My goal is to shorten this chapter up a bit, but we'll see how that goes. Thanks for reading! I love you all.

Hans was awoken in the morning by a shift on the small mattress of his lavish bed and the removal of the smothering yet comforting warmth that had managed to lull him to sleep the previous night. He rolled into the spot where the missing form had laid. Where Kristoff had been.

"Where'd you go, you big oaf..?" He asked in a little mumble, not yet opening eyes. A sudden fear settled into him. What if the harvester was already gone? What if he didn't see him again for a very long time? All of this worry made the prince chill slightly. He sat up and opened his eyes finally. He sighed with relief when he saw Kristoff pulling his pants back on on the edge of his bed.

"Why didn't you answer me? Don't you think that I at least deserve to be talked to? I am a prince you know…." He asked. Kristoff chuckled at the other's rambling, finding he was rather cute when he became frustrated with him. He really wasn't one to talk much. The blond turned around from his place and hugged the younger, wrapping him up in his big, strong arms. This did earn a little laugh and a tight hug back from Hans, who upon realizing that they were quite close, turned a brilliant shade of scarlet.

Their eyes met in this moment and Kristoff caught himself leaning in closer to the other. Closer. Closer. The prince was too shocked to do anything. His mind was still trying to process exactly what the other intended to do. He had a good idea, but he wanted to verify it as the truth. He leaned his neck forward ever so slightly and connected them in a kiss he had longed to share for quite sometime. This caught the blond off guard and he too became quite flushed. Usually Hans would find the weight of the other suffocating, but in this moment he wanted to feel Kristoff against his smaller form. His whole body felt as if it were on fire, but the heat wasn't overbearing. It was an enticing, pleasing type of heat that he only wanted more of. The prince's delicate fingers dug pressed into the back of the harvester's broad shoulders. It was soon though that Kristoff removed himself from the younger, sitting up about as quickly. He had heard something that the other hadn't. The sound of the bedroom door opening. There was a panicked look painted across the face of the harvester and this perplexed the young prince. He hadn't heard the heavy knock on the door, the calling of his name, or the opening of his door. What he did hear, however, was the sound of his brothers voice.

"Get off of my brother, you fiend!" Damian commanded. He was Hans' seventh oldest brother, and was about seven years older. The prince himself trembled and backed up against his wall as Kristoff scrambled off of the bed and worked his way past the oldest male in the room who stood by the door. The youngest was about to tell the blond to wait or to stop, but he couldn't really find the words to do so in time. Hans really didn't know what to do or what to say at the moment. His eyes began to burn as tears rolled over his freckled cheeks. He threw himself down against his mattress.

"Hans… I should've known that you weren't into girls when you rejected some of the most beautiful princess' the Southern Isles has ever seen… But a filthy, uneducated ice harvester? You're so naive. You don't have the slightest idea about why he even talks to you… It's all about the money and the power that comes with a prince. That's all he wants from you. That boy would steal everything from you. He's probably already stolen since you've allowed that idiot into the house." Damien spat, his tone pointed as he spoke to his younger brother who shook his head in response to all of the other's horrible accusations.

"You're wrong!"

"Am I really? Am I not your older brother with more experience and knowledge? I demand that you break it off with that commoner, or I'll have his head…" The younger simply nodded in response to the words of his fuming elder brother. Hans put on his shoes and a light jacket before he slumped down each of the stairs that lead down to the door. He figured Kristoff was still there with Sven, working on getting ready to leave. This was what the prince knew he had to do.

"Get the hell away from my house, you idiot! I don't want to see you around here anymore. I'm never going to speak with you ever again. So…. leave!" Hans went off, showing some anger as he talked. The anger wasn't real, and he hated to do this to the other. The harvester took a step back and gripped Sven's reigns. He seemed really hurt at the moment and it appeared that the reindeer could sense this. He slung his bag over his shoulder, giving a huff. Then there was a loud metallic clank against the cobblestone of the patio area. The prince's eyes widened as he stared down at the object that had caused the noise. It was one of the silver silver pitchers that he had brought up to the room that night. Hans had a hard time believing what he saw before him. The object had been in his family for years. It had been created by an old man in the cold mountains of the region. He felt something shake him as he fell to his knees. He had put on this facade that he was an angry person, but now his appearance reflected the way he felt inside. The prince felt betrayed and mislead. He had known Kristoff for such a long time, it was almost impossible to fathom that the other would ever be anything other than trustworthy. Almost.

The harvester didn't know what to say either so he left with his reindeer, who was noticeably upset as well. He had no idea how that pitcher ended up inside of his bag. He had kept his bag out with Sven, but that wasn't even his main focus at the time. Hans had been the first person he had allowed in. The first person who he had allowed himself to trust. He felt something for the prince that he had never felt for anyone. Kristoff felt beyond hurt. Although Hans was a prince he had always felt that they both held a lot of respect for eachother. He had felt like the other needed him. The boy refused to cry. He would never return to that palace, even if it would have a big affect on his business.

Hans walked back into his house, the little pitcher still in hand. He angrily tossed it on the stone floor, creating a loud banging sound that could likely be heard on the second story. He leaned against the wall, the only noises now were the sounds of the sobs that rocked his body and the light ticking of the clock that hung above his head. Kristoff was the first person that had ever cared for him or at least pretended to care about him. The prince had spent his entire life waiting for someone to love him. Earlier in the day was the first time in a while that anyone, aside from a servant, had stepped into his room. Everyone had always tried to make as little contact with Hans as possible unless they were having some party to find a princess for him to marry. He heard the light clunking of ridingboots against the the stone floor.

"See? I told you that this was going to happen. You just have to understand that nobody is going to love you for any reason whatsoever. Love won't exist for you because you don't deserve it." Damien told him, poison oozing from hsi voice as each word burned his younger brother.