Hans' instructions were easy enough to follow, even easier when there weren't a million guards swarming the halls as he thought there would be, though he was never one to complain when things were simple. Combing down the many halls, Kristoff spent little effort finding the service tunnels, though it felt like forever had passed until he managed to get to the stables, the stench of cattle and hay greeting him immediately. Of course, he found himself searching quite a bit to find the firewood (the young man remembering that Hans hadn't exactly told him where to find them), and with the stalls being far larger than he'd anticipated, the harvester found himself fearing that too much time would pass before he did.
"Who needs stables this big anyway?! Could this be more inconvenient?!" He exclaimed with an agitated whisper, bracing himself against the cooling drafts that blew in through the windows above, though that did little to pull him from his task, his focus set so intensely upon the task that he'd nearly missed the familiar grunt of a friend. Snapping up, Kristoff gaped at the sight of the a reindeer, his reindeer, Sven, relaxed in a corner of the stalls, given his very own spot, his own trough, all the things that he needed.
'At least Hans was honest; Sven is being taken care of, as far as Icould tell.' The young man admitted, giving the prince just a bit of credit, as he'd kept his word. Quickly, he eased beside the reindeer, stroking his soft coat as he coaxed him awake.
"Hey, bud! It's me, Kristoff! You okay down here?" He asked the reindeer, and though it took a moment or two for him to come to, once he'd met Kristoff's soft, brown eyes, he was quick to beam with excitement, nuzzling the young man happily as Kristoff braced himself against the strength of the beast.
"I'll take that as a yes! Okay, okay, I get it, you missed me! But I haven't been gone that long, you know? Besides, I can't stay; just looking for some firewood for Anna so we can start the fireplace." He admitted, giving the reindeer a loving pat before easing to a stand, scanning the floor once more for what he was looking for. Sven rose with him, grumbling with concern, and Kristoff, always the perceptive one, could pick up on what the creature had been meaning to say. Stroking the creature's head, he gave him a small smile, as if to reassure him, though it didn't reach the young man's eyes.
"I know you're worried about her...I am, too. But I promise she'll...she'll be okay. She's not going out that easily." Came his reassurance, and though he'd said it to Sven...he felt himself needing to say it for himself, too. Magic was something he'd grown up with, something that wasn't really new to him, not with the trolls of those earnest woods, far beyond Arendelle, came to show him during his youth. Great miracles were nothing he hadn't seen, nothing he hadn't grown used to over the years, you know?
Sprouting grand spires of rooted earth from the ground, prophetic tales spun by Grand Pabbie, the very presence of his found family testament to the wonders that laid interwoven into the world he'd known. This alone should have been a comfort to him, that no matter what challenge they'd encountered, no matter the ills, the fears, the anxieties...they'd always come out alright. Yet...something fearsome in his heart lingered, heavy and slow in his blood as he swallowed thickly, a sense, a sensation he hated that now, of all times, he felt, though he hadn't wanted to. Sven seemed to know it, too, looking to his friend as it grew in his chest.
Doubt.
But Kristoff knew it didn't help to think that way. If he'd already come to the conclusion that Anna was already lost, already something not destined for this world...then what was this all for? He had to believe that she was alright, that she would be alright...because what else could he do but that?
'She's going to be fine! Anna's strong enough to pull through, I...I know she is...' The young man thought to himself as he pulled away from the reindeer, resuming his search as the kindly beast trailed behind him, eager to remain by his side despite his haste. But Kristoff really should try to get back as soon as he could, he reminded himself as he scanned the latent corners of the stables, eying bunches of hay, tools, and the like, but nothing resembling the object of his quest, the firewood. Grunting with frustration, Kristoff didn't try to conceal it, even when Sven nudged his side, presenting his support, which, while it helped lighten Kristoff's mood at the reindeer's efforts, it didn't ease the pressure weighing down upon him.
He thought Hans said that it would be here, right? Had he made a wrong turn somewhere, but, he'd done just as the prince asked, yet it wasn't here? There couldn't be more than one stable, right? But, it was a big castle, maybe there was another one?
Each thought flitted by with demon time, to fast for him to even begin answering his own questions as panic set in. Just how long had he been gone for? Was Anna okay up there, freezing because he couldn't even manage to do the one thing she needed him to do? It should have been easy enough, a simple trip to and from the stables to get what she needed to stay warm, yet here he was, twiddling his thumbs because he couldn't do even this?!
'It has to be here, it has to be!' His mind reeled, scouring each and every corner of the stables, save for the other stalls bearing the horses that he, in the back of his mind, knew he should probably leave alone. Having them get spooked and drawing the attention of just about every guard in Arendelle to find him here in the middle of this mess was the last thing he needed right now. Besides, why would the firewood even be in their stalls, anyway, right? Yet, despite his efforts, there was little in the way of any firewood at all, no matter how many times he scoured the ground, the storage, the corners, and just about everywhere else for them. All the while, Sven watched with concern, grunting softly when, with a sigh, Kristoff slunk down to the ground, running a hand through his sweaty locks as it dawned on him that maybe...he wouldn't be able to find them after all.
Beside him, the reindeer came to a sit, minding the former carefully before huffing a warm breath of comfort the other, and Kristoff couldn't help it, smiling softly at the gesture.
"No, I'm fine, pal. Thanks, I just...I thought it might be here. Hans said it was supposed to be, but...maybe it was moved? I don't know, but...I can't go back up there knowing that I couldn't do this one thing. She...she needs this, she needs to stay warm as long as she can or else she...she might..." Feeling sick, Kristoff tried to eject the very thought from his mind.
No.
Anna would be okay, he repeated to himself as he steeled himself against the very notion of it, and against the growing helplessness that stewed in his gut. There had to be another way, he just...they had to find it! Surely there had been a mistake, something that Hans hadn't accounted for, a mistake, surely. The prince struck him as someone pretty smart, someone that might have an idea of what they should do.
After all, he was a prince.
What could Kristoff do that he couldn't already do, but better? It was him, after all, that offered the castle to him, offered him a shelter in this cold, this unbearable wake just beyond the walls of the stables and castle. Perhaps if he just told him he couldn't find any, that he tried his best to, they could come up with something else. The young man knew that the source of all of this was...Elsa, and even though he didn't really know the castle too well, maybe they could...talk to her?
Stop all of this at the source?
Then...Anna's curse could be cured! Everything would be okay!
Perking up, he gave the reindeer a renewed look of vigor, giving him a loving pat before coming to a stand, Sven following suit as he watched the young man with a matching sense of excitement, feeding off of the former's in kind.
This fight wasn't done yet, there was still a chance, however small it was, that things would work out, right? He just needed to get back, and that was just what he planned to do.
"Hold on, buddy! Stay here, I've got to go, but I'll be back; I promise, everything is going to be just fine." Rubbing the reindeer's head, Sven grumbled assuredly, and Kristoff, leaving his side, rushed off, right where he'd come from, disappearing into the dark of the bowels of the castle's walls as he made his way back to Hans and Anna, an uncertain path ahead.
- (Elsewhere, same time) -
Each stroke, each thrust, was like bliss, a godsend as the prince hastened his pace. He had to admit that there was a merit to bedding women, a luxury he didn't indulge in, unlike his father and brother's often did when it fit their fancy. It wasn't uncommon for him to catch sight of new whores scrambled about their palace on any given day, each dyed different shades and hues, bearing varied dress, some without; none of them, however, were ever around for more than a day or so.
Their fates were always the same, cast aside to have their positions filled by another no sooner than she'd left. But the reason that they were there at all was no mystery, either.
It was a blessing that they all had their own rooms, yet, but it was still bothersome, hearing the banging, the grunts and moans from mewling women he couldn't stand, the smug looks on his brother's faces, the sickening grin on his father's own as he did the same. Despite his disgust at the memory, Hans found himself doing just that, though decidedly stifling the sound of his own pleasure as he continued, as difficult as that was, seeing as Anna's hole had a way of drawing it in, tight, warm...intoxicating.
A far better fit than his own hand, he'd say, the man thought with a grin as he felt himself growing closer to his peak. Grabbing her exposed chest with one hand, Hans noted that his movements bared little intimacy, far less care befitting someone's first time...not that he cared too much, and it showed, the slickness of her hole made possible only by the trickles of red dripping upon the cushion's of the chair. He wasn't in the business of caring much about that sort of thing, her comfort.
This wasn't about her. This was a means to an end, a pleasure, and instrument, a tool, just like anything else was, and just like any tool, it was his to use. Grunting, he was getting closer, the man shuddering as felt himself grow hotter, not that he minded this short soiree. The prince knew he was cut on time, that he needed to wrap this up before that stupid oaf came back and caught him with his pants down...no pun intended. Hans had been under the impression that he wasn't too bright, but he'd learned first hand that it didn't do to underestimate an opponent, no matter how unassuming they might be.
It would only be a matter of time before he realized that the firewood wouldn't be there, but he figured that would have bought him enough time to...finish up. Smiling, his grip on her small breasts grew tighter as his back arched, and then...there was release. Sweet, deep bliss as his seed spilled into her cavity, but she didn't stir, not that he was expecting her to, and the young man fell upon her, resting his head upon her chest, allowing the pleasure to wash over him.
'By the gods...that...that was...' He was at a loss for words. Sure, the touch of his own hand had been pleasurable, for the times, the many, many times, that he'd settled for it, but this...this ecstasy, the knowledge that he'd taken her, the power that came of it...it was collectively more than he could fathom. But he didn't have time to linger in it, at least...not yet.
If things went the way he wanted to...then this wouldn't be the last time, and he could save it those time...but for now, he had to get up, leaving her chest as he sat up and, woefully, pulled his softened member out, Hans smiling as trails of his semen dripped from her.
A beautiful sight, really...in his eyes, he thought.
Despite this, he came to a stand, leaving her upon the couch as he began to clean himself up, carefully correcting his clothing and hair well enough, though it didn't need to be perfect. Not with what was about to happened, and besides, the prince thought coyly with regard to the still unconscious woman in his midst, leaning down to kiss her as he whispered almost tenderly into her ear.
"...everyone loves a good show, right?" He asked, planting a kiss upon her cold, sallow cheeks, leaving her side, preparing for the ice harvester he was sure would be returning soon...very soon.
- (Within the walls of the castle, same time) -
It felt far easier to navigate the seemingly endless halls of the castle, and in the back of his mind, Kristoff found himself wondering how Anna and Elsa could ever get used to living in such a huge place. It was so much easier having everything in the same area, you know, without having to take a journey every time you needed something. Regardless, Kristoff was covering a lot ground, rushing down the halls, though still careful of the potential onlooker seeing his unfamiliar face in their midst.
It was easy enough avoiding them in the passageway leading to the stables, but out there, in the castle itself, the young man felt far more on edge, yet...somehow it felt out of place. Even as he practically sprinted down the halls, he found himself at least a bit confused at the fact that...there weren't any guards around.
At all.
Sure, he knew that they would be stationed outside of the castle, managing the townsfolk, ensuring their safety, things like that, but to think that there wouldn't be any to avoid in the castle, too? That struck as just a little odd, though in his mind, he didn't have time to really consider it, and more, it was sort of a good thing, despite his reservations about it.
If his trip back could be easier, than what exactly did he have to complain about? His only concern should be getting back to Anna and Kristoff, and that's exactly what he intended to do. Covering the long stretch of hall, he could see the door now, beckoning him to it from afar as he went to clear it, and before he knew it...he was back, staring up at the impossibly large passage way leading within. Behind it, Kristoff noted, he could hear nothing but silence, or rather, he couldn't hear...anything; you couldn't really hear silence, he reminded himself slowly, considering the thought before reaching towards the knob. That shouldn't have surprised him, noting the quiet that had befallen the castle over; she was probably sleep, or maybe Hans had to make a run somewhere, he wasn't sure, but it shouldn't have disturbed him...yet...something felt...off.
Gripping it, the handle felt cold, steely, beneath on his palm, unsurprisingly as the castle, even with nearly ever fireplace lit in the rooms that were occupied, there was still a notable chill that raced up his spine.
But that wasn't it.
He couldn't describe it, the foreboding that ate at him as he went to twist it, barring the need to knock in hopes that he could keep his presence discreet, all the while he tried to figure it out, that...feeling. It had to be just him, right? His own mind playing tricks on him as he was greeted with darkness, brown eyes rushing to adjust to the seemingly empty space, but Kristoff thought otherwise. Surely this had been the right room, he could recognize it well enough, though, many of the doors in the castle look the same, but...he'd come from here, he was sure of it.
Stepping inside, he noted the only source of light within the room, a sliver of light slithering beneath the curtains, drawn, sealed like eyes bearing the light behind the window. Maybe he'd have an easier time if he tried opening it, he considered, but something else...wasn't right.
There was a lingering scent, something odd, pungent and riddling his lungs with it as he came inside completely, closing the door behind him with a resounding click. Despite the darkness, the harvester had grown up in a place without light once before, the woods that served as his home often bathed in little of if once the sun had set, so he was just as well accustomed to not having it. Blinking once, then twice, to allow them to adjust, if only be a margin, but it was enough to identify some of the objects in the dark.
A chair here, the fireplace there, the bed further into the room, the appearance of exposed skin lying on the couch -
Kristoff paused, his thoughts halted as they lingered there for a moment, then another.
Skin? Bare...skin? Blinking again, the young man searched it, the dark for it again, stepping carefully forward as his eyes wavered, unblinking.
No, surely...surely he was just imagining things, there...his mind was just playing tricks on him, messing with him. It was just too dark to make anything else, to make out the visage of a young woman, lying bare from the waste down, her...chest exposed, her...everything open for prying eyes.
For his own.
The young man hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath, still as, coming closer, and closer, to the young woman, her face was clearing, familiar, too familiar, so much so that he felt himself freeze as the name came to mind.
"A-Anna? Anna, what...what h-happened to..." He was practically overtop of her now, but his eyes refused to believe it. Refused to believe the patches of dark, hand shaped marks that framed her breasts and thighs, the way the blood from what he could only assume was her head laid dried and smeared, her legs...open...trails of dark...red...no. No, no, no, this wasn't...Anna hadn't...
This couldn't be real.
Yet, his own disbelief wasn't enough to stop him from dropping to his knees, trembling hands hovering desperately over her, unable to decide where to begin addressing first, or if they should at all. What was he supposed to do?! This...why was this happening? How could anyone do this? HOW?! He hadn't a single answer to any of the now millions of questions, millions of fears, that bubbled violently in his gut, and more so now that she didn't stir, even when he, in an attempt to rouse her, shook her shoulder gently, the one place she hadn't seemed to he touched...at least as far as he knew. But it didn't matter; the young woman didn't move an inch, silent in Kristoff's presence, though breathing, alive with that in mind.
It was clear to him what had happened, even when his mind begged for anything otherwise. Cupping her cheek gently, Kristoff felt sick, violently ill at the idea that whilst he'd been away, when he wasn't looking, they would do something like...like this. There was a perversion of guilt eating him, creeping slowly in the forefront of his mind, at the notion that maybe...if he'd been here...then maybe this...wouldn't have happened, right?
Then it struck him, like lightning, violent and sudden as he pulled his hand from her face, though he didn't leave her side.
Where...was Hans? Why wasn't he here? Wasn't he supposed to have waited while Kristoff went to fetch the wood? There was no way the prince would have left her unattended for that long, not in her current state...unless...maybe he was hurt, too? That had to be it, right? Hans didn't strike him as the negligent type, the sort that would leave someone this vulnerable without reason or intervention from another. He came to a stand, looking about, he tried to catch wind of him, to see if there was a trace of struggle anywhere in the dark room, and though it was harder to see, he didn't suspect that there was any sign of a fight having happened...at all.
There wasn't a trace that anyone else had been there, at all.
And...how could that have happened? Surely the guards would have noticed someone coming in, not unless they came from the window, but...that wasn't possible. They were on the second level of the castle, and with the curtains drawn like that, how could they have known which room they were in? But...if no one broke in, and Hans was missing, what...happened?
Kristoff's brain was beginning to hurt, unable to make sense of any of this.
'None of this makes any sense. What do I do? Should I...should I get help? But...what could I even tell them?...' He pondered, unsure of what to do next. Sure, he could try to find one of the attendees, maybe a guard, someone that could help, but...would they suspect that he did it? He had been left with Anna, and despite Hans being here, too, he didn't get the impression that they would take very kindly the idea that he was in here with the princess alone...especially in this state.
What would that look like?
How could he even explain himself when everything about this was already so wrong?
Kneeling back down and softly taking her limp hand into his own , Kristoff was at a loss for what to do.
"What do I do, Anna? I'm...I'm sorry...I should have been here, I...I thought I was..." Kristoff felt himself stop, considering what had come of him leaving.
What exactly had he'd been doing? Sure, he thought he was helping, or trying to at least, but he had nothing, absolutely nothing, to show for it. Nothing...at...all.
Wiping at his face, he rushed to wipe at his face, cursing himself all the same.
What right did he have to sit here, pitying himself when she was the one that had this happen to her?! He couldn't be serious, feeling bad for himself for nothing, when he didn't deserve to. The thought that he'd tried that at all disgusted him. It wasn't about him, none of this was about him, and yet, where he should be getting help, he'd only thought of what might happen to him.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Sure, it might look back, but she needed to be tended to. She...needed help, help he couldn't give; even if they did think he had something to do with it, even if...he were blamed, he'd take it, it didn't matter. She was all that mattered right now.
Looking to her again, he considered the young woman again, still, quieted expression almost tranquil despite the degree of her injuries, missing the shifting shadows nearest to the door. He wanted so badly for her to just...be okay, to open her eyes again, to smile, to...have never experienced this at all, but...it was too late for any of that. He could do what he could now, he would do anything and everything it took see to it that she would be...okay.
No matter what happened to him, she was...everything to him.
"I'll be back, I promise you. I'm going to go get help, so just...wait for me." Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he didn't waste anytime parting from her, laying her limb back at her side and motioning to come to a stand when he felt it...a gust of air, swift...clean...sudden.
And blinding pain pressing into the back of his skull.
Kristoff fell with a stiff thud on his side, parallel to the couch as he tried to gather himself, understand what just happened as pristine boots clicked softly behind him, partial to his body as one of them stepped clearly on his head, awakening a new wave of pain as the young man squirmed against the contact, eyes screwed shut. He couldn't really speak, opening his mouth to cry for help, but it hurt too much, managing less than a rasped, dry call before tensing at the growing pain throbbing through his head.
A familiar voice above him chuckled, and Kristoff's eyes cracked open, and in the same breath, the boot pressed was moved away, and he felt the assailant kneel behind him, a strong, careful hand gripping his shoulder before turning him onto his back, the pressure on the back of his skull only worsening as he was forced into the position. But that didn't stop the young man's eyes from glittering with disbelief as, even through his dazed, hazy eyes, he could make out Han's face, obscured by the dark above.
Opening his mouth again, Kristoff just managed a whisper, the shock in his voice quieted but evident.
"H-Hans? What...w-what are you...d-doing?..." He croaked out, doing his best to sit up, but, with little effort, Hans managed to keep him down, not that his throbbing head would allow him much movement, a sickening wave of nausea threatening to make a mess of himself if he were to vomit. Hans, however, looked fine, confident, even, as he set the large vase down, presumably what he'd hit Kristoff with, the object large...smeared with blood.
His blood.
The prince considered him for a moment, then another, before opening his mouth to speak.
"Ah, ah; can't have you making this hard for me. I'd like for this to be nice and easy, okay?" The man whispered, but Kristoff didn't understand.
Easy? Make what easy? What was he talking about?
Hans didn't waste time, though, pulling Kristoff with his arm and away from the couch, straddling him as he did so. The harvester shifted, confusion running thick in his blood as he tried to will himself to move, but again, no dice. He gagged, swallowing what he could, though some bubbled up to his lips, and he swiftly stopped, even when Hans took his clothes into his fists, pulling him from the ground in the process. The prince leaned in close, sweet lips pulled into an expression he couldn't really describe.
It wasn't a smile, it wasn't a frown, a grimace...it looked...sick. Unnatural for a human to have, he thought tiredly, even as he felt something dripping, wetting his hair.
He was bleeding.
It felt strange.
In his ear, Kristoff felt, heard, Hans' voice, muted against the rushing blood in ears...but he could make out the words, the sickening draw his tongue against the roof of his mouth, as if the prince couldn't keep himself from smiling.
"Rest easy, dog. I'll be back real, real soon." Kristoff wouldn't have the chance to really make sense of his words, not when, after only a breath, his face exploded with agony, Hans' gloved fist colliding tautly with his cheek as stores bloomed in his vision.
That was the first time.
It came again, crashing violently upon his face, the young man unable to fight back, struggling weakly against the assault. He wanted to fight, wanted to...get away, but...it was hard to see. Too hard...to move.
This was the second time.
And again, Kristoff couldn't focus, opening his mouth to scream despite the only sound coming out a sort of gurgle noise, nothing like what he was looking for, nothing that relieved the vile pain that rushed the entirety of his head now. But Hans didn't stop.
Not the third time, or the fourth time, or the fifth time, or the sixth time.
Not when Kristoff stopped struggling, not even when his face was skewed, a mess of blood and his head began to loll back, the hand of quiet dark falling upon him as his consciousness began to cease.
And his eyes began to close.
And his tense body relaxed.
And before long, he felt himself drift, the only sound left behind that of the echo of fist to broken flesh, a grim lullaby greeting him to the dark.
Infinite...cold...dark.
- (Same time) -
Hans only stopped when all that he could hear were grisly gasps, parting from the other man's lips as he went limp in his grasp, and it was only then that he was sure that he was done. He didn't move to let the man go, cold, green eyes parting across his face with a slim grin gracing his lips.
He'd known that he wouldn't have been able to take the man head on, not with the sheer size and supposed strength of the former, given his...profession, baser as it was. But it was clear that it had its benefits, clear from the thick arms, strong form, and impossible height of the other, even when observed beneath him. In even attempting an even fight with the other, Hans didn't see that going well for him, though that wasn't to say that he couldn't fight. His training as a prince demanded he at least know the basics to defend himself, but not enough to content with a dull, unkempt animal like him.
Especially knowing that he wouldn't dare sully his hands working harder than he had to so he could compare. He had far better things to do than that.
So, sure. His methods weren't exactly...fair, but he wasn't sure any of that nonsense really concerned him. Honor and ethics wasn't something he worried himself with too much, and if doing it the "honorable" was only going to result in his eventual loss, then he'd be an idiot to bother doing so.
Fighting battles you couldn't win was a fool's errand, not his own.
Dropping Kristoff carelessly to ground, he sighed, removing his gloves to wipe the sweat, and residual blood, from his brow.
Things had gotten...messy, his articles slick with blood, peasant's blood, he didn't care to touch, and knowing it wouldn't do to have them out in this state, he set them aside, walking idly to the dresser where he pushed the firewood aside, picking up each log and setting them inside of the fireplace accordingly. With that done, he opened one of the drawers within the dresser itself, and just as he'd expected, they were there, the matches.
Just as they always were.
Picking them up, he took one of the matchsticks out, striking it in one fluid motion, and without a second wasted, threw it in, igniting the logs in kind. They crackled happily, like children fed and groomed as the room was illuminated...and the extent of his damage was clear. Smears of rich, red blood stained the supple carpet, wooden floors, and portions of the couch, Kristoff's body unmoved, remaining still as wheezing, disquieted breaths trembled from split, bloodied lips. That didn't really bother him too much, though he was more annoyed at the fact that it had gotten everywhere...the blood he meant.
Having his dirty blood stain everything would be a pain to get cleaned, but he could worry about all of that later.
Turning his gaze to Anna, her supple features placid, unassuming through all of this, couldn't help it, the deep sense of satisfaction at how well all of this had been going so far.
Just as he had hoped it had. Just as he knew it would.
Reaching for his gloves that had been set down before, he pinched the cleanest part of them, green eyes squinting with disgust at the notion of sullying his hands with the fluid that covered them.
"Disgusting..." He uttered, reminding himself buy him another pair when he got around to it, seeing as these were, unfortunately, ruined.
And just as quickly, they were discarded into the flame, burning nearly immediately, a foregone memory now as he turned from the fireplace, and back to the man in question. Considering the man's clothes, Hans didn't bother shielding his disgust and contempt for him, kneeling down and pulling some of the rough, coarse fabric in-hand with a scrutinizing eye. His attire was hardly worth looking at, the prince minded, dull browns and light embroidering sloppy and uncouth compared to his own well-kept clothing. In fact, just his touching him was enough to warrant a gag, barring his stench on its own, but he was willing to suck it up if it meant he could get this over with.
Lifting the man slightly, Hans made short work of pulling his limp arms through his sleeves, stripping him of his large coat, and pulling it over his head, dropping the man once he had, his head thumping loudly against the floor. Tossing it aside, it left him in just his long-sleeve shirt, the article clinging to him with sweat. The prince could clearly see it now, the rapid pants that likely detailed the pain the man was in, but that was of little concern to him, working his way over his gloves. They were pulled free, and just like his jacket, were thrown away as well, revealing the worked, calloused hands underneath. Dropping them to ground, they landed with a dull thud beside him, but his work wasn't done.
Taking a breath, it was hard enough lifting him up and doing the heavy work, but he'd managed the hard part, he thought, moving to the man's legs. Starting with his feet, he pulled off his boots, recoiling at the stench of his feet, though with the rest of his body and the pungent odor he emitted from his skin, he wasn't sure he was surprised.
Seeing how filthy he was anyway.
Regardless, he worked as quickly as he could, discarding, and finally, he worked his way to the brim of his pants, bearing little hesitation as he pulled them down to his ankles, his briefs the last portion of his clothes left to cover his bottom, but that was where Hans paused.
He wasn't...keen on the idea of staring down another man, much less when they were naked, his stomach turning at the thought of it, but he knew that, to really sell this...he'd have to resign himself to it.
It was worth it.
All of this was worth it. Every...single...bit of it.
Holding his breath, he peeled down his underwear, the tattered, old garments revealing his flaccid cock, the flesh rolling to the side, and even now, soft, Hans couldn't help but notice its...never mind. Its size was none of his concern, and just a much, he didn't care to keep staring at it if he could help it. Pulling the undergarments around his ankles as well, the state was nearly set, all that needed to happen was one last thing.
The hard part.
"Alright, now...let's get you up..." Hans remarked, leaning down and gripping Kristoff's arm once more, but this time, his hand rounded back, propping the unconscious man up to a sit, a task itself given his weight. However, it was in one, fell swoop, and none the gentle kind, that Hans managed to get him to lean into his shoulder, dragging the former over to the couch. It was taxing, this act alone, but he managed it well enough, dumping the heavy man over Anna in one motion with a dull sound, huffing tiredly as he motioned to catch his breath. The way he was now, lying there over the woman...the prince couldn't help but note his handiwork.
It was nearly done now.
With a few adjustments here and there, the pull of a leg, the posing a hand, it was finished.
Nearly...finished.
Stepping back, he couldn't really say he was excited for the next part...at all. Thinking on it, he'd gone back and forth with himself over whether he really needed to include this, hoping that what he'd done already would be sufficient.
But he'd done this enough times now to know that he couldn't afford to skimp out on the details, the little things counted, after all. Enough that, in raising his own hand against himself, he didn't give himself the chance to protest, to find a reason not to, the prince opting face his own fist...then having to start again.
This was the time. This time...this time it would work.
He didn't care how many times he had to punch himself, kick himself, throw himself into things, for it to.
This was his. All of this...all of this was his. And nothing, not a goddamn thing in this world, would be enough to steal that from him.
Not even himself.
Shuddering breaths cracked past his lips, mirroring the labored gasps of the dispatched man opposite him upon the couch, but his own were from strain, propping himself upon the dresser, taking time to gather himself. Pretty much no area of his body had been left untouched, even his face as his cheek throbbed horribly from his own fist, his body aching with nicks and bruises of his own creation, but it was fine.
He would heal. They had attendants, people that take care of this small thing, problems as tiny as injuries that would be well within a few weeks' time. For now, he directed his sights to the door, but before he left, he smiled, grinning wildly at the two of them laid upon the couch, a crude, disquieted gleam in his eye.
Heaving a sigh, he felt the words leave his lips.
"It's show time."
- (Elsewhere, same time)-
If someone would have asked her what she thought about working in the castle, there was but one word she could have used: uneventful. That wasn't to say she wasn't grateful for the ease of her work, save for menial tasks, the occasional incident relating to a mess made here and there, and perhaps cleaning of the floors and woodwork if there was nothing else to do. Enlisted here, in these grand halls, the young woman had to admit that she'd been expecting a bit more...action, if that made sense at all.
Not that...drama and conflict was what she was looking for.
It was just...keeping things interesting with so many hours consumed with, well, nothing, wasn't exactly something she'd call "fun" is all. Now, that just left Ingrid with more tasks to do to compensate, and though she loved the older lady, she couldn't say she was super excited about the idea of being given a laundry list of work to do just because she "didn't look busy enough", as Ingrid would lovingly say. In fact, it was just one of those moments now, the woman often finding little corners of the castle, idle rooms unused, that she could hide in until she was inevitably found again, but before that, avoiding her superior was her chief concern, recalling just some time prior the older woman's pressing glare as she went about her work.
"Agnes! This is the fourth time that I've told you! You have work to do, so you haven't the time be loitering about! Go about the halls and clean the decorations if you are that free." She would say, and Agnes couldn't help the petulant groan that erupted from her throat, throwing back her head as he raven, black hair, strands frayed from her messy bun, rested on her face.
"What?! I'm busy! See?! I was just...delegating! Right, Erik? Work faster, you're slowing everyone else down!" Nodding to a young man who'd been carrying blankets, right around her age, he blanched, face reddening with annoyance at her accusation.
"What, me? Why am I always thrown into your mess?! You're the one that didn't even do the dishes; as always, I'm the one that has to pick the slack when you don't do something." He spat, and Agnes grumbled, remembering that. It wasn't her fault that she'd gotten distracted; if anyone is to blame, it was their faults for making doing dishes boring.
And for dirtying up so many dishes.
She understood that the nobles in the castle had to eat and everything, but how could they expect her to get them done as fast as they were coming?! Sure, she hadn't been trying...particularly hard or anything but...that wasn't the point.
Regardless, they were done, right? That's what counted.
"That's why I have you. Erik, the guy gets by sloppy seconds!" Throwing her arm over his shoulder, the man didn't even entertain the idea of getting friendly, tossing her off and giving her a biting look before continuing with his work, glaring, grey eyes turned away as he went about the task. Sticking out her tongue, she watched him leave, but she wasn't met with even a breath's length of time before Ingrid took his place, looking, as she always did...displeased.
"Ah, so not only are you not doing your work, but putting it off on others as well? That won't do. No, that won't do at all." She started, a plotting smile thick on her aged features, and Agnes knew...she'd messed up.
To think that she'd gotten stuck with not only cleaning the decorations, but, with the cart that dragged behind her, old blankets and towels laid carelessly within, marked her task. At the very least, collecting the discarded, dirtied blankets and things from the rooms was easy, if tedious. But here, roaming the seemingly endless halls, she was at least left to wander with her thoughts with the rest of the lot pressing their way into her head.
Just the way that she liked it.
Bending down before another door, she took in another set of blankets, placing them in the cart before moving onto the next. She didn't anticipate this taking too long, she hoped, considering that she usually had little issue doing this. It was easy enough to do, though getting this heavy thing down the stairs would prove a bit...challenging, a part she could worry when she got to it.
She wasn't much in the business of worrying about that weren't a problem in the moment.
Taking up another set of blankets and towels, though, Agnes perked up, twisting around to look behind her as she'd heard...something. Of course, she figured that the halls would be just a bit busy, despite the waning hour, the light coming from the grand windows below telling that, whilst not late, it was going on into the latter hours of noon, so it wasn't too far-fetched seeing the odd delegate, bored out their minds like her, roaming the halls. When that would happen, she'd pass them by, not a thought in mind as she rushed along her route to leave their sight, mostly in a bid to get away not doing her work, most generally content with her and going about her day.
But where there were usually careful, minding steps that echoed about and rang softly to her ears...these were heavier, clumsier, so...a guard, maybe? Doing their rounds, things like that? It wasn't often she encountered them as they didn't tend to have a place within the castle's walls, but they would show up here and there, to help out where they were needed.
So not even this was a surprise to her.
But these didn't sound like the focused, practiced padding of solid boots, these...dragged. In fact, she could hear...panting? As if someone were struggling to breath, the sliding of the walls...sounding as something were rubbing against it.
What was that?
Dropping the lead of the her cart, she left it behind as she tried to meet the sound where it was coming from, though cautiously as something akin to anxiety blooming in her chest as the sound came closer, and closer, and closer...her hearth thrumming wildly in her chest.
But when she rounded another corner, she couldn't keep her breath from hitching wildly at the sight of him. There before her rested the prince, using the wall for support as he leaned against it, wincing as she raced to his side, inspecting him quickly with horror from the state of his body.
"P-Prince Hans?! What happened to you?!" She sputtered, not daring to touch him, afraid that she'd harm him more, mind reeling from just how quickly things had just...changed. When she said that she wanted things to be a bit more eventful, this wasn't what she'd meant! Looking at the prince, he looked terrible, though she made certain to keep that thought to herself. Agnes was sure the last thing he needed was her pointing it out, much less with such language.
That was no to speak to a prince, after all.
Hans gave her a tired look, not at all befitting someone of his station. She hadn't exactly had the chance to get the know the prince, what, with everything happening over the last few days, lets just say the castle staff were made far busier than usual. However, in the few moments that she'd had the chance to see him, he was always taking charge, always putting others first, never forsaking the opportunity to help others in he could. It was no secret that most of the servants either idolized...yearned for him...some a combination of the two. In fact, there was little to cover her face from rush of carmine red that flushed her warm cheeks at the touch of the prince, his sturdy grip sending ripe shivers down her spine as she resisted the urge to melt right then and there.
Was Prince Hans...touching her?! With his bare hands?! Was this real? She thought she'd throw up out of excitement, had he not looked just about ready to keel over, and discarding her fluttering heart, she shook her head, leaning in to listen to the hoarse whisper that tumbled from his lips.
"Get...h-help...please..." He pleaded, his gentle, green eyes. asking of her this one, simple things, and even with her usual aversion to the requests of others, she felt far to obliged to follow through, wide, blue eyes nodding with little hesitation.
"H-help?! Ah, yes! Of course, just hold on! Wait right here and I'll be right back, okay?" She gave him a resolved look as, with a touch of regret, she had to pull from him, his hand drifting back to his side as he nodded understandably. She prepared herself to find someone, a guard, she thought at first as he looked as though he'd been attacked, but before she could turn away, she felt him grab her arm again. Pointing her gaze to the prince once more, there rested upon his features a kind, worn smile.
Even in this state, she thought with awe, with yearning, he looked...perfect.
"Thank you." He uttered, tone low...intimate.
Words shared only between them.
Her heart threatened to leap from her chest, stuttering a quick return of words before sliding away, face no doubt as red as the freshest tomato as she hurried down the hall, returning to her task.
She had to find someone as soon as she could, she had to help him.
In the back of her mind, she couldn't help it, sparks of anger rising in her as she thought of the sort of person who would hurt someone...as perfect, as kind, as loving...as him.
- (Same time) -
Hans' smile faded just as soon as she was out of view, considering the interaction.
He could tell right away that she was infatuated with him, just the lightest of touches, the simplest of flowered words, enough to practically have her on her knees. It was clear to him that she, for a lack of a better word, liked him, though in all honestly, he didn't often give people a reason not to. But like many of the women of this castle, maids, attendees, and nobles alike, there seemed a charm that he couldn't see.
Not that it didn't work to his advantage.
Pressing to the wall, looking to support himself as he waited, he admitted that he couldn't quite name her. He hadn't really had the time to really get, how do you say, acquainted with the members of his future court...but that wouldn't be an issue pretty soon.
He'd have plenty of time to learn of each and every one...and what each had to offer in kind. For this one, the lowly broad entering his view once more, though this time, a sea of guards and attendants followed suit, tailing her as she led them back to her, he knew that she wouldn't prove too difficult to suggest. Smiling once more, he allowed the swarm to overtake him, voices upon voices buzzing with concern over him. The attention was flattering, endearing even, and though he would have loved to soak it up, the show had only just begun.
"Prince Hans! My word, what in God's name happened to you?!" Came the name of his personal ward, Linnea. Her stoutly frame came into view, earning her presence a few noted looks as she came forward to inspect the prince, her shocked expression enough to tell him that he'd at least looked the part.
It was hard getting a reaction out of the bitch.
Coughing, just for good measure, he felt his weight being supported by the round of guards at his sides, onlooking nobles peeking from their rooms and through the halls to get an idea of what was going on.
Perfect.
An audience.
Just the thing he needed to really sell the story. What was better than a crowd to sway the masses?
Feigning needing great effort to speak, the prince sighed, a long, dramatic sound (though not too dramatic) that was the prelude of his tale.
"I...I was attacked. I...I tried to fight back the best t-that I could, but..." He started, much of the gathered faces around him tightened with intrigue, fear, sadness, the common things. Sensing their wish for him to continue, he did just that, grimacing as he feigned the pain.
"...he bested me. I tried to protect her, Princess Anna. I...I-I really did..." Sniffing, he felt himself will them, manifesting tears in his verdant eyes as the crowd murmured amongst themselves, several of the attendees doing their best to soothe him, rubbing his arms gently as they began to move down the hall, away from where he'd come. He wasn't urged to continue, the group allowing him time as many of the guards cleared the way, leading him to a vacant room nearest to the grand stairs leading from the door to the castle.
He was guided to a couch, just like the one Anna had been left on, oddly enough, and whilst the attendees began gathering towels, blankets, and all other manner of item that he might need, he continued on, pausing for a breath in-between.
"...but it...he...he..." Pausing again, he waited for someone to interject.
Perhaps Linnea? One of the onlookers beyond? A noble? One of the guards?
It was just that, a young, female guard, tiny in stature, raising the question to him, her tone gentle, calm, despite the situation at hand.
"What happened, prince? Please, tell us." She asked, and the rest of them turned to face him...eyes expectant. He faked it, grief that made his face wilt with manufactured guilt and shame, clapping his hands over his eyes as the words spilled from his mouth.
"Kristoff...raped...Anna..." There was an oppressing, long moment of crude silence that followed the fated words. Hans felt himself pressured to look up, to gauge what they were thinking, what they might be feeling, at his "confession". It was always hard to tell just how people might react when told something this...substantial, but he could at least be certain that it was far more likely to believe given how well he was playing this off.
How many times had he practiced this very speech? How many nights had he recited the dialogue? Revised words to garner more emotion? Reviewed his expressions?
How many days had he imagined this very moment?
He couldn't know. He didn't bother counting anymore.
Regardless of however many times he had, he knew something may not align. That maybe he just didn't say something right. Perhaps he'd cried too soon, maybe he looked too roughed up, or at times, not enough to make it believable.
There were so many things, hundreds of variables, that could make this entire effort null, void...one little things that could render all of this that he'd done...meaningless. The lingering fear of just that happening was all the motivation he needed to get it perfectly.
To say his lines perfectly.
To perfect his expressions.
To know where to hurt himself.
To know what to tell them, to say to sell it.
Of the hundreds of ways, the thousands of ways, that this could go wrong...it was always so much sweeter when it went right.
The outrage, the anger, the vitriol at the man's words was so palpable, the sheer force of the reaction had thrown the prince for a loop. Immediately, many of the guards, attendant and maids in tow, fled from the room, and from what he could hear, the direction that they had gone, they were going right where he'd hoped they would.
To see for themselves the truth that he was painting.
Of those that, nobles, attendees, and everyone in-between, the start of chatter, of panic, of fear, of just about any and every emotion you could think of was present in that room, all at once. Yet, the binding emotion that tied them all together was the same that spurned the guards into action.
Anger.
Pure, unkempt anger.
"Surely you cannot be serious, Prince Hans? To think that, after you offer him solace and refuge within these sanctified halls, he would even consider defiling our fair princess...it's...unthinkable. Absolutely unacceptable." One of the castle's members of court muttered darkly, though Hans could hear it, the disbelief, the shock, the pain, that he felt at the revelation, and others seemed only to agree.
After all: what reason would they have to doubt the word of the prince that had stepped in line to save them? To act in the stead of a queen who couldn't even do half of the things that he had done, powers or not? With that thought in mind, he turned his head to the door, the sound of shouting, of something dragging across the floor, and from the reaction of several of the nobles nearest to the door, he didn't have to guess who they'd found.
Only moments later did he encounter that bloodied head of blond again, though this time, he was quickly thrown to the wooden floor, the man struggling slightly as his incoherent mind tried, in vein, Hans figured, to make sense of what was going on. Around them people shouted, screaming at the confused man as he squirmed weakly on the ground, appearing to have little control over his body as he, sluggish and slow, opened his eyes, only to be greeted with their hatred. It probably didn't help that they'd brought him as Hans' had left him; mostly nude, disheveled, dirty, the impression of someone that was willing to commit, as they'd put it, something so unthinkable.
Not that he would know about that sort of thing himself, he thought cheekily as he feigned shock...fear.
"Yes. Him, he...he left Anna in such as state, when she was vulnerable. He...used her trust...our trust...to do this, and as such..." Hans declared as he came to a slow stand, pardoning the maids that had been tending to him during their wait, looking down at the worn man at his feet once he'd stepped forward.
"...he will suffer the consequences of his actions. It is in Princess Anna's place that I shall act, delivering judgement upon this fiend, It is with this that I will have him sent to the dungeons below to await it as such. Guards...if you would." He declared boldly, waving to several at his sides, and just as he thought that they would, they moved, yanking the man from the floor with little care to his injuries, or his decency, many of the nobles scrunching their noses as his appearance, at his stench...the whole of his body was enough to make one gag.
Kristoff, however, didn't seem content with the idea of silence as, even in his jumbled mind, Hans noticed it, the movement of his lips, though more akin to that of a gaping fish's, moving with the need to speak. But he wasn't worried about it.
With what he'd done with his face, Hans would have been surprised if he would have been able to speak even a week from now, but even then...he wasn't worried.
Not when he'd h have his way far before even then.
But the guards didn't seem to care for that, one sparing no reservation silencing him accordingly, a fist, reminiscent of his own, colliding with the man's chest, forcing him to go limp as he coughed violently from the contact.
"Silence!" That same one would shout, and despite the violence of the action, none of those around Hans seemed to protest...at all. Some even encouraged it, much to his surprise.
He'd anticipated that they'd be angry, but for them to be onboard this quickly, this readily...Hans could just barely temper the smile that twitched at his lips.
Things couldn't have been going more perfect than they had been now.
There was just one more thing to -
"Prince Hans! Please, we request your presence!" One of the maids declared, appearing at the door as she beckoned him forward. Several of the nobles around her inquired curiously at her haste, but it was the prince that responded, again, falsifying worry upon his face as, making his way to the door as quickly as he could, she led him back to where he'd came, where Anna ought to have been. He was slow, careful to preserve his energy, though to them, it looked as though he was just hurt.
Both ideas were fine with him.
Reaching the room again, an ocean of attendants rushed to meet him at the entrance, ushering him inside as guards stood close-by, others following where they'd taken Kristoff. However, he didn't have much time to consider that as, once he'd made to the couch again, Hans struggled to contain the shiver of arousal that filled his groin at the sight of her.
The attendants, nurses, and the like had to assess her condition, he understood that, and of this, he wasn't complaining. Not when, in the light, her body looked even more stunning, far more succulent than it had in the darkness before. He couldn't bear seeing his handiwork: the bruising of her chest, the darkness of the hands upon her thighs...the trickles of white and red that came from her...and not feel himself growing hard again. In her state, the guards at the door turned their head, sparing her the slivers of decency and dignity that she had left...but Hans shared no such intention.
She was his to look at, after all.
It was his right to.
But despite his clear lust, he still had to play the part, and contrary to himself, his face betrayed only sorrow, sadness...guilt. It seemed convincing enough as, after a moment of silence, they began to speak.
"My prince, her condition...it seems to have only worsened after...he did this." One proclaimed, placing a careful hand upon the princess's cheek as others around her cleaned her wounds, tending to her as carefully as they could. At her words, Hans looked to her, and he had to admit; despite looking as beautiful as she always had...she did look...unwell. Of course, she'd always been pale, dollish, in a way, but this...she look ill, sickly as, even as they spoke, her hair crackled with residual magic, white over-taking what had once been burning red hues. Thinking back, he didn't think that this would have taken such a toll on her, and though he was certain that she wouldn't die (he wouldn't let her)...this did make this a bit more complicated.
However, it was a simple fix.
He just had to make things happen a bit faster now that time...wasn't on his side.
"That bastard...in her frail state, with the magic of the queen and with this on top of that, her body must be working so hard...all because that brute..." Refraining from saying much more, the woman nodded, a saddened look heavy in her auburn eyes.
"Yes, I am afraid that is what we think. If were able to lift the curse, then maybe...maybe we may be able help her, but in her current state...she just isn't strong enough to sustain more injuries like this." She whispered, and Hans, though he knew this already, opted only to nod, taking just a moment to grip Anna's chilling hands, leaning forward to plant a delicate kiss upon her head. The attendant didn't interfere, though she did look to him to see if he had more to say, and for her, he did.
In fact, he called to the rest of the nobles and guards in their stead, pulling their attention to him as he spoke.
"We understand...that with her curse weakening her...Anna's time is falling woefully short...however...there may be a way of...mitigating this." He started, clearing his throat as the guards, and Linnea, funneled in once more. This was the home stretch, the proverbial "icing on the cake" as they called it, once they'd gathered around him once more.
"You see...this curse is the doing of the queen, however...if we were to...speak with Else, than perhaps...we can find a means of ending both her curse...and the freezing of fjord." Hans continued, assessing each face as they listened. Most looked intrigued, others perplexed, some relieved that he'd considered this, but...some weren't really convinced.
There a few of those in every crowd.
"Ah, but...how do we know that she will lift this curse? That she will unfreeze the fjord?" One guard asked, a dull-looking one Hans hadn't seen before. He couldn't have been much older than him, and though he wished very much to ignore him...he didn't get the impression that he should.
That would look bad, you know? No matter how stupid, or asinine, the question might be.
"I feel as though, with knowing that her sister's life is in danger, that someone that her own sister trusted hurt her...than perhaps she can be reasoned with. That is...if she is indeed the kind, benevolent ruler that we hope that she is." He ended carefully, watching as most of the crowd nodded amongst themselves, hushed and careful. However, it didn't last, with a few of the guards stepping forward to offer themselves to retrieve the queen, but Hans denied them, offering something more...personal instead.
"No! If she interprets us as a threat, then she might be less willing to help. The last thing I want is to have blood spilled where it doesn't have to be. I...will go alone. I will speak with the queen...but," He paused, considering the fearful, outraged faces of his future subjects as he continued, knowing that they definitely wouldn't like the sound of that.
However, he wasn't done yet.
"...if she proves to be unreasonable, if she proves...to be a threat...then I grant full allowance for an outfit of guards...to finish her. But only when entirely necessary. Only...as a last resort." The prince reiterated, and with a moment's time to consider it, the guards in question nodded...agreeing to his terms. Smiling for the first time before them all, he nodded, turning back to face Anna once more as one of the guards went to fetch his things. In the meantime, he found himself right next to Anna's side, stroking her head as the attendants about her worked tirelessly to tent to her.
Upon retrieving his sword and coat, Hans gave the guards a curt, grateful nod, and turned back to the princess, smiling softly as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, mirroring what Kristoff had done before, standing after just a moment, taking the items in question from the man's hands. Donning them and hitching his weapon at his side, Hans approached them, words stern, but calm.
"I want several outfits to secure the west line of the castle. Wait upon the walling, and do not act unless you deem it necessary. Is that understood?" He ordered, and at his word, they saluted, the collection of guards in arms rushing off to the posts that he'd designated. With a sigh, he was seen off by the attendants, each wishing luck and blessings as he trekked down the halls, the path of his choosing leading the dungeons below.
It was time to pay Elsa a visit.