Night had nearly fallen by the time Kip Hewart's ship arrived at the harbor of Calidae, the docks only illuminated by the soft red glow of torches in the distance. The tradesman sighed, watching the city grow steadily larger from his viewpoint at the bow of his vessel. This particular voyage home had taken longer than expected and Kip and his men wouldn't be done unloading the cargo from today's haul until the deepest, darkest hours of the night, meaning he wouldn't be able to see his wife and daughter until tomorrow.

Casting the thought aside, Kip felt like something was different about tonight. It didn't take long for him to realize something was wrong. Even at this hour, there were usually at least a few fishermen and other boats performing last minute checkups and preparations for the next day.

Tonight, the docks were deserted - and eerily quiet.

A misplaced wave of heat washed over the tradesman from the direction of the pier. Its warmth was quickly replaced by a chill when Kip spotted a telltale pair of golden eyes watching his ship from the docks.

"It's Lord Alexander!" someone on the ship cried, confirming what Kip had hoped was an illusion.

The entire crew stirred, stealing glances at the docks in panicked disbelief. What could the Fire Lord of Astor possibly be doing at the harbor at this hour?

"Calm yourselves," Kip announced, grabbing the attention of the crew. "We have nothing to hide, nothing to fear. Prepare to unload at the docks just like normal. I'll do the talking."

The men seemed hardly reassured but did as their captain said and docked the ship, anchoring her and lowering the gangway so they could prepare to haul the cargo out for the following day's pickup.

Alexander stood silently and watched the process, his hands folded regally behind his back. He was wearing nothing but a simple black robe and dark leather gloves, his hair falling loosely to his shoulders and casting a dark shadow over his face. He certainly didn't look like he had any royal business to attend to; if the men on the ship didn't know any better, they would assume he was just a random bystander.

Kip was the first to disembark, hesitantly taking his place in front of the man he had only ever heard tales of and hoped he would never see in person. He bowed deeply and stared at Alexander's boots.

"Good evening, Milord."

That was all he could think to say. This was the first time the tradesman had ever spoken to royalty, much less a psychotic flame-wielding dictator, and he wasn't sure what exactly was appropriate and what was not. Unwilling to ask a question, he just kept his head down and waited for an explanation. None was forthcoming, however. Alexander merely ignored the captain and stomped up the wooden ramp to the deck of the cargo ship as if he owned it.

The crew immediately scattered to the edges of the ship. Some pretended to be doing some meaningless task while others just stared at the Fire Lord and cowered in fear. Alexander didn't seem fazed by their reaction. Surely it was exactly what he expected.

Kip followed the Highborn as he made his way across the deck of the massive, triple-masted vessel. Alexander's golden eyes were darting around, scanning each and every crate and barrel in sight. He paused abruptly and addressed Kip for the first time, not bothering to look at him.

"This ship is carrying commodities from the Northern Kingdoms?" he asked.

"Y-yes, milord."

"What do you bring from the Kingdom of Arendelle?"

Kip had to think for a moment, a little surprised. "Barley, wool, some wine, Icebloom…"

Alexander held up a hand, interrupting Kip. "Bring them to me," he said, not specifying what exactly he wanted brought.

Kip chose not to ask, barking at his nearest two crew members to bring all the commodities they could find from Arendelle. They complied, disappearing into the innards of the ship while Alexander simply stood at the side of the ship watching the waves gently roll into the wood of the vessel with a clenched jaw. He looked like he was thinking deeply about something and, to Kip's dismay, he didn't seem pleased about whatever it was.

The few minutes it took for the crew members to return seemed like the longest minutes of the tradesman's life. When they finally did return, they were lugging several crates with them labeled with their respective contents – just like Kip had said, there was barely, wool, and a barrel of wine. The last thing they brought was a large vase filled halfway with water and crammed with a bouquet of beautiful blue flowers. Alexander inspected each thing one by one while Kip watched, his hands awkwardly folded in front of him.

The Highborn plucked one of the flowers from the vase and twirled it by the stem between two fingers. "A pretty flower. What is it called again?"

"I-icebloom, milord. A rather common flower from Arendelle. It is, indeed, quite p-pretty," stammered Kip.

"Icebloom," the dictator repeated, bringing the petals close to his face as if to get a better look.

With no warning, he let out a scoff followed by a round of booming laughter. The noise surprised Kip so much that he actually staggered backwards before he could process what was happening. Some of the crewmembers looked around at each other in downright confusion. The Fire Lord was not only on their ship, but he was holding a tiny flower and cackling like he had just heard a hilarious joke while drunk at a tavern.

Kip didn't know what to do besides force a chuckle himself. Finally, Alexander recovered from his outburst and spoke again. "What, might I ask, do the people of Astor need with flowers? Hm?"

Kip hadn't been expecting the question. He cleared his throat and straightened his back. "Oh, um… decoration, mostly, I'd imagine. Perhaps the petals are ground up to make a blue shade of paint? I admit I don't um… use… Icebloom myself, milord."

"Decoration. Of course. And paint. Quite the useful little plant," Alexander drawled looking at the flower with squinted eyes. Kip couldn't tell if it was sarcasm. Either way, he was utterly confused. What about this silly little flower had the Fire Lord so intrigued?

There was a moment of tense silence as Kip didn't know how to respond. The crew was failing to act normal, most of them watching Alexander from afar or hiding in the lower decks of the ship. None of them were doing any actual work, no longer concerned with getting home at a reasonable hour.

At last, resolution came as Alexander broke from his apparent daydream and placed the flower delicately into its vase atop a crate at his feet and began to walk back across the deck. Kip followed, feeling somewhat relieved but he couldn't help but try to find some answers before Alexander left.

"Is there anything wrong, milord? Anything you… need from us? F-from me?" he asked.

Alexander pulled off his gloves as he made his way to the gangway and disembarked from the ship, standing on the dock once again. Kip remained on the deck, glad to put some distance between him and the dictator.

"Yes, actually, there is one thing I need from you," Alexander said, turning and looking up at the man on the ship.

Kip stood at attention. "Anything, milord."

"When you see the Snow Queen in hell… tell her I say hi."

Kip didn't even have time to react before all he could see was orange and red.

The people of Calidae say you could see the sails of the cargo ship burning from anywhere in the entire city. They burned and burned, well into the night, the orange flames reaching up to the starry sky causing a reflection in the water that seemed to delve down into the depths of the Earth. Some said it looked like Hell had come to take over the harbor that night, and in a way, it had.

Kip Hewart and his crew never made it back to their families that night.

When the ship finally sunk to its everlasting grave, the only remains were the ashes of the innocent men that were killed - and a few petals of the icebloom that had somehow escaped incineration, floating almost gracefully out to sea as if trying to return to their home in Arendelle.

They never quite made it.

In the very heart of the central trade district of Calidae there was a particularly well-kept tavern named the Sundown. Its windows were clean, the front walkway was always swept, and the roof was in better condition than any of the surrounding buildings, making it a noticeably welcoming place to go for a pint or bowl of stew.

The Sundown was appropriately named for its popularity after the last bit of light fell beyond the horizon; once evening came, the bar was the most lively place in the entire city. It was the closest thing to a beacon of hope, a tiny shimmer of happiness in an otherwise solemn town, the one place where people forgot their troubles and enjoyed a glass of good feelings with their fellow man.

Another Saturday night drew to a late close at the Sundown as drunken friends and lovers clung to each other and old, hardened men finished their last shots before heading home to their resentful wives. Last call came and went and the bartender made his rounds before politely herding out the stragglers that clung to the bar like a drowning man to a life-vest.

The owner and primary bartender was a tall, strong-armed and dark-skinned man that towered over most, so it wasn't a difficult task for him. He rarely had to resort to violence to keep the inebriated masses in check. Despite his kind, handsome features, he looked like the kind of man that it would be a mistake to scuffle with and even the most drunk, belligerent fools usually bended to his will when they were asked to leave.

When at last everyone was out the door, only two remained at the Sundown; the bartender and a cloaked, hooded figure perched on the last stool of the bar sitting slumped over and holding a glass of straight whiskey loosely in one hand. This mysterious person had been there for hours now, sitting in contemplative silence and downing glass after glass, muttering only one simple word the entire night.

"Another."

The bartender locked the door and eyed the hooded figure from the side before returning to his place behind the counter. "You know, just because you're a princess, doesn't mean you get to be rude all the time," he said with a slight smirk.

"Don't start with me, Vash," Sophie said, pulling off her hood and discarding the scarf that had been veiling her face. "I can get all the free alcohol I want in the palace, but I choose to spend money here. You can at least pretend to be grateful," she said with a lazy wave of her hand. There was no malice behind her voice, despite the castigation.

"Tell you what, Black Swan – " Vash reached into a cabinet behind him and pulled out a special bottle of bourbon he kept hidden away for special occasions. He brought out two glasses and began filling them both. " - this one's on me."

Sophie accepted the drink and raised it slightly as a "thank you" before downing the entire thing in one go. Vash did the same, although not quite as easily. He realized that Sophie must be fairly drunk at this point.

"What's going on, Sophie? As much as I'd like to believe you came here tonight just to see me, I know that's not the case."

Sophie felt a bit guilty. He was right. "You must've noticed by now…"

"My last shipment of icebloom never came. I'm guessing that has something to do with the giant fire that happened the other night on the harbor, and I'm guessing that had something to do with your uncle."

Sophie was actually impressed with the accurate assessment, although she didn't say so. "Nothing gets past you, does it? I'm not entirely sure what to do. No merchants in their right minds are going back to the Northern Kingdoms any time soon and the Disease is only getting worse."

"Mm. I had a group of teenagers come in yesterday asking for icebloom tea and I had to turn them away. Apparently they were from Mantri, that town all the way near the south border. It broke my heart, but there was nothing I could do. What is your uncle thinking? Doesn't he know that his people are dying?"

"Asking me to explain the actions of my uncle is like asking a beetle why the sky is blue, Vash. That being said, I'm worried about you. My uncle clearly doesn't like the fact that we've been secretly spreading a cure. If he somehow finds out you're involved, your severed head will probably be left by my door one morning. That wouldn't be fun to wake up to."

"Me? You're worried about me?" Vash chuckled, a deep, reverberating noise. "I'm not the one living with that psychopath. Worry about yourself, my lady."

Sophie scowled. She hated when he called her that. "I can't risk it. If I find out the Sundown has been burned to the ground, I'll never forgive myself. Just lay low for a while, will you?"

Vash shook his head stubbornly. "I want to help you, any way I can. I've been with you ever since I came to Astor, ever since I saw you in my bar all those years ago. I'm not going to just turn away. We can find a way to get icebloom, we can find another cure, something."

Sophie hesitated for a moment, staring at her empty glass. "There's something you need to know," she said. Vash didn't like her tone. "Alexander is planning on going to war with Arendelle."

"What!?" Vash stood upright and sprawled his enormous hands out on the counter. "When…how…?"

"It doesn't concern you, but he's has been siphoning money from another kingdom and building up an army for a while now. Arendelle is our enemy and things are going to be worse than ever." Sophie took off her glasses and let her forehead fall into her palm. She rubbed the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration. "Not to mention my brother is gone and… my father has fallen ill."

Vash was left speechless. He didn't need to ask what was wrong with 'King' Harold. Sophie's face said it all. It appeared even royalty was not immune to the reaches of the Disease that had been on the rise in Astor for the last few months.

In just a few sentences, Vash had been given so much information that he couldn't even start to process it all. He suddenly understood where the princess was coming from. Everything seemed to have gone wrong all at once. Utterly unable to comfort Sophie and feeling hopeless himself, Vash poured himself a second drink and tossed it down his throat.

"Wait, what do you mean Aaron's 'gone?'" asked the barkeep.

"Gone. Away. No longer here. Out of the picture."

"Well, where is he?"

"Mmm… probably with the Snow Queen by now. Or dead. He could be dead. I can't say for sure."

Vash didn't bother trying to get more information than that. Without Aaron, everything would be that much harder.

"I need to get back. Please, stay safe Vash," Sophie said as she pulled her disguise back on and stood up. When she reached the door, she felt a hand engulf hers and she froze. Almost any other man would be met with a slap to the face for such a gesture, but Sophie let Vash clasp his hand with hers.

"Do right by your father, Sophie. I'll be right here if you ever need me."

"My hero," Sophie joked. "Just don't do anything stupid, you big oaf. I need you around."

Vash smiled, and then she was gone, melting into the shadows of the sleeping city, letting her buzz calm her as she made her way up the cobbled street towards the home that she hated.

Beggars lined the streets outside the Sundown, weakly holding up their empty bowls and praying that money would somehow find its way into it. Not for the first time, Sophie tossed a gold coin into an old man's hat as she passed by. That would surely feed him for at least a week, or so she hoped. He could only manage a surprised wheeze in response.

Sophie pulled her hood tighter to hide her face, feeling eyes fall on her. God only knows what would happen if someone recognized her on the streets in the middle of the night. She would either be swarmed with admirers or stabbed in the back, neither of which sounded very appealing.

The Sundown often attracted a host of homeless street-wanderers on nights like tonight. Vash had made it somewhat of a tradition to hand out any leftover food from the week that he couldn't sell. It was just another reason the tavern was so popular. Tonight, however, it seems that they were out of luck. Vash never reappeared after Sophie made her exit.

The princess found herself thinking about the first time she had met the barkeep. When she was a teenager, Sophie had made it a habit to disguise herself and sneak off into town and drink at bars just like an average citizen. She rarely spoke to people for fear of revealing herself, but she just enjoyed being around her people. She loved watching them interact, being immersed in the culture of the city, and simply pretending to be normal. Normalcy was something that she didn't get to experience often.

Vash had quickly stood out to the princess. Not because he was the first dark-skinned man she'd ever come across in Astor, although that was certainly a rarity – foreigners weren't exactly lined up at Astor's border trying to get in.

No, the thing that stood out the most to Sophie was his unwavering kindness and concern, even for strangers. He made conversation with anyone and everyone, regardless of age, gender, or status – he simply liked being liked, and that was something Sophie admired.

Eventually she struck up a conversation with him. Vash didn't know who Sophie was at first, of course, but as she learned his story and saw the kind of man he was, one day she decided he was trustworthy, and she outed her identity to him. It was a decision she had never regretted.

Vash had come to Astor from a place far to the south, a place Sophie had never even heard of. Most try to escape Astor, as harsh a Kingdom as it is, but Vash had done the opposite, immigrating to the heart of it with the intention of opening a bar and giving the people here a place that they could come to forget their troubles. Nearly everyone spends their lifetime trying desperately to find happiness for themselves; Vash spent his trying desperately to give happiness to others.

Sophie was grateful to have someone like him around. Not only was he a good friend, but he also served as the princess's eyes on the street. He kept her in the know about what was happening with the commoners of the city – how the economy was, what people needed, what their opinions were about the royal family, that kind of thing. When the Disease struck the kingdom full force, Vash became vital, not only to Sophie, but to everyone on the continent.

Sophie knew that icebloom tea could cure the Disease, but she needed a way to distribute the flower in a way that wouldn't tip off Alexander. As far as he was concerned, the Disease was just another way to oppress his people, and especially considering the flower was unique to Arendelle, the only way to get icebloom tea to commoners was to do it under his nose.

Besides, if he knew a cure existed, he would certainly make sure that it wasn't free. 'Free' wasn't Alexander's style.

So they set up a system. Sophie tweaked the trade-logs and created a timely shipment of icebloom from Arendelle every month. It was supposed to be delivered to floral shops and the like, but instead the entire thing was shipped to the Sundown.

Vash perfected a way to keep a constant supply of icebloom tea and word spread about it being able to cure the Disease. For a while, it worked wonders, and the people of Astor were slowly fighting back against the spread of the deadly plague. Now, though, after Alexander's rather overkill display of disapproval for incoming goods from Arendelle, the chances of the Disease coming back with a vengeance skyrocketed.

Thoughts of her people's future dominated Sophie's head as she approached the palace, letting the shadows engulf her and the silence guide her step. The palace was surrounded by an enormous circular stone wall that stood forty feet wide: the first obstacle.

Sophie snuck past the two guards on duty by the front gate and made her way to the special spot at the wall that opposed her room on the east side of the castle. It was too dark to see all the way over there as there was barely an torchlight from the main path, but Sophie knew the wall like the back of her hand and she felt along the rough surface until her hand found its way to a metal spike buried deep into the stone.

It had taken nearly a year to construct this makeshift ladder without anyone noticing. Sophie and Aaron had taken turns, almost every night, sneaking out here and hammering the spikes into the stone and filling the surrounding hole with packed mud. They kept going higher and higher until finally they were left with a solid ladder formed by the spikes on the east side that could easily be climbed to the top of the wall and back. As far as they knew, nobody had ever noticed it and it was their special way of sneaking in an out of the castle whenever they wanted.

It wasn't that the twins needed to sneak out, exactly. After all, they were the prince and princess and they could go where they pleased, when they pleased. The reason they snuck out was more of a precaution. The guards wouldn't (and couldn't) stop them from exiting the castle, but they might ask where they were going for safety reasons. And the twins left the castle at night a lot, usually garbed in a dark cloak that screamed "I'm up to something." There was always the threat of accidentally getting shot with a crossbow by a guard thinking they were an intruder, but more importantly, they figured eventually a guard might break and tell Alexander which would only raise more hell for them.

So, they snuck. And they were both good at sneaking. And they liked sneaking. Because besides all the practical reasons for doing it, it was simply more fun – and there were few things in this world that Aaron and Sophie Sinclair could do for fun.

Sophie pulled herself up the metal-spike-ladder and hoisted herself onto the wall with the dexterity of a cat, narrowly avoiding a patrolman as he passed by with a lit torch. She crouched low and silently crept to the watchtower with the stairs that led down to the courtyard. A minute later and she was standing on the patch of grass outside the castle where vines crept up the stone wall directly to a cracked window (of course, not coincidentally. She had had that plant grown there specifically years ago).

Another quick climb and she was inside the east hallway where her final destination was: her room.

Feeling accomplished, she turned the corner and nearly screamed when she saw a figure standing by her door. She instinctively jumped back behind the corner, but her stomach flipped when she realized the person in the hallway wasn't a guard at all. It was much worse than that.

He was dressed in a dark blue vest with a golden pin on the right side and a pair of expensive black pants. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and he stood with his arms crossed and one leg up against the wall, waiting. His combed reddish-brown hair and groomed beard were unmistakable.

"What the hell are you doing here, Hans?" Sophie asked.

"Hey, hey, what's with the hostility?" Hans said, unfolding his arms and leaning a shoulder against the wall. "I came to say 'hi' and you were gone. So I waited for you to make sure you were alright."

"How sweet. I don't know whether to laugh or throw up. I'm alright, so… Goodnight," Sophie dead-panned and made an attempt to reach for her doorknob, but Hans stepped in the way.

"Look, it's not my business where you go in your own kingdom at night. I get it. Your uncle might be concerned though. What's with the disguise, anyway?"

Sophie pulled off her hood and scarf and adjusted her glasses so they sat properly on her nose. "It sounds like you're threatening me. That's not a path you want to go down. Why don't you just get back to the Southern Isles where you belong?"

Hans chuckled. "I've got business with your uncle. Get used to it. When you're funding an army for another kingdom, you get certain privileges. And your uncle promises that you and I will be getting along very well once Arendelle is out of the picture."

Sophie shuttered at the implications of that. What exactly had Alexander promised?

"I have enough shit to deal with without you around, Hans. Out of the way."

Hans ignored her and blocked the door with his body again. "You know, I hear your uncle had your brother's leftover things fed to Efreet today. You should see his room, it's completely empty. Where did your dear twin Aaron get off to, anyway?"

"…I don't know where he is. My guess is he wanted to put as much distance between himself and your toxic aura as possible."

"You expect me to believe that?" Hans asked, a little more directly. Sophie was nearly at her wit's end, but she kept her cool.

Hans leaned a little closer, putting his face right up to Sophie's. "I guess we'll find out eventually, my friend," he said. Then he reached his hand out, which was a fatal mistake. Sophie didn't care what he was going to touch but before Hans had raised his wrist even above his belly button, his arm was twisted around his back and his cheek was pressed forcefully against the wall.

Sophie leaned in and barked directly into Hans' ear. "You may be my uncle's little piggybank, but listen well. I am not your slave. I am not your partner. And I am definitely not your friend. So back the hell off or you'll be the next thing that gets fed to Efreet."

She released him and before he could even turn around, she had opened her door and disappeared into the safety of her chambers.

Hans said no words, but the sound of his frustrated fist against the wall as he stomped away was the most satisfying thing Sophie had ever heard in her entire life.

A/N: Well that was an exhausting chapter. Also, finally, HANS! You didn't think I'd leave him out, did you? This is a Frozen fanfic after all, even though sometimes it doesn't feel like it.

Right now, my review count is making me very sad. If you want more timely updates (or updates at all, really) I kind of need to know that people are actually reading this and enjoying it, because it is taking a lot of my time. I can see that it's getting views, but that doesn't tell me much besides the fact that people are opening the link. So yeah, let me know what you think! Thanks all!