Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's Frozen or anything that has to do with Frozen except for this fanfiction idea.
A/N: There's just something about Hans and Elsa together that seems so right yet so wrong.
He rested his head back against the gray wall of his cell and stared up at the barred window to his right. The sun had just peeked over the horizon and an annoying beam of light was hitting him in the eyes. Every few seconds, it would be cut off he assumed by some large tree branch. The result was a dizzy flashing that made his temple throb. Outside his enclosure, a relentless bird chirped and whistled, aggravating his already pounding headache. He could move himself out of the light and plug his ears, but that required moving, didn't it?
Was his leg falling asleep? Mm. To fix that required moving too.
The stone cell, located just outside the palace walls, was small and cramped and the smell of the place was almost enough to make a man tie his own noose. Glass littered the floor near his right boot and he was pretty sure a family of mice were enjoying his company and the leftovers of his daily meals. Now, two months doesn't seem like a long time in the grand scheme of things, but sitting and staring at a wall made tedious minutes feel like tedious hours and, honestly, he didn't know how much more of it he could take. Two months and he hadn't even been given a proper trial. Apparently, convicting your own royal family member of attempted murder, scheming, and treason was a difficult task.
"Hm." He chuckled at the thought. His brothers hardly batted an eye in his direction before the Arendelle mess...
They see him now, don't they
Hans cringed and pushed his back straight against the wall, trying to relieve the aching pressure put there by his less than luxurious bed. His brothers had never been kind to him, not since their parents' death ushered his oldest sibling to the throne. Being in charge of an entire kingdom, plus the added bonus of some rather rambunctious young princes, had aged King Edmund too quickly and now there he sat: cold, calculating eyes, ever-present frown, unwavering opinions...
Even when it had come to Hans' most recent misfortune, his brother refused to meet his gaze and instead looked over his head and spoke to the masses of Hans' temporary fate. The rest of his family scowled and sneered. Not one of them spoke in his favor. Not one of them offered a hint of support. They dressed him in rags and left him in a peasant thief's cell surrounded by guards with a blanket, a bucket of water and a blade. The blade was to keep up decent appearances, but his brother Augustus, Twelfth son of the Southern Isles, had thrown it at him with a slew of awful words one could not imagine being said to a little brother by one's older brother. It hurt, yes, but not enough to break him and he shaved with it every day to spite the bastard.
There were rarely any visitors, as expected. Augustus always seemed to be the bearer of news, if there was to be any for him, and it always ended with an unwelcome kick or some other form of humiliation. Other than that, Edmund, had been to his cell twice. Both times had been very late in the night. Both times Hans had pretended he was asleep to get out of having to talk to the king.
Pointless scolding and more humiliation just didn't seem worth acknowledging his eldest brother's presence. Could you blame him?
The sunlight faded behind a cloud and Hans' mind began to wander to different topics. He thought of the dripping ceiling and wondered how long it would take before the gathering puddle rose up to drown him. He thought of the bee that was building a nest in the corner of his barred window. He thought about Queen Elsa and Princess Anna of Arendelle... accidentally, of course.
Hmff! He could just imagine the little snow witch and her sister prancing about their ugly castle, breaking people's necks with patches of ice and being adored for it.
Jealous? His mind teased. Jealous of some inept queen and her little orange headed imp of a sister?
"Brother!" A Strong, brassy voice hollered suddenly from outside his cell door. Hans' heart pounded with fright and shot a particularly painful ache through his upper chest. His hand came up and pressed over the cotton of his shirt. The pain wasn't exactly surprising. Ever since the Arendelle incident, the strange attacks were becoming more and more frequent and harder to deal with.
Panic attacks, he thought, but even when he's completely calm his heart still sent painful shocks and shivers wracking through his body. The thought of it actually being a serious problem was a thought that he tried hard to suppress.
Outside the door, there was a bark of orders and a jingling of keys.
"I'm Busy." Hans called out mockingly, blowing a piece of hair out of his face, his hand still pressing over his heart. The door shook on its hinges, a key clicked, and light poured into his small living space. The prisoner closed his eyes and turned his head away to stare back at the wall in front of him. His chest continued to ache.
"Well, well, well," Despite the pain, Hans dropped his hand and stared forward. A shadow cast over him. "What a mess! Had a bit of a temper tantrum did we, little one?" His brother's boot crunched on the broken glass. It was clear to him now who stood in his doorway.
"An accident." Hans bit out. His eyes looked up to the broken mirror in front of him. It hadn't been an accident. "I am capable of those, you know. Not everything I do is despicably planned to shame the family."
"HA! An accident?" The older, much larger in stature, prince crouched down in front of his little brother's sprawled out legs, taking in the sight of the once too cocky young man slumped against the walls of a broom closet sized cell.
The smile on Augustus' face made Hans' blood boil.
"I suppose it all was just a big accident then, eh? Never Hans' fault, is it?" The blue cape hanging off his brother's shoulder draped over his knees as Augustus shuffled closer.
"Why are you here, Gus?" He spat. This brother would never visit him for the kicks. There had to be a reason. The faster he got it out of him, the faster he'd be gone.
"I've brought good news, little one!" The ass laughed and threw his giant hand on Hans' shoulder, squeezing it and shaking him with little care. "A trial date. A new cell! Smaller than this one, of course, maybe a bit more glass on the floor." Augustus' thumb ran absently through the messy hair on the side of Hans' head and the young prince immediately jerked himself away, scooting some to the left, sliding shards of glass with him.
He wasn't afraid.
"So eager to race to your conviction, Hans?"
"When?" The prince repeated, keeping his tone level. Augustus' smile faltered and in an instant there were hands around Hans' neck, slamming the back of his head into the wall and choking him. The prisoner saw stars, bright colors, and then his brother's face through the narrow blackness. His stomach lurched and his chest ached more than ever.
"L-Gogh!" Hans rasped.
"You will be moved tomorrow in preparation for your trial." Augustus spoke evenly. "You'll be walking in clear view of the people you have shamed." The hands assaulting him disappeared and the disgraced prince fell completely to the side, his face never so happy to enjoy the feeling of broken glass.
A foreign hand ran quickly through Hans' sweaty hair. "Do us a favor and try to make yourself look decent tomorrow, eh?"
A slam echoed through the room. The jingling of keys. The shouts. The whispers.
Was he gone? Was the world still looking? Could he sob now?
Hans cursed and rolled onto his back. The pain in his chest had not dulled, even with the new added pain of his abused throat and tender skull. The temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees and his body shook uncontrollably.
That was normal. For Augustus, that was normal. He never had been sure why the "nearly youngest" prince of the Southern Isles hated him so much, but for Augustus that was normal. Perhaps it was jealousy of Hans being the youngest and the last to receive the most attention and affection from his mother? The simple fact that Augustus was larger than him? Hans didn't know and had long lost interest in ever knowing.
Lying down was making it worse so, slowly, he pushed himself up on his hands and knees. The room spun.
Like everything else involving Hans, Edmund had never paid any attention to Hans' suffering at the hands of his cruel sibling. As cold as Edmund seemed, he was sure if the king had known what Augustus was doing to him, he would have never sent the brute. Hans could almost hear the fake stories Augustus would tell of how much he cared and how he should be the one to bring the news to Hans because he was the "closest". If "close" meant being choked to death and slammed into a wall, Hans would much rather have the flat out ignoring, thanks very much.
When the world finally started to slow down, he leaned over the broken pieces of mirror. He pressed his fist to his chest and swallowed. Was he having a heart attack? No. He was too young! Was it a panic attack? He wasn't even sure what those were supposed to feel like!
He scrambled for the biggest piece of glass he could find and stared at his reflection. He looked pale, but he hasn't exactly been sunbathing lately. His eyes looked a little blood shot, but that could have been anything from Augustus' assault to his lack of sleep. He opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, turned his face side to side-
What was wrong with him?
A/N: Well? How 'bout it? Continue?