Hans was humiliated.

He'd been defeated, beaten, shipped home. It took two girls to beat him. He, the master planner, the master of surprise, the master... of many things, really, had lost.

He was locked in a cell for weeks, and only had a couple of visitors, each of them told him the same thing.

Hans gritted his teeth.

He would be shipped back to Arrendelle, served to the sisters on a silver platter. Like a slab of meat. It would show everyone, publically that he would be punished by those he had wronged. There were guards with him, lead by his brother Hubert.

They watched him night and day, secretly watching him. Hubert was nervous about something. The older prince was probably worried about patching thing up with the royals of Arrendelle, and recovering international... at the same time, however, something kept nagging Hans at the back of his head. Something he didn't really like to think about.

It wasn't his duplicity, that much seemed normal. And it wasn't his desire to ascend the throne, he'd always known he deserved that. It was... an itch. A wall of his mind that kept bringing up one simple fact; he wasn't worried.

Something within him gave him an unquenchable sense of power. He was a dynamo. Nothing, no one, no force on the planet could stop him. Realistically, he could never explain this. He was a normal human.

"Normal..." he said out loud. It was so odd. He'd never... thought about it before. Yet he had, hadn't he? Ever since he'd been shipped home he kept thinking about it, and that word would always come out of his mouth, "Normal."

...that wasn't normal.

Hans looked around the cell, pouting. He wanted to be upstairs with the other princes. He deserved a place, and he knew it.

The Westerguard reflected for a moment on what that meant exactly. But, try as he might, he could only imagine what it was like up there. Halls filled with treasures, and food. Bowing servants and brown-nosing advisors. Right?

Yet... he did not remember these things. He had been shipped into the navy at-

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" A searing spike lanced through his mind, "Ow. Ow. OW...!"

There was no point in reflecting on the past. He wanted to move on, this was normal, "Normal." He said again.

Yet Hans went back into his memory. Back to the year when everyone pretended he wasn't there. Back when his brothers would go off to have fun without him. But that's what brothers do, right? It was normal.

"Normal."

Somewhere, underneath the hate, the frustration, and the anger, Hans knew something was wrong. All was not 'normal'. But he could not remember what exactly was wrong.

So instead he grew frustrated. Getting hot under the collar, the young prince took off his coat, and then shirt. The angrily he got, the more he felt like he was in an oven. It was weird, because, even though the cell was exposed to the elements, he never got too warm or too cool.

The boots and socks were the next to go.

"Gah!" He bit his lip angrily.

"Hubert, Hubert, where are you guys going?"

"Nowhere, Hans, now leave us alone."

The door slammed in his face. The ten-year-old swore no one would ever slam a door in his face again.

Hans shook his head in annoyance. That wasn't him anymore. He was locked in a cell, and was trying not to care whether or not he would ever get out.

"Let me in! Let me in!"

The door remained shut, and he pounded against it harder. And harder. Thud, thud, thud...

Hans grabbed his head. It was in agony, burning hotter and hotter. And no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, it just hurt more.

Humiliated.

The cell door swung open and Hubert grabbed Hans, and dragged his brother outside. The crowds jeered at him. Insults flew in the air beside rotten fruit.

'Traitor'

'Disgrace'

'Freak'

Hans swallowed his shame. As much as he hated to admit it, perhaps he had earned this. The people should treat him like this, after it was just human nature. Hate and hate on top of hate. Normal, right?

"Noorrrrr..." Said Hans slowly, slurring the words. The pavement of the stones rolled under him and he stumbled, his headache growing worse and worse. The fruit took on a deeper shade of red, like his blood, and the vegetables became mossy, like he was walking through a deep forest, "Normal."

He shook his head to clear his vision.

"Freak!" Hissed Hubert. Hans glared, and, for a second, saw his brother the way he had been fifteen years ago.

Hans was thrown into the carriage. The queen was there.

"Vikki," He spat. She ignored him. Her relationship with the king was a treacherous one. The two hated each other, which made for an interesting marriage.

"The Southern Isles is a pure, beautiful land, and we do not tolerate..." She paused to spit on his face, so much like his brothers, "Aberations..."

Hans ignored the sticky slime sliding down his face. He would just add it to the list of things he wanted to change in his life.

"Speaking of which," She said, conversationally, "I hear that you're headed back to that thing's home. Pretty little thing that she is."

Hans sighed. Two guards joined her.

"Teach him."

And so he received his first beating of the day.

The two finished once they arrived at the boat.

"I have but one thing to promise you," Said Victoria. She leaned in close, "Answers."

"To what?" He demanded.

"Oh Hans," She pouted, "You don't even know the question..."

He was thrown out, shackled, and lead onto the ship.

His humiliation was just beginning.