Tale of Two Cities

(A/N: Longest chapter yet by far. In part because of the flashback and in part because there was a lot to fit into it. Probably won't be rivalled in length again until one of the latter chapters of the story, and even then it's questionable whether that one will surpass this in length, so buckle in. And yeah, this entire chapter is kind of a blatant reference to the book said chapter is named after. Unfortunately don't have time to thoroughly edit it, have to leave soon, but here's hoping all the times I have edited it got the brunt of the errors.)

Kristoff sat in the stables feeding Sven carrots and smiling at his friend as he spent some seriously neglected one-on-one time with him. "Missed me I'll bet, Sven," Kristoff remarked.

"Yes I have, Kristoff," Kristoff pretended Sven replied. "You're my best friend and feed me the best treats ever."

"Aw Sven, you're a suck up," Kristoff said.

"Hoo boy, you really have no social life whatsoever, do you?" someone dryly questioned from behind.

Kristoff's eyes widened and he spun around with a gasp, dropping into a fighting pose. "Hans!" he exclaimed. Dammit, where were the escorts that were supposed to be with him?

Hans smirked cruelly. "Wondering where my brothers are? You know, slipping a few sleeping herbs into their drinks was sinfully easy. Guess they're all too preoccupied fretting about that idiot Mael.

"Go back, Hans. I'm not looking for trouble with you," Kristoff said.

"Protective, aren't we?" Hans asked with a sigh. "What do you think I am? Some psycho who's going to kill anyone in my way?"

"Yes," Kristoff deadpanned. Hans frowned dubiously at him then shrugged, rolling his eyes.

"Well even if I was—which I'm not—right now you're not so much an obstacle as my saving grace," Hans said.

"Saving grace?" Kristoff suspiciously asked.

"I need you to help me," Hans seriously said.

"What game is this?" Kristoff doubtfully asked.

"That's none of your business!" Hans shot. "All you need to know is either you help me, or I take something close to you away." Kristoff paled. Anna! He lunged at Hans, but Sven bit his clothing, holding him back.

"You bastard!" Kristoff shot.

"Bastard? Well, I guess threatening to burn an ice harvester's sleigh in this place is pretty low," Hans said, something akin to a playful, teasing, and victorious glint in his eyes.

Kristoff started and blinked. "Excuse me?" he asked.

"What? You thought I mean Princess Anna or Sven? Please. I learned my lesson," Hans said, looking at the sleigh parked not far off. "Do we have a deal, or does your precious sleigh go up in flames?" he asked. "I do like watching things burn." Hey, intimidation tactics. They came in handy when they needed to. He didn't relish using them, often, but he wasn't averse to it. Kristoff blinked blankly and exchanged fearful looks with Sven. Oh they were going to regret this.

Frozen

Kristoff and Hans galloped out of Arendelle and over the land swiftly, Kristoff of course riding Sven and Hans of course riding Sitron. "Why do you want to see the trolls?" Kristoff asked guardedly.

"Not to hurt them, believe you me. I just… have questions," he said.

Kristoff cringed and shifted uneasily. "Is it, uh, you know, the whole 'my brother is a sorcerer' thing?" he asked.

"Yeah… Kind of…" Hans murmured. Kristoff nodded, looking ahead.

After some time the two riders were riding through the area where the trolls lived. All Hans saw were boulders. "Hey everybody, I'm back!" Kristoff was calling to them. And then he proceeded to address them with names. Hans almost thought the ice harvester had lost his mind, but he slowed himself down from jumping to that conclusion. Hans slipped off of Sitron's back and patted the nervous horse reassuringly. Sitron snorted, looking uneasily around.

Suddenly the rocks began to shake and then leapt up, all calling out greetings to Kristoff. "Holy crap!" Hans exclaimed in terror, leaping back as a rock he'd rested his foot on moved. Sitron whinnied and reared up. Quickly Hans took to soothing him while also trying to slow his own racing heart.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Kristoff called back to Hans. Hans awkwardly cleared his throat as all eyes suddenly went to him. Carefully he approached and flashed an uncertain grin at the trolls, coming alongside Kristoff. "Everyone, this is Prince Hans of the Southern Isles."

"You mean the one who nearly killed sweet Anna?" one troll asked.

"And Elsa too!" another added.

Hans cringed. Great. Stories had been spread. "Want us to finish him off, Kristoff?" one of the trolls asked.

"What? No, no," Kristoff said, seeing the trolls menacingly approaching Hans. They paused, curiously looking at him. "Hans has some questions about something."

"And something to ask of you," Hans added.

Kristoff stiffened and looked sharply over. "What?" he asked. That wasn't part of the deal.

"Out of the way, mountain man. You've done your part," Hans said, pushing passed him. He knelt in front of the one that seemed the oldest and brought out a picture. "Look at the person," he said, holding it out.

Grand Pabby looked at the picture curiously. "Handsome young man," he remarked. "Why are you showing this?"

"Do you know him?" Hans asked.

Grand Pabby was quiet. "No," he answered. "But… there have been tales…" He didn't know the person, but another did, he sensed, and if it was who he suspected, this was a dealing he wanted minimal part in.

"Tales?" Hans questioned.

"Stories. They claim he is a seer and a sorcerer," Grand Pabby said. "He was cursed, long ago, by a wicked sprite with extraordinary power. Cursed because he tried to fight off the sprite's—in a man's form—advances on him, and badly wounded it in the process."

"Wait, advances? What do you mean by…" Kristoff began. His adoptive troll mother covered is mouth, giving him a look that screamed he didn't want to know.

Continuing, Grand Pabby said, "In retaliation, as this boy fled, the powerful sprite cursed him and struck him in the back with a spell or uttered an incantation. It was said it endowed the boy with great powers, but at great cost."

"What cost?" Hans questioned.

Grand Pabby was watching Hans suspiciously, guardedly. He looked like the young man in the picture… "He is a relative of yours," Grand Pabby deduced.

Hans was silent. "He's my brother," he finally admitted.

"Then it is him you should be asking," Grand Pabby said.

"As if he could be bothered," Hans scoffed. Grand Pabby tilted his head but made no remark. Hans looked at the picture uncertainly. "A seer… He can see the future…" That explained so much.

"Aye," Grand Pabby said.

Hans was quiet. "Who was the sprite?" he questioned.

Grand Pabby sighed, closing his eyes. "Sprite is only in part true… He was the child of a sprite and of a troll, and he became more powerful than either of them could have ever imagined… He became the self-proclaimed king of the trolls, king of the hobgoblins… He crafted a wicked mirror long ago that shattered in the sky and…"

"Rained down on men… Mael was telling the truth! Grand Pabby, why was I never…?" Kristoff began.

"Because it was never meant to be a matter humans needed to deal with," Grand Pabby said. "Or anyone but us and the fae. We tried to bury it away, to hide the truth of it. We thought one day we could fix it… We never could… It seems not all evils and secrets can stay buried…"

Kristoff looked ready to press, but Hans no longer cared to hear more. He had a time limit. There was no time for stories or detective work. "I need you to make me look like him. Like my brother… And I need you to give me something that will make him look like me…" Hans said.

Kristoff started, eyes widening. "Hans, what are you doing?" he demanded. "You do know he's imprisoned, right? And that they're pressing for his execution?"

"Pressing? They've sentenced him because fear is just that strong. Nothing Elsa says or does will keep them from carrying it out," Hans said. He sighed and rose. "I'm not standing by this time."

"You, he, but why?" Kristoff stammered. It wasn't like Hans to be self-sacrificing.

"As if I'd die for him. But I'm more likely to find a way out of this than he is, and with this new information on Mael, it's best I keep him alive a good while longer," Hans said.

"Hans, this could get you killed!" Kristoff said.

"Even if the worst happens, my sentence was death anyway," Hans replied.

"No, you were acquitted of it," Kristoff deadpanned.

"Did I deserve to be?" Hans challenged. He knew full well Kristoff didn't think so. Confirming that thought, Kristoff just cringed and glanced to the side awkwardly. "I thought so." Hans turned back to Grand Pabby. "Can you do it?" he questioned.

Grand Pabby gazed at Hans a long moment. "There is more to you than you than meets the eye, young prince…" the old troll remarked.

"I don't do cliché. Usually. Look, just make me look like my brother and get this done Tale of Two Cities style," Hans said.

"Very well," Grand Pabby replied. An elderly troll female came forth, offering two vials to Grand Pabby. Grand Pabby took them and handed them to Hans. "The one in the auburn bottle is the one that will make him look like you. The one in the black bottle is the one that will make you look like him. You are risking much for your sibling…"

"Not as much as you would think," Hans answered. Kristoff didn't want to even begin to try and guess how many double meanings that statement had had in it, but he suspected a lot.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Hans?" Kristoff questioned.

Hans was quiet, looking at the vials. "I can take it," he answered. He would take it.

Frozen

Mael lay on the bench in his cell. Time was running short. Very soon the guards would act. Elsa had given her order. They would not draw their swords against him, but burning at the stake was fair game. He heard tapping at the bars and looked over. He frowned curiously and sat up. "Hans?" he asked in vague surprise.

"Open the cell," Hans ordered. Mael made no move to obey. "Open it, Lars, I know you can." Mael glanced over. Finally he raised his hand and turned his palm upwards. A dark being appeared and crushed the lock in its hand before Mael dispersed it. Hans pulled the crushed lock firmly and it came off. He slid open the cell and entered. "They're coming to take you," he said.

"Then you need to leave," Mael said, but his eyes were darkening with suspicion. Suddenly he was realizing where this might be going, and he didn't like it.

"Take this. It will make it painless," Hans said, holding out a bottle to Mael.

Mael looked skeptically at it. "No," he finally said, looking sharply up at Hans.

"Take it or I force it down your miserable throat," Hans threatened. "You keep something this big a secret for over three decades? Don't think I won't get rough with you. Brother, you don't even know how angry we are with you and the other big ones."

"Leave Hans," Mael commanded.

"You know what's happening. You saw this coming," Hans said. Mael stiffened, paling ever so slightly. Hans had never been able to make Mael pale, he noted. None of them had. Hmm, he felt accomplished. "That's right. I know your secret, soothsayer. The trolls were helpful enough." Mael was quiet. "Still have plenty of questions they wouldn't answer, but that can wait until after this fiasco is done with."

Mael was quiet. "You are the savior…" he realized. He bitterly chuckled. "I should have known better than to think I would be fortunate enough for it not to be one of you…" He looked up at Hans. "Why?" he questioned.

Hans was quiet. "I don't know," he answered.

"Yes you do," Mael said, but he wouldn't press. "Leave me, Hans… Please… I can't foresee if you live or die…"

"Delayed justice if I die, at worst," Hans said. If he was going to die, it might as well be for something that at least would appear to have been heroic. He liked switching things up sometimes.

"I can't hear of your death… Not for my sake…" Mael said.

"Take the potion or this gets rough. Fast," Hans threatened. After a long moment Mael reached out, taking it. He looked at it a long moment then suddenly moved to dash it on the ground. Hans pounced, seizing it and throwing his brother roughly down, quickly opening it and, true to his word, forcing it into Mael's mouth and preferably down his throat. Though Mael tried to spit or cough it back up, it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough and Hans soon drew the vial away as Mael continued coughing. "See? I don't need powers to see the future," Hans said. He took the other vial and drank it quickly.

Mael looked at him, mouth agape in shock. He looked at his hands. He felt himself changing. He saw Hans changing too. Suddenly he was looking at himself. His clothes, his appearance, his everything. He looked down at his own body. He was in Hans's clothing… He was in Hans's appearance… He looked up at his brother in disbelief, lips parted in shock and eyes wide in mystification. He didn't understand. Why was Hans doing this? Why was he willing to? …Something told him that Hans himself didn't know… Long, long ago Hans had forgotten which persona he put on was the true him. He had worn so many masks and taken so many personalities that the true one had been buried far, far away so that now Hans didn't even know himself anymore.

"You shouldn't have done that," he hollowly said.

"I'm counting on you to do your part," Hans said. Mael was silent. He would. He would tell his brothers everything, and when he had he would go to Elsa. Would he tell her he wasn't really Hans or play the part of his brother? He didn't know, as of yet, but either way she would know someone was being executed against her orders… Whether Hans lived or died would fall solely upon her actions from that point on. It all came down to Elsa… He would act Hans's part, Mael decided. She would more likely try and save him than she would try to save Hans, but they would see. He would feel it out. They heard footsteps coming quickly. "Hide," Hans said.

Swiftly Mael left the cell and got out of sight behind something. Hans shut the door again. Not that it would fool the guards given the lock was pretty well useless. Suddenly it fixed itself. Or not, Hans said to himself. Mael, no doubt. He looked towards where his brother was hiding and nodded. Wow. Mael's form felt so weird. The cell door was suddenly thrown open. Hans cried out in alarm as he was seized rougher than he'd expected and thrown to the ground. They were beating on him, he suddenly realized as searing pain began shooting through his body. They were beating him! He felt them wrench his arms painfully behind his back. He almost swore he heard a crack, but given he wasn't screaming in pain he hoped it wasn't as bad as it seemed. They bound him tightly, gagged him, and slipped a sack over his head. Swiftly they raced out with Hans in tow. Mael watched in shock and rage and concern. The moment it was safe, he got out of hiding and ran to find his siblings.

Frozen

"He what?!" Jürgen freaked.

"I will not repeat myself. There isn't time," Mael answered, already marching out. "I have to see Elsa and warn her."

"As Hans? She'll more likely rip your head off," Duach remarked.

"Especially after Hans's disgusting display at the banquet," Justic said.

"Not that she was much better when she lost her temper," Rhun half-heartedly defended their sibling. Which was odd, because he was one of the ones who would have happily tortured Hans while laughing. And had. Not brutally in the way he could have, but that wasn't the point.

"Shut up and let's move. We don't have time to overthink this," Connyn said, quickly racing off after Mael in Hans's form. The rest of the twelve brothers followed quickly.

Frozen

"Queen Elsa!" Hans's voice called out. Elsa stiffened in her throne, looking dangerously up. The throne room door burst open frantically and immediately coldness became alarm. What was this? All twelve of them were racing in and all twelve of them looked terrified.

"What happened?" she demanded sharply, rising.

"It's Mael! He isn't in his cell!" Hans—or who she perceived to be Hans—replied. "Something happened to him! He's been taken."

Elsa paled. Oh no. She gasped and immediately raced down from the throne. "Get to the stables!" she ordered. "They would have taken him to town." At least if Mael's vision was to be believed. Oh god, don't let them be too late. Immediately the princes and king followed her in her mad dash for the stables. The princes mounted their steeds. Without waiting permission, Elsa swung up onto Iscawin's horse and wrapped her arms around him. She could see his blush even in the dark and smirked to herself. She liked him. He was cute. And really fun to fluster.

"Qu-Queen Elsa, I-I'm honored," he stammered.

"No, I am," she answered honestly. "Now let's get moving." Iscawin grinned back at her excitedly and spurred the horse into action. Immediately the twelve steeds tore out of the palace courtyard and galloped full tilt for town.

Frozen

Hans hissed in pain as another vicious lash was delivered to him. He cursed under his breath. This marked thirty and it was taking his all not to scream in agony. They finally stopped at thirty-five. He could hardly breathe, and every breath was raspy and painful. He was soaked in blood, his back at least. The lashes had been deep. And unnecessary, he dryly added to himself. He didn't see the reason for them whipping him prior to unlawful execution. They hoisted him up and dragged the bound young man towards the stake. None too gently they tied him to it and began building up the already large pyre of wood around him. Oh god, this couldn't actually be happening. Dammit, what had he been thinking? Putting his trust in his siblings and a woman who despised the very feel of his name on her tongue? Yeah. Brilliant idea, Hans. He was on a role, it seemed. Bad idea after bad idea after bad idea. Typical.

I see you… a dark voice suddenly said in his mind. He started. What was that? I will come for you. For them. For all of you.

"What?" he whispered to himself. Seriously, what was that voice? It sent chills down his spine and he didn't like it or trust it. Not that he had much time to think on it. The wood pyre was almost built as high as they would make it.

Frozen

They saw the town square. "There he is!" Hans—or who Elsa perceived as Hans—said, pointing. They watched in horror as an execution hood was slipped over the prince's head and flame was put to the pyre. Immediately Hans—as Elsa saw him—kicked the horse into action, frantically galloping towards it. Iscawin and Kelin-Sel were tight on his heels. She was glad she was riding with Iscawin, now. He seemed one of the faster riders of the brood. She found it a little odd how Hans's horse was behaving. Almost as if he were debating whether to protest and stop dead. Almost like he thought the one riding him wasn't Hans at all.

Suddenly there was a cry. They looked up. Elsa gasped. Logs were falling from a high perch towards them! Just their luck. The horses screamed in alarm, rearing up. Ugh, they didn't have time for this. The princes began cursing and shouting at the careless builders angrily. They immediately turned to gallop down another path. She, though, leapt from Iscawin's horse. "Elsa!" he called out, reigning in.

"Keep going! I can get there faster and buy you time!" she called. "I might be able to save him!" She turned and began running again, raising snow under her to lift her over the blockage. She leapt down on the other side and looked towards the pyre and the stake. The flames were licking at the man's flesh, and he was coughing. Coughing and starting to squirm in pain. She gritted her teeth, eyes narrowing, and ran towards the pyre top speed. Oh she didn't think so! The guards who had done this would pay dearly.

Frozen

Hans's brothers galloped around another corner, finally back on track. "Dammit, we're going to be too late," Calcas numbly said, eyes wide in terror.

"Mael, you're turning back!" a shocked Coth suddenly exclaimed. The others turned to look at Mael. Surely enough, he was changing back. Mael said nothing to the matter but suddenly seemed much more nervous. She would see the clothes. She would know… Or with luck they had stripped him from the waist up, or left only his undershirt, and she wouldn't realize.

Elsa, meanwhile, continued racing forward, eyes set determinedly. She could hardly see the man through the smoke and fire. She scowled. He was making pained sounds and writhing. He cried out suddenly in agony and now wouldn't stop crying out in his suffering. The flames. They were burning him! The Prince's coughing suddenly stopped. He was going limp! He was being smothered by the smoke! Asphyxiation would get him before the burning, if he was lucky. She lost it, whipping off her gloves and sending a powerful blast shooting for the pyre. The inferno, huge at this point, was swiftly encased in ice. The fire burned still, and the ice encasing it was melting quickly, but for now it was buying time. Frozen fire… It looked so beautiful… Who knew two such opposite things could combine into something like that?

The guards, and the subjects that had come out to watch the execution in morbid fascination, turned on seeing the pyre being frozen. Their eyes widened in fear as their queen raced towards them, obviously incensed. She slid to a stop, pointed at the prince, and ordered, "Release him, now! I command you!"

"Queen Elsa!" one of the guards exclaimed.

"Now!" she shouted. None of them dared move. She scowled and ran up onto the pyre, freezing the mound again. The fire wasn't going anywhere now. She solidly froze the licks of flame and shattered them quickly, pushing through to the man bound to the stake. She immediately cut him loose without a moment's hesitation and caught him in her arms as he fell. He was unconscious! His breathing, when she could hear it, was raspy and shallow and shaky. If she had waited much longer, there would be no breathing at all she realized with a chill.

She saw the blood on the back of his shirt and quickly lifted it up. She looked in horror at the deep gashes on his back from the whipping. She moved the shirt back into place and gently rolled him over, cradling him so that he wasn't lying on the obviously painful injuries. His skin was red. She had honestly expected it to be worse, given how long he was in the flames. It was a little strange, almost not normal, that he wasn't covered in third degree burns at least in some places, but she wouldn't question it. Right now he needed help. Panting for breath she gently sent a cooling wave into the inflamed gashes of his back, then softly blew on his chest. An icy breath. One meant to revive him and cool his hot flesh. He remained unmoving, for the most part, say for a slight movement of his hand and turning of his face.

The princes of the Southern Isles galloped up in anger. Immediately the citizens fled in fear, and the guards quailed as said princes leapt from their steeds and marched swiftly towards the pyre. Elsa spared them a short glance—not long enough, it would seem, to realize Mael was suddenly with them—as they came, before turning back to the one she cradled in her arms. She took a breath and removed the execution hood. She gasped in horror, paling, on seeing who it was she was cradling in her arms. It definitely wasn't Mael.

"Hans!" she gasped, going white as a sheet. She almost dropped him like a disease. He groaned weakly in pain, though, and compassion overcame anger. She swallowed and pretended like this was totally okay with her. It wasn't. It frightened her. Softly she blew a cold breeze on his face. His eyes flickered open. They fell on her and were confused for a moment before it suddenly dawned on him what this meant. So, his brothers and she had come through for him after all… He blinked up at her and leaned back, closing his eyes again. It was too much effort to keep them open. She blew softly again, coaxing him back to wakefulness. He gave her a look that was a cross between vaguely annoyed and at the same time grateful.

"It had to be done," he whispered weakly to her. "I had to-to save him," he said, tripping over one of the words as a wave of pain went through him. "It had to be done!" She could only gape in awe and disbelief. This was actually happening. "Thank you," he said to her weakly, eyes still shut and head hanging limply over her arm. She felt so many things shooting through her at once. Disgust, awe, wonder, worry, fear, compassion… So many of them shouldn't even be felt by her let alone so many contradicting ones… He was unconscious again. This time she didn't try to call him back. His brothers were there, quickly pulling their sibling out of her arms and laying him on his side so Mael could tend him and make him ready for moving back to the palace to be cared for. Mael darkly looked at the guards. They shivered.

"No harm will come to you. But if you defy my orders again, heaven help you," Elsa said to said guards, frowning dangerously. They bowed their heads low. Moren stayed still, eyes fixed on Hans. It had to be done. Hans had said 'it had to be done'… He swallowed painfully as he remembered the last time he had heard such words…

Fifteen Years Ago

"You will take him with you, Caleb," their father firmly commanded. "Get him away from me and out of my hair. I'm too busy for him."

Caleb glared disdainfully at the eight-year-old child who was playing with a toy horse and muttering to himself. Probably some story he was making up to go with his play that he would later write down. The child was quite ingenious when it came to storytelling, really. He couldn't deny jealousy over the boy. Perhaps too much jealousy to be good or safe, as evidenced when his first thought was to be sure Hans didn't come back. He hated himself immediately for the idea and mentally shot himself. "Alright," he relented. He went towards his brother. "Hans!" he called out. Hans gasped, sharply looking up with eyes wide in fear as if he just expected Caleb to catch him up and beat him. Caleb hated the boy all the more. What had he ever done to Hans other than protect him? Why should his brother be so afraid of him? …He hated knowing they feared him… All of them… He hated them for feeling they had to. Nonetheless at times it came in handy, so he didn't protest as much as he probably should. "Come. We are going to town."

"Why?" Hans asked.

"It is not your place to ask why, baby brother. It is your place to follow," Caleb answered.

"Runo questions the Generals about battles," Hans pointed defiantly out.

Caleb was silent. "There are some orders best questioned. This is not one of them. There are no lives on the line."

"Except yours, Hans," Franz, doing paperwork and documents nearby, sang eerily. Hans caught his breath, eyes widening and skin paling as he looked at Caleb in terror. Caleb was scowling murderously at Neb. Neb's smirk had quickly vanished to terror.

"I will deal with you later," Caleb threatened stoically. Franz swallowed nervously and bowed his head back to the papers as if they could hide him. It seemed Caleb was not in the temper for this game.

Now Hans would be that much more of a bother, Caleb realized. Frightened children were not easy to contend with or control. He had learned that long ago in the triplets. He would have to be careful not to frighten Hans further, or the child would run off and never be seen again. "I want to stay," Hans said.

"Hans, come," Caleb commanded firmly. Hans whimpered, hesitating. Would Caleb hurt him if he went? Neb had said Caleb liked to hurt the youngest ones. He was youngest now in their family. Caleb paused, looking back sternly. "Hans, I don't have time for this. I am not going to hurt you."

"Jürgen said that. Then he threw me in a lake," Hans bluntly replied, glaring suspiciously at Caleb. Franz snorted, fighting to hold back a laugh. "It wasn't funny!" Hans protested.

Caleb sighed, already getting a headache. "I am not Jürgen, little brother," he said. "Unlike our brother, I have actually matured beyond petty spites." It was very apparent that Hans didn't believe a word of it, and in fact the boy's eyes were already condemning him, but nonetheless Hans cautiously went over and reached up his hand for Caleb's tentatively. Caleb didn't take it, instead turning and walking. Hans's eyes filled with hurt and he bowed his head sadly.

Franz, glancing over, spotted the expression on his sibling's face and inwardly cringed, turning away. Humph, kid could use a lesson in tough love. But then again… "For what it's worth, he never held mine either. Or any of ours. Caleb doesn't trust touching," Neb offered. No response. He frowned and turned. "Hans?" he asked. Hans was already gone. Neb cursed under his breath and bit the inside of his cheek. A nervous tick of his, he knew. He sighed in frustration—always too late, never on time, Jürgen often said—and turned back to the papers he had been going through again.

Frozen

Caleb and Hans walked in silence, Hans trailing behind the elder despondently. They reached the stables and Caleb went to his horse, beginning to prepare it. "How has your birthday been, Hans?" he questioned.

"You remembered?" Hans asked.

"Of course I did," Caleb answered, raising a dubious eyebrow at his brother.

"Oh…" Hans began, looking sadly away. Why didn't you come, then? Why didn't anybody…? "Lonely," he murmured in response. "Calcas, Connyn, and Coth are still pretending I don't exist, and Kelin-Sel and Iscawin won't play with me because Kelin-Sel is busy trying to get Justic to tell him if he can order Iscawin executed, because Iscawin is following him around and repeating and mimicking everything Kelin-Sel says and does and won't stop. Franz is busy trying to catch up on the work he put off and Justic told me to go crawl in a hole and die so I would stop bugging him. He said 'it's not like anyone will miss you'. Runo is fighting in the war and Rudi is locked away in the study and Lars is I don't know where. Jürgen came to me. He's the only one who gave me a present, but it wasn't a nice one. It was my favoritist book all torn up and burned. He said he didn't do it but I don't believe him. Even if he didn't, though, I wish he hadn't shown me what happened to it. I cried. He just left. His other present was locking me up with Franz's help until Iscawin and Kelin-Sel heard me when they were walking and got a maid to unlock the door. Then they teased me about being a baby and called me a coward and useless and said I was lucky they hadn't forgotten me yet too, like the triplets and you and the big ones did, otherwise I would have been trapped forever because nobody cared enough to search for any of the little ones including them. I ran to papa for comfort, but papa said he had no time for me and told me to go play. Mama is asleep and won't wake up, or when she does she only smiles and sleeps again. Oh yeah, and you've been gone. I haven't seen you in days." Hans trailed off, thinking. "It's been horrible," he finally, sadly, added, head bowed.

Caleb was silent. Part of him felt like he should say, I'm sorry, little brother. The other part rejected the idea, though he was unsure why. "Hmm…." Caleb mused. "What had you hoped to get for your birthday?" he questioned as he picked Hans up and put him on the horse's back.

"This," Hans said, pointing at the horse. "I want my own horse more than anything."

"Hah! Keep dreaming, Hans. The youngest any of us have gotten one was at twelve. Not even the triplets have gotten their own horses yet," Caleb said.

"But none of you have wanted one as bad as I do…" Hans sadly said, head bowed low. It wasn't as if he could play with his brothers, and he had no friends and it wasn't likely the royal family was getting any pets besides horses anyway. Father hated animals, he only rode horses for necessity, and mother couldn't handle them and aunty—staying with them along with uncle, both mother's siblings—hated them with a passion.

"You will get past that phase, little brother," Caleb said.

"I won't!" Hans insisted. "It isn't fair! You always get anything you want and you don't even have to wait or beg."

"I'm twenty-three," Caleb said.

"I can get on my own horse and everything," Hans continued, as if he hadn't heard.

"And yet I had to lift you onto mine," Caleb pointed out.

"I let you because you never hold me any other time," Hans sneered.

Caleb started, blinking at Hans. Had he truly heard that from his brother's mouth? He looked Hans over. The boy had grown, he noted suddenly. He had grown a great deal. He hadn't noticed, until now, how big his little brother was getting. Come to think of it, he hadn't noticed, until now, how big even Franz had gotten. A troubled look passed over his face as he realized with a jolt that, should he close his eyes and try to picture Iscawin, Kelin-Sel, or the triplets without them being right in front of him, he couldn't do it… That troubled him. Deeply. He got the sense that if Hans did not look so much like him, he wouldn't have been able to picture his youngest brother either.

"I see," Caleb answered. For the first time in a long time he realized how impersonal that sounded. He shook it off and swung up onto his horse behind Hans.

"What are we doing in town?" Hans questioned.

"Checking on some businesses, the state of the people, and the stables," Caleb answered. Hans brightened at the mention of the stables and eagerly nodded.

Frozen

Hans watched in shock as the stable master fought with a very small colt who whinnied frantically, trying to get away. He saw the stable master finally force the colt to the ground and tie it down. It frantically fought, but it was too small and weak. "Caleb, what is he doing to it?!" Hans exclaimed in fear.

Caleb was silent, lips pursed. "He is trying to tame it, Hans, don't worry. Let's go," Caleb quickly said. It was a lie. The colt's mother was dead and had died in birth. The colt itself was almost too small and frail to have a hope of surviving even with human help, and frankly the stable master didn't have the resources to care for the baby as it needed. Therefore killing it had become the only option. He wasn't about to let Hans see that happen. Unfortunately, the stable master didn't seem to catch on to the fact a child was present. He rose, dusted his hands, then grabbed a musket from a rack nearby.

Hans's eyes widened in horror. "He's going to kill it!" Hans exclaimed.

"We're leaving, Hans!" Caleb sharply shot, seizing the youngest prince's hand and dragging him away.

"No! You can't let him! Caleb, stop him, stop him!" Hans screamed. Caleb ignored. As was typical, Hans knew. He scowled at his brother. He wasn't letting this happen! "No!" Hans screamed, jerking free of his sibling, turning, and racing for the stable as the stable master aimed at the colt.

"Hans!" Caleb called after him.

The stable master took a breath and began to squeeze the trigger while the little colt screamed in protest, trying to break free of the ropes and looking terrified. "Stop it!" Hans screamed furiously, suddenly darting into the line of the musket and wrapping his arms around the colt's neck as the stable master fired.

There was a second in which the stable master was terrified he had shot the child, but suddenly he realized his musket had been forced up. Sharply he looked over and gasped, paling. The crown prince! "Prince Caleb!" he exclaimed.

Caleb spun on Hans. "What the hell are you doing, Hans?!" he roared at his sibling. One of the very rare times he displayed anything other than indifference.

"I won't let him kill it!" Hans yelled back.

"You little brat!" Caleb shot, storming over and seizing Hans's arm roughly, trying to pull him away from the horse.

"No!" Hans shouted, lunging and knocking Caleb off balance. Caleb almost fell but caught himself and looked at Hans in shocked disbelief and something between outrage and awe. Hans buried his face in the colt's neck and glared angrily at the stable master. "You can't kill it! I won't let you! You'll have to kill me too!"

"Hans, stop being dramatic," Caleb ordered in disbelief. Oh he wanted to slap that boy so desperately.

"The horse is not going to live, laddie. We don't have the money or resources here to tend to it as it needs to be tended. It was a premature one, it was," the stable master stammered, trying to explain it to Caleb so the already enraged crown prince didn't take it out on him.

"I'm not letting you!" Hans yelled, drawing his knife and cutting the rope that was tying the poor thing down. Quickly the colt staggered up. It almost fell again. It could hardly walk. It managed, though, to rise and back into a corner in fear, shivering. Hans went towards it. "Shh, it's okay, boy," he soothed, gently reaching out. The colt didn't move. Hans moved his hand closer. The colt bit at him, but he quickly drew back and seized its bridle, looking into its eyes. "It's okay," he soothed again, gently petting the nose and looking innocently at the colt. The colt nickered and smelled Hans curiously. Hans giggled, which startled the colt and made it move quickly back. "Don't worry," Hans said. "I won't let them kill you. I'll stay forever if I have to. I'm going to call you Sitron."

"Oh for the love of…" Caleb began, pinching the bridge of his nose. He glared dangerously at his brother. "Give me the musket," he said to the stable master. He seized it before the man could protest. Caleb loaded it deftly and aimed at the colt. Hans didn't seem to be aware. He was too busy curiously examining the colt, as the colt was examining him. Caleb's finger was on the trigger, but he hesitated. He cursed the eyes all around that were watching curiously now. Waiting to see if he followed through. A future king was supposed to follow through… Even if he realized he had made a mistake… He didn't think this was a mistake, and yet still he was hesitating. Fear, perhaps? If it was fear, his subjects would see it and his future reign would become that much harder.

Frozen

Hans turned and gasped, giving a squeal of fear and dismay. Caleb snapped out of his thoughts and realized that what the boy was seeing wasn't him aiming at the colt. What Hans saw was his big brother—one who had remarked more than once that he was a burden—aiming a musket at him. The look in Hans's eyes… It was so hurt and betrayed… And then it was resigned. "It had to be done," Hans boldly stated, eyes narrowing. "It had to be done. You won't hurt it!"

Caleb bit the inside of his cheek then shook his head, shoving the musket back to the stable master. "You're under arrest," he said to the man.

"What? But your highness, what have I done?!" the stable master exclaimed in dismay and fear.

"We will address that later," Caleb answered. "You are not to question my decisions, peasant." Really, the man probably feared worse than what this was. A negligence charge, at best, and that was because the man hadn't been watching his surroundings and as a result had nearly shot a child.

Hans's eyes widened in fear. "C-Caleb, he didn't do…" Hans began.

"Silence!" Caleb shot. Hans gasped, slamming his mouth shut. When Caleb went into ruler mode, he wasn't a brother anymore. Not that he was much of a brother anyway… "Guards, take this man!" Caleb ordered. The guards, still shocked, cautiously moved forward and seized the stable master.

"You majesty, I beg you, please! I have a young daughter at home. She is waiting for her father to bring home money so that we can eat today! I can't be arrested, please!" the stable master begged.

"Let her beg," Caleb coldly answered. "Take him."

"Sire, no, no, please!" the man begged as he was being dragged away. A charge that would at worst earn the man a night or two in the dungeon and at best cost him a small fine. However, if he was to give into Hans's little protest, he would need to find another way to show the people that he was not a weak ruler and could, in fact, be harsh.

"Caleb, he didn't do anything, you can't…" Hans began.

"It was him or the horse, brother," Caleb dangerously, coldly, said, glaring at Hans. Hans looked terrified and torn, looking from the stable master to the colt and back again. The stable master begged with his eyes for Hans to step in. The man swore to himself he would do what it took to keep that colt alive if only it meant the young prince Hans chose him over it. However, Hans said nothing. He did nothing. He just watched in terror, torn over the choice Caleb had given him. Why had Caleb given him this choice? He looked to his brother, his eyes begging for that question to be answered.

Because you must learn now, brother, that many times very difficult choices must be made by a ruler, ones that often are not fair or do not seem to be fair at first, Caleb silently answered. Not that Hans would ever guess what his meaningful look meant. He should explain it to his brother one day.

In future he had done just that, when Hans was eighteen. He should have spoken in Hans's childhood. Eighteen was a bad age to choose to explain the matter. Hans had scoffed and called him pathetic before marching off and promptly ordering a horse trainer to be acquitted of a death sentence for an assault that resulted in death. The man had claimed he had killed a horse thief. Turned out, in the end, that though that was very true, the horse thief had had children and, watching them starve, had decided to do something desperate and beg the horse trainer—a wealthy man—to spare him some money. The horse trainer had refused, the horse thief had tried to steal one of the horses that the trainer was intending to sell to a slaughterhouse because it was too old to be of much use. The trainer caught him in the act, the thief begged forgiveness, but none was to be found, and the trainer attacked him and killed him. Oh how Hans had felt on learning all the details… He had avoided contact with his brothers for weeks after for fear of hearing of his mistake over and over again. He had been right. Justic had never let him live it down and had completely lost it on Hans to the point Hans avoided him like a plague and often fled from him. Caleb would see long gloves and sleeves that covered the arms and wrists for a good long time afterwards… And had once seen him silently crying… Hans had looked up at him, on realizing he was there. "It had to be done, right?" he had said in a whisper. Caleb hadn't answered.

In present, though, none of that had happened, and before him was his eight-year-old sibling looking horrified. Caleb knew he should answer Hans's unspoken question now, he sensed he should, but he didn't. He doubted the eight-year-old would understand. The stable master was dragged away. Hans watched hopelessly after him, anguished at the choice he had been given and had not taken. Caleb harrumphed and turned back to Hans. "Guards, take the colt to the royal stables. There you are, Hans, your birthday gift from me," Caleb coldly said. Hans was too guilt-stricken to feel the happiness he thought he would. His birthday gift yes, but at what cost? His head was hung low in shame. Caleb scoffed and picked him up, placing him on his own horse and mounting behind his sibling.

Hans sat silently on the horse now. He didn't even want to look at Caleb. Caleb was cruel and unfeeling. What would happen to the stable master? What about the man's daughter? Caleb was going to make her beg. He glanced up as Caleb reigned in his horse. They were in front of a house Hans hadn't seen. Caleb leapt from the horse but didn't take him down off of it. Hans almost decided to ride away and let Caleb find his own way back home. Caleb went to the door and knocked. A young woman answered. She looked like the stable master. Hans tilted his head curiously. She gasped and bowed low to Caleb. Caleb took some money and held it down to her. She, confused, took it and rose. Caleb said something else. Judging by the way the young woman suddenly looked misery stricken, he had told her about the stable master, who was probably her father. She fell to the ground before Caleb, clinging to his robes and begging for her father's release. Hans heard her offering something, but didn't know what. Whatever it was had Caleb suddenly turn a bright shade of red and practically leap back suddenly flustered. Caleb quickly and gently took the girl's arms and raised her up to her feet. He said something to her and she seemed to calm down. She kissed his hands and went back inside. Caleb returned to the horse still blushing and looking flustered.

"What did she say?" Hans wondered curiously.

"Nothing!" Caleb blurted almost before Hans had finished. Hans blinked curiously up at him. Caleb cleared his throat, climbed back onto the horse, and rode back to the palace. In seven more years—longer than it should have taken him to figure it out, Hans had always thought—he'd suddenly understood what the girl had offered Caleb. Oh he'd heckled his brother mercilessly for that the next two months until Caleb had threatened—and definitely would have followed through—to have his tongue cut out. Hans hadn't dared speak in Caleb's presence for another month after that.

Present Day