Chapter Three
"It's time."
Prince Hans felt his stomach tie itself into knots. He wanted to scream, to run, to fight, to do anything that a man might do to feel strong. Instead, he nodded, and meekly followed the guards out of his bedroom. He felt ludicrous in his royal clothing, so cleaned and dressed up only to be brought low before the entire kingdom.
King Adam had gone nearly as pale as Prince Edvard when he had been given an account of his son's crimes. Hans had lost all of his defiance in the royal court that day, as the eyes of his entire family watched him confess. He had managed to keep his voice steady and his head held high while he did it, but his knees had felt ready to collapse. He did not feel like a man returning from a failed conquest, but a naughty boy presented for punishment.
Now he was on his way to the first part of that punishment. He was marched under guard down to the royal court, which was open to the kingdom today. At the back of the immense hall, every dirty sort of peasant was crowded inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of the prince's disgrace. He hated them, hated them almost as much as the highborn lords and ladies that had gathered in the boxes above the court to point and laugh and stare at the spectacle. Hans walked with his head held up, though he was shaking on the inside. He could feel all their eyes on him, crawling over him in anticipation.
He passed Prince Edvard. Damn him! Must Arendelle be here to witness his shame as well? Edvard still had that sorrowful, sympathetic look in his disturbing eyes, and it nearly broke Hans. It was all he could do to walk past him without turning and attempting to tear him apart with his bare hands.
King Adam and Queen Evelina were in their respective thrones. His twelve brothers were present, six on each side of the thrones. A wooden frame had been set at the fot of the dais where the thrones sat. Hans felt a lump form in his throat at the sight of it.
It had been agreed that the kingdom should not be made aware of the extent of their prince's actions against Arendelle, lest anyone unreasonably excitable decide to support Hans and spread anti-Arendelle sentiment. The punishment was announced in detail, though its cause was described only as "the prince's crimes against Arendelle".
Too quickly, it was time. Hans grimaced and approached the wooden frame. Two guards followed. They offered help, but he climbed onto the thing alone. It was shaped like an armless bench, the top padded, but it was higher than any seat. Hans fit over it far too well, his upper torso laying across the top just so, while his lower torso hung over the back. He heard barely-stifled murmurs of laughter and amusement at the sight of his buttocks sticking out over the slight curve of the back of the bench. His face went bright red, and he lowered it. The marble palace floor looked up at him indifferently, pale white as Edvard's skin.
Edvard …
Hans glanced out of the corner of his eye towards the prince of Arendelle. The man was watching with interest as the guards lifted the tail of Hans's coat and lowered his trousers to his ankles. Hans distracted himself from the cool air on his very exposed skin by thinking awful things about Edvard and wishing him ill.
Edvard could see the hatred in the youth's green eyes, and he knew that he was watching him. He did not look away. It never hurt to look, after all. What he saw was well worth the boy's ire. The lad was slim, but his bottom was plump enough to be rounded. His thighs were strong, and Edvard could see a tempting hint of what lay between them. He looked very young, with his auburn hair falling over his forehead and his face glowing with the blush of humiliation.
He is very cute. I suppose that is what Anna saw in him, Edvard thought. He did not dwell long on the fact that he shared his niece's taste in suitors. He looked around the court, and realized that he was not the only one looking with interest at the poor lad's royal buttocks.
Prince Adrian, heir to the crown, was the first to punish his younger brother. It had been decided that the princes would punish him in turn, six today and then six two days hence. King Adam could not bring himself to strike his youngest son, but it would look suspect if the family did not show solidarity in their support of Arendelle.
Adrian was a very handsome man, tall and elegant in stature. There was a nervousness about him that detracted from his regal appearance, however. He seemed very reluctant to hurt his brother. He did not speak to Hans at all, only gave him a fast series of spanks. He used his open palm, though they had been advised to bring an implement. There were murmurs of disappointment in both the high- and lowborn audiences.
Hans stared fixedly at the floor while his bottom was smacked. He hated Adrian more than he ever had before, which was saying a lot given that he had occasionally contemplated murdering his firstborn brother. To use his hand of all things! As if I were a newborn babe! Adrian, you soft, stupid, weak fool! Do you think this is mercy? Damn you!
Hans was so hot with fury that he barely felt the sting of the spanks. He had begged his father not to have him spanked on the bare bottom like a child, but in this kingdom of the Southern Isles, even grown men and women were often allowed to take their punishments on the buttocks. Royals were seldom punished, but when they were, it was never more than a spanking if the crimes did not warrant death. King Adam refused to have Hans flogged bloody, and Prince Edvard had reiterated Arendelle's disinterest in having Hans executed. Horrified at the idea of being publicly spanked, Hans had tried to have his punishment made secret. Again, King Adam refused, saying that there could be absolutely no doubts that the Isles were sorry for affronting Arendelle so horribly.
The second-eldest son, Gunnar, was next. He was of a size with Edvard, but thicker in muscle than even that prince. Being the Captain of the Royal Guard, he was a severe, battle-hardened man. Hans did not look back. He did not want to know what Gunnar had brought to punish him with, though he would find out soon enough.
It was a riding crop, Hans knew that the moment the hateful thing cracked fire into his backside. Gunnar often used his beloved crop to snap at his men if they were lagging. He snapped it again now, and a second stripe of fire grazed his brother's vulnerable flesh. Not one for mercy, Gunnar whipped Hans a third time, fourth, on and on in a fast, relentless rhythm.
Hans was gasping by the time Gunnar finished with him. His bottom was alight with hot, stinging pain now. When his third brother whacked a paddle across the entirety of it, he cried out. It was too much, too cruel, too humiliating. He moved to get up, but the two guards were instantly at his sides to hold him down. He cried out in consternation, as the paddle swung through the air with a soft rush of air to smack him again.
So, he's broken already, Edvard observed. He smiled pityingly at the struggling youth, gratified but sympathetic. Just a boy after all, Hans.
"Aow! Ow! No! No, please!" Hans cried out, kicking and fighting against the guards. He looked up the dais, at his parents. "Please stop! Please!"
King Adam swallowed visibly, and set his mouth into a thin line. Queen Evelina lowered her eyes to her hands. Edvard knew that they could not end it without losing face. Despite what Hans thought, more often than not a ruler could not do anything they pleased.
The brother paddling Hans had blanched, though he did not stop. He did not give Hans as many whacks as Gunnar had, however, just enough to seem sincere. Hans hung limply over the wooden frame, sniffling and shaking. The guards held an arm each, keeping him firmly in place.
The fourth brother was indifferent to the lad's suffering. Hans knew that Anders had once had plans to marry Elsa of Arendelle, and that he was doubtless furious that Hans had caused such strife between the kingdoms. 'How could any princess of Arendelle trust a man of the Isles now?' each stroke of his cane seemed to say. 'You've ruined it for us all!'
Hans renewed his struggle, though there was no way to wriggle out of the reach of the thin, searing cane. He did not know when he had started crying, but hot, salty tears were running down his face.
"Please!" he begged of his parents again, heedless of either audience. "Mother, please, make them stop!"
They did not stop. The caning lasted longer than any of the other punishments. Anders had broken a sweat when he stopped, and there were thin stripes of blood criss-crossing his brother's buttocks. Hans had given up struggling, though the guards still held him.
Only two more, lad, Edvard thought at the boy. He was not sorry to see him spanked, but he did feel a touch sorry for him at the moment. Anna was not the only one in the family that was a fool for cute boys.
The last of it was pathetic. Hans did not fight as his fifth brother took another paddle to him, only lay over the bench sobbing. The guards released him after that, and he only covered his face with both hands and cried into them. The last brother to punish him used a leather strap, which left the youth's backside mottled dark scarlet and bright red. Hans actually screamed at that, kicking frantically and gripping the legs of the bench so tightly that his knuckles went white.
Edvard strode forward when it was done and bowed deeply before the King and Queen of the Southern Isles. Behind him, Hans was helped down from the bench by the guards. His body servant pulled his pants back up for him, and he shrieked when the fabric was pulled taught across the bruises. The audiences were murmuring loudly now with the buzz of sated sadism. No one dared jeer, but there was quite a bit of laughter. It almost drowned out the prince's loud, wailing sobs, but not quite. He stood there clutching his beaten backside and crying, looking more like a toddler than a teenager.
"I thank you for your justice, Your Grace," Edvard said to the king.
He turned from the dais, just in time to see Hans, unsupported, fall to his knees. To show there were no hard feelings between the kingdoms, Edvard pulled the lad to his feet and held him there with an arm under his shoulder. Hans clung to the front of his jacket, sobbing into it uncontrollably. He smelled of soap and another, softer scent reminiscent of cedar. Edvard found something amusingly sad about the fact that he had washed and perfumed himself for this particular event.
Edvard was trapped by the boy's clinging, and so he was the one to lead him out of the court. The guards and servants followed. Hans did not cling to the man solely for comfort: he could barely walk after the beatings. In his bedroom, he was helped out of his jacket and shoes by fussing servants. They lay him down on his stomach on the bed, where he cried into his pillow.
"Your highness, something to rub in for the pain?"
"Do you want something to eat, your highness?"
"Some wine, m'lord?"
Hans lifted his tear-stained face from the pillow, looking around at them as if they were a pack of wolves. Then, his temper returned.
"NO!" he shouted at them all. "NO, NO, NO! GET OUT! GET OUT! ALL OF YOU, GET OUT!"
The servants scurried to the door, and were gone. Edvard turned to leave as well.
"Not you!"
Surprised, Edvard turned back and walked towards the bed. Hans looked confused as to why he was still there, though he had ordered him to stay. He lowered his face, sniffling and rubbing his eyes with a fist, trying to calm himself.
"I would have thought I would be the last person you wish to see right now," Edvard said cautiously.
"You are," Hans said. "I don't know why … Yes, I hate seeing you. I hate your stupid pasty face. I hate your high-handed arrogance. I hate how you dress in white like some kind of ghost. I hate your cold, ugly kingdom. I hate your stupid, fawning Anna. And I hate your evil, cold-hearted Elsa more than anyone else."
Hans pushed himself up onto his knees on the bed shakily, and took Edvard by the front of his jacket. Edvard regarded him with patience. There was more misery than true anger in the lad's green eyes.
"I HATE YOU!" Hans shouted directly into the man's face. "I HATE YOU ALL! Damn you! DAMN YOU! Damn you! Damn you! Damn you … "
Hans broke down again, crying even as he shook the older man. He bowed his head, auburn hair falling into his face again. Fresh tears streamed down his face, pattering softly as they dripped down and hit the covers. Edvard took him into his arms and held him close. Hans struggled momentarily, but did not fight away.
This closeness is dangerous, Edvard warned himself. The boy's slim young body felt too pleasant in his arms, and the feeling of being needed was intoxicating. He told himself that he would set him down in bed, but he continued to hold him while he cried. Even reminding himself of the lad's crimes did little to cool the desires budding within him. Edvard, you can't, he told himself as he stroked the youth's back, murmured meaningless words and sounds of comfort. He is the son of your oldest friend. He is young enough to be your son, for heaven's sake! You cannot feel this way about him. Restraint, remember? Restraint, restraint …
He was not wearing his gloves. He had not worn them since arriving in the Isles.
Hans drew back. He was nearly as red as his hair, and his chest was heaving. He raised his face to Edvard's, sniffling, drawing shuddering little breaths. He stared into Edvard's light eyes searchingly, frowning in consternation. Whatever Edvard was feeling, he must have been feeling it, too. He threw his arms around the man's neck, and closed the small gap between their profiles. He kissed him, openly, lustily, in a way that he had never kissed anyone before in his young life.
And Edvard kissed him back.
Hans moved closer to him, pressing against him. His backside throbbed as he moved, and he whimpered. Edvard's hand crept beneath his trousers, cupping one battered cheek. Coolness spread through his hand, soothing the stinging fire. The arousal this sparked was so sudden and complete that Hans gasped at the force of it.
"I can't," Edvard was murmuring. "I can't. You're a child. My friend's child. I can't. We can't, Hans. We can't. You're hurting, you're only hurting and you want to stop it. This won't help it, Hans. We can't, oh God … we can't do this … "
He could have stopped it. Having the power to cause instant cold, he could have dashed away all the physical effects of lust in an instant. He realized this, but then Hans was kissing his neck and his mind went blank. The boy deftly unbuttoned his jacket, untied his ascot and threw it somewhere. He was undressing him swiftly, intent on his unwholesome intentions.
Edvard finally forced himself to tear Hans away. His shirt was half-open by this point, and his pale skin was livened by a faint pink blush. Hans moved to kiss him again, to touch him, but he took both the youth's arms by the wrists and held them back. Hans pouted at him.
"We can't do this," Edvard said, forcing himself to be as authoritative as possible. "You are only a child, and you are emotional. It would be shameful to take advantage of you."
"Take advantage of me?" Hans laughed. "You've forgotten who you're talking to. Do you take me for that blushing simple maiden Anna?"
He is insane, Edvard realized uncomfortably. And perfectly evil.
Hans could not free his arms, so he leaned his face forward. He licked his tongue down Edvard's chest, kissing one of his nipples. A shudder ran through the man's body.
"Stop it!" he snapped. "God help me, I'll spank you myself if you don't stop it!"
"You might as well," Hans said. He pulled Edvard's arms around his waist, so the man's hands brushed his bottom. "Everyone else will have by the time this week is done."
Edvard released his wrists and squeezed his bottom hard. The pain was incredible, and Hans cried out childishly. Still, he held onto the man's shoulders, and rested his head on his chest. The squeeze lightened into a caress, and then Edvard's hands betrayed him by slipping down the boy's pants. The bruises and cuts were an ugly sight: crossing lines of scarlet flecked with purple, wide thick splotches, raised welts. He had intended to frighten the boy by giving him a few whacks, but he tapped him much more lightly than he had intended. Still, the lad whimpered into his chest, even as he kissed him there.
Is he acting again?
The thought was disconcerting enough to give Edvard serious pause. He tipped Hans's face up to his own by the chin, looking into his eyes as if he could read them. He saw pain and need, true, but there was a glimmer of mischief still in there.
Galled by the idea of being fooled by this cruel, plotting child, Edvard threw him face-down onto the bed.
"No," he said, giving the boy's bottom a spank. "No, no, no."
"Owwww! No what?" Hans yelped angrily. "What's the matter with you? Don't you want me?"
"I want you more than it is decent, Hans," Edvard said as he gathered his clothes, "but you already knew that. You've suspected how I feel about you since the ship, and you must have seen the way I was looking at you today."
"You mean the way you were looking at my ass?" Hans said slyly. "Yeah, I noticed. Half the court probably noticed. So what?"
"So you're using me," Edvard said. "Don't bother to deny it. You plan to tell your father that I dishonored you, in the hopes that he will be angered enough to send me back to Arendelle and leave your punishment half done."
A twitch of his lips was all the evidence Edvard needed.
"You're a wretched child," Edvard said in disgust. "And a pathological liar. Have you learned nothing from your punishment? Do you have no shame, no pride, no honor whatsoever?"
Hans shrugged. He remained on his stomach, kicking his pants off and crossing his arms beneath his chest. He had not been scheming when he had kissed Edvard. He still did not know why he had done it, or why he wanted the older man so badly. The idea that he could use Edvard's affection against him had crossed his mind while he was undressing him, and he had already been working out a plot.
"I could scream right now," Hans said. "The guards would come in and find- what? At least if you had me, you would have gotten something out of it."
"Don't you dare."
Hans grinned widely. Edvard lunged over the bed and crushed his hand against the boy's mouth. He knelt over him, covering his mouth with one hand, holding the lad down with the other. Hans gave a muffled laugh.
"Moo do wab me," Hans mumbled through Edvard's hand. You do want me.
"I do," Edvard hissed into his ear. "I would have that bottom right back up in the air, if it were up to me, and I would love you until you were as sore inside as you are outside. Then I would spank you until your tears returned, and have you again. A boy like you needs a hard master to take you over and ride you 'til all that attitude is worn and loved and beaten out of you."
Hans bit into his fingers. Edvard winced, but maintained his grip on the youth's mouth. He wondered what he could do or say to keep him from calling the guards. He could not muffle him forever.
"I would like nothing more than to be that master," Edvard said wistfully. "Oh, you would spend a great deal of your life having to sit on pillows. You would spend your nights stripped and on your knees until you were a little humbled. Don't think for a moment that I could not tame you, lad. I could, and I would if it were possible … "
Hans bit down harder. His face felt very warm beneath Edvard's hand. He blushed easily, as many redheads tended to do. Edvard noticed a smattering of freckles across his nose, and he could not resist kissing him there. Hans kept on biting him, and he could feel blood slicking his hand.
"Vicious little brat, aren't you?" Edvard asked. He lowered his lips from Hans's nose, and slowly lowered his hand from his lips. Hans opened his mouth, but he cut off whatever he was going to say with a kiss.
"So," Hans said breathlessly when they parted for breath, "tame me."
Edvard might have made a start at it, but there was a knock at the door. He jumped back to quickly that he tripped and fell to the floor. He grabbed up his jacket from where it lay and ran to find a place to hide himself. Hans laughed at him. He wore only his shirt, long enough to cover his backside but thin enough for the red to be seen beneath it. He made no effort to cover himself.
Gunnar entered, mercifully parted from his riding crop. He looked at Hans, frowned.
"Why are you so happy?" he asked his little brother. "Is there something about being disgraced in front of the entire kingdom that you find amusing?"
"No," Hans said. "I'm laughing at someone."
Gunnar looked around. "Is someone here?"
"Prince Edvard of Arendelle is here," Hans said. "He was just about to make love to me."
Gunnar glanced around the room more sharply.
"He's behind the changing screen," Hans said helpfully.
Edvard had managed to make himself presentable. He stepped out from behind the screen, keeping his face carefully neutral. His eyes blazed with anger when he looked at Hans, however. Hans found this to be extremely funny, and buried his face in his pillow to muffle his laughter. Gunnar gave his brother a troubled look.
"Come with me," was all Gunnar said to Edvard.
He turned and left the room. Edvard gave Hans one last black look, and followed. Hans was in pain, but he managed to climb out of bed and hobble to the door. He pressed his ear to it, licking a smear of Edvard's blood from his bottom lip.
"Do not dishonor me with a denial," Gunnar was saying. "I have eyes to see. My brother has a talent for seducing the royals of Arendelle, it would seem."
"My lord, I am deeply regretful of my misconduct," Edvard said. "Your family has given me justice, and all I have done is disgrace the kingdom of Arendelle. I will withdraw from your land at once, and rescind my position as Ambassador."
"Leave? Why? Because you have a weakness for a handsome young man?" Gunnar asked. "Neither of our kingdoms takes legal issue with that. It might be good for Hans to be with someone older, and a man such as yourself. My father has told me much and more about you. He says that you are trustworthy, loyal, and very strong."
"His Grace is far too generous."
"Not with his opinions of people, you know that as well as I do," Gunnar said. "My father does not give praise where it is not deserved. If he claims you are worthy, then I believe it."
"Thank you, my lord."
"So, do you want my brother?" Gunnar asked baldly.
"Yes," Edvard found himself saying, "very much so."
"As I said, Hans stands to benefit from the wisdom of an older man," Gunnar said. "You could take him as your charge. If you liked, you might take him as consort, and that would help to heal this bad business between the Isles and Arendelle."
Edvard's pale eyes widened. Behind the door, Hans bit his bottom lip.
"You would give me … Hans?" Edvard asked. "My lord, he … he is your brother."
"I know it," Gunnar said solemnly. "I still remember what he looked like as a babe. Many of my brothers were born not very long after I was, and I can no longer remember them as newborns at all. I do remember Hans, though. He was a small thing, healthily fat, and he had a fuzz of red hair. I held him on my arm many times. Our lady mother nearly died birthing him. When she and the babe both survived, we celebrated. They said that he was a lucky child."
Hans raised his eyebrows. He had never heard such affection in his brother's voice before, certainly not directed at him. Was he lying? Trying to convince Edvard of his brotherly love?
"For a while, he was lucky, and happy," Gunnar went on. "He ran around the castle, always laughing, always smiling. But somewhere along the line, he stopped laughing so much, and his smiles changed. His smiles became more mocking than anything else, and they turned inward, as if he were smiling at some private joke rather than what everyone else was entertained by. There is something wrong with Hans. We all began to see it then, though he was damnably skilled at hiding his nature. I pleaded with our father to discipline him more stringently, but out of all of us, Hans is the only one that my father could never bring himself to strike."
"Hans believes that King Adam loves him less than the others of you."
"Hans will believe anything that separates him from the family," Gunnar said. "He wants to be special, so he victimizes himself to justify his greed and ambition. If he is the victim, then how could he possibly be a victim-maker? He is spoilt and ungrateful."
"On that point, we agree."
"Our father loves us all, but he has had a soft spot for Hans since his birth," Gunnar said. "Hans will be the last one, that is certain. My father was already an older man when he was born. He was tired of sternness, tired of a lifetime spent raising boys into men by the rod. He left his discipline to Adrian and I, the other older ones, but we have always been too busy with our duties to pay Hans much mind. I may have seemed quite harsh when I whipped him, but it was only due to my guilt. I failed Hans by not disciplining him sooner. I suppose a part of me, in that moment, thought I could make up for that."
Hans rubbed his sore bottom, cursing Gunnar and his stupid guilt.
"It would be good for Hans to be under the care of an older man that is not family and will not hesitate to discipline him," Gunnar told Edvard. "My father's health is starting to fail. Watching Hans beaten upset him so much that he's retired to bed. He would be grateful to know that Hans is safe under the care of a friend so trusted as you, and it would be good for him to be separated from Hans and his … problems."
"How could I take Hans for my charge?" Edvard asked. "He is banished from Arendelle."
"When you were Ambassador before, you lived in a castle here in the Isles," Gunnar said. "It has been in disuse since you last left it."
"Stay in the Isles?" Edvard asked, surprised. "That is … I have duties of my own in Arendelle. The towns in the vale, my castle in the mountains-"
"Arendelle sounds to be in very good hands now," Gunnar pointed out. "They will manage without you for a time. Later, when the younger girl is married, she may wish to take the mountainside for her own domain. If not, it is small and remote enough to be entrusted to any lord or lady."
"True enough," Edvard said slowly. "It is much and more to think on, Your Highness. I will need some time to consider."
"You shall have it," Gunnar said. "For now, I'll leave you to it. While you are here, please, take care of Hans. I know that he is insufferable, but he is my brother, and he will be hurting this week."
"I will try, Your Highness."
Hans turned and began to stumble to his bed. The door opened, and soon after Edvard stopped him by the back of his shirt. He tugged him back, turned him around to face him. He took one look at his face and knew that he had been eavesdropping.
"How much did you hear?"
"All of it." Hans crossed his arms. "I can't believe my brother would simply give me to you! To a perverted old man!"
"I was rather taken aback myself."
Hans winced as he walked back to bed. He climbed up and settled back onto his stomach. His bottom was throbbing with pain. Bruises were like babies, they grew teeth with time.
"To keep peace with Arendelle!" scoffed Hans. "To hell with Arendelle! I'm sick to death of your damned kingdom! I'm supposed to find a bride with a kingdom on her pretty little shoulders, not be a consort to you."
"I am a prince," Edvard said. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Do you still believe that you can marry your way into power? No one in the world will let you marry their daughter after it becomes known what happened in Arendelle. Besides, how do you intend to find a bride when you're confined to the Isles for the rest of your life? They will not let you travel again, Hans."
"There are plenty of foolish girls in the world, and many of them come to court here," Hans said. "All I need do is snatch one from court, convince her that I was a victim of your evil kingdom and its wicked queen, and get married. We can be married here in the Isles."
"So that her father can storm your kingdom?" Edvard said dryly. "It would be an act of war if a man like you married a foreign princess."
Hans had the expression he had worn when Edvard had slapped him. Edvard put a hand on his shoulder.
"I might be the best match you could hope for," Edvard said softly. "But you do not really want me, do you? I would still take you as a charge, perhaps, but I would never force you into anything against your will. I am harsh, but not cruel."
"No?" Hans said. He smirked. "I thought you would strip me and spank me and have me on my knees?"
Edvard rubbed his temple, not quite believing he had said such outrageous things.
"I was angered when I said that."
"But you did mean it," Hans said knowingly. He rested his head on his crossed arms, looking up at the man sideways. I do want him, he thought, and he is a prince. He also has a thing no one in the Isles does: that power of his.
Hans moved on the bed, so that his head rested on the man's lap. Edvard ran a hand through his lank auburn hair, ruffling it, pushing it off his forehead. Hans expected the tenderness to be cloying, as it had been with Anna, but it wasn't.
"What is this, Hans?" Edvard asked gently. "Hm? Are you trying to decide how useful I might be to you? Are you even attracted to me at all? Do you even want to be with another man?"
"I've been with men," Hans said. "The first time, I was fourteen. I wanted to know what sex was like, so that I would never fear it the way so many pathetic boys do with their stammers and their shyness. I demanded that my serving boy pleasure me. He was sixteen, and I had seen the way that he looked at me sometimes. He was horribly gentle, afraid to break his little prince, I presume. I found less gentle men to please me later."
"I should have known," sighed Edvard. "So, you only decided to marry a princess out of ambition? You've felt nothing for any woman? You felt nothing for Anna?"
"Not a thing." Hans yawned lazily. He had not been able to sleep much the past night, kept up by dread of the spanking. "Well, I did feel some things. Disgust. Annoyance. Things like that. I never wanted her for love or even attraction. I wanted her kingdom. If I had succeeded, perhaps I would have taken you for a consort."
"That would never have happened."
"No, I guess not," laughed Hans. "I suppose I would have taken your head."
"I take it back," Edvard said. "I will keep you stripped and spanked and on your knees. Also, possibly in a cage."
"That would turn you on, wouldn't it?" Hans said, looking up at him. "That would be power, the power you still want, no matter what you say. I would be an unofficial hostage of Arendelle. You could use me as you liked, when you liked. You would have the villain of the Isles helpless before you."
Hans got to his knees and toppled Edvard. He fell back onto the bed, and Hans leaned over him. He tried to resume seducing him, but Edvard kissed him so tenderly that Hans felt a stab of pain. Sometimes pity could be more depressing than punishment, Hans noted.
"No, no, enough of that," Edvard said. He kicked off his boots and brought his legs up onto the bed. He lay back against a pillow, holding Hans tightly in both arms. "Hush now, child."
"I'm not a child," Hans said, though weakly. He squirmed in the man's arms, disturbed by the misery creeping into him. "Let go of me, then. If you won't give me pleasure, then leave me alone."
Edvard said nothing. He continued holding the young man close, stroking his back, caressing his arm. Hans struggled and insulted him, but the unrelenting kindness broke him eventually. He was sore, confused, and lonely. Most of all, he was lonely.
Hans looked up at Edvard. His defenses had collapsed, Edvard could see that from the tears glistening in his eyes. He looked at the man the way a child would, needing and wanting and afraid.
"Do you love me?"
"Yes," Edvard replied before he had even considered the question. He had known it all along, since that day on the ship. "I love you, Hans."
The lad's face crumbled, and he burst into tears. He lay his head on Edvard's chest and cried softly for a very long time. Edvard stroked his hair, his back, his naked buttocks. He kissed the top of his head and murmured to him. He waited patiently until Hans had cried himself to sleep.
I do love him, Edvard thought as he watched the youth sleep. I love him more than I've loved anyone in a long, long time. I suppose neither of us realized how lonely we actually were.
"You don't love me."
Edvard sighed, tired of the argument. He ordered the servants away and came over to Hans on the bed. The lad had only moved from lying on his stomach to change into his long sleeping shirt. Edvard sat on the edge of the bed and set a tray of food between them.
"If you loved me, you would have my punishment canceled," Hans said sullenly. "Haven't I been beaten enough?"
"Not by half," Edvard said dryly. "But I did try to get your father to cancel it, regardless. Believe me, he would if he could, but it was announced that you were to be spanked by each of your brothers publicly. Your father would look a fool if he went back on his own word. Now here, eat something."
"I'm not hungry," Hans said. "And you're not good for anything."
"You've earned this punishment, and you'll simply have to take it," Edvard told him. "It has nothing to do with me. Now eat this. You're going to need your strength."
"Why?" Hans said bitterly. "So I can heal a bruise or two before the rest of my brothers whack some more into me?"
"You're too old to sulk," Edvard informed him. He fed the lad a spoonful of meat pie. "Bad enough that you made such a fuss over a spanking. Must you act like a spoiled brat as well?"
"You're a judgmental old bastard," Hans said, chewing. He took the spoon from Edvard to feed himself. "Especially for a pervert that likes handsome young boys."
"You're very confident."
"I am handsome," Hans said. "Did you tell my father that you want to f-"
"I told your father that I would take you on as my ward," Edvard cut him off. He took the lad by the ear, just hard enough to get his attention. "A ward that I will not allow to use such unseemly language."
Hans scowled, but did not object. Edvard released his ear.
"You've decided, then?" Hans asked. "You're going to stay in the Southern Isles to be with the man that tried to steal your family's kingdom?"
"Love is inexplicable."
"Love is stupid," Hans said flatly. He propped himself up on an elbow to drank some of his wine, looking Edvard over as he did. "What will your frosty queen think of this, do you think?"
"She'll think that I am a very foolish man," Edvard said ruefully, "and she will be right."
"I would be willing to bet that she'll think more than that," Hans said. "I believe she'll think that you've fallen to plotting against her with me."
"Queen Elsa knows that I would never turn against mine own family again," Edvard said. "I confessed to her and offered her my head before escorting you home. She trusts me."
"Does she?" Hans scoffed. "I think not. Your icy queen does not trust easily. She's been the only one I've never been able to fool. And what does she know about you, really? That you have a power comparable to hers, that you once schemed to steal her father's throne, and that you now claim to love her worst enemy! What would you think, if you were her?"
"I suppose it is a little suspect," Edvard admitted. "Still, Her Grace is cautious, but not paranoid. She will watch and wait, and see in time that I mean her no harm."
"Are you certain that you don't?" Hans asked. He studied Edvard shrewdly with those cunning green eyes of his. "Perhaps you have more ambition left than you thought."
"Don't get your hopes up, lad," Edvard said. "I would never turn against my family again."
Hans was not fully convinced, but he let the issue rest. He continued eating in silence a while. Edvard left his side and had servants begin drawing up a hot bath. By the time Hans finished eating, the servants were gone and the tub was filled.
"I'll leave you to it," Edvard said, heading for the door.
"No, you won't," Hans called him back. "Come help me to the tub."
"I'll fetch one of your servants," Edvard said. "I'm not to be ordered around by you."
"Please help me to the tub," Hans said grudgingly. He climbed off the bed but had to grip it to keep on his feet. "I can't stand for my servants to see me so wretched."
Edvard could understand that. He came to Hans's side and helped him cross the room. Hans did not let go of him when they reached the tub. He pulled the long shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Edvard turned his face, but Hans turned it back.
"You might as well look," Hans said. "I'll be your whore in all but name soon."
"I would never force you to my bed."
"You would never have to," Hans said quietly.
He reached up to touch Edvard's face, but Edvard caught him by the wrist.
"Don't you do that," Edvard said, quiet but firm. "Don't you lie for me. I won't have it. Now get in the tub, lad."
Hans climbed into the steaming water gingerly. He hoped it would soothe his bruises, but they still ached too much to be sat upon. He lay along the length of the tub on his stomach, facing Edvard. He could see the man's erection straining against his breeches.
"You're going to need to stop wearing white," Hans teased. He leaned his chin on the edge of the tub. "And I wasn't lying. You might think I'm a spoiled brat that deserves all this, but you've still been the only one that's treated me decently. I … I do not hate you."
How generous, Edvard thought. He might have said it aloud, but there was a sweet shyness in Hans's words that made him think the boy was being as generous as he could be. He wondered who had taught the boy that love was a weakness. With a sigh, he sat down on the stool beside the tub. He took up a sponge and wrung some water through the youth's auburn hair. He thought on it a while, as he bathed the lad, careful of the thin cuts across his bottom.
"You loved him, didn't you?" Edvard finally asked.
Hans had been drifting off. He opened his eyes, turned his head where it rested on the tub's rim.
"What?" he said. "Who?"
"The servant boy that you lost your innocence to at fourteen," Edvard said. "You loved him."
"Do I strike you as the type that would be foolish enough to fall in love with a servant?" Hans laughed, though the sound of it was forced. "Sometimes you're just as naïve as your stupid niece Anna."
"Who told you that what you felt for him was a weakness, Hans?"
Hans stared up at the man blankly. How could he have guessed the truth so thoroughly? Several retorts and lies rose to Hans's lips, but he could not bring himself to voice them. He turned his face from Edvard's wise, pale one.
"He did," Hans said, his voice scarcely a whisper. "He said, 'Oh my sweet prince, you can't love me. You are royalty, and I am unworthy of you. You must be stronger than your heart, and find a good match for yourself'. It was the best thing that anyone could have taught me, to be stronger than the weak heart."
"What happened to him?"
"The servant?" Hans asked. "I had him exiled. It was the first thing I did to make myself strong."
"Oh, you foolish child, you learned the wrong lesson," Edvard said, not unkindly. "This gentle servant of yours was a boy himself. He was probably frightened to be loved by his prince. But you were the prince, Hans. You could have kept the boy you loved close. You could have been happy."
"And give a servant the importance of being a royal consort?" Hans sneered. "It would have been a weakness."
"There are times when duty dictates that we must be stronger than our hearts, but that does not mean the heart is always weak," Edvard told him. "Certainly not when it comes to love. Love strengthens us, always."
"It didn't strengthen Anna."
"It saved Anna and Elsa's lives."
"Magic is silly that way," sighed Hans.
"Magic cuts to the core of what is important," Edvard said. "In the end, only love is important."
"Do you really expect me to believe that?" Hans asked. "Is that what you want, Edvard? For me to love you? Don't hold your breath. Love doesn't matter."
"It mattered to you," Edvard reminded him. "When you asked me earlier, it mattered to you then."
Hans leaned his head on the tub again and shut his eyes. He ignored the remark, but Edvard saw him blushing a little. Hans was silent until Edvard gently sponged the cuts on his backside clean, when he yelped.
"I'm sorry, lad," Edvard said. "It can't be helped."
"I can't go through that again," Hans blurted out. He gripped the edge of the tub tightly, wincing. "I can't be beaten like that six more times. Prince Edvard, please, please don't let them."
"You should have considered the consequences before you did such horrible things," Edvard told him. His sympathy could only go so far. "Just yesterday you were begging your father to punish you as a man, and now you're whining about being spanked like a boy? This display of cowardice does not serve you, Hans."
"But it hurts," Hans said softly, bowing his head. "It hurts so much. And the people … they were laughing at me."
Edvard chuckled. Hans shot him a wounded look.
"I'm not laughing at you," Edvard lied. He touched Hans's face. "It's only that you looked very adorable, I thought, with this lovely arse of yours plumped up and naked for the world to watch it redden. You're a very bad boy, Hans, and it's only right that you're punished."
"I'm glad you're so amused," Hans said furiously. He snatched the sponge from Edvard's hand and hit away the other hand that had been squeezing his bottom. He wobbled to his feet and violently scrubbed himself. "I take back what I said. You're not decent at all! You're a sadistic bastard!"
Hans's angry independence only lasted until he finished bathing. He nearly fell when he went to step out of the tub, and Edvard caught him in his arms. He glared up at Edvard, but the prince only smoothed back his wet hair.
"Now, now," Edvard calmed him. He kissed the youth on the forehead. "I was only teasing you. I'm sorry that you're so afraid, lad. I don't blame you for it. But you did earn yourself this fate, and then some. Can you at least admit that much?"
"No," Hans said stubbornly. "If I had succeeded in my plans, I would be a hero right now. Everything I did, I did for the Isles."
"You did it for yourself," Edvard said sternly. It was quite difficult to be cross with the naked young man sopping wet in his arms, but he managed. "For your own power and glory. If you had succeeded and brought war down on Arendelle and the Isles, you'd be getting a lot worse than you are. Sorry as I am for you, Hans, you can't expect myself or anyone else to lament a naughty boy being spanked."
I hate him, Hans thought, even as he felt his arousal stirred by the scolding. He tried to fight what he was feeling, but it was no use. He climbed out of the tub and rushed into a furious kiss. Edvard stumbled back, kissing him back with equal fervor.
"Well, I hated being good," Hans said breathlessly. He kissed Edvard again, quickly and intensely. "All those years pretending to love my insipid brothers, acting as if I wouldn't get rid of every one of them if I had the chance. Romancing all those silly princesses: laughing at their silly jokes and looking into their big cow eyes, flattering them and listening to their stupid giggles. I hated that night with Anna, dancing and singing and hanging onto every word of her awkward banter. I hated being good! I hated it!"
Hans kissed the older man again, biting his lip and drawing blood. The water on his body was soaking through Edvard's clothes, and it felt as if there were nothing between them. Edvard gave his bottom a light slap. Hans grinned.
"Fine, so I'll be spanked," he said. "Let the entire damn kingdom see me taken over like a bad little boy. I am bad. I want to be bad. Tell me, Edvard, would you? Tell me how bad I am."
It's nice to finally meet the real Hans, Edvard thought cynically. He took Hans by the shoulders and lay him on his back on his bed. The youth squirmed and winced beneath him, though his smirk did not waver. Edvard held him there, kissing him on the lips, the chest, the neck.
"You're a terrible brat," Edvard told him. He lifted one of the youth's legs up a little to give his upper thigh a slap, since his bottom had had enough abuse. "Hans, you're a selfish-" Smack. "-arrogant-" Smack. "-spoiled-" Smack. "-conniving, cruel child."
Hans kissed him hard, then rolled onto his stomach. He was half bent over the edge of the bed, making quite a target of his bright red buttocks. Edvard had pitied the youth earlier, but he still felt a thrill for being able to join in his discipline. He soothed a hand over the bruises, and then spanked his upper thighs and lower buttocks with his hand, moderately hard. His cock was throbbing with need, but he was not quite done with this foreplay just yet.
"You may relish being a brat now, but you'll be sorry," Edvard scolded. "You'll be sorry when you can't walk from your next session two days hence. You'll be very sorry to stand clutching that arse of yours and howling like a babe in front of the kingdom again. You'll be a very, very sorry boy."
"No," Hans murmured into the sheets he was gripping. He murmured wordlessly in pleasure, and looked over his shoulder at the other prince. "No, you know that I won't- ow! Oh, ow! Ow!- be. Mmph. I won't be sorry."
"Stubborn child." Edvard ceased striking him and soothed the hot flesh again. "We'll see how unrepentant you are when your brothers are through with you. Won't we? Hm?"
He gave Hans's buttocks a few spanks. Hans kicked in pain, finally moaning with something other than pleasure.
"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed. "I'm sorry! That's enough! Ow, please! Ow ow ow! Please, that's enough!"
Satisfied, Edvard stood and left him there. Hans rubbed his bottom and thighs, flinching as his hand passed over the welts. Edvard returned and sat beside him. He pushed his hand away impatiently and began rubbing oils into the marks. Hans writhed and whimpered. Edvard suspected this juvenile display was more for his benefit than anything, though he did not doubt the lad was smarting.
When he was done, Edvard kissed the small of the boy's back. Hans shivered as the kisses continued up his spine. They were very close now, and he felt Edvard's hand brush his buttocks as he unbuttoned his breeches.
"You're a very bad boy," Edvard murmured into his ear. "Now get on your knees, you wicked young man."
For once, Hans did as he was told.