Chapter One

A/N: Hi, guys! I'm going to be irregular, but hopefully consistent. Hope you enjoy the content and let me know what you think in the reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen and/or anything pertaining to it.

"Is the manure difficult today, brother?" sneers Caleb, atop his horse with a smug smile. The bone biting wind whips through his golden hair and against his pinched honey coloured eyes.

I sigh a forlorn breath, mentally and emotionally worn down from the constant belittlement. This has become routine. In the midst of this humiliating punishment, my brothers would take turns spitting unkind remarks as some sort of juvenile sport.

I dig my shovel into a clump of waste, but as I attempt to heave the load proves deceptively heavy. I grunt with effort, fighting the weight under the setting sun. A fly buzzes by my ear, returning still after I shoo it away more than enough times.

"Come now, Hans," starts Rudi, he too is perched on a horse. The pair start to trot around me in circles, no doubt enjoying the sight of me in such a low position. "Put your back into it!"

'Come on, come on!' I heave once again, but the outcome is far from ideal. The shovel snaps in twain, causing me to almost slip at the impact. "Woah!" I flail my arms around, trying to find balance with my shoes slipping in horse manure in almost every direction.

"Look at him go!" jeers Rudi, clapping in delight.

I upright myself, and look back at my brothers. There laughter only makes me more livid. I toss the shaft of the shovel at Caleb, the first target in sight. "Don't you have a kingdom to watch over now that mom and dad are gone?" I fume.

"We need to have some fun along the road, eh, brother?" is Caleb's response.

"I'm not your clown," I tell.

"You sure look like one," retorts Rudi, pulling his mare to a stop.

"Well, I'm not," I say, staring defiantly into the brown eyes of my elder siblings before marching off.

"Where are you going?" hoots Caleb, a laugh in his voice.

"Where I go is none of your business," I shout back over my shoulder, throwing my arm out in annoyance. I stomp toward the castle, different eyes on me. Ever since my return to the Southern Isles, things haven't been the same. The looks I get are of disdain, or shame, or jest, or fear. My home. Where I was raised, I'm treated like an alien amongst my own. Granted, my upbringing wasn't the most pleasant, nor have I ever truly enjoyed the thought of this miserable rock as my home… there just persists the feeling of want for admiration from those around me – especially from here.

I reach the castle and hurry to my room, ready to retreat to my thoughts.

"Hey, look who's back from the stables!" alerts my fair haired brother, Franz, as I enter the lobby. I attempt to move past him, but he grabs my shoulder in a firm grip. "Leaving so soon?"

"I'm not in the mood for this," I try to pull away, but Jurgen comes down a set of stairs into the foyer to greet me too. He grabs me in a headlock. "Let go of me!" I grumble, fighting the lock.

"Relax, Hans," starts he, "all I want is for you to spend some time with you." The lock grows tighter and tighter, making it more of a natural task to take in air.

I pull free of his grasp, "I preferred being invisible," I gasp loudly, hacking right after at the new rush of air. Once my breathing steadies, I glare at my brunette brother, frustration boiling under my skin. I charge up the stairs that Jurgen immerged from, my brothers' snickers following me to my room. When I finally step inside, I shut the door and rest my back against it, releasing a long breath, shoulders drooping immensely. My eyebrows bundle as I deny any emotions of despair. Another long breath is released in the darkness of my room, words of acknowledgement flying airily out of my mouth, "I failed."

I've known that for a long time. It's been a year since the scandal in Arendelle, but I've never been able to admit that I blew it. I messed up. I screwed up my master plan because I got sloppy. I lost it all because I got too cocky. I'm damned to this treatment because I allowed myself to relax. Arendelle was in the palm of my hand, but I was too slow to clench my hand shut to prevent it from being scooped away.

My hand travels against the wall and I flick the light on and I sluggishly wander to the lone armchair before a large window with heavy red curtains that sit shut. I drop myself into the chair and recline my back against the backrest before daring to part the curtain slightly to glance upon my kingdom. There's no sure reason why I'm looking out at the people in the dreary weather, just a pastime I suppose.

As I sit in still silence, I feel my muscles pulsing, rallying together to grab my notice – the effect of a hard days' work. My hand wanders to my throat, fingers lightly massaging the sore muscles. I blow through my nose.

A loud knock sounds at the door, "Hans? Are you in there?"

"Come in, Lars."

Lars, a tall fair and freckled fellow of dark chocolate hair and sky eyes, enters my room. He closes the door behind him, walking slowly towards me. "Something on your mind?"

"Always."

Lars comes to a stop right in front of me and leans against the wall. "Something you wanna share?"

"I don't deserve a confidant."

"Everyone does, Hans. I know you still feel… down – to say the least – about Arendelle."

"Wouldn't you?" my half lidded eyes evade my brother's and stare out at the different types of grey outside, tears threatening to topple out onto my face.

"Are you remorseful?"

I shrug. "Only that I didn't succeed."

"Then you'd be against this punishment," says Lars. "You said yourself that you don't even deserve an ear to hear your woes. You must believe somewhere inside that you deserve what you've got because you did something really messed up."

"Why am I even getting punished for doing what I was taught to do?" I abruptly stand up, my chair wobbling at the force of my stance. "The weak die and the strong prevail. Am I at fault because I wasn't strong enough?"

"That's the only truth Westegaard's live by," admits Lars. "I'm sorry, Hans. You deserve to be punished for the wrong you did, not for doing wrong the wrong way."

I blow Lars off, falling back into my chair. "If you came here to make me feel better, you're out of luck."

Lars opens his mouth to speak, but Agnes – Lars' wife – knocks urgently on the door. "Hans? Lars?"

"Enter, Agnes," I say.

Agnes comes into the room, looking like a bowl of ecstatic emotions. Her golden blonde hair bundled up in an intricate looking braid and spotless skin glowing. Her bright brown eyes gleam over with joy. She shuts the door quickly and hurries to Lars' side, taking hold of his arm to stop herself from bouncing around no doubt.

"You look… more chipper than usual," says Lars, almost confused that Agnes could be any more excitable than she is on a normal Wednesday. "Is something going on? Did something happen?"

Agnes is among the more tolerable people in this house. She's always smiling about something; a childlike energy always radiating off of her. "I overheard something that's going to make everything different!"

"Different like how?" question I.

"Different like, no more manure different," she beams, squeezing Lars' arm. He and I exchange looks, befuddled to say the very least. "No more mockery different. No more unhappy, gloomy…. poor Hans different." Agnes' face falls slightly, growing a tad forlorn. She shakes off the feeling and sprouts a smile again. "You'll be so excited," she looks up at Lars who offers a polite smile. "Won't he, Lars?"

"I'm sure he will," Lars turns so that he's facing his wife, her slender arms in his respective hands. "Sweetheart, you still haven't told us what you overheard."

"Oh! Right, well-"

A rasp at the door interrupts us.

'I'm very popular today,' I muse.

"Prince Hans, your parents have arrived and they want to see you at once," comes the familiar voice of a servant on the other side of the door. "They're in the common area. 'At once,' they said."

I stand briskly, "That's my cue." I nod to both Lars and Agnes before strutting out the door, down the carpeted stairs into the common area. A bright fire warms the room otherwise chilled by the stares of my father and brother Runo.

Mother smiles at me, "Hans, we have good news."

"So I've heard," I have my reservations about the goodness of this news. "What is it?" I sharply shoot a brow.

"We've secured an opportunity for you to redeem yourself," comes Father's grim voice from his seated position on one of the two plush armchairs that circle the fireplace.

"I have my doubts that he's the man for the job," argues Runo. "I'm far more experienced than he is."

"I've made up my mind, Runo," silences Father, looking sternly at Runo who sits in the other armchair. "Casmont needs our assistance in surviving a terrifying storm. Normally we'd just establish a trading partnership with them and work in unison, but according to their meteorologists, the storm will last a maximum of ninety days."

"What kind of storm lasts three months?" I question.

"Those ninety days aren't in succession," tells Mother. "Some days will be better than the others with just rains. The more trying days will be riddled with goliath lightning and winds and hail. It's a devastating thing to imagine."

"I can't risk putting so much into Casmont without knowing they'll be putting in the same effort should the Southern Isles suffer something so severe," starts Father, "so we've nominated you to rule it."

The wind almost leaves me at those words and I take a small step back, shuddering once with shock. "R-rule it how?"

"The king and queen have a young princess who will do nicely for you, Hans. She's quite a scholar, so she'll watch you eagerly for any ill intentions," Father warns. "The courting period will start once you arrive in Casmont… given the rushed circumstances the regular two years of courting is out of the question. The king and queen have given us at most two weeks for you to win over the princess. Desperate as they are they are very stubborn and insist that their daughter be satisfied with you or they'll send you packing."

"There's no competition?"

"Casmont is a small discreet kingdom," says Father. "Where most - if not all – kingdoms see insignificance, I see a cluster of islands rich with opportunity. You need to secure this chance or Casmont will be reduced to nothing but a boneyard. A waste!" my father steeples his fingers. "Are you capable for this task?"

"Consider the throne mine," I nod firmly.

"Good," starts Father, "we leave in three days."

I give a modest half bow, "Then I shall go pack my things."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, please drop a review and have a beautiful day!