Chapter 19:

The Trial - Part I

Drip. Drip. Drop. Drip.

Hans stared at the ceiling of his tiny cell, the one he'd been in more times that he would care to admit. The cell was felt smaller than the last time he had been in it, but he figured that was due in part to the shackles around his wrists, fastened to a chain that only had a few feet of give on them from the wall. He had only enough slack to lay on his cot; he couldn't even reach the bars of his cell. The wooden cot was all but comfortable, the tiny pillow allotted to him might as well have been non-existent, and the dungeon was well below freezing at this time of year. All those things didn't matter to him, though. He could endure those things and more if he had to.

Because she said she loved me.

He'd hoped that had been the case the whole time, deep down. He'd thought he'd seen it in her eyes a few times, in the way that she smiled at him. The way that she had snuck into his room or held onto his hand, in a way he always knew she was his. But the words, actually uttered out in the open? In front of her less-than-thrilled sister?

And although he knew that her declaration should have made him happy beyond measure, nothing could ease the throbbing, aching, longing in his chest that just confirmed what he'd already known: He loved her, too. And yet, he couldn't have her.

Especially now.

He recounted the moment over and over again, her hurling herself onto him, begging him to make a run for it with her. The desperation in her eyes seemed no less dire as the time she'd thrown herself at him in the Library, begging for him to save his life. It was as though this time her life was in danger of something else, but still as terrifying to her: perhaps a life without him?

They could've ran, too.

They could have taken a side door to the underground tunnel, packed a satchel and took off. He could have taken Marguerite up on her offer, led a secret and humble life in Corona. He pictured it for just a moment; a farm, horses…Anna could sell flowers in the marketplace and he could have taught riding lessons and worked the farm…he knew nothing about that kind of thing, but he figured he could learn. They could have laughed by the fireside every night, had a couple children, (preferably a girl or two, he thought to himself, because he would be more than happy to have a thousand little Annas around him to love and protect). They could have grown old and died in one another's arms, like he'd read in romantic novellas.

But it was all gone before it had even really started.

And now, with no promise of any titles or crowns, he knew for sure that he loved her. And he reckoned he always had. It had been dormant for a while, but it had always been there.

He exhaled slowly, emptying his lungs, hoping to alleviate the pressure in his tightened chest. He closed his eyes and wondered what was in store for him, the trial looming just hours away. He hoped Anna was alright; she'd been so heartbroken as the guards seized him and carted him off to the dungeon; he knew her weakened heart couldn't take much more turmoil.

He couldn't get the hate-filled look in Elsa's eyes out of his head, the way she looked at him with such disdain. Not that he didn't understand why she felt that way, but he realized he'd become a spitting image of his naïve lover for just entertaining the idea that Elsa could even possibly change her mind about him. He knew for a fact that when she spoke at his trail, she would seal his fate.

And, without a second thought, Hans wished for death.

He knew what the mines would be like; hours upon hours of hard labor, only to return to a labor yard for a few cold hours of sleep before returning again. And while he could take his punishment, he could take the cold, long hours and the hard work, the loneliness and the poor rations…he couldn't take knowing that he would never see Anna's face again. To him at that moment, that sentence seemed worse than death.

"I am leaning towards steak," he heard a familiar voice croak from across the way. He grunted, pulling his pillow over his face to try to shut it out. "Maybe potatoes." It was no use, he could still hear the old man clearly. He pulled the pillow down, peering out towards Lars, who was leaning against the bars of his own cell, staring at Hans from afar with his trademark, sinister grin.

"What are you babbling about now?" Hans groaned, sitting up and propping himself up with his elbow.

"Why, for your final meal," Lars said nonchalantly, as if it were the most mundane subject matter. Hans clenched his jaw, the irritation building quickly. It was Lars that got him into this mess in the first place, and he was literally the last person he wanted to converse with. "Let me guess…you seem like more of a seafood man to me," Lars continued, tauntingly.

"I haven't thought about it," Hans snapped, annoyed.

"Well, you'd better think about it," Lars said, his eyes dark. "The clock is ticking, after all." Hans stood, nearing the bars before his chains grew taut, keeping the prince from getting any closer.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he stared though his metal bars at Lars. "Why'd you convince me to take over Arendelle, what was in it for you?" Hans was taken aback as Lars began to laugh. It was a low, hearty chuckle at first, before growing into a maniacal, full-fledge cackle. "What is so funny?" Hans yelled over the noise.

"QUIET DOWN, OVER THERE!" a phantom voice from a guard bellowed down the hallway. Lars' laughter tapered off into a hacking cough, before finally he became silent, staring at Hans intensely.

"I asked you a question," Hans glowered. "Several, actually."

"You of all people should know what the rush of what being all-powerful feels like," he answered, cryptically. Hans' eyes burned, his throat felt like it was all on fire.

"For nothing. You did this all for nothing," Hans whispered to himself.

"For the challenge. To see if I could. I have to say, Hans, you made it far easier than even I had given you credit for."

"You destroyed my life for nothing!" Hans screamed at Lars, his face red, his stomach in knots. "Don't you get it? I was getting out! I was going to live a happy life and you ruined it!"

"No, Hans. You ruined it. I just gave you the tools."

"You're a sociopath," Hans spat.

"And you're weak," Lars hissed. "No matter. We will have forever to hash this out when we're buried side by side in shallow, unmarked graves," he laughed, morbidly. Hans went to open his mouth, to rip into the horrible old man, but was cut off by the sounds of voices down the hallway.

"Hey, you guys can't come down here," he heard a guard say.

"I am a Prince, I can do as I please," he heard a familiar voice respond, haughtily.

"King Elias commands-"

"I command you to let us through at once, or you'll have to answer to someone much more important than our King, and that is our Lord." Hans felt his lips curl into a small grin at hearing his brother manipulate the guard with his hellfire and brimstone-filled threats, and in a matter of seconds he heard footsteps navigating and echoing off the walls of the dungeon.

As Hans stared down the hallway of his cellblock, he saw Edvard run past in his usual cloak with his rosaries jingling around his neck.

"Edvard!" Hans called out. Soon he saw his brother backtrack, his eyes searching for Hans' cell.

"He's over here," Edvard bellowed over his shoulder to someone, before running down to Hans' cell, quite out of breath. "Brother," he greeted through staggered breathing.

"I've never been happier to see you. What-" Hans stopped, when he saw a cloaked figure approaching behind Edvard.

"I brought you something," Edvard smiled warmly. Hans watched as the cloaked figure pulled down the hood, coming face to face with a pale but beaming Princess Anna. "Well, someone," he corrected.

"Anna!" Hans gasped, trying to near the bars but once again being held back by the metal, rusted chains. Anna threw herself into the bars, reaching her arm in as far as she could to try to touch him, but to no avail. He studied her weakened state; she looked worse than before. "Wh-what are you doing here? You should be in bed!"

"I know, but… I just had to see you," she breathed, her eyes misty. "We were just lucky Edvard agreed to help us." Hans looked to Edvard, grinning from ear to ear beside them.

"She is one very determined young lady," Edvard admired.

"So I've realized," Hans agreed, chuckling under his breath, glancing back at Anna's face. "Anna, I am so sorry-"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Hans. I never should have forced you out of the ball, I never should have ran off from Elsa-" she began to babble. Hans looked down at his chains, wishing more than anything he could just touch her soft face. Edvard eyed the tragic couple, sadly.

"Guard!" Edvard yelled back down towards the hallway. Rounding the corner, a royal guard appeared, presumably the same one they'd just spoken to just moments ago.

"What's going on down there," he yelled out harshly, nearing the cell.

"I demand you open this cell," Edvard said, trying to make his usually soft-spoken voice seem demanding. The guard hesitated, eyeing them all tentatively.

"Look, I'm already going to get in enough trouble as it-"

"Please," Anna begged, her voice cracking, her arm still extending into the cell. "It will only be a minute," she promised. The guard stared at them a moment longer, his stern face softening a bit before he sighed, wordlessly pulled out his keys and slid one into the lock of the cell.

"You have one minute," he said finally. Anna backed up and watched impatiently as the guard cranked the door open. "And the shackles stay on," he added. Anna ran to Hans, throwing her arms around his neck and planting kisses on his face, eagerly. Hans laughed, taking a step back to allow just enough give in the chains to wrap his arms around the overexcited princess. He held her to his chest tightly, closing his eyes and taking in her scent, her warmth.

"I didn't think I'd get to hold you again," he said quietly into her ear as he held her close, then burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"I know, me either," she whispered back. She pulled away, rubbing her hand along his cheek, staring deeply into his eyes. "I-I promise, I will defend you tomorrow. I will do anything I can to keep them from sending you away…or…" she paused, choking down a sob. She couldn't bring herself to even say the alternative out loud.

"Thank you," he whispered, "but you and I both know it's not up to you. Whatever happens tomorrow…it won't be your fault," he assured, pulling her back in and pressing kissing her lips softly, his heart full yet aching all at the same time. "Did you mean it?" he asked, shyly, trying to keep a large grin from his lips. "Did you mean what you said to Elsa?" She thought for a moment, looking up at him through big eyes and long eyelashes.

"That…That I love you?" she asked. Hans nodded solemnly. He knew she'd meant it, but he wanted to hear it again more than anything. She nodded, sheepishly, her cheeks pinkening. "I don't think I ever stopped," she replied.

"I love you too, you know," he said lowly, his fingers lacing with hers. She smirked.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that," she giggled, giddily.

"Alright, that's enough. Time's up," the guard warned, beginning to pull Anna away from Hans' grasp. She reached for him, narrowly placing one last kiss upon his lips, before she was standing once again on the other side of the bars.

"I-I'll see you soon," she shouted through the bars, trying her best to keep herself from breaking into full sobs. Hans stared at her from the cell, his heart heavy, but his face forcing a smile.

"Just get better soon," he replied, as the guard ushered her and his brother away.

Anna entered her bedroom chamber, wiping away the millionth tear she'd shed in the few minutes it'd taken her to walk from the dungeon to the old wing of the castle. Her eyes were red and swollen, her cheeks raw. She was so thankful she'd gotten one last stolen moment with Hans before the trial, given the fact that she was uncertain she would get another before his sentencing took affect.

She weakly reached for her doorknob, pushing her bedroom door open and walking inside, unbuttoning her cloak and tossing it aside in a nearby sitting chair. She looked up, startled to see Kristoff sitting in a chair beside her bed, his face melancholy, his shoulders slumped.

"Oh," she said, clearly caught off guard. "Hi. Wh-what are you doing here?" she asked, nervously folding her arms around herself, unable to let her eyes meet his. He took in a deep breath; she noticed him timidly wringing his hat in his hands. He shrugged a bit, glancing up at her.

"I came to check on you…see if you were feeling alright," he said stoically. She shifted her weight from one leg to another, writhing under his stare.

"Oh…Thank you. I was just…I was just um…" she stammered, trying to find the right words. He stood, nearing her slowly. She felt herself cower a bit at his presence, the guilt stabbing her like a million knives. He approached her, placing his hand under her chin and forcing her gaze to meet his.

"I think I know where you were," he said. "So you don't have to come up with an excuse," he said quietly. He somberly turned from her, leaning against the window with his back towards her, watching the snow fall and leaving her frozen, her stomach tight.

"You…you do?"

"I'm not an idiot," he snapped at her. She jumped a bit at the chill in his voice, although she was aware she deserved it. She'd never heard him take this tone with her, with anyone. She felt her eyes begin to well with tears once more; she felt awful. The silence was deafening.

"S-say something," she plead, her voice shaky.

"Do you remember the night we met?" he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder. She relaxed a bit with his softer tone.

"Of course," she whispered.

"Do you remember telling me about Hans?"

"You said I was crazy for agreeing to marry a man I just met," she recalled. He turned towards her, his face like stone.

"You showed more passion…more love describing him to me than you ever did towards me. I never really said anything to you about it. Maybe I should have. I remember thinking," he paused, chuckling a bit to keep from wanting to cry. "I remember thinking I hope someone loves me like that one day."

"Kristoff-" Anna cried, the tears beginning to freely fall. He wiped an escaped tear away quickly, as to not let it expose his weakness.

"And I thought you could. I really did. I waited for it. I hoped for it. But…" he stopped, shaking his head without completing his thought aloud. His gaze darkened, his face twisting into a frown. "And then I heard you tell Elsa you love him last night." Anna bowed her head, ashamed, her heart more broken than she ever imagined. She loved Kristoff. She did! But he was right. It wasn't the same. And as much as she wanted it to be, she knew it never would be.

"Kristoff, I am so, so sorry," she wept. He neared her once, placing his hand against her cheek, trying to subdue the blatant sadness in his eyes. He was unsuccessful.

"I know you are," he said quietly, sincerely. "You know, I always knew if I was lucky enough to have you, I'd always be second best… in a way, I was always kind of at peace with that. And I guess…I still am." he admitted. She glanced up at him through wet, weepy eyes.

"What?"

"I can be good for you, Anna. Not like him. You know that after tomorrow you'll never see him again, in one way or another. But…I can still be the one you need. I am willing to do that. I love you," he said. "And I know you love me…in your own way. It might not be the passionate, infatuated way you love him, but I know you love me. And I'm willing to go on knowing that you will always have a part of you that wishes that I were him."

"No, Kristoff," Anna said, her brows pulled together in a frown. "That's not fair to you."

"Is any of this, really?" he asked. She didn't answer. "But…if you defend him tomorrow? I can't," he said strongly. "I won't." He turned, walking towards her bedroom door. He placed his hand on the doorknob, glancing back at her one last time. "If you protect that criminal, I am done."

The courtroom was relatively empty, aside from a judge, some witnesses that Hans recognized from Elsa's Coronation and his brothers. Of course they were there to watch his shameful end; how else would it have ended if not in front of the cruel eyes of his own kin?

He stood, somberly, in his Admiral's jacket in the front of the room, watching on sadly as an increasingly weak Anna was walked in between Margeurite and Edvard. It warmed his heart to know that the two people who'd been by his side most the last few months were there for the woman he loved, especially since he could not be.

Elsa was in attendance as well, front row to be exact. Edvard led Anna to a seat beside the Ice Queen. The two shared a brief glance, but seemed to still be on the outs. He sighed, knowing from the look in Elsa's eye that she hadn't softened one bit, and he dreaded the fatal moment when she would take the stand.

A thick, portly lawyer stood on behalf of the prosecution. Hans immediately recognized him as Orville Steinham, the same lawyer his father had entrusted numerous times in his day. He reached down and shuffled his papers, adjusting the golden-framed spectacles on his large, bulbous nose. He cleared his throat, the room growing silent. He glanced up at judge Bjerrum, an equally stout man with a face that seemed intolerant of any shenanigans. Hans gulped, his hands shaking under his white gloves.

"First. That on 13 August, 1848, in the Kingdom of Arendelle, the defendant assembled together with Lars Dupont and conspired to take over the throne of Arendelle," he read. He glanced at Hans, then back to his scroll. "Second. That at the same time and place, the said Hans Westergaard conspired through force and intimidation to unlawfully overthrow the Queen of Arendelle by fraudulent claims against the queen, as advised by said Lars Dupont." Hans bowed his head as he listened to the charges, his pulse racing. "Third. That in further execution of his wicked design, the defendant, by means of intimidation and violence, attempted to execute the Queen of Arendelle under false pretenses. Fourth. That the Defendant in pursuance of his traitorous combination and conspiracy, the defendants failed to represent the Southern Isles in a favorable manner, thusly severing crucial trade ties and breaching the peace treaty between the neighboring kingdoms, affective 1798..."

Orville continued to list the charges as Hans wavered in and out of coherent thoughts.

"The sentence for high treason is death," Orville finally said, wrapping up his opening arguments. Hans was still in shock that the trail had arrived so quickly, let alone that it would be over so soon. It was his trial and his alone, Lars' would come later. He watched on as Lars was the first to take the stand as a witness against him, finally shaven as opposed to his offensively shaggy beard he'd been sporting since his capture.

"Lars Dupont, please state your position to the court."

"Chief Advisor to the Crown of the Southern Isles."

"And how long have you been in said position?"

"Over thirty years," Lars said, calm, cool and collected under the scrutiny. Hans could hardly imagine how he was keeping so composed, considering the fact that Orville had just blatantly stated that the sentence for high treason was death.

"Can you tell us about the events in Arendelle, starting from the beginning?" Orville asked. Lars nodded, leaning forward in his chair.

"Certainly," he cooed, politely. "Prince Hans and I arrived in Arendelle 11 August to attend Queen Elsa's coronation, Hans had been instructed to court and marry the Queen by his father, the late King Elias II. However, it was clear by that evening that she was not of this world." Hans glanced towards Elsa, watching her flinch at Lars' mention of her powers.

"Can you explain?"

"She promptly froze her entire kingdom with her cryokenetic…capabilities."

"And what does that mean?"

"Ice!" he shouted, impatiently. He paused, rubbing his temple with his fingers. "She can manipulate and manifest ice. She became upset at Master Westergaard's brash engagement to her younger sister, Princess Anna, and she froze everything, setting off a seemingly-eternal winter."

"Did you and Master Westergaard have plans prior to the ice incident for usurping the throne?"

"It is not uncommon for marriages of convenience to take place, especially ones that would benefit both kingdoms in question," Lars reasoned, waving his hand dismissingly.

"So, Hans had orders from his kingdom to court the Queen of Arendelle?"

"He did. But like a young, naïve fool, he failed, finding himself engaged to the Princess instead."

"So, you two altered your plan, deciding to get the Queen out of the way instead? That way Hans would still have been able to take over rulership?"

"If you want to put it that way, then yes. We saw it as our duty. The Queen was killing her own people, and we saw it as Hans' civic duty to end the winter and save Arendelle from the clutches of the mad Queen," Lars divulged. The room grew cold as Elsa glowered in her seat.

"I give the floor to the defense," Orville stated, sitting back down on the other side of the courtroom. Hans' lawyer, a tall, thin man he'd only met once in his life that went by the name of Rassmussen stood, shooting a worried look at Hans, but trudging forward towards Lars on the stand.

"You are also awaiting trial, is that correct?" Rasmussen asked. Lars nodded, wordlessly. "And what are your charges?"

"The same as Prince Hans'."

"Master Dupont…Can you tell the court what important, political change took place in The Southern Isles just prior to the coronation?" Rassmussen asked, picking up a document off of his table and bringing it towards Lars. He eyed it from his chair, hesitantly. He cleared his throat.

"The Southern Isles became a ceremonial monarchy," he mumbled.

"And what does that mean?" Orville asked.

"It means…the King no longer holds any real power over the Southern Isles."

"Right. And as the late King Elias II's political advisor, you were more than well aware of such a shift in the government, were you not?"

"I was," Lars said through gritted teeth. Rassmussen grinned, turning towards the judge, then the witnesses in attendance.

"Master Dupont even said so himself: he'd been the king's most trusted, political advisor for over 30 years. What would a man, a man well known for being able to turn the king's head any way he chooses, do if that power suddenly came to an end? Would he not seek other means to gain some kind of control? And what better way than to encourage a young, inexperienced Prince to take the throne of a neighboring kingdom that doesn't have the same governing restrictions as the Southern Isles?"

"I assure you-' Lars tried to interject, his face beginning to show more panic than before.

"Did you or did you not advise the defendant to kill the Queen?"

"Yes but-"

"And as his superior in matters of the crown, did he not have reason to trust your judgment?" The tall, balding lawyer asked. Lars swallowed, hard. Hans sat back, smiling wryly to himself as he realized just how fantastically wonderful his lawyer was doing.

"Well yes, but-"

"No further questions," Rasmussen said, walking back towards the table and having a seat next to Hans. Hans exhaled, as the judge dismissed a confused and dismayed Lars.

"We would like to call Princess Anna of Arendelle to the stand."

To Be Continued…

A/N

I had to do a bit of research on this chapter. Fun fact!: Arendelle is presumed to be the Norway. That said, geographically speaking, The Southern Isles is thought to be Denmark. (Which means my story including the voyage from The Southern Isles to Arendelle taking 4 weeks means that they possessed the SLOWEST SHIPS IN THE WORLD hahaha!)

Anyways, in other research I did, it is hypothesized that the year that Frozen would have taken place (due to architecture and clothing styles) dates around the late 1840s.

Still there? Stay with me.

Denmark became a Ceremonial Monarchy in the year 1848, meaning that the Southern Isles would have been going through a HUGE power struggle, leaving King Elias with little to NO power whatsover at the time of Frozen. Lars' motive practically wrote itself. 3 He couldn't manipulate Elias III the way he had grown accustomed. Arendelle (AKA Norway) however, still left executive monarchy to their King or Queen, as it still is today, meaning that Lars would have had more to gain manipulating Hans as a King of Arendelle than he would Elias as a king of the Southern Isles. (*drops mic.)

Anyways, I started the trial thinking I could fit it all into one chapter and…Nope. There is too much to write. I should have the next installment up in the next day or two.

Leave me some lovin'?

Or whatever.

XOXO