Past: Before the Thrones of his Brothers

(A/N: Last chapter up for a couple of weeks, as my computer is being sent off to be fixed, but when it gets back hopefully I'll be back in the swing of things. Sorry for the delay.)

The prison was dank, dark, and dreary. No light, or little, came through. He was utterly alone and kept in suspense. His own brothers had put him here. They hadn't even shown up at the dock, they hadn't made contact, they hadn't done anything. They were just twelve invisible forces. They always had been. He knew they were there, but for all he'd been shown or told of them since his return, they could be dead or figments of the imagination. Maybe they were. Or dead. Dead was a more appealing thought

He was dead…

He shook his head to be rid of the dark thought. Well, he was dead to them. If he hadn't been before, then surely he was now. The dungeon. They put him in the dungeon. They were determining his fate...

He knew, of course, what it would be. Death. The penalty for treachery was death and there were no alternatives. Well, maybe some, but they were rare. The most he could hope for was death without torture first. Surely it would be death… That was why they hadn't come… Some part of them maybe still saw him as brother—as little as he meant to them—and so to go through with it they couldn't have second thoughts. They therefore couldn't see him. To see him would be to humanize him… And realize against their will that he was, for better or worse, still blood…

The cell doors opened. "Prince Hans, you have been summoned, your grace," the guard said, coldly bowing to him. So it began. He set his jaw and steeled himself for what was to come.

Frozen

He knelt before the thrones of his brothers, head held high and defiant. The thirteen thrones circled all around him, six on each side and the one reserved for the eldest, the high king, in the middle. Two thrones were set in the shadow of that one, smaller and not part of the circle of thirteen. Once they had been thrones for mother and Moren, before father had been disposed of and mother had died… He wished their mother was here… She had loved him. Or cared if nothing else... When Moren had stepped up to father's place as king, he had had the twelve extra thrones put in. He had done it so that his brothers could have a place, perhaps an attempt at repair that had ended up more a bandage on a slashed stomach. In giving his brothers a place, Moren had hoped to stop any resentment on the part of the younger ones. Clearly that worked well. Note the sarcasm. Moren had been far too late. Besides, they had hardly been around him given he was with father so much and so busy learning to rule, so they couldn't see it as anything more than an empty gesture. A half-hearted apology. Hans's throne now sat empty, a seat that had never even been used, for father had died during his expedition to Arendelle. As for his brothers? ...They sat like statues, some with heads bowed, some with expressions stony and void of any emotion say for exhaustion.

For a long time no one spoke. It wasn't long before Hans got impatient and, frowning, asked, "What are you waiting for? Get this done." Had something turned them to stone or ice? Oh if he never saw ice again it would be too soon.

"Little brother, what have you done?" one finally questioned. Moren. Lethargically he looked up again. "What have you done?" he repeated in a whisper.

That tone, for a moment, completely shattered the front Hans had put up, as well as the fronts of most of the others. That tone, for the briefest of seconds, left the vulnerability and fear exposed for all to see. Made more powerful still because the eldest brother had taken a vow of silence upon their mother's death and had not spoken since say for through the second born. Quickly, however, Hans composed himself, along with the rest of the princes, and looked defiant again, though he felt very well it was not as intense as it had been. He was reminded of whenever he was scolded as a child and felt just like that now. "You know exactly what I did," he replied.

"You betrayed us," the fourth born, Rudi, Rhun, said bluntly. Hans was silent.

"You were always wild and reckless, Hans," Runo, Duach, stated, shaking his head. "But that you would try to pull off something like this…"

"It was done and I can't change it now. Maybe I wouldn't even if I could," Hans replied, holding his brothers' eyes defiantly. They couldn't do anything to him. They wouldn't dare.

Jürgen shook his head bitterly. "We're through with words. Pronounce sentence, carry it out, and get him or his body out of our sight," he said to the eldest, looking away from Hans and closing his eyes tightly in disgust.

"Do you know you must die?" Mael gently asked Hans. Once upon a time, Lars had been the one brother he could talk to. Kind of. For a brief period of time at least. Now... Enough said.

Hans tilted his head, eyes narrowed. They couldn't be serious. "What?" he asked.

Justic bowed his head, until then held high in an attempt to match Hans's tactic, finally giving up the attempt to intimidate and defy that Hans was using. Hans didn't know. He didn't understand the seriousness of this… He didn't know he couldn't be let go this time… "Treachery means death, brother," he murmured. "And before this hour is up someone will die here…"

"Save your tricks for someone who buys them," Hans said to his brothers, eyes narrowing. "We've played this game before."

"We have," Iscawin said quietly.

"But this time there are no more chances," Franz Neb stated. The triplets were silent, heads bowed. They were pretending he didn't exist again, Hans realized… That was when he began to get a prickle up his spine, a dark and foreboding feeling as his lips parted slightly. They… they couldn't be serious… No, this was an elaborate prank. It had to be.

"I don't believe you," Hans finally said. He wasn't falling for it this time. Kelin-Sel, also until then silent, smirked sadly at his brother and continued to say nothing, smirk returning to the blank look of before. His eldest brother looked at him for a long moment in silence.

"Yes… a joke…" Rhun finally murmured. An executioner stepped forward from the shadows. Servants entered and, on the floor of the throne room, placed a basket and a chopping block. Hans's eyes widened in horror and disbelief. It was a joke, it was a joke. He wouldn't be swayed by this. It was a joke. Moren closed his eyes tightly the opened them once more, composing himself. He was not a brother, anymore. He was a king. When he became a king, his siblings quailed. Hans was no exception, and he visibly shivered at the suddenly cold and impersonal look. He held a scroll out to Jürgen.

Taking the scroll, Jürgen opened it. "Hans, youngest Prince of the Southern Isles, on this day your crimes have been examined and judged to be no less than an act of treason against Arendelle and the Southern Isles. On that charge the punishment is clear. You are sentenced to death…" Jürgen rolled up the scroll. Moren looked at the executioner and, though his expression remained unchanged, somehow he suddenly seemed about thirty years older and exhausted. "Be quick," he pled.

The executioner nodded. Hans felt terror shoot through him as he felt his arms seized and felt himself being forced to the ground. He struggled to stay on his feet, refusing to be forced down. They'd call an end to this prank, surely. Why did he tell himself this was just a prank when he knew it wasn't? Denial, perhaps? He didn't bother thinking about it long. He was more focused on trying to find a way to talk himself out of this. "Hold, brother," Kelin-Sel said. The king looked over at him, and those trying to force Hans to his knees paused. "Is there not a law unique to the Southern Isles that permits another to die in place of the accused?"

Moren was silent and looked to Justic, silently cuing him. "There is," Justic finally admitted, though he was reluctant to. He sensed, you see, what Kelin-Sel was driving at. So did Moren.

Kelin-Sel nodded and looked at Hans a long moment, thinking something over. "Then I'll take it," he said, rising from his throne. "Release the prince." The guards were reluctant and looked uneasily at the king. Moren was looking down, not protesting or consenting, and so the guards released Hans. Hans, in the meantime, was gaping at his brother in shock. What just happened here?

"Are you trying to teach me a moral lesson?" Hans demanded of his brothers angrily. He knew there was something to this. "No wait, you want something from me, don't you?" he added, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Kelin-Sel smirked. "Does everything need an alternative motive, Hans?" he questioned.

"With all of you? Yes," Hans shot sharply. "When did you begin to care again? I long stopped falling for that."

"Kelin-Sel, are you sure you want to do this?" Connyn questioned, the first of the triplets to dare speak. They were suddenly paying attention again.

Kelin-Sel was silent. He moved suddenly forward, cape billowing behind him. He wouldn't give himself time to second-guess this. He knelt to the ground gracefully, laying his sword at his side and unclasping his cape, casting it away. "I will take my brother's place," he said, bowing his head to Hans. Hans stood, mouth agape.

Frozen

"You're out of your mind!" Coth blurted. "Moren, Justic, there has to be a way around this! Isn't there anything that can be done to spare Kelin-Sel and Hans both?!" Moren was silent. Justic was frantically racking his brain for any loophole. Had he the opportunity to research it further, he would. As it was they were out of time. But surely there was some way…

"There has to be a way to stall this, at least a little longer!" Calcas insisted, practically reading his Justic's mind. Justic frowned, troubled. He couldn't think of anything, but perhaps that was because of the stress he was feeling right now.

"Release the prince," Moren murmured, surprising them all again. It was rare he made such decisions without Justic's legal advice. Hans was released from the tight shackles and winced, massaging his raw wrists.

"You are certain of this, Kelin-Sel?" Mael questioned.

"I am," he answered.

"Enough already! I get the point. Your play worked, yay for you," Hans said, shifting uneasily. "Drop it now and let him go already."

Kelin-Sel smirked and chuckled affectionately. "That's all it is, Hans, a play. You don't need to worry. Let it reach its end," he said to his sibling as if Hans were a child again and was getting worried about some scary story Rhun or Franz or Jürgen were telling him.

"I will," Hans flippantly answered, marching to his throne and sitting in it, folding his arms and challengingly glaring.

Kelin-Sel shook his head fondly, smiling at his little brother. His hands were bound tightly behind him and his hair tied up, exposing his neck. The guard placed a foot on his back and pushed him down lightly so his head bent over the executioner's block, the basket positioned beneath. Hans began shifting uncomfortably. "What kind of sick joke is this? You've outdone yourself, Neb," he sneered at Franz suspiciously. Franz Neb closed his eyes.

"If it's a joke, Hans, you don't need to worry," Mael assured. "Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon."

"I'm not afraid!" Hans snapped sharply. "This is revolting even for me! This joke has gone on long enough now put a stop to it!" None of the others answered. Hans's eyes widened in fear, the mask finally crumbling to a more frantic expression as he looked from them to Kelin-Sel to the executioner. "This is sick," he murmured again, hands tightly clamped on the arms of his throne.

The executioner raised the axe above his head. Hans shot to his feet, fear now present in his expression. He felt as though he were a scared child again, asking his older brothers to search his room for a monster that he knew was there but couldn't find alone. Sometimes he and Iscawin and Kelin-Sel, who had shared a room for a long time, would make a game of it and pretend monsters were everywhere. Then they would get themselves so frightened that Kelin-Sel would tell him and Iscawin that they could sleep in his bed if they wanted to and would admit he was scared too. He'd never been as frightened as them, though, and they would scramble in desperately and the three would cuddle close to each other. They'd call the triplets and tell them about what happened and sometimes the triplets would search, but sometimes even they would be scared enough by the stories to crawl into the bed with them so they wouldn't be on the ground. At which point they would all call for their bigger brothers to come… It was one of the earliest and only semi-decent memories Hans had.

"You've made your point, dammit Caleb. Stop this!" Hans insisted to his eldest brother. "You're king! Stop it, please! You've made your point!"

"It's only a play, Hans," Jürgen said.

"Don't give me that lie! Stop this, stop it!" Hans desperately begged. Wait. He was actually begging? He was actually frantic?

"Hans," Kelin-Sel said. Hans sharply looked over, eyes wide and uncertain. "It's alright. Just close your eyes and the bad things will go away, I promise," he teased gently. Apparently he too was remembering childhood and the monsters.

Iscawin suddenly sobbed, covering his mouth and closing his eyes tightly, shaking his head. Swiftly he forced himself to get a grip. "When our brothers come the evil runs to hide because bad things never happen when we're all together," he said in a breaking voice, also remembering. "The bad things are afraid, because when the princes of the Southern Isles are with each other nothing can hurt us anymore."

Hans was pacing viciously back and forth now. "Except sometimes the bad things never go away, they don't! Mom never came back, did she?!" Hans challenged viciously. They weren't children anymore! They knew now that not everything bad could be fixed when their brothers or morning came again.

"Just pretend this is all a dream," Kelin-Sel said.

"I can't pretend death is a dream!" Hans freaked.

"Tell yourself I died a long time ago," Kelin-Sel answered, winking at his brother. "Might help to convince yourself I was part of your imagination."

"Don't you dare…" Hans began.

"Get it done," Kelin-Sel ordered the executioner.

Frozen

The executioner immediately brought down the axe. Oh gods, this wasn't a joke! Hans didn't think, just acted on instinct, drawing his sword and leaping ahead, swiftly blocking the axe blade while tripping the executioner. The blocking of the axe didn't so much save Kelin-Sel as the axe man falling had, but regardless the outcome was the same. Kelin-Sel was still breathing and Hans was losing it. "If you try to pull this sham off I will take you out, I swear to god!" Hans freaked at the executioner. "If anyone comes near him again I will kill them where they stand! Don't mess with me, dammit! If I can nearly kill a queen and leave a princess to die, you can bet I'm capable of killing anyone who tries to hurt me or my brothers again!" It seemed it was his turn to be protector, Hans noted to himself. It was nothing he'd ever imagined he would ever try to be or even want to be, and yet here he was, defending a brother who hated him despite this farce, and who he hated in turn. But when it was all said and done, right now you could bet that anyone who came near his sibling and him to try and pull Hans away was getting a blade through the gut. His eyes blazed like an inferno.

"Hans…" Kelin-Sel began sharply.

"Silence!" Hans snapped at him, pointing his blade at his stunned sibling. "This is unacceptable and I'm not standing for it!"

"Here I thought you wanted the throne early," Kelin-Sel dryly remarked.

"I'm not getting it and you know that full well!" Hans yelled. Odds that all of his brothers would die before him without any children to their names were slim to none. None, actually. Some were fathers.

"Someone dies, Hans!" Jürgen suddenly and viciously shouted, rising from his throne in a second. "If it isn't you, it will be one of us! Unless a pardon or message of forgiveness or plea for mercy on your behalf is obtained from the Queen of Arendelle, someone dies!"

"Then hold off, please! At least until tomorrow or the next day!" Hans pled. "I have to…" He trailed off. He was going to say 'fix this', but then his brothers would get suspicious and not take their eyes off of him. "I have to say goodbye to him…" he finished. "We all do… Or you all need to say goodbye to me."

Because damn him if he was letting his sibling take…

Oh heck no! His sibling could die in his place, he couldn't care less! Let Kelin-Sel throw away his life for him. He would still be alive, at least…

No. Oh gods no, he couldn't live with that. Not that punishment. It was too cruel. He wouldn't be able to live with it. It would be a worse sentence than death!

Ugh, what was he saying? He loved life, he hated his brothers! Sure it might be an inconvenience to see Kelin-Sel die, but he'd still be alive and mourning didn't last forever!

But memory and the pain of it did, and guilt...

No, no, he couldn't be thinking like that. Besides, by tomorrow it wouldn't matter anyway. He'd have found a way to remedy this. "Just one more night," Hans said.

The brother-king was silent. Finally, though, Moren nodded. "Agreed," he replied. Jürgen bitterly grumbled. He couldn't say he was pleased with the answer Moren had given. Moren, for his part, was all too glad to answer in the affirmative. He didn't honestly know if he could have stomached seeing this death now. Goodbye would be good for them all… And another night might be all he and Justic would need to find a loophole that could get them around anyone's death.