to count. Her clothes were ragged and torn apart. Holes littered every inch of the fabric. Hans didn't say a word as he looked at her, not daring to move.

"What a lovely make." The woman rasped as she took a step towards Hans who retreated at her advance.

Hans's legs shook as the creature approached him. All he could look into the two abysses of darkness on her face. He tried to look through them. He tried to see inside, but there was nothing but a nebulous fog. A mist of mystery that engulfed her. She reached her hand out, and Hans's foot fell out from underneath him, his underside crashing hard onto the ground of the cave. "Stay away from me." He hissed, frantically scooting away from the woman. "Stay away from me, you monster."

The woman continued forward slowly, without hesitation, and Hans closed his eyes. He could feel his body getting warmer as his heart pounded in his chest, and then, he felt something coarse and rough touch his forehead. He felt the swirling ash around him, and when he opened his eyes, the face of the wretched old woman was all he could see. her black orbs, and the feel of her finger against his forehead. He could feel every single wrinkle. Every single scar. Like sandpaper was rubbing against in pore in his skin.

"My my," She began, Hans cringed at her sulfuric smelling breath. "You're a complex one, aren't you?" The woman let her finger wander down to Hans's jaw. "Anger, regret, happiness, fear..."

She dragged her finger quickly across Hans's cheek. A stinging sensation took over him, and when he brought his hand to the source, red blotches stained the tips of his fingers. His eyes shifted to the woman who had red running down her nail. She put that very same nail into her mouth, her tongue seeming to savor every minute flavor in his blood. "And hatred..." She cackled. "So much hatred..."

She leaned closer to the former Prince, looking him over again. Her eyes still revealed nothing to Hans, and the ash blinded him from whatever he would have been able to see. "Most who come to me want only one thing." She mused, taking his chin in her hands and lifting it up to examine his neck. "I had one come to me for riches. I had a couple who came to me wanting safety."

She let go of Hans's chin, backing away as the curtain of ash was removed, allowing him to see the room, and the old woman clearly again. "You want so many things, could you ever pick one?"

Hans opened his mouth to answer her, but nothing came out. It was true. He wanted more than this woman could give him. Something told him that she couldn't give him anything even if he did ask for it. But there was one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world. His brows furrowed as he stared at the woman, and her lips twisted into a smirk. His eyes had given her the answer, while hers only gave him questions to be answered.

"Yes," She whispered, turning her back and walking over to a wooden shelf that she had lodged in between the walls of the cave. "I have the perfect make for you."

Hans breathed heavily as the woman turned away from him. The stinging on his cheek had gone numb thanks to his fear. His head began to spin, and the stones of the cave seemed to laugh at him, calling him weak, a failure, a traitor. He shook his head, clearing the voices away, but one remained, and it called to him from inside the cave.

This way.

It seemed to say, and he turned his attention to the walls of the cave, where flasks rested on pillars. Each one kept inside an illuminated liquid. He spotted one that held a phosphorescent green, then another illuminated with lavender. There was yellow, orange, a darker purple, and then there was one that caught his eye.

Here.

He stood and walked over to the flask that held a cyan liquid, but there was something different about this one. Cold emitted from the bottle, and he leaned closer towards it, squinting his eyes. As the light of the torches reflected off the bottle, what was inside shimmered, and Hans realized that what he thought was a liquid wasn't a liquid at all. It was solid, clear, and blue. It was unmistakable.

"That one intrigues you, boy?" The woman asked

Hans only stared at the bottle in front of him. His mind wandered to those times. To that creature. He then looked down the row of bottles, and he saw more than he'd seen from far away, each bottle held something inside. The dark purple almost appeared black. As if shadows had entered the very essence of the liquid. The green bottle had bits of rock scattered into it.

His gaze shifted to the woman who had her back to him. "Who-" He began, swallowing his fear with a gulp, "Who are you?"

The woman looked back at him, her black eyes showed nothing but annoyance. "I am the maker." She answered, turning her back to Hans once again.

He did one more glance around the area before rising to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. "The maker of what?"

The woman cackled her iconic cackle as she began to maneuver her hands in a mystical manner. "Power, boy." Hans's glanced at the woman, and then back to the bottles on the pillars again. Looking a second time, he realized there was only one empty pillar as the woman continued to speak. "I make many things for many people, but only the people who are willing to pay the price."

Hans raised a brow skeptically. How was he to know this woman wasn't just crazy? Demented? What he'd seen in Arendelle had to have been a fluke. It had to have been an act. What this woman said couldn't be true. "Make me a sword." He commanded.

This time, the woman turned her head. She gave Hans a once over before turning her head away. "No."

Hans chuckled as he put his hands on his hips. "I think it's because you can't do it, can you?" He taunted.

The woman growled as she turned towards him, lifting her hand slightly into the air. Metal materialized in her hands. First a tip, then a blade, and finally, a handle. A sword now rested in her fragile hand, and Hans's mouth went agape. "Here is your sword, boy." She tossed the metal to Hans, who caught it with ease.

He examined the blade with his fingers. It certainly felt real. He pushed the tip of his finger into the blade, and dribbles of blood came running down his finger. It was sharp enough to be real as well. Hans smirked as he quietly approached the woman, putting the blade on the woman's neck. "Get me out of here." He hissed. "And do it now."

The woman stared lifelessly ahead as the sword disintegrated in Hans's hand. "Whatever I make I can unmake, boy." She informed. "You do not frighten me, and if you wanted you could walk right out of this cave."

Hans stepped back at the display. It wasn't possible. Nothing like this should ever be possible. First, it was ice and snow, and now it was swords. And then, his eyes went wide. The image of Elsa and Anna entered his mind. He had a vision. A violent vision. "Could you make me powerful?" He widened with desire. and lust for revenge.

The woman's head turned once more, her eyes examining the former prince. "I could." She answered, smirking and chuckling to herself. "But you would not survive one day."

Hans growled at her words. "Do you know who I am?" He asked. "I am Prince Hans of the Southern Isles. I am plenty capable of being powerful."

The woman shook her head as golden dust began to swirl around her, following the movement of her hands. "You are a former prince." She corrected, sending the golden dust into the scarlet cauldron. "And you are not capable." The cauldron exploded, and the woman lifted a finger. Out of the cauldron came a glass bottle sealed with a cork, containing a scarlet liquid inside. The woman set the potion onto the missing pillar and began maneuvering her hands in a mystical manner once more.

Hans raised a brow. "How did you know I was exiled?"

The woman cackled again. "I know many things, boy. Who you are is only a spec of my knowledge and power."

He smirked devilishly to himself. This was it. This was his moment. He could finally finish what he'd started. He could finally finish both of them off. He wouldn't leave Arendelle until he had both Elsa and Anna's heads."I'll ask you again," He began, taking a step towards the woman. "Could you make me powerful?"

"Yes." She repeated, "But I said you are not capable."

"I am!" He slammed his fist against the wall in frustration. "I'll prove it. What do I have to do?"

The woman looked at him, and then her eyes glanced to the scarlet potion, and then she smirked. "You must survive." She said with a cackle. her hand wrapped around the scarlet potion that was steaming. "I make beauty. I make fire. I make all that you desire." She chanted as she held the potion out to Hans. "You may take my creation." She said, looking up at Hans, "But I will give you words of advice.", she leaned up and whispered in Hans's ear. "Resisting what I make will be your biggest mistake."

She shoved the potion into Hans's hands, and he yelped, letting the potion fall. The woman growled as she barely caught the bottle before it hit the ground, and glared at Hans. "You let it go." She hissed.

"It's on fire!" He yelled back, holding his now burned hand.

The woman hissed as she put the potion back onto the pillar. "I said you were not capable." She retorted. "And you resisted it."

She took the potion from the pillar and held it out for Hans again. "Do not resist." She looked into his eyes. "Do not resist and it will not hurt you."

Hans bit his lip as he looked from the potion to the woman's black eyes. he was putting his faith in the devil with this, but that couldn't be right. He'd already seen the devil in Arendelle. If this woman could give him the power he wanted, then she was an angel. A black angel. He took a breath and reached with his other hand out towards the bottle. He could feel the smoldering heat from more than a few inches away.

Don't be afraid.

Don't be afraid.

He grabbed the bottle, his eyes closed, and he yelped again. "Damn it!"

The woman cackled and put the bottle back on the pillar. "Like I said. You're not capable."

"Capable of what?" He stepped angrily up to the Maker. "What am I not capable of?"

The woman shook her head and cackled. "You're still resisting. You're still afraid."

Hans growled. "I am not afraid." He snarled at her.

"But you are, boy. You've always been afraid."

"No, I'm not!"

"Then prove it."

"I will!"

Hans stormed over to the pillar with the red potion, and without a care in the world, he threw his hand around the bottle, and this time, there was no cry of pain. He held the bottle up so she could see. "There." He barked.

The woman cackled and went back over to the cauldron. "Wonderful job, boy." She said. "Now leave me."

Hans raised a brow. "What?"

"You have what you came for." She said as she glanced at him. "I gave you the power you wanted. Now leave."

"I can't leave." He protested. "I don't know where I am, or what I'm going to do. I have no food, no water and-"

Hans felt a change in him. He looked down at his feet to find that they were good as new No scabs. No blisters. No blood. He reached a hand up to his hair that had somehow been cut and groomed to perfection. There wasn't a strand out of place, and more importantly, it was clean. He looked at the woman in shock. "You are in Northern Isles." She informed. "The outskirts, I should say." Her eyes scanned the prince over once again. "Now leave me. Through the forest is how you will get to civilization."

Hans looked at the potion, then to the Maker, and he silently made his way out of the cave. He found himself back in the dense forest, glad that the woman had cleaned him up. He walked for five minutes before he stopped, and looked at the potion in his hands. He was thirsty. The woman hadn't saved him completely. This potion was all he had, and he couldn't have anything. He took a deep breath and ripped the cork from the bottle, closing his eyes, and counting to three in his head. He tilted his head back and chugged the liquid.

His eyes opened wide immediately after the liquid hit his tongue, and after he swallowed one gulp, he spit the contents out onto the dirt-covered ground. It had tasted of spiced chalk and soot. Hans stood coughing for more than few moments. He should have known never to trust a stranger. Let alone an old woman on the edge of an island. He threw the glass down, smashing it into pieces. "Stupid witch." He hissed, and he continued on his way towards civilization. He swatted away the vines and branches that got in his way, earning multiple scratches along the way. But as time went on, his vision became limited, for the sun had almost completely set.

All he knew was that he couldn't stop where he was. He would have no idea where he was the next day, and he could feel himself getting closer to the village. Hours passed, and the sun had faded away, letting the moon shine high above, except, there was no moon out tonight. The light he'd been counting on was gone, and the eerie darkness around him was unnerving. He shook his head as he began walking. It was just another forest. There was nothing but trees.

Then, the leaves around him ruffled, and multiple voices echoed through the air. The voices laughed at him, and Hans stopped in his tracks. he turned his head every which way he could go, barely being able to see anything in the darkness. The trees looked like monsters, and the bushes looked like animals ready to pounce. The laughter grew closer, and then, out of the leaves, came a person. A tall man dressed in filthy rags. His face was black from the darkness, but Hans could make out paint, that he assumed was dirt.

"What are you doing out here late at night?" The man asked, placing his hands on his hips.

Hans scoffed as he walked towards the man. "Staying away from filth like you."

Hans only got a few inches past the man before he felt a grip on his arm. And then the man was whispering into his ear. "And who are you to be calling us filth?" He asked. "From the looks of it, I'd say you're just as filthy as the rest of us."

The man quickly let go of Hans's arm, and Hans smirked. "Don't touch me, peasant."

The man laughed hard. The animals in the surrounding area flew away at the terrifying sound. "So, you think you're royalty?" The man asked. The leaves ruffled again, and out of the shadows came more of them. Hans could make out five in total. "Well, we have ways of dealing with Royalty."

Hans clenched his fist, and then the man stepped forward once again, this time, with something in his hands. All he could see was his reflection in whatever it was. In a second, his reflection was gone, and he felt a stinging pain across his arm. he stepped back, bringing a hand to the source of the pain, and immediately felt something wet dripping down his arm. These people were armed, whoever they were, and Hans wasn't armed with anything but the disgusting taste of the potion from earlier in the day.

He turned and ran as fast as he could, away from the voices that continued to follow him through the night. He prayed that his feet stayed sure in the darkness. He felt air blow by his ear, and that same wet feeling of blood went down his cheek. He looked over his shoulder and saw where the projectile had come from. A bow. An arrow. His heart pounded as fast as his feet ran, and then he couldn't hear his feet running anymore. He felt his face hit the ground, and dirt and other things suffocated him.

The voices continued to laugh, and soon, there were arms around him, flipping him over and keeping him pinned on the ground. "Let go of me!" Hans yelled as he began to kick, and struggle out of their grip.

One of the members holding his arms down spoke. it was a woman's voice. "Boss, hurry it up! He's burning!"

The man from before leaned closer to Hans who could now see his features clearly. He was dark of skin, and his hair was long, going down to his waist. His teeth were a filthy yellow, almost brown, and his breath smelled like rotten fish. Hans saw his reflection once again, and he could see his blood dripping from the blade. "So long, your Highness." He said in a mocking tone. Hans closed his eyes, ready to feel the blade sinking into his skin. But instead what he heard was a voice. A slithering, snake-like voice.

Let me out.

It said, and Hans's eyes opened wide.

Let me out and I can help you.

"Who are you?" Hans asked.

The man chuckled as he brought the blade to Hans's neck, but all Hans heard was the voice inside his head.

I am all that you desire.

Hans felt his stomach growing hotter by the second. His hands felt like they would burn off at any second, and the woman holding his arm down yelled in pain. "Boss, it hurts!"

Let me help you.

Hans saw the man lift the blade over his head. He was ready to strike. It was now or never.

"Help me!" He yelled.

Hans closed his eyes as the blade came down. He was ready to feel the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life, but instead he heard screams, and they were not his own. He opened his eyes, and the five bandits were all on the ground, screaming, and covered in flames. His eyes went wide in horror as he looked at their charred bodies, and then, he looked around.

Fire.

Fire was everywhere. The five bandits hadn't been his only victim, but the trees and leaves had as well. The fire spread quickly from one tree to another, and soon, Hans was being chased by the inferno, the fire close behind him. He ran with all the speed his legs could muster, but even still, the fire stayed on his tail and closed the gap a few inches between them. Hans's heart pounded as he prayed to be sure of foot. This was the one time he wasn't allowed to be the clumsy Prince he normally was. He couldn't afford to trip and fall on the brink of death. He wouldn't let himself.

He ran through the exhaustion and fatigue, and eventually, made his way out of the forest. He fell to his knees, panting for his life. He looked at the trees, charred and burned. The whole forest had been engulfed by the flames. Flames he had created. Flames he didn't know he made. He looked at his hands that were shaking uncontrollably. His heart pounded with fear. That was all he felt in that moment. Fear and dread.

"What are you?" He asked as he looked at his hands. "What did you do?"

He heard the voice laughing, and then it responded.

I helped you like I said I would.

Hans opened his mouth to speak, but more voices interrupted him.

"Over here!"

Hans scrambled to find cover, but it was no use. He, no, whatever was inside him destroyed all the cover he had. He looked around frantically as footsteps and voices grew closer. What could he do? What could he do?

Think, Hans!

He scolded himself, trying to find a way, any way out of the mess he'd made. He wished he could do it again. Start the fire. Take out the fire.

"You there!"

Hans gulped as he turned his head sharply. There stood a group of men, spears in hand. Hans could make out the sangria and gold color of their uniforms. Guards from Northern Isles. "Hands up!" One of the guards yelled, stepping forward.

I can help you.

Hans bit his lip as he heard the taunting of the voice in his head.

Let me help you.

"No." Hans hissed. "You helped enough already."

The Northern Isles's coat of arms was on the man's chest. The captain of the guard. This was their late night patrol. Hans just so happened to be the main focus of it. The guards closed in on him, pushing him to the ground, causing Hans to grunt in pain. He struggled against all of their grips, and the captain of the guard smirked as he shined the light of his lantern on Hans's face. "Well, well, well." He smirked. "Look at who we have here."

/

Hans had been dragged into town. He hung his head low in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to go and hide back in the burning forest. He wanted to go back to the Maker's cave. Ask her what had happened. What voice was in his head. What power did he have? What power did it have? Instead, he was being paraded through the streets like a trophy. The spires of the castle were visible from where they were, passing multiple carts and inns along the way.

Oh, how he yearned for the silk of the pillow that had been on his ship. He had time to reflect on what had happened. The exile. The storm. The maker. The fire. Everything he'd once thought would never happen to him happened in a single day. He'd never thought he'd burn down an entire forest, but then again, he'd never thought that anyone could cause an eternal winter either. Ever since that day, he'd accepted magic's existence, but that didn't mean he wasn't terrified of it. The guards trudged him to the castle gates, that creaked open at the captain's command. The footsteps of the guards echoed as they walked through the wooden halls on yet again another death march. The double doors that led to the throne room became visible. Hans took a deep breath when the doors opened, and the throne was revealed. A large man sat in the chair, his hair short and chocolate brown. His eyes were a beautiful, welcoming shade of amber, and Hans smiled at him.

"What's this?" The figure asked, looking at his captain.

"King Roland," The captain announced. "This man was found late at night by the forest. He was the only one there."

Roland raised a brow skeptically. "He is the one who burned the forest down?"

The captain nodded. "That is what we think happened."

The King sighed. "Innocent until proven guilty. For now, this man is not a prisoner," Roland said, waving a hand dismissively. "Leave him. And leave us." Hans was grateful when the guards released him. His knees hit the ground, but he quickly got up as the man on the throne rose from his seat, stepping down from the dais and walking over to Hans. "I haven't seen you since you were seven years old, Hans."

The former prince smiled. The man in front of him was someone who Hans would never forget. "It's been a long time, uncle."