Author's Note: There's a bit of an… unsavory fight scene in here. I don't believe that it's warranting an M rating, since the violence is closer to what I've seen in PG-13 movies, but if any of you feel like the rating should be bumped up, please let me know. While I like fight scenes, I'm not known to be incredibly descriptive when it comes to writing them, so I hope this chapter doesn't drive you guys away if it does turn out to be more gruesome than I thought.
Forever the Villain
The weeks passed by without any incident from Hans, and if Kristoff was honest, he would even admit that the criminal under his care wasn't terrible company either. Well, that's mainly because he didn't talk much, but Kristoff was used to having a lack of a human conversationalist, so it was all the same, regardless.
The ice-harvester-turned-parole-officer couldn't help but smile widely at the grateful expression that played out on the prisoner's face when Elsa finally deemed Hans safe enough to be released. The queen and princess were still uneasy about Kristoff's advocation for the prince's release, but at the very least they agreed that the new living arrangement would be better for everyone. The land's threats still weighed heavily over their heads. To say Kristoff was pleased that his plan appeared to be working was an understatement.
It wasn't long before the criminals from the other kingdoms arrived in Arendelle. There was unrest in the kingdom because of this, Kristoff could almost feel it.
Surprisingly enough, Prince Anders stayed in Arendelle for the remaining duration of Hans' incarceration, helping to see that the newly-arrived criminals were properly accommodated for, and "to make sure Hans still wasn't doing anything fishy." Those motives helped to assuage any fears the citizens of Arendelle felt at having the kin of their monarch's would-be assassin stay in the castle.
The older prince later confessed to Kristoff that, while Hans was his little brother, it was hard to overlook the label of criminal that was placed on him. In short, Anders was torn between family and duty. The head of the Southern Isles' police was grateful that the follow-up for Hans' judgment didn't rest on his shoulders, since he felt that he failed in that regard back in his home kingdom.
As a lawman, Prince Anders' duties consisted of catching suspects, collecting evidence, and seeing to people's incarceration, which the man had done as expected; but trying to console him with those facts by one very astute queen had failed.
Also, Anders wasn't used to not being suspicious of Hans' motives. But in the end, the prince was glad to find that there was no feeling of contempt in his youngest brother's motivations and that the fear of having to witness Hans' execution at some point were proven unneeded. As Anders was happy to point out, Hans had a renewed sense of determination, albeit a desperate one. Kristoff was pretty sure Prince Anders' visits to Prince Hans' cell helped to develop that.
It was far better than the wild anxiousness that Kristoff observed before Anders' sudden visit. The younger prince always looked defeated lately, but at the very least, Hans was a lot less dangerous since the fear was now better-tempered.
Prince Anders' advice on how to deal with Hans helped to quell any uncertainty Kristoff felt at his new responsibility. He knew every tic and habit to look out for, every undertone in events that might point to Hans having a role in it. While the advice was useful, Kristoff couldn't help but feel like he was invading Hans' privacy in knowing this, despite Anders' assurances that it was fine and that many people already had such information on file in the Southern Isles since Hans was a convicted criminal.
Of course, knowing that didn't help with feeling intrusive.
In fact, the feeling that he was invading into his charge's personal life prevented him from asking any questions to ease the curiosity he felt about the dynamics between the Westergaard princes. The bubble of the mystery grew in Kristoff's waking thoughts.
It was the day before Anders' departure where Kristoff finally decided for that bubble to burst, else he would lose the opportunity.
"Why did Prince Hans hate you guys so much?" he asked suddenly when he was seated around the queen's dinner table. Anna almost dropped her fork at the question and the queen hesitated to take a bite of her meal. The questioned man sighed and wiped at the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
"It's a long story, one that spans throughout his whole upbringing," Prince Anders said, remorse laced in his words. "I guess I must say that it started when Father showed an extreme dislike towards him when he was a child."
"That doesn't seem fair."
"It wasn't. While all my brothers and I were so different from each other, so unique, Pieter and Hans were the exceptions. Pieter was so much like Mother: sensitive, emotional, protective, as matronly as one could be in the body of a man. Father loved Mother dearly, which is quite obvious considering how many children she bore him, and seeing those traits in such a male-predominant family caught his attentions. Pieter was the favored one since he so much resembled the woman he adored, proud to be the sire to someone who resembled the object of his affections. We all teased him for not being masculine enough, but Father didn't much care.
"With his other children he showed a begrudging sense of duty to be their paternal figure, but he acted like a true father to Pieter. Hans, on the other hand, was every bit Father. He was secretive, precocious, charismatic, severe, and strict. Hyper-critical with a knack for reading people. Even by physical appearances, Hans was essentially the embodiment of the late king in a child's body. My father's legacy in flesh and bone.
"I don't know why, exactly, Father hated Hans so much, but I know that this fact is connected somehow. Even as I am older, I can only speculate that Father feared Hans in a way. And with twelve other sons looking to him for guidance and attention, they emulated the sentiments. Father wasn't cruel, or excessively mean when treating Hans, but it was obvious in the way he spoke to him that the dislike was there. It also didn't help that Father more-or-less turned a blind eye to the mistreatment his twelve sons treated the thirteenth."
"That's…" Anna gasped, her disbelief flickering across her face. "How could anyone do that to their own children?"
"To be honest, I don't know. But I know why Hans hated me for so long. I'm every bit as guilty in this as everyone else in Hans' upbringing."
Kristoff pursed his lips, dreading the continuation of the story. From what it sounded like, none of the princes were without guilt. How sadly unsurprising.
Anders shook his head as if he was warding away dark thoughts before taking a sip from his glass and continuing, confessing in a smaller voice, "I used to beat him when I was approaching adulthood. The frustrations of trying to learn and train in my duties to take up the mantle of being head of police in my kingdom wore on me. I… thought it was okay, since I thought I saw the corruption my baby brother was going to fall into one day. The same corruption I saw in all the guilty criminals that I worked with on a daily basis. I thought was doing him a service by trying to ward away the wrongness I thought I saw in him. I was wrong." Then in a wavering whisper as his gaze went into the distance, "I was so wrong."
Kristoff jolted in his seat when the prince brought down an infuriated fist to pound against the table, jostling the silverware. Elsa and Anna sat still in shock. The air about the room fell a few degrees colder. It seemed Elsa wasn't liking the turn of events.
It was only out of curiosity and an almost-sadistic desire to know the man behind the many masks that was Hans that Kristoff continued to listen with rapt attention.
"The beatings by my hand ceased once I saw the error and irrationality of my ways," Anders said, voice renewed but now with a touch of frustration. "I begged for forgiveness, of course. But he wouldn't hear any of it. So then I just let him be. While he hated me, there at least was a mutual understanding of respect between the two of us, even more so when our interactions turned into a game of cat-and-mouse. There were many instances that I can remember where Hans would try to persuade and manipulate his way with the servants to get out of his duties. It's only now where I realize he did so because he thought his duties were futile. Why learn how to lead if there wasn't a role for him to fill? Anything short of having a kingdom of his own wouldn't fulfill his lofty aspirations. Someone as opportunistic as Father wouldn't settle for less, so why wouldn't Hans? But it doesn't change the fact that I would catch him, every single time, and forced him to constantly face the fact that all the training he was given would likely be a waste."
Anders sighed again and brought his hands to cover his face, a thumb ghosting the seam of a scar on his cheek.
"I was naïve to think that my former brutality with him would fall away to be forgotten in history." His voice was slightly muffled from the covering appendages. "Sadly, a few of the younger ones took up my example and would 'punish' him whenever he so much as seemed that he walked out of line. While it was rarely physical, it was cruel and unfair, nonetheless. Everyone saw him to be a future criminal, as I did.
"I guess the last straw was when three of them denied his existence for two years. The ones closest in age, no less. It was childish of them to do so, and Hans was very much aware of that fact. I guess that he was so used to having so much attention from his siblings, as negative that attention was, he didn't know what to make of it. Hans never did like irrationality and the lack of order, and I believe that's what drove him to genuinely hate Klaus in the end, since he was the most chaotic and irrational. And in turn, he slowly hated the rest of us. I think he essentially disowned his family at that point. In his mind, at least.
"So that's why he holds – held – a grudge against us for so long. We've wronged him. Little by little, we molded him to be the criminal we thought he would be, and ended up being. We wrenched away control over his own life in every way possible. While he isn't completely innocent in the subsequent events of your coronation, Your Majesty, his brothers are just as guilty, if not more."
"I'm… glad you told us this, Prince Anders," Elsa said, her uncovered hands folded on top of the table. Kristoff noticed the air had returned back to it's normal temperature, but the atmosphere about the queen was morose. "You didn't have to."
Anders shook his head vehemently. "No, Your Majesty. I had to. It's the least that I could do. If I can draw more people to the cause of helping Hans with words alone, I will do it. While his family failed him, hopefully strangers will succeed."
"We won't," Kristoff said, braving his voice. "At the very least, I won't. I promise you that, Prince Anders."
The prince directed his gaze to Kristoff, gratefulness and relief molded into the stare.
"Thank you," Anders said with a sad smile.
"Your Majesty!" a panting guard said as he burst through the dining room doors, interrupting the somber mood around the table. "I don't know how, but a group of prisoners escaped the dungeons! They're holding servants hostage! They demand to see you or else blood will be spilled tonight."
At this, the people seated at the table jumped to their feet, following the pleading guard. Elsa waved for a few more guards to accompany them, while Prince Anders' ever-present shadow of a bodyguard trailed behind them.
###
To say that Hans was displeased was an understatement.
He was grateful – ecstatic, even – to know that the queen saw him fit to be released from prison. The servants' wing was much more pleasing to the eye than the dungeons, and the room he was assigned to stay in was much homier than the stone cell he used to occupy. Adjusting to the role of being a servant to Arendelle's royalty went a lot smoother than he had hoped (there was no way he was allowed to just occupy a room in the castle without earning his stay there). Kristoff's hand in all of this didn't go unnoticed by the convict prince, and he felt that he was indebted to his "parole officer" for that.
Ever since the catastrophe his life had become, it was the first time that Hans dared to hope without the fear of it being ripped from him again. And it was blissful. The land that tormented him was also wonderfully absent in its desires for death.
Despite all this, the source – or more like sources – of his displeasure came from the continued wariness the servants of the castle continued to show him. He couldn't really blame them, since they had good reason. He wanted to kill their queen, after all. It didn't change the fact that they were quite obvious in their intense dislike of having him around.
While the servants busied themselves with their responsibilities during the day, Hans could pretend to be ignorant of their mumbling. During dinner time, however, that's where the tension couldn't be avoided.
Tonight's meal wasn't going to be any different.
The food was much better than the meals he had gotten used to while being kept prisoner in the various dungeons he resided in since being sent home to the Southern Isles after his treachery. In fact, the thought of finally having the privilege of enjoying a palatable dish was enough to bring tears to his eyes.
Well, not really, since Hans does not cry. (Except for those few times where he was under great duress. And that single droplet for Anders didn't count.) The fact of the matter was, yes, he was overcome with emotion for the meal. Emotions that he would never let show on his face (in public).
Which brought up the matter that, since his release from the dungeon, he hadn't been able to get more than a few bites of food before retiring for the day. The tension around the servant's table was high enough for him to lose his want for food.
The chains still clinking against his wrists also didn't help with his appetite, either.
Kristoff assured him that the chains were temporary, as long as Hans cooperated and followed whatever orders the queen gave him, as well as whatever responsibilities the steward, Kai, bestowed upon him for the day. The chains would disappear, but the guards would still remain. And even the guards would be assigned to other duties should Hans' good behavior continue, but at a much later point in time.
And of course, Hans made the promise that good behavior would continue from here on out. He was desperate to get what he could out of a grim situation. If only he could convince others that he was genuine in that cause.
Hah, grim. If the pixie knew about his happenstance choice of words to describe his condition, she would delight on hearing him call it "grim."
Sitting across from him as he ate that night was a servant that held most of the irritation that Hans felt for his new living arrangement. One who constantly gabbed and gossiped. And stared.
Stared in abject disapproval.
It wouldn't have bothered him so much if he didn't overhear her blathering on at the dinner table about how inappropriate it was that a prince would share company with a servant. Or that it wasn't polite to wear such filthy gloves to a dinner table. Or how indecent it was that a criminal would be considered equal to morally-good people like her and her fellow servants. "This isn't how things should be."
Of course it wasn't how things should be, but it didn't mean that she had to go ahead and twist the knife deeper by pointing it out all the time.
If it was only gossip, Hans knew he could learn to deal with it. The staring however, reminded him too much of the accusatory stares he used to get from his brothers. It seemed that, no matter where he went, the past was always out to haunt him in one form or another.
But he knew, for his reformation to appear genuine, he had to suffer in silence. Complaining wouldn't gain the respect that he so desperately wanted to gain, the respect that he lost in what felt like an eternity ago.
Hans stood from the table, ready to take the opportunity to escape the disapproving, gossip of a woman sitting before him. He was about to make his exit when he was knocked away by a group of large, burly men barreling their way in the room. There were seven of them, brandishing swords that glistened with already-spilled blood. The four guards posted to watch over Hans left his side to deal with the intruders, drawing their own weapons and calling out in alarm.
The guards were quickly subdued by the seven men, rendering two unconscious and gutting one to bleed out on the floor: outnumbered, and out-trained. They left the remaining guard to summon the queen, to tell her that they've got hostages and that many will die if she doesn't meet with them. That guard hastily scampered out of the door, likely to do what was told.
A few concerned servants rushed to aid the fallen guards, stuffing the wound with a few napkins for the one bleeding. The wounded guard wailed in pain.
Everyone else, Hans included, stood stock-still at the sudden unfolding of events.
"Listen up!" one of the captors called out as his accomplices gathered in a circle around the hostages in the room. "As long as your queen does what we want, none of you will die tonight." He looked to the fallen guard bleeding on the floor. He chuckled. "Most of you, at the very least."
Hans' mind raced with possibilities and observations, trying to make sense of the situation before it got worse.
Their attire suggested that they were prisoners. They likely escaped the dungeon, somehow. Considering that they were organized and their movements planned, they knew each other to an extent, enough to trust one another to carry out whatever hair-brained plan they seemed to have hatched. Given that Queen Elsa mentioned that only high-profile criminals were shipped to Arendelle, these people were likely to be extremely dangerous.
It didn't sit well in the pit of Hans' stomach when he noticed that there was blood dripping from all of their likely-stolen swords. It meant that they showed no remorse, that they had killed in the past, and wouldn't hesitate to do it again.
Hans' observations screeched to a halt when the doors flew open and guards filed in, followed by Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, and Anders with his bodyguard. The escaped convicts each grabbed the nearest servant, holding their blades to their necks and threatening to draw blood. Hans was one of these unlucky captives, since he was so close to the convicts when they entered the dining room.
Anna rushed to the fallen guards, but was held back by Kristoff.
"Help them, or help this poor soul over here," one of the captors taunted, his hostage struggling in his grasp. The servant gasped and stilled when a small rivulet of crimson fell from her neck, eyes widening in fear.
Anna made no more attempts to help the guards on the floor. She looked to the servants who were already attending the fallen with pleading, apologetic eyes.
The queen stepped slowly, ever so carefully into the room. Elsa's gaze scanned the scene helplessly, and gasped when she realized that Hans was one of the few under the threat of a sword.
Why gasp for him? Shouldn't she be more concerned for the servants that were much for loyal to her? She couldn't possibly care more for him than any one of them.
Oh yeah, destruction from the land and pixies over his death. Almost forgot about that.
Also, where in the world did those thoughts that he was an object to the queen's concern come from? He knew he didn't deserve her pity. Such thoughts were irrational and shouldn't have popped out of nowhere.
"Ah, I take it that you're Queen Elsa," the convict holding Hans growled. "How wonderful that you've made it to my party." How coincidental that their ringmaster was the one specifically holding Hans hostage.
"Release all of them, and no one will get hurt," Elsa ordered.
"I should be the one making threats to people's safety, Your Majesty," the man hissed.
"Then what do you want?"
The escaped convict chucked, amusement playing in his tone, "Come here."
Slowly, Elsa inched her way to the man, halting her guards' advances with a straight palm. Her fingers flexed as snowflakes drifted around her. Seeing her display of magic, Hans' captor pressed the sword closer into his neck, biting into his skin. A pinch, and Hans could feel the warmth of his own blood trailing down the front of him. A minor wound, but it drove the point home.
"I wouldn't use any of that sorcery around me, if I were you. Wouldn't want this one to get hurt, no?" the captor taunted. "Or any of the others."
At this, his accomplices crept closer to their leader's position, wrenching their own captives along with them.
A cry, and a thud, and one of the servant's lives that was held at the end of a blade was cut short with a single slice. Another servant, one not in the grasp of a convict, leapt at the criminal responsible for the death, but was cut down with a wound to the chest. There were no further attempts at heroics after the display.
Elsa screamed in shock at the bloodshed, as did Anna and Kristoff, along with a few guards as well.
Hans closed his eyes, willing himself to think of a way out of this. Because that's what he was so good at in the past, right? To get out of situations not to his liking? To twist words and emotions to get people to do what get what he wanted?
He almost wished that his scythe was with him, because then he would at least have some kind of weapon. Almost-a-weapon. The fact of the matter was that the harvesting tool was currently stored in the nearby kitchen. And even if he were to command it to be in his possession, there was no way it would be able to pass through walls.
Wait, could it?
Taking a chance, Hans willed the scythe to come to him, but was rewarded with a loud thump that echoed into the room and the sudden urge to collapse to his knees in pain. He resisted, however, since doing so would drive the sword at his throat ever deeper. He allowed the faintest whimper of discomfort escape him.
Calling the scythe was not the brightest of ideas, but it was worth a shot.
Upon opening his eyes, he saw the slightest hint of amusement gracing Elsa's panicked face. Yup, she definitely knew what he tried to do. Fortunately (or unfortunately?), no one else in the room seemed to react to the sudden sound, so Hans resumed his rumination for a plan.
"Closer, my queen," the ringleader grunted.
Talk, that's what he should do. Words were easy for him to work with. Even if they didn't work, at least it could buy more time.
"How uncreative. Holding hostages? Please. I was able to have the whole kingdom at the palm of my hand with simple deception," Hans taunted.
"Quiet, unless you want to die like the others."
"Oh, you wouldn't dare. I'd be much more valuable to you alive. I'm just like you." Hans lifted his hands to show his captor the shackles enclosing them. "Whatever you're doing, I want in."
"Ah, a manipulator, eh? No need for your lot. I intend for this night to be one this kingdom will never forget. One that sends a message to all monarchies. Words mean nothing if actions would speak in greater volumes."
The maliciousness in the convict's tone sent shivers down Hans' spine. A message to monarchs? What did these people have in mind?
"What do you want with me?" Elsa asked, hesitant to move any closer to the escapee.
"Come closer, and I'll tell you."
"No, I will not."
"Then you risk another life."
Behind Hans, out of view, gasped a servant in terror. Elsa held out a hand, dread and horror twisting her expression. Hans anticipated another scream, another life cut short, but it never came.
Elsa stepped forward reluctantly. The guards in the room crowded to protect their queen, but were halted when the convict that killed the two servants a few moments ago sprung forward and placed his sword at her neck. The convict flashed a crazed smile at the guards, and withdrew the blade when they drew back.
"Now, was that so hard, Your Highness?" the ringmaster laughed.
"What are your demands?"
A guttural roar, and the convict cried, "Long live the Order!"
At this exclamation, the escaped convicts tossed aside their captives and grabbed at the queen. Hans slammed onto the ground, his head ringing when it hit the hard surface.
He looked on in horror at seeing the leader's sword swinging at the queen. A hint of relief dared to worm its way into his chest when Elsa shot an icicle at the weapon, knocking it out of its wielder's grip. The others adjusted their stances, avoiding the whips of magic flying from Elsa's fingers. They were skilled at dodging, but Elsa was fast enough to keep their weapons at bay.
The guards, seeing that the other servants were no longer in immediate danger, rushed in to help their queen. Many weren't able to draw their own weapons before they were cut down by the deft criminals endangering their ruler. Prince Anders drew his own weapon, finally putting his law enforcement training into action.
Hans knew his brother could have acted before all of this turned into chaos, but he knew that Anders wasn't a soldier. The lives of the innocents came before confronting the enemy. That's what Anders was taught to do. Well that, and taking down unruly citizens a few notches. Because of this, Anders wasn't so easily subdued. But the fight wasn't turning to his brother's favor. The criminals were too fast, too coordinated. What was originally an outnumbered match with the guards having the advantage quickly turned to an even bout. The convicts' skill to win uneven matches attested to their ability.
These criminals were trained. Deadly. More dangerous than men who've devoted their lives to protect their monarch from dangerous people, like assassins.
From people like… Hans…
Hmm...
Hans could definitely help in this situation. What better way to mess with orderly criminals than to add another dangerous one into the mix?
He didn't want to admit it, but pulling off the glove that covered his hand felt like he was tearing off a limb with how much he dreaded to do it. But he felt that he needed to catch these people by surprise with something they likely never trained for.
Or anyone, for that matter.
Ignoring the welling anxiousness at feeling the nakedness of his palm, Hans grabbed the ankle of the nearest assailant when the criminal mistakenly drew close enough to where the prince lay. The wailing of agony that erupted from his victim had never sounded so sweet and so very wrong before. Sweet, because it created the intended domino effect of confusion and disorganization in the queen's attackers. But, oh, so wrong at how pleased the screams made Hans feel.
Hans was careful to pull his uncovered hand away and pull the glove over it when the guards subdued the criminals, taking advantage at the escapees' faltering control over the situation. Hans' victim continued to cry in terror and anguish as he writhed on the ground as a guard bound his limbs together.
So this is how a black soul looks like, Hans wondered to himself. I wonder how terrible he must have been to earn that.
The tormented convict's accomplices looked on at their teammate's plight, bewilderment and disbelief contorting their features as a dark, shadowy aura emanated around the tortured form.
"You've been very bad," Hans snarked as he stood up and dusted off his clothes. "It looks like I'm going to have to execute each of you anyway. There's no way you're not getting a guilty sentence after this. I thank each of you for your sacrifice." He saluted them sarcastically.
Elsa shot him an annoyed glare, and he visibly wilted under the gaze.
Yes, taunting the criminals like that was petty and was unbecoming of a reforming criminal. But he needed to say something, or else he would just fall deeper into hysterics over what he just did and endured. If there was a pattern to notice, it was that Hans avoided showing his true feelings whenever possible.
"You did good, Hans. You protected the queen on your own volition," Anders said, clamping a hand down on a shoulder. Hans noted the slight trembling in his brother's grip, but didn't make any indication that he noticed. "You acted like a hero tonight."
Hans looked around at the bodies littered around the room. The wounded guard that watched over Hans earlier appeared to have passed away during the altercation. The servants that perished from the convict's sword were surrounded by other servants and their anguished sobs. The bodies of the guards that died by the malicious criminals trying to protect their queen. Ten lives cut short.
A grim scene, but one that was sharply contrasted by the relieved moods among those that lived.
Anna and Kristoff looked to him in gratefulness, and a few servants graced him with nods of respect and awe that someone of his reputation would dare to act to protect their queen. Elsa smiled in appreciation, her face gentle as she tilted her head in approval, her earlier irritation gone. Even the remaining guards gave him a bow. The gabbing servant that annoyed Hans since working alongside her coworkers didn't stare at him in disapproval anymore.
And he was being called a hero by a brother who once believed him to be a villain.
The admiration that he desired for so long, that he felt that he deserved, and it was finally his. He wanted to bask in its glow, to let its promise of hope and renewal wash over him. It was he vowed to strive for, during his low point in the dungeon. He was desperate for it, but he knew it wasn't meant to be.
The very reason for the criminals being in Arendelle was because of him.
Hans was no hero, tonight. He was just as guilty as the men that caused this chaos to begin with. He was the cause of the bloodshed in the first place.
A hero? No, he was a villain, and forever would be. No matter how much he would try to run from that label, to escape its clutches that haunted his memories growing up, he would forever and ever be considered a monster. If not by his family, or by his former-enemies, then by himself.
"I'm heading to my quarters," Hans said, voice tight and monotone.
He didn't wait to see if guards would follow him. He just needed to get away from the stifling stares that praised his so-called "heroics."
The chains clattered against the floor as they dragged behind him, unattended. He didn't bother stopping by the kitchen to grab his scythe. If his neck wound bothered him, he made no show of it.
The convict's screams echoed after Hans as he made his exit.
Author's Note: So sorry for not updating this sooner! There were so many scrapped scene ideas that I typed out. I'm a bit glad that this one came out of nowhere, since it's definitely aligning better with future events that I've planned out ahead of time. It's not the best one, but it has the most potential that I can work with. Seriously, there are at least four word documents labeled "Chapter 10" on my computer. Hopefully this decision is more to everyone's liking.
I guess I'll just add a little tidbit about where I pulled the names for Hans' brothers from, for those that might be interested. I have this book that I treasure quite extensively called The Complete Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tales and used names that H. C. Andersen used for characters in his works, but using variants of the names in some cases. Please note that I only used names, not reflecting the actual personalities of the characters the names are inspired from.
Pieter — Story: "Peiter, Peter, and Peer"; Character: take your pick, they're each essentially the same name, though the first one is a bit more obvious where I got the spelling XD
Holger (even though he was briefly mentioned) — Story: "Holger Danske"; Character: Holger Danske (Well, duh)
Anders — Story: "Two Brothers"; Character: Anders Sandoe (who was a real person, I should note. One of the Oersted brothers. The other brother was a friend to H. C. Andersen, if my memory serves me right.)
Klaus — Story: "Little Claus and Big Claus"; Character: either of the Claus's
Then there are the ones that are yet to be mentioned: Magnus, Lars, Jakob, Christian, Niels, Rasmus, Elias, and Aleksander. I guess I'll do the "name origin reveal" when they come up in the plot later on, if ever (though I'm not opposed to PMing the list if requested, I'll even add in the context of their ages. I'm trying to keep my author's note relatively short, which is why I'm not putting the full list just yet).
Why did I do this, you ask? Well, my love of H. C. Andersen's stories is a given. And since Frozen is inspired from The Snow Queen, I thought, "Eh? Why not? It's not too out there, right?"
Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! Yeah, I know I'm getting repetitive, but shouldn't repetition actually strengthen a connection instead of driving it away? :P Anyway, thank you guys so much for continuing with me on my weird journey that is my thought-process. I'm quite honestly shocked and humbled that people enjoy the strangeness that I pull from the creepy recesses of my mind.