Past: Departure to Arendelle

(A/N: Fist things fits, Trigger warning, for this chapter, in the second half of the flashback scene. Reference to Frozen Fever right off the bat. Things start picking up pretty quickly after this chapter, this I think is the last 'Past' chapter that dictates how they came to end up sailing for Arendelle, and the rest is the plot moving onwards with no other chapters specifically meant to flash back in time, though there will be other flashback scenes. Just not as often. Next chapter has a long one, but that's it for a few more chapters.)

Moren read over Elsa's letter of pardon once more as he sat. He needed to do some damage control. He needed to cement the Southern Isles' relationship with Arendelle once more and ensure they still had them as a close ally. He looked out the window to where Hans was shovelling manure and grumbling. He cringed as he saw the giant snowball hit his brother into the wagon and shook his head hopelessly as their siblings who were near burst into laughter and went to pull Hans out of said manure.

Sighing in frustration he turned back to the letter. He was starting to feel guilty for putting Hans on stable duty now. It was hardly a fate befitting a prince of the Southern Isles, but he supposed it was better than death. Really even banishment or exile would have been too light, but he didn't have it in his heart to sentence Hans to either of those either, at least for now. At the moment he had to worry about the alternative sentence that would be handed his brother in Arendelle. Perhaps some understanding could be reached between him and the Queen of that land. To go about this, however, he would need to be tactful. He sat down to write.

Most Esteemed Queen,

Words cannot express the depths of my gratitude to you for taking this burden from my brothers and me. I only wish we had ways enough to express that gratefulness. We sentenced him to become our stable boy, forcing him to do such menial things as shovel manure, groom the horses, what not. Merciful Queen Elsa, I know such a punishment is unbefitting the crime. It does not even come close. I promise you that I will find a way to make him pay for his betrayal of you and your sister in a way that would please you and not make you scoff at my wretchedness. Forgive me my weakness, oh ruler of Arendelle.

On to matters of business. I am unsure where the allegiance between our nations stands now, with Hans's betrayal. If we have lost your trade and military alliance, I pray you inform me and let me know what can be done to rebuild the trust between our lands again. Any price you ask I will pay, within reason. Any bargain you wish to make, I will accept, again within reason. I wish this matter could be done in person, but I fear you would not care to lay eyes upon the princes of the Southern Isles after your last encounter with one. I can hardly say I would blame you. Hans is far from the only untrustworthy or dangerous one of us.

I thank you again for your mercy and benevolence, oh Queen. I forever remain your humble and wretched servant.

With all honor and submission,

King Moren Westergaard of the Southern Isles

Moren looked appraisingly over the note. It was satisfactory. Dramatic, perhaps a bit exaggerated, but satisfactory. He would send it with the next message ship. Rolling it up and tying a ribbon around it, he rose and went to give it to the courier for delivery. Handing it off, he went towards the stables to pull Hans out of his misery for a bit. Now he had only to wait for Elsa's response.

Frozen

Honored King,

Your humility impresses me deeply. You are not like your brother. I do not ask for any show of gratitude, King Moren. I am growing to respect you very much. I do not see your reluctance to do harm to your brother as a weakness, your highness, but as a strength. For all you knew informing me of your chosen punishment would have spiralled me into a rage and destroyed all remaining ties between our nations.

I do agree that more must be done to punish Hans for his crime, though it need not be as final as death. Even my people have subtly asked for his leniency. It appears that in our absence he did rule benevolently, although whether it was only to serve his own purpose or not I don't know, nor do I care to ever find out.

I am open to discussing where our lands stand in relation to each other. Both this and Hans's punishment would be better discussed in person, as you say, and so as a show of good will let it be so. I invite you and your brothers to Arendelle at the closing of this month, to join in our winter festivities and see Arendelle at its best. I regret you were not able to come to my coronation or Princess Anna's birthday, and also am slightly offended. Therefore, this opportunity will be a chance for you to erase all previous offences I have felt against you and start anew. Besides, the trial will happen around that time, and to that your presence was required regardless.

All thirteen of you are invited, King Moren, but you will keep Hans on a very, very, very short leash if you choose not to bring him bound. He will not be left alone for one second in all the time you are here, he will not leave the palace unless my guards are with you and him, or him and whatever escort he has. I want him watched at all times, that is the one condition I am giving you. I am doing this for the sake of my people, King Moren, remember it.

With utmost respect and favor,

Queen Elsa of Arendelle

Moren read through the letter ponderously. Hesitantly. He had not left the Southern Isles for as long as he could remember. Duach had, and Justic, Jürgen, and Hans, but few of the others, if any. He dryly smiled to himself. It seemed the royal family of the Southern Isles had been as closed off as the Kingdom of Arendelle itself was until lately. Perhaps it would be good for them all to get away. He was, however, reluctant to leave the kingdom in the hands of any other. There had been… unfortunate experiences in the past. He thought a moment then settled on something.

"Butler, summon the princes of the Southern Isles," Moren ordered said butler whose name he hadn't bothered remembering. He hadn't bothered remembering any of the servants' names. Few had. Kelin-Sel had bothered, as had Iscawin. Rhun had an impeccable memory and knew most, also Mael knew each one by name, first and last, though he never ever saw them. He also knew their families… Needless to say that terrified the servants and most tended to avoid Mael as though he were the Black Death embodied. Hans he was unsure about. He believed it was about half with Hans. The youngest knew some—those he interacted with most often or those he relatively liked—and forgot others. The butler bowed and left. Moren worked out his game plan once more, carefully. He would have to have it ready for when the rest of the princes were together.

Frozen

"I would rather hang!" Hans shot when Moren explained to them that they were making a voyage to Arendelle for the winter festivities, and to discuss political relations in the wake of Hans's treachery, and to attend Hans's trial there.

"I will oblige you, baby brother," Jürgen answered.

"Thank you!" Hans said. Jürgen started. That hadn't been the response he'd expected. "Oh, you were trying to get under my skin," Hans realized right after. "Right…" He sat back down awkwardly as his siblings all gave him weird looks. Hans cleared his throat, glancing away.

Moren shook his head. "We are going, Hans, whether you like it or not, and you will not be left alone for one moment without at least one of us with you. You will not be permitted to even leave the palace unless guards swarm you," he said.

"I can do plenty of damage from within the palace," Hans bit defiantly.

"Not with us around you can't," Rhun snorted.

"Did I ask you?" Hans coldly questioned, glaring at his sibling.

"No, but you would do well to," Rhun answered.

Hans was about to retort, but Justic quickly cut him off. "Your majesty, who will guard the kingdom if all of us are gone?" he questioned Moren.

"Yes. The pirate Meilic has been pressing on our shores all the harder these last weeks," Calcas added.

"Should he launch attack while we are gone…" Connyn began.

"We can leave the advisors in charge," Coth pointed out. "Or the council or the Generals."

"The Generals. Hah! I would not trust the Generals as far as I could throw them," Duach said. "They would turn us into a military state."

"The council, then," Iscawin said, getting excited about this trip. "I would leave a peasant in charge if it meant we could go sooner! I haven't been away from these islands in my entire life! I'm not about to blow this chance."

"The Council cannot be trusted," Mael darkly and eerily said, causing the others to look curiously at him. He was gazing ahead at nothing, a blank look in his eyes. "Leave the Council in charge, and we will return exiles in our own land."

"The advisors?" Kelin-Sel said.

"I see… nothing… Nothing…" Mael murmured, skin slightly grey.

"You creepy son of a bit…" Franz dryly began.

"Franz," Justic growled in warning. Franz closed his mouth and began to think. "If we can trust none of those, who can we place in charge?"

"I can stay," Hans remarked.

"If we can't even trust the advisors, what makes you think we're trusting you?" Coth deadpanned, rolling his eyes. Hans gave a sarcastic sneer to his sibling before sulking again.

"One of the servants. The butler was very loyal to our father. If we place him in charge of kingdom affairs, he will do a fine enough job," Kelin-Sel said. "Even I trust the man. He can choose a body of helpers from the servants so that should anyone try to launch an attack against him in an attempt to grab the throne, the others can help. Father was wily when it came to selecting servants. He had to be with 13 children to protect. If he trusted them, we can."

"Father was not that great of a king," Hans bitterly muttered. "And an even poorer father."

"Our father was a good man!" Justic shot.

"To you maybe," Connyn snorted in derision. "After Franz's birth we were chopped liver to him. What use did six more princes have to dad besides decoration and bragging rights?"

"He didn't even use us for bragging rights," Iscawin bitterly said, gesturing to himself, Kelin-Sel, and Hans.

"At the time of your birth, father was very stressed, what with mother and all. He had no energy left to spend on his sons," Duach attempted to defend, but he knew that excuse was a shallow one.

"No doubt," Hans sarcastically replied. Duach glared icily at the six youngest princes. He would have thought seven, the general rule was any prince under 30 was considered a younger one, but Franz had kind of been grandfathered into being classified one of the 'big ones' given he was only one year younger than Justic, and then there was a two year split until the triplets after him. Duach would have retaliated, but Moren stepped in. When Moren began speaking, you damn well better shut up and listen.

"The servants it is, then," Moren agreed. "If they themselves are not trustworthy, at least they are more so than our Advisors, Generals, and Councillors. We leave tomorrow at first light. Go, all of you, pack your things and be ready to ride out immediately come morning. This discussion is at an end." The rest of the princes bitterly rose, muttering, and left, though some of them were beginning to feel excited. After all, most hadn't even been away from the Southern Isles for as long as they'd lived.

Frozen

Morning came and the thirteen princes rode towards the grand flagship. A fleet waited to accompany them in case of pirate attack. No chances could be taken when all the princes were at sea. At least one of them needed to survive, unless they wanted a child on the throne. No exception could be made. The original consensus was to put one on each accompanying ship, but Jürgen had remarked that such a fleet would be an intimidation to Arendelle and may spook the Queen who, despite her invitation and letter, they knew didn't trust them. The next idea was to put two princes to each ship and three to the flagship, which would cut back the fleet to only five accompanying ships and the flagship. Then it was decided that there would be six accompanying ships and all thirteen would ride on the flagship. Why that consensus had been reached was a mystery to the sailors. Not so much to the four eldest princes and Justic. Mael had had that look in his eyes. That had been all they needed to determine that separation would be very, very bad. Of course, the look hadn't left even after they had determined to stick together, but then no one really knew whether that look meant Mael's worry was for good or bad things.

"I still say separating would have been a better idea," Hans protested. "If that ship goes down or is boarded, the odds of any of us surviving will go down drastically."

"If we are attacked or boarded, all of you from the triplets down will make for the lifeboats and cast off to three of the accompanying ships. Preferably the three that seem to be in least distress. The one in greatest distress of those three will be the one the triplets board. Then you, Iscawin, and Kelin-Sel continue on. Kelin-Sel boards the one in the next greatest distress of the three, and you and Iscawin can decide whether Iscawin goes with him or stays with you to the ship in least distress," Moren explained.

"More chance of the royal line continuing if I go with Hans," Iscawin said.

"I was about to say the same," Kelin-Sel replied.

"That doesn't mean anything if the lifeboat is sunk by a cannon ball," Hans pointed out.

"Fortunately, you're all good swimmers," Franz Neb said, smirking.

"Thanks to Jürgen and his swimming 'lessons'," Kelin-Sel dryly said, glaring at Jürgen dangerously. Jürgen shrugged innocently. Hans looked confused.

"Oh come on, you didn't think you were the only one he tossed in a lake, did you?" Connyn asked.

"I, uh, well, that is... Maybe?" Hans replied.

"Typical," Iscawin scoffed. "Always you, you, you, isn't it Hans?"

"Spoiled brat," Duach muttered.

"Spoiled?! Excuse me, but I was hardly recognized as existing let alone spoiled!" Hans defended.

"You think whatever the hell you want, Hans," Jürgen sneered.

"That's all he ever did anyway," Franz added, bitterly glaring at the youngest.

"Enough!" Moren sharply ordered. They fell silent, albeit reluctantly. Hans was quiet, head bowed. Childhood all over again, he dryly noted. Maybe they would be attacked after all. With luck maybe he'd be killed and not have to look at any of them ever again… Or anything, for that matter… He was aware of Mael riding next to him. He gave Mael a warning glare. Mael slowly turned to him. Hans looked away a fraction of a second after meeting his eyes. Mael terrified him. He always had say for one very short time period of a few years where Mael, Lars, had seemed semi-normal and he could actually talk to him. Barring that, though, he had never been able to look in the other's eyes for more than a second or two before whimpering and turning to run. Prior to the brief period of normality, Hans could only remember two actually lengthy conversation he'd had with the third born, and even then he had hardly met Mael's eyes… But to be fair, those times were the longest he had ever met his brother's eyes. He never wanted to meet them for that long again because something was in them… Something he never wanted to face and never wanted to know the meaning of…

Flashback

A dark hall. Sounds of screaming and weeping in the background. What possessed him to come this way? Oh yes, Jürgen had asked him to get Lars for dinner. Jürgen rarely talked casually to him, usually he taunted him or belittled him, so Hans had hurried to obey. Maybe Jürgen was starting to love him again. Had Jürgen ever loved him? He somehow doubted it… Jürgen had said Lars was probably in his room, but he wasn't. A servant directed Hans to the dungeons and said Lars was usually there, if he wasn't reading up on history, so he'd went.

There was a dark, dark staircase. So dark and twisty. The seven-year-old had been shivering horribly and reached up, taking a torch. He went down. As he went the screams were louder, and the sounds of crying and of chains rattling. He was shaking so badly the flame was wavering. He had to get a grip. It wasn't so bad down here. It was spooky, yes, but a little fun, actually. The shivering stopped and Hans hurried onwards, getting bolder and bolder with each step.

He reached the bottom of the stairs. There was the big black door that mommy had always said never go through. He paused. The fear was back, now, and worse than ever. He sensed something horrible was behind it. Something so, so bad. He swallowed and reached out, taking hold of the door. He took a deep breath and pushed it slowly open. It creaked loudly and groaned and scraped along the floor. Hans let it open on its own and looked up. What he saw would forever be imprinted on his brain. Lars stood there, back turned to him, looking so, so casual. Sitting before Lars was a prisoner strapped down to a horrible, horrible looking chair and screaming and writhing in agony. Blood was everywhere and Hans could only gawk in horror, wanting to scream but unable to. The prisoner didn't have any clothes on and looked like he was in so much pain!

Then Lars turned. Slowly. As if he knew someone had been coming. His eyes were hollow, expressionless, dark. His eyes bore into Hans's soul and Hans opened his mouth to scream, but still nothing came out. His eyes were practically bugging out of his head from fear! Lars tilted his head ever so slightly then shook his head so disappointedly that Hans felt like he was the prisoner. Finally the scream came and Hans sank to the ground, feeling like he couldn't move. He scrambled into a corner and huddled into a little ball, hoping that Lars wouldn't see him even though he knew that Lars could. He wished he was young enough to make himself believe that if he couldn't see his brother his brother couldn't see him. He was whimpering, now, crying softly. He wanted the screaming to stop, and the image in his head to go away forever!

He heard footsteps and fearfully looked up. Lars was approaching. "Stay away!" he screamed, throwing a loose stone at his brother. Lars paused, summing him up. After a moment Lars turned back to the prisoner.

"Go upstairs, Hans. I'll be up for supper in a moment," he said. Hans was still crying. He wanted to ask why Lars was hurting the prisoner. He wanted to ask so many things. His eyes fixed on the suffering man, who looked at him with a pleading gaze in his eyes as if begging the child to help him or do or say something. Anything. Anything that would make the torturer—oh god, his brother was a torturer!—stop.

Why do you look so casual? Why is the man suffering? Why are you hurting him? Why isn't doing this hurting or making you sad at all? Does he even deserve this? Why won't you let him go?

Hans wanted to ask all of those things, he wanted to help the suffering man… But he didn't… He leapt up and he ran like hell itself was on his heels. Lars's soulless gaze was branded upon his mind forever. He hadn't been able to meet his brother's eyes since, say for that short period of time in future when he could have almost forgotten. When Lars had been almost normal. Almost happy. Almost like Justic…

Lars, meanwhile, turned and watched Hans flee. His jaw twitched slightly as a long, long foreign emotion threatened to come upon him. This emotion he buried. Or so he thought. But when he looked back at the prisoner it was not with the eyes of a torturer that he saw him. It was with the eyes of a child. He felt sick. Not for long, but for long enough. He went to the suffering man and released him, pulling the man from the chair. The man collapsed to the ground sobbing and didn't move. Broken. Tending the injuries, as was his routine, Mael returned him to his cell and gave him a soothing salve and a certain drink that would induce a sense of peace and give good dreams. He left and hadn't touched that particular prisoner again. Not that it mattered. The man didn't last many more days after that, but at least for that while he'd had respite.

Frozen

Some years came and went, for Hans. It was best not to consider how old he was now. Old enough to know he was far, far, far too young to be feeling this much emotional pain and anguish. He should hardly even know what it meant to feel this much inner pain. Things flew around the room as he cast them down, pacing like a trapped animal and pulling at his hair, willing himself not to cry but unable to help but do just that. Oh god, he wanted to die! He sobbed, sinking to his knees and holding his body close, tightly shutting his eyes and willing himself into oblivion or some daydream where he could forget everything happening around him and everything that made him what he was. He wished he were in another life. He wished he were a bird or some other such creature. Just so he could escape the torture it was to be human. He shouldn't know this sort of suffering. Not at this age.

He felt eyes on him and a shiver shot through him. Only one brother made him shudder like that. Funny how even the mere presence of the man would set Hans shaking like a leaf. He took a breath, willing the shivering to stop. It did. He looked up and ahead at nothing. The brother was behind him. Lars. He almost hoped the creepy son of a… He almost wished the eerie one beheaded him in a psychotic moment. He knew, though, that there was no psychosis. Lars had never been prone to such things like that. Everything he did was calculated and cold and… and something… Resigned? That didn't seem right, though.

Lars moved around to in front of him and knelt. Hans glanced up then looked away. "You are in pain," Lars said. "So much pain…" Hans said nothing, but swallowed over a lump in his throat. He failed to hold back his tears this time, and one slipped out. "Ah little brother…" Lars murmured. "If only there were some way to make the pain leave… I know the feeling." Hans was quiet. No he didn't, Hans inwardly answered, but he didn't want to speak to Lars. Lars terrified him beyond all rational thought. He had never been more scared of anything. The man haunted his darkest nightmares… Yet in the dreams he sometimes had that were happy, where all the brothers were together and content, Lars was there too and was not the nightmare… "Look at me, Hans," Lars said.

Hans didn't want to, but he glanced up. Lars held out his arm. Hans raised an eyebrow and glanced down. He felt a sick churning in his stomach as he saw long, long scars on his sibling's arms. He saw some fresher ones too. Some were bandaged and deep. Others were still bright red but had stopped bleeding. "Wh-What did you do?" he breathed in horror.

"Sometimes it helps kills the pain," Lars murmured as he drew a knife. Hans thought for a horrible moment that his brother would stab him. Instead Lars placed the knife against his skin and cut. Hans watched in morbid fascination and horror. He wasn't seeing this. He watched his brother's blood flow freely. "At least, I tell myself that," Lars added. Though he was doubting it more and more. It was a sign of a mental illness, not a way to kill pain, at least that's what Rudi said. But then he could hardly hear his brothers anymore. He could hardly hear anything anymore. Or feel. Or see. Or breathe or taste or smell. It felt, honestly, like he moved through some dreamscape in a body that wasn't even his anymore.

Hans looked at the bleeding injury, tears burning his eyes. "It does?" he questioned. "It looks like it only brings more."

"I choose physical pain over emotional," Lars answered. Though the physical pain really only served to remind him how much emotional anguish he was in. It was a vicious cycle. What was he doing telling his brother this? Showing him this way? What was he doing…? Was he even anything, anymore?

Hans swallowed tightly and picked up a sharp piece of broken glass. He looked at it a long moment. Finally he shut his eyes tightly, took a breath, and quickly slashed. He gasped in pain and his eyes flew open in shock. What. Had he. Just done? He looked horrified at the gash across his wrist, watched the blood in appal and disgust… But suddenly his attention wasn't so much on his emotional pain as it was on the blood rushing over his skin. "Did I… cut too deep?" he asked suddenly, a moment of fear coming to him. He met his brother's eyes. He met them and held them.

"No. Just right. But you must be careful that it stays just right, because no one will be there to save you," Lars said, glancing at the wound again with the eye of a doctor. Which he was. Kind of had to be as the palace torturer.

"No one ever was," Hans bitterly replied, glaring coldly at Lars once more. Lars met his eyes again. They were silent. It was five seconds, this time, that Hans could hold his eyes. Five seconds before he saw a darkness and a hidden sea of emotions and thoughts and knowledge in them that terrified him, and he quickly looked away. He didn't meet his brother's eyes again, just cut another gash. He heard Lars leaving, closed his eyes tightly, and cut a third. That had been the longest he ever had and ever would meet his brother's eyes again for years to come… And the last time he would ever speak to him one-on-one, say for the little while when Mael had almost been normal again.

End Flashback