The following morning found Hans standing in the inner ward of his castle; just outside the keep. He'd requested for his carriage to be there by dawn and the crack of light on the horizon meant that the carriage was late. Hans grumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat. It wasn't surprising, really, as he'd grown accustomed to the incompetence of his servants over the years. The best praise he could give them was that they were the least incompetent of the incompetent. He would have fired them all if there were any better ones on the market.

He scanned the darkness. The courtyard was silent, save for the breeze. The grass was shaded but noticeably well kept, though they crunched when he stepped on them. The hedges that accompanied both sides of the pathway to the gates also looked acceptable despite their pale appearance. He stepped out onto the path, listening for the sounds of the gates opening in the distance. The way the weather was going, the courtyard would be covered in snow by the month's end. A true shame, since his landscapers did their jobs almost as infrequently as pigs sprouted wings and took to the sky.

Frost, especially in the fall, was rare. True winters even more so. The most the South got was a little flurry late in the season. This kind of weather was unheard of. Or at least it was unheard of before Elsa decided to freeze everything. He couldn't help but think that some kind of residue from her magic kept the land cold. He breathed, billows of mist rising from his mouth as if it were smoke from a chimney. The cold would be bad for crops and for workers who earned their wages on the field. If it continued, there would be complaints and he would have to entertain them lest they revolt. Blasted ice witch. He would have entertained the idea of gathering a force of peasants to march against Arendelle were they not useless sacks of meat barely capable of lifting a pitchfork let alone a sword and shield.

He hated the cold. It made everything seem so much more hostile. The air, which was usually gentle and warm, became more bitey, as if it were a swarm of cold-blooded invisible gnats with a vendetta against soft cheeks and good things. It was a blessing that he didn't have to spend the day outside. Still, he had picked his clothing to suit the conditions; black breaches below a white patterned waistcoat and a white kerchief with a black greatcoat on top to combat the morning chill. Despite his many layers, he shivered. He shifted his feet, sweeping aside the thin patina of frost that coated the cobblestone pathway. The wig on his head bobbed up and down as he moved; an actual wig now, rather than the embarrassment from the day before.

Where is that carriage!?

As if on cue, the castle gates opened. By normal standards the word castle would have been a gratuitous choice to describe the place he called home. Hans squinted, spotting the dark lumbering vehicle being pulled by a horse that seemed on the verge of collapse. "What took you so long?" Hans demanded, as the carriage pulled up in front of him. Its contents were hidden by a black veil. Benson's head popped out. He had a bread loaf in his mouth. "What's up bro?" he mumbled, in between bites.

Hans frowned but said nothing. He sat down next to his brother and the carriage shook as it adjusted to their combined weight. "Why are you still here, Benson?" he asked, once he was settled. "I already got the job."

Benson fingered his mustache, grabbing the tip of it in between his thumb and finger. He yanked on it, gently at first. After a moment, he pulled with greater force, coming away with a few strands. Hans stared at the hairs as Benson held them up proudly. He blinked, wondering what the point of it all was. Benson laughed. He flicked the hairs onto Hans coat. Hans yelped and fell out of the carriage. He landed on the grass, the frosted blades tickling his cheek. Benson's laughter boomed throughout the empty courtyard.

"You're ridiculous, brother." he said, in between breaths. Hans picked himself up and climbed back into the carriage. His brother sat there, his lips pinched together. His cheeks grew increasingly red as he struggled to keep the laughter in. Hans punched him.

"I have the room until tomorrow." Benson said in a nasal voice. He pressed the bloody cloth tightly against his nose. "Thought I might as well make the best of it. They serve some nice loaves of bread, eh?" He raised his voice.

"Aye, Prince Benson. The finest." came the reply from the driver.

"I invited him for breakfast before we came here." He said, crossing his legs. "What do you feed these people, Hans? They're half-starved!" I wish that were true, he thought. Then maybe they'd actually do work. "They're fed adequately." Hans said. "I give them full meals along with their normal wages." For what good that does me. The servants were fed and paid according to standard, but their work was not up to par. He wanted to cut their pay but thought that would reflect poorly on him as his reputation was already questionable.

"Why don't you stay in the castle?" Hans asked. Though that was the absolute last thing he wanted his brother to do, courtesy demanded he ask. Who does courtesy think they are, anyways, to be demanding such things? The fact that his own brother didn't stay at his castle, no matter how much their current arrangement pleased him, would make the townspeople think there was some bad blood between them. There may well be bad blood between them - and actual blood too, given that bloody nose, but he'd rather not have the peasants be privy to the knowledge.

Benson replied with a shrug. "You'd hate the noise."

Hans raised his brow. "Noise?" he asked, though Benson's sly grin made him immediately regret it. "My lady friend likes it loud." he said, with a wink. Hans almost vomited. Such images killed people, and it was only by the mental fortitude that he had built up over extended exposure to Benson that he was able to survive. How any person, let alone a woman with any degree of class and dignity, could tolerate Benson to the point of sleeping with him was a miracle. In the past, he tried to imagine that whenever the man mentioned a female what he meant was a female bear, but that did not do much to improve visualizations.

The sad part was that if he were to rate the women brought home by each of his older brothers, Benson's past girlfriends would top the list. He wondered where he would rank if he'd married Anna as he had planned. He may not have loved her, but a decade ago, she would've been the perfect girl for him. Now she was just a singing floating head that haunted his nightmares. At least she's a pretty floating head, he thought, sighing. After an extended pause, the carriage finally started to move.

"So, first day on the job…" started Benson, wisely changing the subject. "Did Mr. Rainbow tell you what you'd be doing?"

"No." Hans said, cracking the veil open with his fingers. They passed the gate and were on their way to the village. The carriage creaked with each rotation of the wheel."He kinda just left me there after hiring me."

"Hm. A surprise, then. Lovely!" A couple crunches and Benson had devoured another loaf of bread. "You know, brother. I love what you've done with your hair."

Hans imagined lava shooting out of his eyes as he glared at the man and his breadcrumb covered mustache. Benson raised his palms innocently. "Thanks." he said, begrudgingly. The wig he had chosen actually looked a lot like his normal hair, only black instead of brown. It clashed awfully with his sideburns, but he still wasn't sure what he could do about that; all he knew was that there was no way he was cutting off perfection.

Benson smiled at him, which seemed unlike his usual smiles in a way Hans couldn't explain. The man reached into the folds of his coat and retrieved a letter. He tossed it onto Hans' lap. "It's an invitation." Benson said, as Hans pulled it out of its sheath. "A great feast. All the royal families are invited! Er… most of them, I guess."

Hans unfolded the paper, which was of a longer length than he was accustomed to. It was from the King of Ives, the central country of the continent. It was indeed an invitation to a feast and listed all of the royal families that were invited. He scanned the letter's contents quickly. The king's eldest daughter was to be married, finally, after years of failed attempts trying to get rid of her. Hans had met her himself. Horrible woman. That someone willingly agreed to to marry her was a miracle in itself. Hans agreed that it was worth rejoicing. "And we're all invited?" He asked, returning the letter to the envelope. Benson nodded.

"An actual feast." Hans found himself feeling excited about something for the first time in forever. Blasted song. Hans paused. "Is…?"

Benson, laughed. "Yep, them too." Hans dropped the envelope and slumped in his seat. The feast was dated several months later, so he'd still have time to make his decision. But still… You always have to ruin everything, don't you, Anna? He leaned against the backrest with his shoulder, silent the rest of the way.

The carriage pulled into the theatre lot after a half-hour's ride. Hans bade his brother and the driver farewell and walked up to the door. It was his first day on the job. He pushed the door open and walked in, officially beginning his newest journey. Prince Hans, stagehand, and future king of the performing arts had finally arrived.