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Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

I. Copycat

Arm was a name Hans often heard of—not in the Henituse Estate—but whispered by those with dead gazes, worn hands, and a trembling countenance. He took little note of the organization. There were always people playing such games, growing and spreading their empires until their demise; few people who played had happy lives and even fewer had happy ends.

Hans had given up on playing such games a long time ago.

He had won the game. . .then promptly lost. Not that winning the game felt like winning, it had brought him no happiness.

To hold the world in the palm of one’s hand and tell it what to do sounded thrilling. To be able to do whatever one wanted; buy whatever one liked; eat the most delicious foods; drink the most expensive wine; laze around in the sunlight; have everyone attentive to one’s needs, likes, and dislikes.

He thought he would have been happy to have everything, but all it made him feel like was that he had nothing. The illusion broke and he realized the farce he had believed in. Unfortunately, because of that distraction, he quickly lost everything he had gained through years of wars, planning, and sacrifices.

It really was a miracle he survived.

Hans enjoyed the job he had now. It was. . .entertaining? Fulfilling?

He struggled like he never had before. He was able to laugh alongside and at the other servants.

The oldest son did not appreciate his mocking, but also tolerated him to some extent. It seemed Cale was lacking someone who would truly argue with him, instead of refusing to argue, obeying immediately, or silently leaving.

—

Hans stocked up on vacation time for a bit—he appreciated how generously the Henituses treated their employees—then went to the East Continent.

It had been a long time since he had been able to explore this place. Many things had changed. Old countries had crumbled and new ones formed. Villages became towns and towns became cities. Cities stagnated, regressed, or grew. Volcanoes had erupted and formed rich soil. Seas had risen or fallen. Earthquakes broke mountains and lifted up valleys.

Taverns were the best places to hear news without the danger of being caught eavesdropping. No one would bother you if you chose the right seat, kept your head down, and ate your meal quietly. Staying silent had the bonus of making it a lot easier to hear other people talking.

He searched for those wearing the uniform of Arm in taverns and was not disappointed in what he gleaned.

“-only dead mana.”

“. . .we’re not supposed to-”

The most important piece of information he discovered in the early morning before his ship was set to sail back to the West Continent.

“-but The White Star. . .”

That title, that name, made Hans dig his nails into the table. It was being used in the present tense, to refer to someone’s order.

This investigation was personal now, not just some curiosity about a growing behemoth. He had built that reputation himself and he did not appreciate identity fraud despite abandoning it.

Unfortunately, the ship leaving tomorrow was his only chance at getting back to the Roan Kingdom before his vacation time was over.

Hans sighed and stood up. He left money on the table for the server to collect along with his dishes and walked out the door.

—

He thought about everything he knew.

Arm destroyed Harris Village. They attacked the Capital of the Roan Kingdom. They poisoned a swamp in the Forest of Darkness and supplied the dead mana to the mermaids. There was the corruption of the rotting Mogoru Empire and the surprise coup d’etat of the Whipper Kingdom. The Northern Alliance headed by Paerun had been long planned, but overturned with the efforts of Cale Henituse and the noble’s friends.

Everything Arm was doing or tried to do pointed towards someone desperately attempting to control the West Continent.

The dragons were also slowly disappearing, something far more concerning than the wars of humans, elves, and beastmen. That reeked of foul play more than anything, it took a lot to kill an adult dragon. None of them would just drop dead.

Perhaps there truly was a new White Star, a warped image of him. No, Hans reconsidered, this fake copy was maybe more true to what his aspirations had been than what Hans currently wanted. However, certainly less skilled. Hans had never suffered losses like this, even to that guardian fellow. It was said that mimicry was the sincerest form of flattery, but it was extremely annoying when the mimicry was so much worse than the original.

But, this war did not concern him. He would need time to see if that previous statement needed to be modified with a, ‘yet’.

—

Hans listed the ancient powers The White Star had displayed. Although he had not fought with him or seen him yet, Hans was acquainted with most who had.

He looked at the list and felt like cursing. Hans could feel the outrage building up in his throat at the knowledge that The White Star now possessed his stolen powers, with the sole exception of the Bloodstained Pebble.

He allowed himself to fume silently before connecting the information with what he already knew before. This led Hans to a new conclusion: considering the new White Star had the Sky ancient power, was using it, and was producing massive amounts of dead mana, he must have forged a deal with them.

—

Hans stared at the white crown. The jewel in it was slightly broken, but the circlet still hummed with untapped energy.

He had noticed the Dominating Aura Cale brought back, with how well acquainted he was with the ancient power. He heard about the halved Sword of Disasters. But this was the first time he saw the crown. . .in maybe a thousand and a half years? Perhaps longer, he had lost count after he was betrayed.

The idea of splitting up the things associated with being the Dragon Catcher was ridiculous. Of everything Hans had heard, that was probably the thing that enraged him the most.

Had the fake White Star gotten so bored and stupid that he wanted to create an opposition?

Hans suspected something else was going on after meeting the Dragon Half-Blood, but he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have enough information, and the chimera was so abused that it would be hard to pry much out of him. Hans would have to find another way to gather information, or have others gather information for him; such was the privilege of being employed by Cale Henituse.

He wondered how long it would take for the young master to find out about the demons?

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

II. Outsight

1. Ron Molan

“Yes. I am Hans,” he introduced, calmly but confidently.

The newly hired footman was skilled and kept his head down, that was Ron’s first impression of the young man. “Follow me.”

Ron stiffened, but kept walking down the carpeted hallways of the Henituse Estate. There was something about having the man at his back—in his blindspot—that made his instincts go haywire. He could hear the soft, deliberate footsteps behind him. Ron resisted the urge to turn around, or at least cover his neck.

“Here is your room,” Ron informed. “If you need anything, you can talk to the Head Butler or Head Maid.”

The smile on Hans' face seemed a bit wider now. “Thank you for showing me the way.”

This meeting signaled the start of Ron’s instinct for danger warning him against Hans. He treated the young man politely, but avoided him whenever possible.

Ron also tried to keep his charge, Cale Henituse, away from Hans; however that proved rather futile after Choi Han showed up and Hans was assigned to Cale as a butler.

—

2. Beacrox Molan

Beacrox did not fully understand what issue there was with Hans. But he was wary of the new hire due to his father’s warning. Beacrox would quietly work whenever Hans came to eat a meal in his kitchen in order to avoid the man.

—

3. Kim Rok Soo

He was fine with Deruth assigning Hans to him. Deputy Butler Hans was annoying and made cheeky comments—Hans seemed to take a particular joy in teasing him—but Cale also knew how skilled the man was. It was nice to be able to shunt different matters off for Hans to take care of.

Unlike Ron and Beacrox, Hans was a...well, a normal butler. Cale didn’t know why he felt terrified of the man for seemingly no reason, so he just ignored the irrational feeling.

As time went on, Hans faded to the background of things. He never really had any issues with the work he was given, regardless of whether it was supervising the Super Rock Villa or handling provisions as the Henituse Territory prepared for war.

The ancient powers were oddly quiet around Hans, but Cale didn’t think much of it. He was just happy to enjoy the quiet inside of his head. Having several chatty powers could get annoying really fast. There were times when Cale looked at Hans and was grateful that the other side didn’t have someone this good at management.

—

4. On and Hong

The cats found Hans annoying at first, then they began to appreciate him. He was never rough when bathing them and always made sure they had enough food. He was really good at brushing and gave them lots of treats.

Hans lied at Puzzle City about the myth, but they forgave him in a few days.

When Cale passed out and stayed in a coma like state for days, Hans was always the one to take care of them. He showed no worry, only resolution as he carried out his jobs and made sure the two cats were okay. During those times, it was not unusual to see Hans working late and watching over the comatose Cale, with On and Hong curled up next to him.

—

5. Raon Miru

Raon liked the butler, despite never officially meeting Hans. He stayed invisible. After he observed the man and how well he treated On and Hong, Raon decided that he liked Hans.

Raon Miru often tried to keep watch over an unconscious Cale who had once again fallen into a comatose state after he overused his ancient powers again. The dragon always fell asleep during the night, and woke up on Cale’s bed with a blanket covering him. He thought it was Ron coming in to check on them, and never investigated further.

The dragon, despite his race, was too inexperienced to note the moments where Hans looked more like a predator than a helpless butler from a normal family. Raon was too inexperienced to realize that magic was the only danger to him. He only saw the abnormally large plate Hans possessed, similar in size to Choi Han’s.

—

6. Choi Han

Choi Han saw a predator when the man opened the door and smiled. It was that sort of instinctual feeling. The type of chilling aura that said he was being watched and observed, a tiny ant under the microscope of a giant. Choi Han was familiar with this feeling from the high level monsters he saw when travelling through the Forest of Darkness and that one swordsman who had directed him towards Harris Village. He held his breath out of instinct and his hand went for his knife.

Then Hans’ smile softened into something more like warm sunshine tinged with mischief.

Choi Han blinked. The sensation faded, and Choi Han thought he must have imagined it. He pressed on without hesitation, as his mission was more important. “Cale-nim said I should talk to Deputy Butler Hans about what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“Harris Village was destroyed.” Choi Han did not care how much emotion slipped into his voice. “I want people to be sent to bury them properly.”

Hans frowned and moved to the side. “I see. Come in and tell me the details.”

—

7. Rosalyn

Hans was a butler that did his job well. He didn’t make any mistakes, which meant he didn’t attract any particular attention. For most things, he seemed to blend in with other dozens and dozens of butlers that Rosalyn knew, although he definitely ranked at the top in skill among those she had met. Besides, she hadn’t interacted much with him.

However, there were two times that she remembered talking with Hans. The first was her second night in the Henituse Mansion in the Capital of the Roan Kingdom. It was Hans’ job to get her settled. She was still stressed over Lock and stuck in her own thoughts. Hans drew her into a conversation and she ended up holding back laughter several times before she got to her room. The second was when he made a passing remark about magic bombs that led to the breakthrough she was searching for.

Hans was indeed an exceptional butler. The Henituses were lucky to have him.

—

8. Shaman Gashan

The butler of Cale Henituse was an odd one, just as much as the others under the noble’s employ. Gashan was not complaining; he and the rest of the Tiger Tribe were offered a home by that same noble.

But still, Hans was unsettling. He seemed to stand in a metaphorical blind spot, which made the Shaman unable to really see him. Something was preventing him, blocking him, from reaching an accurate—or any sort of—reading about Hans.

“I can see much. But my eyes can not see what and who you are, in truth,” Gashan raspily admitted.

The butler stopped writing and lifted his gaze from the page. Hans wore a kind smile as he simply advised, “Sometimes, ignorance is bliss.”

There were things that should not be seen.

There were secrets that should never be discovered.

It was a warning, as well as a truth and tenet.

Gashan nodded. He never tried to inquire about Hans again.

—

9. Wolf Tribe

Hans was patient. He teased Lock sometimes, but also reined himself in whenever Lock was getting overwhelmed or frustrated.

Hans was liked by the Wolf children as he was willing to help them anytime and without reservation. Additionally, because Hans was liberal with things like ruffling hair and patting shoulders compared to the others, Hans was likely to get crowded around and bombarded with hugs whenever they saw him.

All of the Wolves appreciated Hans. He was not involved in the wars as a fighter, but he was still pack, just like how Cale, Rosalyn, Lock, Choi Han, and the others were.

—

10. Cage

Cage noticed that the God of Death laughed the most when she was around Cale’s butler. She didn’t really know why. There must be some sort of inside joke, some hidden story she did not know about.

She wasn’t particularly interested in finding out what was going on either. But she did have a vested interest in not being used as a human carrier pigeon to deliver cryptic messages to Deputy Butler Hans and Cale Henituse.

—

11. Eruhaben

Eruhaben watched Hans carefully. Just because someone couldn’t use magic didn’t mean they were not a threat. Eruhaben did not have proof that Hans had malicious intent, but the butler was among the most mysterious members of Cale’s group. Which was to say, Eruhaben had no proof one way or the other about Hans’ intentions or abilities.

The dragon took to coming over to the Super Rock Villa for tea with Hans, in an attempt to ferret out more about the butler.

“Tea?” Hans questioned with a smile. His uniform had no wrinkles or stains, as usual. Despite his mischievous nature at times, his appearance was a reflection of how seriously he took his duties as a butler.

“Yes,” Eruhaben agreed. Although Hans did not know he was a dragon, he had taken the form of a blond haired elf. It was interesting how the butler seemed not to care at all about him being an elf.

“What type?”

Eruhaben turned the choice around. “I wish to try whatever teas you would like. I want to. . .broaden my horizons.”

Hans froze for a moment. The smile was still pasted on his face. “How does a Mint Green Tea sound?” It used to be very popular in Roan Kingdom, a safe choice.

Eruhaben nodded. “That sounds wonderful.”

—

12. Toonka

Toonka couldn’t help but stare. He could tell that the new man trailing behind Choi Han and Cale Henituse was strong. The man seemed to purposefully ignore his gaze.

“What was distracting you?” Chief Haroll asked afterwards.

Toonka did not hesitate to reply, “Who was the butler?” He never paid much attention to attendants of various people, but he knew his right hand did.

“Hans, Deputy Butler of the Henituses,” Haroll listed off. He continued to look over a report of the Whipper Kingdom’s defenses.

“He is strong,” Toonka stated, with rock solid certainty. He wasn’t sure exactly how strong Hans was, but it would be a challenge to fight him.

Chief Haroll paused. He did not doubt Toonka, the man’s instincts were strong and accurate, especially when it came to other people’s capabilities. He wondered as to how Cale had gathered such strong people around him.

Toonka waited until he was alone with the butler two years later before testing Hans. He aimed a right hook at the man’s face.

Hans stepped forward, ducking under the strike. His expression had turned blank, showing neither shock nor amusement at the sudden confrontation. He grabbed Toonka’s left arm and slipped around the warrior's back.

Toonka tried to twist his arm free, then elbow Hans in the ribs with his free hand. The second action succeeded, but Hans refused to let go and caught his right hand.

Hans kicked the back of Toonka’s knees and Toonka fell, unable to keep his balance. “Do you have any reasons to provoke me aside from your own d*mned curiosity?”

Toonka struggled for a few seconds, but couldn’t break free. He couldn’t understand exactly how the butler was so strong physically compared to himself. He shook his head.

“I am reluctant to kill you, but that doesn’t mean I am unable to, as you can clearly see. Let me do my job and do not test me further, and we shall both forget about this. Hmm?”

Toonka agreed and Hans let go.

“Pardon me, but I must be going now.” Hans bowed and left.

Toonka shook out his wrists, trying to return feeling to his numb hands. He grinned. It was hard to find good opponents these days. He wouldn’t provoke Hans like that anymore, but he would badger the butler into having a match with him sometime. Or at least, he would try.

—

13. Alberu

Hans was not a normal butler, but then no one around Cale was. Any issues Alberu noticed about Hans, any oddities, were swept under the rug and forgotten due to the sheer blatant craziness of everything and everyone else.

—

14. Clopeh Sekka

Clopeh avoided Hans. Whenever the butler was around, he did not dare to approach Cale.

The first time Clopeh met Hans, the butler was standing beside Cale. Clopeh had started talking about legends and heroes and his respect of Cale. Hans gave the sort of sly smile that Clopeh’s father had sometimes—the warning sign of a snake in the grass that was ready to strike. Clopeh froze at that sight, realizing he had miscalculated. Hans was a threat, and he didn’t know anything about this harmless looking butler of Cale’s.

—

15. Bud Illis

Bud thought the guy had a screw loose, as Hans seemed to have no fear of insulting and teasing Cale. However, everyone seemed to brush off Hans’ comments as normal. Choi Han, Ron, and Raon, for instance, were never taken aback about how Hans acted. Cale mostly rolled his eyes, perhaps having given up on arguing with his butler.

Bud also saw that Hans liked Jopis’s dogs and treated them like any other animal. He figured the butler just had no idea what the dogs were capable of. Then Fluffy attacked someone, and Hans still treated the dogs like normal. So yeah, Bud decided, Hans had a screw loose somewhere.

—

16. Lord Sheritt

Sheritt liked the polite young man that sometimes accompanied the group to the castle. But. . .she felt something was off.

There was something familiar about him.

There was something she was forgetting.

Those types of thoughts were quickly discarded in favor of spending time with Raon. 

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

III. Insight I

1. Ron Molan

Hans watched the older servant carefully.

Light footsteps and hidden knives that gave away Ron being a trained fighter. Ron’s well hidden paranoia. And a million other signs of someone on the run. Hans knew them far too well. After all, he had been on the run for centuries.

It was harder to act as a normal butler and harder to do his job with Ron watching him. Ron, on the other hand, seemed wary of Hans. So Ron avoided him, and he avoided Ron, and everything was fine until Cale Henituse decided to not be trash.

—

2. On and Hong

Cale came home with two kittens, one red and one white. They were obviously strays and not pets, and yet somehow the young master knew that the two were siblings; he talked to them like they were humans. These oddities were just part of the pile of weird things Cale had been doing recently, but Hans took particular note of Cale’s behavior and words towards the kittens.

Hans had been good friends with a member of the Cat Tribe before. Hueh had grey fur, like tarnished silver, but color variations were not uncommon among the mutants of the Cat Tribe.

He washed and fed the two kittens. Honestly, they were adorable and he kept having to resist the urge to pet and play with them. He did confirm from how they acted that the kittens were indeed members of the Cat Tribe; the biggest clue was that they didn’t hate him on sight.

He wondered how the kids had gotten all the way over here on the West Continent. Had they gotten lost? Were they on a mission to kill someone?

On and Hong thought the two sets of children’s clothes were from Cale. They never realized that Hans was the first person of the estate to identify them as Cat Tribe—even faster than Ron did—because the butler always treated them outwardly as regular cats.

Ron tried to secretly teach the cats some basic assassin skills, which Hans found amusing. Every kitten of the tribe received training since they were young to ensure they would survive and thrive as high-class assassins.

Hans acted properly shocked when he ‘found out’ officially about the cats. He continued to be in charge of making sure they were taken care of, as they were still young children despite being able to kill a grown man in five seconds flat.

Finding out how On and Hong ended up in Henituse Territory—because of hatred against those with mutations—was. . .concerning. He started gathering more information about the situation. He had no love for the Cat Tribe’s new traditions.

—

3. Choi Han

Choi Han was a strong swordmaster with unusual attributes. He was much better looking now that he had cleaned up and had a few meals.

He was an unknown variable that Hans kept a careful eye on.

Choi Han seemed to be. . .distant. His mind was clouded by thoughts, by the death of the village he had resided in, by revenge against Arm.

Revenge.

That was a dangerous thing to everyone.

Hans got up and sat next to Choi Han, who was the only person on the night watch for the next two hours. “I couldn’t sleep.” He stared up above at the stars, the only things that hadn’t truly changed during his life. “The night sky is very pretty, don’t you think?”

Choi Han, the punk, ignored him.

Hans waited in the silence, enjoying the sight of the stars for a while. He didn’t know exactly why he asked. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to see someone walk down that path without a warning. “Will you seek revenge against the people who destroyed Harris Village?”

Choi Han opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated. “I want to.”

Hans shook his head. He pasted a gentle smile onto his face as he bluntly replied, “I didn’t ask that. I asked what you will do, not what you want to.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what else I can do.” Choi Han was annoyed by the questions, but he felt like the butler would keep probing him even if he didn’t answer.

“What can you do?” Hans hummed thoughtfully.

“Kill them,” Choi Han bluntly replied. “I can hunt them down and kill them.”

“And what else can you do?”

Choi Han paused and cast a look towards the tents of people, the tents containing people he had said he would protect. “I don’t know. What if the only thing I’m good at is killing?” There was a trace of vulnerability hidden in his tone.

“If the only thing you are good at is killing, then you learn to do other things, you apply what you know in another way. Think about it, you’re protecting Cale and the rest of us on this trip, right?”

Choi Han looked out into the inky dark of the forest. The gaze in his eyes was bleak and cold. “What if I fail?”

“Failure is always a possibility anytime you try anything,” Hans candidly stated. It was a bad idea to be optimistic to someone who’s village had been recently massacred by Arm. It was better to face reality than crush them with false hope. “But I don’t think you will. If you do, however, then I wouldn’t suggest giving up. You can try again, and hope things will be different. Of course, you can also give up and nothing will change.” He shrugged.

Choi Han tilted his head, a bit confused. “So what you’re trying to say is, the best revenge is living well? I should go learn things and start a new life?” He didn’t know why that made Hans burst into laughter.

Hans wiped the tears from his eyes. “You could put it like that I guess. Living well is the best revenge.” He didn’t know if what he was doing was called ‘living’ yet, but he was trying to. He knew this could only be called either cowardice or cleverness depending on what one label one wanted to use.

Choi Han still addressed him roughly, but it was a smidge more respectful. “Have you ever sought revenge, Hans?”

“Yes, many times. It didn’t give me anything worth having,” Hans casually admitted.

Choi Han’s eyes narrowed. He glanced at the man out from the corner of his eye.

Hans chewed on his bottom lip. “And then, a long time ago, I lost everything. Maybe I should have sought revenge, but now I’m here and I find that I like being here a lot better. Actually. . .I shouldn’t have sought revenge, I know that. However, perhaps I should have sought justice.” An ironic smile twisted across his face.

“Oh,” Choi Han quietly said. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but this conversation. . .gave him some hope, some ideas. He was thankful for that.

—

4. Raon Miru

Hans knocked on the door. “Young master?” He heard no reply. He listened for the sound of any movement inside of the room. He could not hear the shifting of fabric, footsteps, nor breathing.

Cale and the cats had left during the night.

Hans did a mental check of the people still downstairs.

Choi Han had also left, it seems.

Hopefully, the four were sneaking around together.

Hans sighed before continuing down the hallway. He had a feeling that they would be able to take care of whatever trouble they found. . .or whatever trouble they caused. Hans was correct in his prediction, as they had indeed returned by the morning. He wondered what they had done at Viscount Tolz’s villa to cause the guards to question everyone in town.

Hans wasn’t sure whether they stole something or had merely wrecked the place.

After Cale and the rest of the noble’s entourage left, food started appearing. Not canned, smoked, or cooked food. No, this mysterious entity had been leaving recently killed beasts for them to roast over the campfire.

Hans was forced to reevaluate his idea of what happened that night.

The new conclusion he settled on was: Cale, Choi Han, and the cats freed someone or something, and that being is now following them. It knew how to hunt large game, which meant it wasn’t weak.

There were hints of that being moving around invisibly in the forest.

Instead of using a written language, it used symbols. This meant someone who had not received an education, either due to age or social status.

Hans could practically taste the thick magic that would sometimes fill the air around Cale.

That boiled down to a powerful magic creature that was powerful yet weak enough to be caught, likely because of its youth.

Hans knew of other entities that might work, but based on the sheer concentration of magic despite the creature’s age. . . .

How did Cale know about the dragon?

Theories swirled inside of Hans’ head as he worked.

Hans had ‘the truth revealed to him’ later. He let the surprise flash across his face and stare.

Internally, he was unphased about being right. The only thing he wasn’t expecting was the future Dragon Lord part, which meant Raon would be rather terrifying in the future and a great source of entertainment.

He would take the secret of his initial thought about Raon—‘he’s such an adorable dragon’—to the end of the universe.

—

5. Rosalyn

Hans found her amusing. He found out that they had a similar sense of humor which was nice.

He pegged her as an excellent mage despite her youth as she was able to detect the dragon near Cale. From the battle stories he heard later, Rosalyn had great control and an aptitude for handling large amounts of magic.

He almost wanted to applaud Choi Han, Lock, and Rosalyn for the spectacular manner in which they handled Rosalyn giving up the throne (aka blowing up a palace). Additionally, he respected her giving up the throne to pursue her own path; it took a lot of courage to do that, and if he felt a bit nostalgic about his own life, no one else knew.

The butler wished her luck on the road of a mage with some measure of sincerity and lack of ulterior motives. Perhaps Rosalyn, Princess of Breck Kingdom, would indeed become the master of the Mage Tower.

—

6. Eruhaben

“Hello. I am Eruhaben. I don’t think we’ve met,” Eruhaben greeted.

Hans looked into the dragon in the shape of an elf and saw someone who was just as weary of the world as he had been. He saw someone who had lived far longer than any other of the other people in the room. He saw a bone deep tiredness that longed for a respite, as life was always the story of a man pushing a boulder up an endless hill.

They saw each other. And they saw themselves reflected to some extent, the image muddied by Hans’s mask of normality and Eruhaben’s despair.

“No, I don’t think we have,” Hans replied with a smile. “Hans, Deputy Butler of the Henituse Family.” This relationship would be the most challenging tightrope to walk out of the current ones he was in. He couldn’t raise the dragon’s suspicions too much.

Hans knew Eruhaben wasn’t an elf. If Eruhaben was an elf, he wouldn’t have been treating a human this politely. Hans found it unlikely that elves' prejudices had stopped in this time. They were a long lived race and rarely changed or challenged themselves. With Eruhaben being an actual elf ruled out, the strong magic surrounding him, and Raon Miru referring to the new person as grandpa when talking with the cats, Hans had at least a solid guess about what the man was.

Eruhaben would take time to come over and have tea with the butler. It was an obvious attempt at trying to figure him out.

Eventually, Hans found the dragon’s wariness of him and Eruhaben trying to get him to lower his guard to be rather funny. If one was being tested, one might as well have fun with the experience.

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

IV. Insight II

Lock

Lock was naive, weak willed, cowardly, and lonely.

He reminded Hans of everything the butler hated. (Because Lock reminded Hans of his old self.) Yet, Hans thought to himself, Lock was young, the wolf could still grow.

It was easy to see that Lock’s strength was not in fighting for himself, but in fighting for those he cared about. If that was properly nurtured, the wolf would mature in a fine warrior. Hans had found that the potential of someone like that was equal or greater than those seeking enjoyment, control, or death.

And right now, Lock was isolated. He was stationed at the gorge, while his friends and family were far away. He often took many night watches, due to the Wolf Tribe having superior night vision to humans.

Perhaps some intervention was necessary.

Lock tensed as he heard a stick break behind him. He turned his head, ready to yell for help and fight if it was an enemy scout.

Surprise flashed across Lock’s face, then he relaxed. “Mister Hans. Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Hans stated. “How are you doing?” He sat down on the log next to the wolf.

“I’ve. . .been doing fine.” Lock’s voice wavered.

Hans didn’t comment on how unsure the boy seemed. “I brought mint tea. Would you like some?”

Lock chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. He hesitatingly replied, “If it's no trouble.”

Hans poured the tea into two cups, and handed one to Lock. “My apologies, but there’s no sugar or cream due to the rationing.”

“No, no. It’s fine. You don’t need to apologize Mister Hans," Lock hurriedly assured. "Thank you for the tea.”

“How much do you know about the stars and constellations?”

“A little bit,” Lock hedged. “Mostly about how to use them to navigate.”

Hans hummed thoughtfully. “So you don’t know about any of their stories?”

“Stories?”

Hans smiled. “That one there is the Great Hunter. Once you find the six stars in the shape of a sword, you can find the hunter’s body. And, you can see the Great Dragon if you follow those bright stars nearby that seem to be in a line.” He glanced over at Lock and found that the wolf was absorbed in finding the constellations he had pointed out.

“Ah! I see it!” Lock exclaimed. He immediately flushed, embarrassed, and then hopefully asked, “You said there were stories Mister Hans?”

Hans told Lock stories of the constellations until dawn, when the next guard came to take over watch of the gorge’s other side.

Lock would later tell these stories to his cousins when they had trouble falling asleep.

—

Alberu Crossman

“Your Highness,” Hans greeted, a hand on his chest as he bowed.

Alberu Crossman nodded back. There was no familiarity in his gaze, other than recognizing Hans as one of Cale’s men.

Hans watched Alberu walk to Cale’s study.

He loved his descendants. Hans enjoyed watching the power struggles of the Crossman Family. He loved their fierceness and their secrets and their desperate races to the throne.

However, Alberu was a bit special to Hans. It was not just the boy’s name, but his hard won intelligence and well honed skills that made Hans feel...proud of this particular descendant. It was a shame Hans could never work in the palace for the sake of not jeopardizing his identity; he was sure there were still records of him in the family archives which made it too risky despite his ancient power.

Seeing Cale and Alberu work together was a surprising delight. The two young promising masterminds bounced plans off each other with the ease of twins who had been all but attached at the hip since birth. That they were working against his copycat was just the icing on top.

Hans was looking forward to Alberu’s coronation.

—

Bud Illis

Bud knew a lot of things. He was not as simple—or drunk—as he seemed, which Hans respected. However, he was somewhat foolish at times.

Hans was currently in charge of the Hope and Adventuring Loving Inn and the group of former bandits that ran it.

Bud checked his wallet and saw that the cash he had on hand would only be enough for a glass of brandy. He looked around for someone he could make some cash off, and spotted Cale's butler. "Hey, Hans!"

Hans turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Bud waved him over. "What do you think about a drinking contest?"

Hans almost let a smirk curl onto his face. "What do you mean?"

"Do you want to do a drinking contest with me?"

Hans placed a hand on the counter. "Elaborate. What are the rules and what's the bet?"

"No need to get serious," Bud joked. "Whoever loses, pays for both of our drinks."

"And losing means being unable to down the next drink?" After Bud nodded, Hans proposed, "How about shots." A glimmer of faked pride shown in his eyes.

Bud grinned. "That's the spirit," he cheered. "Bartender, a few rounds!"

Their drinking contest went relatively unnoticed until the fifth round. A crowd of random adventurers, townsfolk, and mutual allies of Bud and Hans slowly gathered behind them.

The two participants were not going as strong by the ninth round. Hans slowed down, but kept going at a steady pace. Bud's vision had started to blur.

They had ordered another two rounds at the tenth round.

Bud downed his next shot and blacked out.

Hans picked up his eleventh shot and stood up. He lifted his glass in toast to the now silent audience and downed it, then gave a mock bow to the rest of the bar without falling over.

The inside of the inn seemed to shudder under the power of the cheers from the spectators.

Someone tapped Hans shoulder. He glanced over.

"Can I have his extra shot?" Cale asked. It had been a while since he had last had some strong alcohol.

Hans smirked. "I'm not paying, do as you like, young master," he replied.

Glen had to haul his unconscious friend upstairs to a room. He picked up Bud's tab and would make sure he was paid back by the Mercenary King.

The news spread and this incident became somewhat famous on the East Continent. There was actually someone who could outdrink Mercenary King Bud Illis, and it was an ordinary manager of an inn at that.

—

Clopeh Sekka

Hans almost sneered upon meeting the Paerun Kingdom’s Wyvern Knight. That such a snake had been let in was concerning. He would admit that the plan of using Clopeh was a valid one, but rather risky. It showed either Cale’s recklessness, or bravery, and which one it was was yet to be determined.

Clopeh had not been tamed. His fangs had not been removed, he was merely hiding them. He had chosen a new master and bared his fangs at his former allies, but that was not enough.

Hans would settle for making sure Clopeh kept his distance from Cale. This was accomplished rather easily: a brief smirk and look in his direction, and Clopeh got the message.

—

Lord Sheritt

Hans had seen the egg of the to-be dragon lord many many years ago. It was large and white, the pure color of unblemished lily petals.

He was the most careful around her. If anyone would be able to figure him out among Cale’s allies, it would be the deceased dragon lord.

—

Jopis

He was lucky to have met this shaman whose animal connection was dogs. It had been centuries since Hans had last been able to pet dogs, he was going all in.

Jopis was rather nice. She introduced Hans to her puppies and told him all of the dogs’ names.

The shaman and butler enjoyed their time together. Hans realized that Jopis had not met someone who acted like this towards her familiars, especially after seeing her dogs attack something.

—

Duke Fredo

It had been a while since Hans had last seen vampires. He did not need to fear being recognized by them, as all records of him that existed among his followers should have been destroyed after he was betrayed.

Duke Fredo had noticed that Hans was not normal and showed no fear to him. But that did not explain how the vampire acted. Hans wondered at the complicated looks he was given by Fredo. He wondered how much the vampire could tell about him being inhuman.

Admittedly, Hans felt the current situation was somewhat ironic. Was everyone who claimed the title of The White Star doomed to the same fate?

Duke Fredo was a loyal vassal betraying his master. Having experienced it, Hans almost felt sorry for his copycat. . .almost.

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

V. Parallels

The bodies were spread throughout the alleyway. There was only one person left standing. He heard a noise and turned, fearing an attack from behind. (That fear was ironic, but he didn’t know it until later.)

The man’s voice held a hint of mockery as he greeted the fighter, “Alberu, the runaway prince.”

The runaway spat out a mouthful of bloodied saliva. “What’s it to you?” He casually replied. His sword was still unsheathed, bloodied from the previous battle.

“I have a business proposal.” The man was dressed mostly in black, his cloak covering his face.

He could feel the dark element emanating from the stranger. Alberu was curious about whether it was a vampire, dark elf, or black mage that had approached him. “What type of business proposal?”

“What do you say to building an empire that spans the world?”

“I’d say I’m not the type to enter into vague deals that promise far too much to be realistic.” The runaway knew Hueh was right around the corner and would come if he yelled, but there was still a lot that could happen in a short period of time before his friend came.

The man laughed; it was the sound of rocks being grated against each other, mixed with the raspiness of a chronic tobacco user. “How can I prove myself to you?”

Alberu really shouldn’t have taken that deal. He should have walked away, but instead he had smirked and said, “I’m interested. Elaborate.”

That was the day he regretted most in his life, (but once again, he wouldn’t realize it until later.)

He later took the last name 'Crossman'. He changed his name many times over the centuries. Most recently, he had assumed the identity of Hans, a butler of the Henituse family.

—

Alberu Crossman, the first born of King Zed Crossman. In celebration of his son’s birth, the king had even built a palace for him, called the Palace of Joy.

Hans made a small amendment in his head to the new born prince’s name; Alberu Crossman should be called Alberu Crossman the Second, but he guessed that the first Alberu Crossman had lived so long ago that no one really cared.

This Alberu should be favored. Well, he would be favored for now, until he had younger siblings to compete with him.

Hans didn’t think much of his descendant with the same name, but kept up to date on news about the young first prince. He wondered how the boy would deal with the same sort of situation as him.

He gained a new appreciation of his young namesake many years later, when the prince turned his situation around in an entirely different way than he had.

—

Cale Henituse was the oldest son of Count Deruth.

Hans had been sent to bring him back home. He had been told how to find and recognise the young master.

He went around to bars located at the edges of the slums. These were the places most likely to mix the well off and poor, where gangs hung out and made deals.

Hans stepped inside. Several people were smoking and adding to the smog inside the bar, as if the air wasn't thick and acrid enough to choke someone to death. Any whispers were drained out by the loud conversations of drunks.

He slowly looked around the room, not hiding the fact that he was searching for someone.

A teenager wearing the clothes of someone incredibly well off, such as a clean white shirt with far too many frills. Check.

Short red hair. Check.

All the thugs in the bar kept warily glancing over at him. Check.

Hans didn't wish to announce what was going on to the whole bar, so he whispered to the boy's back, "Young master, your presence has been requested by the Count."

Cale nodded and grudgingly got up, still holding the bottle of whiskey he had bought. He grumbled something under his breath as he threw a few coins onto the counter. When he turned around and started towards the door, he spotted a woman being groped; said woman looked distinctly uncomfortable. Cale's frown deepened, then he threw the bottle.

The accurately thrown bottle—far too accurate to be thrown by someone drunk—hit the harasser on the back of the head.

Cale glared down the man when the harasser turned around to pick a fight with whoever had hit him.

Hans felt pleasantly surprised. "Nice throw," he complimented.

Hans thought the young master was rather interesting. He had been told Cale had been extremely mature and gentle until around the time he hit fifteen. Around that time, Cale started drinking, going to bars, and causing trouble that no one paid attention to as this was Henituse territory and no guard would dare touch the oldest son of the Count. And right now, Hans was rather sure Cale was not drunk, despite his face being flushed a bright red. He wanted to know what was going on.

—

The children were crowded around Cale, eating. On and Hong were sharing a meat pie. Raon was a third of the way through an apple pie.

Cale looked thin. There were bags under his eyes. He looked thoughtful as he informed his allies who had missed out on the news, “The White Star’s real name is Cale Barrow.”

The copycat. . .had the same first name as Cale Henituse, his worst enemy.

Wasn’t that ironic?

Hans stared at Cale for a moment. He had to put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Oh, fate.

Such a conniving creature.

—

That Cale Henituse and his copycat shared a first name.

That Hans shared his original name with the Crown Prince Alberu Crossman.

He no longer viewed these as mere coincidences.

Hans was in a rather unique position as the only one who knew about all four people who had the same name.

Alberu Crossman the First, the unfortunate oldest born, whose mother died when he was young, a runaway who built his own kingdom and fell into ruin.

Alberu Crossman the Second, the unfortunate oldest born, whose mother died when he was young, a talent who turned things around and was set to become the king of Roan Kingdom if he didn’t die before his coronation.

Cale Barrow, trash who turned his life around. A miserable cursed b*stard who became the villain of the world’s story.

Cale Henituse, trash who turned his life around. A person that saved people and who became a hero.

There were implications to be discerned about these puppets of fate and their collision courses. They were meant to be mirror images, but that did not necessarily equate to fate bound rivals, otherwise Hans wouldn’t be where he was right now.

Hans had almost thought he had completely escaped fate, but it turned out he had been added to another play. Of course, he had no intention of outing himself to everyone and becoming the next enemy, that would be rather foolish. He was on his own path, that of a normal spectator and butler for a noble family, albeit one with far more secrets than any normal person had. He would not yield to fate and ruin what he had.

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

VI. Suspicions

Hans was viewed as the 'most normal' subordinate of Cale's. This perspective prevailed despite him: taking long vacations every year that he never talked about, multiple odd comments about the God of Death, and that one time he broke someone's arm after easily defeating five men in a bar fight. He had explained the last one by saying that he knew how to fight because he grew up in the slums.

—

Even the children had joined the game of poker after watching a round. On held their cards, her little brothers on either side.

Cale and Alberu had chosen to sit as far away from each other as possible. They had the largest stacks of chips.

Ron and Beacrox were next to each other. They were both doing a decent job and had a medium size

Everyone else had folded. The river was eight of spades, ace of diamonds, and four of hearts.

Hans was across the table from Cage. He had a three of spades and two of hearts, so the priestess probably had a better hand than him. Fortunately, he had a decent guess about what would annoy Cage the most, based off of his own experiences with their mutual...friend. "I have a few jokes about unemployed people."

Everyone looked at him, confused.

". . .But none of them work."

Some people chuckled, especially the children. Cage's face twisted in annoyance.

The fourth card flipped. It was a seven of spades.

Hans knocked on the table to check. "I just found out that I'm color blind. The news came completely out of the green!"

Cage glared at him and raised the bid.

Hans added fifteen more chips to the pot. "I wanted to take pictures of the fog this morning… But I mist my chance. I guess I could dew it tomorrow!"

Cage threw her hand down on the table and stood up. She looked like she was about to murder Hans.

—

There were times when Hans casually gave predictions that turned out to be terrifyingly accurate or comments that were odd but turned out to be relevant later. Eruhaben had taken to calling him, ‘Suspicious b*stard’ inside of his head.

Hans also gave out advice nonchalantly. He seemed to nudge them in helpful directions most of the time.

The most suspicious thing he did was mention how the local rocks factored into the cultures, exports, and flags of both the Territories of Marquis Stan and Duke Henituse. He seemed to smirk as the realization dawned on Cale’s face; fortunately, his employer was distracted by the thoughts of where the second earth power was hidden.

—

A long time ago, Hans had stuck several barrels of wine in a hidden cellar near that one famous Paerun lake. The lake was dry now, but his wine was still there.

There was more than enough for him to share with the others; because of this, that night everyone found out Choi Han was an absolute light weight.

—

Duke Fredo couldn’t help but notice the butler standing behind Cale Henituse. He knew that his subordinates also noticed as a look of confusion flashed across their faces.

There was something wrong about Hans’ scent. His blood was unsettling, pungent with the smell of both death and life. The life in him seemed unnatural, as if someone had used perfume to cover up the smell of rot. He was dead and alive at the same time in a startling contradiction, yet he was nothing like the corpses controlled by necromancers. Hans had a mind of his own and acted as a faithful butler, albeit one that made cheeky comments to the face of his employer.

Fredo wanted to ask Cale, but suspected that Hans was one of those secret cards his ally was holding close to chest. It would be better to not say anything.

He was sure that Hans felt the stares; the butler met his eyes and smiled.

—

Hans found out that Alberu was a quarter Dark Elf. If his descendant got the Sky ancient power, that would be a two for one special with dead mana.

The black dragon was on his way to Beacrox’s kitchen to get more food when he saw the butler. “Hans, what are you thinking about?” Raon asked.

The butler hummed. “I’m trying to figure out if the Dark Elves would have enough dead mana.”

Raon tilted his head, curious. “Why? For what?”

“It’s a...long story, hard to explain.” Hans forced himself to chuckle. That one was rather close, he had almost slipped and said something like, ‘In case I kill my copycat and give the Sky ancient power to my descendant.’ It was dangerous to relax and get caught up in one’s thoughts.

—

“To start the game off, let’s see.” Cale smirked at Alberu and said. “Never have I ever been royalty.”

Alberu rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink, as did Rosalyn, Litana, and Jopis. Off to the side, Hans took a sip of his whiskey as well.

Rosalyn glanced around the haphazard circle of allies. “Never have I ever been a mercenary.”

“Never have I ever coughed up blood from using ancient powers,” Choi Han stated.

Cale frowned but downed a shot of tequila. He had opted for the strongest stuff they had at the inn, excusing it by saying he had a high alcohol tolerance. He shared the bottle of tequila with Bud, Hans, and Cage upon request.

Bud had downed his first shot after smiling at Choi Han calling out Cale. He leaned forward and took his revenge by saying, “Never have I ever given up my right to a throne.”

Rosalyn glared and took her second sip of her wine.

Hans sighed and took three sips of his whiskey in a row. He poured himself another glass. He felt like he might have done too many things, but in his defense, he has lived a long time.

“Never have I ever been over a hundred years old,” Cage said, with a grin.

Eruhaben grumbled but took a sip of his wine. Choi Han and Hans also drank, although no one really noticed.

It was Raon’s turn. The black dragon’s wings fluttered in excitement. “Never have I ever turned into a cat.”

On and Hong took a sip of grape juice. Hong stuck his tongue out at his little brother, who was giggling at him.

Sir Rex drank some of his wine. It was his first sip out of the game because no one had really targeted him.

Marquis Taylor Stan smiled. He bit his lip to stop himself from laughing and stated, “Never have I ever killed someone.”

Several people glared at Taylor, and everyone took a sip or shot of their chosen drink.

“Never have I ever had a full set of ancient powers,” Alberu said. It was obviously to target Cale and pay his sworn brother back from earlier.

Cale raised his glass towards Alberu in a mock toast and downed it.

Hans sighed. Honestly, how was he losing this badly. How did they hit on something he had done before even when they were targeting another person with something that specific. His luck was terrible.

Eruhaben said, “Never have I ever talked with a god.”

“Unfair,” Cage protested but took her shot.

Choi Han, Cale, and Hans also drank. Choi Han looked out of it, Cale’s face was flushed, but his eyes were clear, and Hans looked unaffected.

The game continued on. Hans had made his way through several more shots of tequila without anyone really paying attention. He was thankful for the alcohol tolerance he built up over many years. Hans said more boring things on his turns, such as ‘Never have I ever been a noble’, ‘Never have I ever had red hair’, and ‘Never have I ever been an assassin’.

By the fifth round, Choi Han had passed out, most of them were tipsy, and everyone was running out of things to say.

Bud hesitated, but really couldn’t think of anything else, so. . . . “Never have I ever had everyone I care about die.”

Both Cale and Hans downed a shot of tequila; everyone stared at them. Cale quickly excused it as something that happened during the top whip test; which was something he never talked about, and maybe now...they know why. Hans merely shrugged and ignored the sympathetic looks; he didn’t feel like making something up to explain, he didn’t know why.

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

VIII. Legend

It was easy to pour out your life story to strangers, to the uninvolved. And for those with secrets it was better to tell things to those who were both trusted and uninvolved, but that type was hard to find.

Hans took off his glove and touched one of the magic reinforced bricks. He could feel it almost pulsating beneath his finger tips. There was a vague nostalgia that he couldn't quite brush away.

He looked to his left and saw an unexpected presence.

The Crown Prince of Roan Kingdom, Alberu Crossman, was looking out over the battlements. Everyone knew that he was king in all but title. If the heroes won the war, he would be crowned soon after.

Hans would have only greeted his descendant properly...if not for the uncharacteristic frown on Alberu's face. "Your Highness, how are you doing?"

Alberu quickly forced a smile and turned to face his subject. He lied smoothly, but still felt the stare of Cale's butler; the gaze was weighty, a stone that only added to what was on his strained shoulders.

Alberu chuckled. He had been seen through and cornered by a mere butler. “Alright, I’m not entirely fine," he admitted.

Hans put on his glove. "Most people aren't, and no one always is. I imagine that it must be even worse for royalty."

Alberu's smile turned wry. "Yes," he said.

The curse of the Crossman Family.

The weight of kingship.

The fear of failure.

"What will they think of me? What will I think of me?" Alberu didn't realize he had said that out loud until a few seconds later. There was a bitter smile on his face as he glanced at his listener.

Hans had a bitter quirk to his own lips. His eyes held a sort of world weary look that seemed far too dark for someone his age to possess, the sort of look the elderly get when they have seen far too many terrible things to speak of and have little hope in anything changing. He stayed silent.

Something about how Hans looked, far too old and far too understanding, made Alberu uncomfortable; he knew that he must have imagined it, projecting his hopes and fears onto whoever was unfortunate enough to hear his worries. "I’m sorry." He forced a laugh. “Let’s talk about something el-”

Hans cut him off. “My apologies for my rudeness, Your Highness. Have you ever thought about how you will be remembered?”

Alberu blinked at the interruption, caught off guard. He hesitated before replying, “Yes."

“Your actions decide how you will be thought of. The only thing one can do, is to try their best." Hans felt he was stating the obvious...but sometimes the obvious needed to be stated.

“What if it is not enough?”

“Find a way to make it enough. Grow," Hans said, soft steel in his voice.

Alberu looked out over the battlements once again, and nodded towards the butler. “Thank you for the advice."

—

It seemed that the copycat had not managed to complete the set of Hans's powers. This meant that for some reason, they weren't handed over to The White Star. It was possible some misfortune had met that backstabbing thief.

Taylor Stan was forging an ancient document and notes about the location of the second Earth ancient power.

Hans glanced at the wrinkled and artificially yellowed paper, then sniffed the bottle of ink. "How old are you going for?"

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "About one thousand, two thousand years ago."

Hans paused and arranged his thoughts. After all, it would be a shame if their plan to fool The White Star failed because the reproduction of the ancient document wasn't perfect. He pasted a smile on his face and offered, "I happen to be a history fanatic myself. Mind if I give a few suggestions?"

—

The young wolves looked at each other.

"What about a bedtime story?" Maes suggested, as the elected spokesman of the almost dozen children.

"A story." Hans hummed, uncertain. "So you all really-" He cut himself off, seeing the expectant gazes, then sighed.

Hans perched on the edge of a bed. "A long time ago, on the West Continent, there was a boy. His name was Hueh and he was a member of the Cat Tribe."

"Like On and Hong?" Several of the children asked at once.

"Yes. Like On and Hong," Hans replied.

Maes chewed on his lip. He was trying to imagine the boy. "What did Hueh look like as a cat?"

"He was gray." Hans leaned in, as if to tell them a secret. "Hueh was also really, really fluffy and soft, but he hated being told that."

"What happened next?"

"Hueh met a runaway prince, named Alberu."

The wolf children were confused.

"Cale-nim’s sworn brother?" Maes questioned.

Hans shook his head. "No, this is a different Alberu. This happened a long time ago, remember?"

The children replied with an affirmative.

"Hueh and Alberu became best friends. They fought, ate, and worked together." Hans spotted two of the younger ones already falling asleep. "They had many misadventures as children in the streets."

A chorus of voices broke out, all wanting to know, “What happened to them?"

Hans put a hand on his chin, acting as if he was struggling to remember. “Let's see, well, they grew up and started an empire."

Maes spoke up, “And after that?”

Hueh was injured protecting his best friend; he wouldn't have ever been involved in a fight against the dragons if Alberu hadn't made a deal with the demons. And Hueh wouldn't have died if his fool of an emperor didn't stop paying attention to his kingdom.

With a tone of finality Hans said, “They took over the world." His smile was strained, not that any of the children noticed. "Alright. It's time to sleep."

—

They had gone to the dragon catcher village. But that wasn’t the surprising part about it.

“Pfft.” Hans clapped a hand over his mouth and looked away as Cale continued to explain the situation. He couldn’t believe that his copycat got himself cursed on purpose to be immortal. That was both really clever, and incredibly stupid, at the same time.

—

The Fake World Tree had been rescued and planted in the Forest of Darkness. Its wood was still a deep black color. The trunk was several yards—or meters—thick.

Hans placed a hand against the thick, rugged bark. “Hello,” he politely greeted.

The leaves of the Fake World Tree shivered, even though there was no breeze. “Hello?” It sounded confused.

“How are you?” Hans questioned, as if it was entirely normal to trade such small talk with a plant.

“I...am fine.” The Fake World Tree’s voice perked up, “I like the sunlight.” Living in a forest was a lot better than living underground, especially as the tree was now free from the people who had tried to enslave it. The tree hesitated and then said, “You....aren’t you...the traitor, the dragon butcher, the abomination?”

The Traitor of the Demons.

The Butcher of the Dragons.

The Abomination of the Soul.

Hans smiled and made no attempt to deny it, “These days, I go by Hans.”

—

The innocuous question would have seemed innocent in light of the dawn….if only the man saying it was different.

"I heard...that you wish to be a legend?"

Clopeh Sekka froze. He recognized the voice of Cale’s butler, someone who was an even bigger mystery than Cale Henituse’s personal assistant, Ron. "Yes.” He made himself calm down and folded his hands in his lap. "I want to make myself a legend."

“But isn’t it easy to become a legend,” Hans stated in a dismissive manner, casually discarding the efforts of Clopeh Sekka and most people who had ever lived. “In my opinion, I think it is more important to make a legend you will want. Because one can have a horrible legend that is regretted, and wish that one just never had a legend at all.”

Clopeh reconsidered whether it was possible to get away from the butler and once again concluded it was hopeless. His lips spread into a forced smile. “I’d rather be remembered for something, than not at all. I think I have made my mark on history, and I am happy with it.”

"Of course. Don't worry too much,” Hans soothed with a smile that seemed too wide to not be something else; maybe pity, mockery, sympathy, or something else entirely. “Eventually memory fades and records are lost, all civilizations crumble into dust, and the land shifts. One will never be remembered forever, even if they try. In four thousand years, no one will remember your name or what you did. There is no way to keep a legend alive forever, so you don’t need to worry about the content." The way he gave that last piece of advice in an oddly soft voice had the opposite effect of making it seem sincere, instead, the words felt like an ominous promise. Hans clapped Clopeh on the shoulder, gave a friendly squeeze, and left the paraplegic to watch the sun rise.

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

VIII. Interim

The World Tree could tell who was approaching it. "Abomination,” it greeted, wary but scornful. "Why are you here?"

The nomad smiled at the hostile tone. "I came here to ask two questions," he informed. "Don't worry about your guardian, I only knocked him out."

The World Tree’s limbs scraped against each other. It put up a brave front, bolstered by its annoyance. "Why should I tell you? Why should I risk my branches for your sake?"

The expression on the nomad’s face was innocent, but his grin was wide as a cavern. "Because I will not hesitate to burn you down if you refuse.”

The World Tree was silent for a while. "Ask."

"What do I have to do to pass the trial for the shapeshifting power?"

"Be yourself," the tree curtly responded. It seemed almost relieved at one of the questions being something it already knew.

The nomad hummed. "Where is the ancient power of the thief who stole my powers from me?"

"I don't know." The World Tree hurriedly continued to explain, "He is...was, somewhere that my sight can not reach."

"A place forsaken by the gods, barred from their sight…" the nomad muttered to himself. He accepted this answer, as the tree could not know those things that passed beyond its sight.

The Forbidden Areas.

"Thank you for your help.” The nomad gave a mock bow towards the tree and ignored the relief his words brought to the entity.

—

“James, go pick up some jam for breakfast.”

He sighed and pushed open the back door. “Yes, mother,” he replied. As he exited onto the street, he heard a shout from ahead of him.

“Hey, James!”

He rolled his eyes and ignored his friend. He darted through the carriages in the street and arrived on the other side of the street. He cut through the alleyway there, as it was the quickest way to the market. He stopped at the mouth of the alleway and stared.

“Give me your money.”

A normal person would have backed up and felt their heart race in their chest, but he ran forward and showed no sign of hesitation, despite having never been in a fight before that he could remember. He slammed into the chest of the man wielding a knife. He tried to grab the knife handle, but only grabbed the blade; the knife slid into his palm and he gripped even tighter. He would not let go. His blood splattered onto the bricks, pooling into the finger imprints left by the workers.

The attacker stopped struggling with him and started running. There was no point in fighting a crazy boy.

He used his left hand to pick up the bloody knife and started after his attacker. He pushed himself to go faster, and ignored the blood still dripping from the deep cut in his palm. He tackled the man to the floor and-

He stopped and he remembered.

Afterall, he was not bleeding. No one had tried to steal from him. All of his friends were dead. He did not have a family, not anymore. His name was not James.

This was not real.

He assumed he remembered because he had passed the test. He wasn’t exactly sure how, his thoughts were still muddled after remembering everything else, but he must have still been himself somehow.

He opened his eyes. He flexed his right hand; it didn’t have a cut on it. He concentrated on his hand. As he watched, his hand gained wrinkles, his skin sagged, and blue veins bulged out in sharp relief.

He smiled and let his hand return back to normal. He finally had an ancient power again, and shapeshifting would be very useful.

—

The crew of the pirate ship Stolen Ivory ventured over the stormy seas between the continents in search of merchant ships to steal from. Their captain was the level headed Johnson, who always had a hat of some sort atop his head, regardless of rain or shine. The new navigator was an old man with a constant scowl and a mop of white hair that hung around his ears, usually just called Steel or Navigator. The first mate, Kristiff, was a member of the Bear Tribe and was noted for winning most of the spars on deck. The second mate and healer—nicknamed Doctor—was an elf who usually had her nose in a book about either adventure or medicine, even when walking around the upper deck. The quartermaster was a strict but fair man, as all quartermasters should be. There were also others, such as the boatswain Calvin, cooper Dike, and gunner S‘Mon. No one was quite sure what the gunner’s name was, but that was what everyone settled on calling him.

They had fought to keep themselves afloat during the early morning hours, as a storm had smashed into them from the south with little warning. But now, the sun had risen with a vibrant gold and orange glow; those unable to stay awake any longer went to sleep, and those who had been allowed to sleep for a few hours got up.

The navigator had set a new course for the ship, after estimating how far north they had been carried by the storm. He showed the captain the map, light pencil showing their location, route, and destination. They both agreed that it was better to head to the mainland than chance for an island and miss it.

Sometime after noon, the young man stationed in the crows nest shouted, “Land!” He had a spyglass pressed against his eye and a grin on his face. His name was Dane, and was one of the most musically talented of the bunch.

If he had looked any younger, the navigator would have likely received pats or slaps on the back, instead he received a nod of acknowledgement from the captain and quartermaster.

Once they got close enough, the ship dropped the anchor and sent out a landing boat. The men on the first boat drove a stake into the dirt beyond the beach, did a quick check of the surroundings and signaled that there was no danger.

The thoughts of the rest of the crew leaned towards food. They had been on the sea for a while. Everyone was quite hungry, and so hunting for wild boars, birds, and other things quickly began. They also searched for berries and other plants, as scurvy was always an issue on the seas.

The navigator came over on the second boat. He sloshed his way through the clear water in a pair of old boots. His feet sunk into the wet sand with every step, but he didn’t seem unhappy about it. And why would he be, this was the first time he was on his home continent in hundreds of years. The crew of the Stolen Ivory saw him smile for the first time since they had met him.

—

A caretaker had been assigned to the emperor. Gilbert brought the emperor food on a regular basis, and did whatever work he was requested to do. Most commonly, he relayed messages and brought letters to the isolated ruler.

The emperor was sitting at his desk. William was slowly making his way through the stack of papers that had been sent to him for review. He periodically dipped his quill into the ink pot, tapped it against the opening of the jar to get rid of the excess ink, and then continued to write. His movements were measured and practiced, likely from his many decades working at this exact desk.

Gilbert announced his presence by knocking on the door. He wheeled the trolley inside of the room and closed the door behind him. “I have brought dinner, and some letters, Your Imperial Highness.”

The emperor nodded. “Read them to me while I eat.” He put down his quil and moved the sheet of paper aside, then capped his pot to keep the ink from drying out. William ate a sumptuous dinner of roast beef with gravy, cooked vegetables, and a cask of wine from the castle's cellar.

The caretaker read the pile of letters, each one reported the success of their campaign against another kingdom.

The Mogoru Kingdom had been turned into an empire because of this one man, now growing old. The emperor looked sullen, despite the news of victory from the front and a meal most of the empire would have killed for.

Gilbert folded the last letter up and put it on the careful stack of envelopes. "Your Imperial Highness, if it is not too presumptuous of me to ask, why are you unhappy?"

The emperor looked carefully at him with bright blue eyes and said, "There are still things to be done.” He was not talking about management of his kingdom and territories.

"You have expanded your empire many times over the past several decades, Your Imperial Highness,” the caretaker noted.

“The rate is too slow. I will pass before I conquer the world.” There was a joking bitterness in Emperor William’s voice. He longed for the days of his youth, when he could stand on the battlefield himself.

The caretaker was silent for a long time before he asked, “What if you conquered the world and were still unhappy?’

“Then...I would be wrong about something.”

Gilbert coughed into his hand, hiding his laughter. That sentence seemed to carry extra words, as if William was actually saying ‘I would be wrong about something for once’. Such a prideful ruler this emperor was.

"You are unusual.” The emperor was old, but not senile. He turned the conversation around, questioning the caretaker. His blond hair had long turned white, but he seemed to regain some energy as he rattled off, “You address me without fear and engage in conversation with me as if I am a normal person to you. You question me, while still knowing that it would be justified for me to cut off the head of an uppity caretaker. You are not here to harm me, or you would have done it already.” He received a nod of agreement that carried no hesitance. “You...are not as you appear, but I’m not quite sure what your intentions are.”

“I am a traveler. I like to stay in different places for a while and learn new things.” The caretaker smiled as he gathered up the used dishes and goldware.

William was almost certain that the caretaker would leave without a word, perhaps even tonight, after this encounter. He didn't say a word to stop his employee from cleaning up and leaving with the trolley, just uncapped his jar of ink and went back to working. There were too many unknowns about Gilbert. He was never exactly sure who or what exactly his caretaker was, and he had no hope of finding out after Gilbert resigned.

Not long after, the expansion of the Mogoru Empire stopped due to Emperor William the First’s death.

Chapter Text

IX. Henituse Territory

Hans carried one briefcase with him, had short hair, and wore a well pressed, slate grey vest.

He brought two letters of referrals. The first was from one Mister Gilbert, who had worked in the Empire, and the second was from a former employee of the Henituses who had left the territory to work for another noble.

It was a bit hard for him to specify his skills and accomplishments when asked. Hans had to say things like: “I am an adequate fighter,” despite having killed swordmasters and dragons and “I am good at management and organization,” despite running an empire for years.

His chances were definitely helped by how there were few others trying to be hired by the Henituse estate, considering the reputation of the Henituse’s oldest son.

He had been hired, and was asked to follow someone to where he would be staying.

Hans found a certain irony in this situation. He was in Roan Kingdom—still ruled by his descendants—once again, and he was going to live in the very territory the Rock Guardian had died to keep him out of.

—

Hans had taken vacation time. He said he was going to visit a relative of his and left the city by carriage. He paid the driver and got off at one of the stops, before walking along the dusty road. It hadn’t rained in the Henituse Territory for a while, and farmers were buckling down to keep their crops watered in the sweltering heat.

He paid for a few nights at an inn and left his briefcase there, before going to the wall. It was massive and thick, built to keep the monsters from the Forest of Darkness from escaping.

Hans checked that the sword was tied securely to his belt and tightened it further, afraid of losing it. He climbed up a tree that grew next to the wall and sat on top of it.

He checked his compass and a ragged map, before putting them away in the pouch attached to his belt.

He tied a knot around one of the thick branches. It would be too weak for a monster to climb out, but for the purpose of an escape route the three corded rope would work well enough. He tested how strong it was and then rappelled down into the forest. His boots managed to get enough purchase against the cratered and weathered rock that he didn’t have any trouble.

At the last few feet, he jumped down onto the ground. His feet sunk a bit into the carpet of dead plants. The thick cover of leaves above him blotted out the sunlight and acted as a thick curtain being drawn across the sun.

Hans let his eyes adjust to the darkness and then started walking. He came across a few weak monsters that he fought, but spent a day or two time mapping the outer edges of the forbidden zone. Eventually, he decided to head inwards, and the monsters increased in frequency and strength. He dealt with them without too much issue, and it felt nice to fight after the lack of physical activity that came from being a butler.

He ate plants he recognized and cooked monster meat if it looked palatable. He found streams and rivers, and boiled the water over his cooking fire. Having a fire was a necessity and it was not hard with an easy to find supply of dry, hard wood.

The smoke and light attracted some monsters, but he dealt with them. His sword had to be cleaned often and it rarely stayed in his scabbard except for when he slept.

Hans packed up camp, rather easy to do as he had not brought much. After walking for a while, a hand on the pommel of his sword, he heard shuffling footsteps. He headed towards the sounds, something not advisable to do for most people in a forest of monsters… however, he was not most people. The being who went by Hans could be said to be the worst, oldest monster in this forest and he did not fear whatever he would encounter.

Of all the things he was expecting to stumble across, a teenager wearing ratty scraps of clothing, covered in scars and bruises, wielding a tree branch as a weapon was not among them.

Hans almost wished he could just turn around and walk away. He didn’t want to deal with this. But, unfortunately, his best option seemed to be helping the teen. Hans didn’t want to deal with a dead body, although it was unlikely anyone would find it considering their location; and he was trying to be a better...person, something along those lines at least. Additionally, if he ignored the kid and continued exploring, he would just be setting himself up for an unwelcome surprise down the road.

Hans’ skin squirmed and then smoothed out into a new face; this one had a sharper jawline and longer hair. He used his thumb to nudge his sword upwards, ready to draw. Hans pulled his hood down and ran his free hand through his hair. He changed his accent, trying to mimic the people he had heard at the estate and market back in the Henituse Territory. “Hello,” he called.

The teenager whirled around. His gaze was glued to Hans. After all, this was the first human he saw since he had ended up in this world….well, if Hans could still be referred to as human.

Hans let a slight smile curve onto his lips, projecting a friendly aura. “Are you lost?”

“Who are you?” The boy’s eyes were still filled with equal amounts of hope and fear.

Hans sighed. “Bob,” he easily lied. “And you?”

“Choi Han.”

Hans raised an eyebrow at the unusual name, clearly not from the Western Continent. He wondered how the boy had gotten into the Forest of Darkness and how he had survived thus far. “Are you lost?” He asked again.

Choi Han hesitated. “Yes.”

“Alright. Well, I can fix that.” Hans pulled out his compass to check the direction and then started to walk. He heard footsteps behind him, always a while behind. Choi Han seemed to have the wariness of an abused animal; Hans could understand why the boy acted like that, any normal person who stayed in a Forbidden Area usually died or went mad.

Hans took as direct of a route as possible to the wall. He disliked spending too much time with people on his vacations. He was often switching through multiple identities but didn’t have enough of a budget to change everything he was using. His briefcase was a good example. Because of this issue and his unwillingness to have his cover blown, he would be dropping the kid off as soon as possible.

The trek to the wall only took a few hours. Hans killed all of the monsters they came across. It didn’t really matter if he felt a bit vindictive over losing time and was taking it out on them.

The wall loomed in front of them.

Choi Han let out a slight gasp and picked up his pace. He managed to stop himself from rushing forward and kept himself a step behind Hans. He had never seen this part of the forest before.

Choi Hans placed a hand against the chipped stones. Most parts of the wall were smooth and all of the stones had been cleanly cut; it was a man made wall, not some sheer cliff that had been naturally formed. He dug his long, dirty fingernails into the stone. After so many years, he felt hope that there were many other humans in this strange world.

Hans had sheathed his sword and now had a firm grip on the rope. He tested the strength of the rope, and then looked at the kid. “You can go up first, if you can manage it. If not, I’ll go up first and pull you up.” He wouldn’t die even if the teenager cut the rope and left him in the forest; Hans would get out soon after and hunt down Choi Han.

Choi Han wasn’t sure. He was wondering if there were other dangers he didn’t know about on the other side of the wall. At the least, the unknown other side of the wall meant he didn’t have a choice about whether to abandon his guide. If Choi Han didn’t go first, Bob could just cut the rope and leave him. He needed Bob, but Bob didn’t need him. “I can.”

Choi Han braced his feet against the wall and started climbing. He got to the top of the wall. He saw the sun, bright and hot, glaring him down. He shielded his eyes with a hand and looked out over rolling hills, with mountains on the horizon.

Hans coiled up the front and dropped it on the other side. He noticed the glazed look on the teen’s face. “Are you going to move?”

Choi Han started. He gave a jerky nod and cast one more look at the hills, before descending.

Han untied the rope after Choi Han got to the ground, and climbed down the tree. He jumped the last few feet and his dirty boots impacted with the dirt in a satisfying thud. He pulled out his compass and started walking.

Choi Han was a step behind him and sometimes stopped to look at things. “Where are we going?”

“There is a village nearby, called Harris. You can stay there and find some work if you want.”

Choi Han swallowed the questions on the tip of his tongue, and followed. He didn’t know why the man had helped him, or why Bob had been in the forest to begin with. He felt he would be safer if he didn’t ask anything.

They continued in silence, till they spotted the houses.

“Don’t tell them you were in the forest. Pretend you forgot where you just were if anyone asks.”

Hans pressed a few coins into the boy’s hands, not enough to draw suspicion, but enough to let the boy survive for a week or two.

Choi Han nodded. He stared at the small stack of coins in his hands. When he lifted his gaze, he found himself alone. The teenager clenched his fist around the coins so he wouldn’t lose them, and walked towards Harris Village.

—

They were having a garden party. The wolf children, Basen, and Beacrox were making and distributing food from a long table someone had pulled out of storage. Raon, On, Lily, and Hong were making flower crowns and giving them to everyone. Lock, Rosalyn, and Choi Han were sparring on the far side of the garden. Eruhaben was calmly drinking tea while sitting on a blanket, a flower crown on his head; Deruth and Violan were chatting with him. Ron was making lemonade for everyone, and would likely bring a glass to Cale soon. Cale and Alberu were talking and likely scheming something; the scene of their mischievous smiles and the colorful flowers on their heads made for an interesting juxtaposition.

Hans looked at the crowd of people in the garden. There was something...nice, about seeing this. Sometimes, he wished he could freeze time; he wished he could hold a moment in his hand and tell it to stop, or even just to slow down so that he could enjoy it longer. But such a thing was impossible, so he would just have to soak it in as long as possible.

He was taken off guard when the flower crown of daisies were offered to him. A small smile slipped onto his face as he placed it on his head. “Thank you.”

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

X. A Meeting with Death

Alberu Crossman the First, a young runaway prince of the Roan Kingdom, was currently bleeding out in a forest. The injury was serious and red shown through the bundle of fabric pressed against it. The wound was painful, but the loss of blood just made him feel light headed and cold. He disliked the nausea the most. The child managed to sit down against the trunk of a tree before passing out.

The first meeting was, frankly, confusing.

The mortal woke up in a dark room. The only source of light was a fancy, colored glass chandelier above the table. Across him, in the other seat, was someone dressed entirely in black. The child glanced around the room, but couldn’t see any furniture or objects he could use. He turned his gaze back to the person on the other side of the table.

The figure looked ominous. A hood completely covered his face, if he had a face. “Well, I could see you were just ‘dying’ to meet me. So I decided to pull you over for a chat once you fell unconscious due to blood loss.” The serious aura he gave off was immediately broken by the pun and his cheery voice.

The child furrowed his eyebrows. “Who. . .” He reconsidered, “What, are you?”

“The God of Eternal Sleep,” came the flippant reply.

“. . .Death?”

“Bingo!” The undying entity crossed an arm against his chest and his head lowered for a moment, as if doing a parody of a bow.

The child clasped his hands together and kept them below the table, to hide how they were shaking. To know that you were dying or likely dead, and to meet Death himself. . .those were not normally taken well by anyone, nevermind a small child. It was already unusual that he wasn’t crying his eyes out, but perhaps that was because he didn’t value his life much. Betrayal from those one trusted could crush a soul, especially an unhardened one. “Am I dead?”

Death pulled a bowl of water out of the darkness and placed it on the table. “Well, let’s see if you’re gone for good.” The water reflected the colorful lights of the chandelier above.

The child stood on the chair and leaned on the table, trying to look at the water. He felt like he had to know what was being seen. He only caught a glimpse of leaves and a man in work clothes before the God of Death tapped the side of the bow.

“Well, looks like this won’t be the only time we meet.” Death would have smiled, if he was able to. “Till next time.”

—

The fifth meeting happened suddenly.

Alberu wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He had been waiting for Hueh to come back from scavenging, and then his eyes slid close. When he pried them open, he found himself in the dark room, on a familiar seat.

“Hungry for some company?” The God of Death quipped. He leaned on his elbows and ignored the bowl of water that was not reflecting the soft lights of the chandelier.

“Starvation did me in this quickly?” The mortal asked, frustrated. His nails dug into his palm as he clenched one of his fists. His stomach ached, but he easily ignored it.

“Yes,” Death confirmed. “You seem to have a habit of pushing yourself to your limits, and then pushing yourself over the cliff.” He snapped a finger and the bowl appeared; it was made of marble and had elaborate carvings on every inch of the outside.

The mortal ignored the pangs of hunger that still echoed in his stomach. He had just skipped eating...a little bit so they could store up more. It seems he had overestimated himself.

“We’ll just have to see if someone hauls you to safety this time.”

The mortal almost wanted to ask for food, but he remembered the tales; those who ate the food of the dead would have to stay there. Nothing was without a price.

—

The seventeenth meeting was something he sort of expected. He didn’t expect the pain from his back, but after slashing the culprit’s throat, he did expect to pass out soon.

His eyes fluttered open. He was now as tall as he would get, still young, and overflowing with annoyance. “I was stabbed, from behind, with a dagger,” he spat out. He ignored the throbbing from the wound.

The God of Death hummed inquisitively before questioning, “Was it ‘knife’ to meet him?” He chuckled in the awkward silence that followed. He ignored his passive audience and continued, "I didn't mean to 'wound' you. It wasn't meant to be a 'cutting' remark."

The mortal was tired and mentally worn down. The White Star smiled, half sincere and half bitter. Death, at least, could be counted on to be telling horrible, insensitive puns as always. “Is it luck that I keep surviving? Is it fortunate that I managed to live through all of this?”

Even the most determined of fighters could get tired of fighting the inevitable.

The God of Eternal Sleep let out a bark of laughter. “Don’t ask me about life and death, I’m rather biased, you see.”

The mortal sighed. “Mind if I put my feet up?” As many times as they had met, the runaway prince never forgot about what he was dealing with. He might be here for a while again—considering the severity of his injuries—if not forever, might as well get comfortable.

“Oh. Yes, go ahead.” Death waved a hand absent mindedly in his guest’s direction and kept looking at the bowl in front of him.

The mortal stared at the patterns of light on the mahogany table. He couldn’t help but wonder how the GoD acquired, or made, the furniture.

—

Alberu Crossman the First gasped desperately. He couldn’t help the panic welling up in his throat. It was hard to breathe when there was a spike of stone through one lung. The pain, hot as a fire and sharp as a razor blade, didn’t help him keep his calm. Blood seeped out from around the wound and dribbled down his shirt.

The twenty-third meeting was appreciated.

“Look alive, sunshine,” a cheerful voice greeted.

The mortal groaned. He clutched at his chest, but the pain was a lot more dull here.

The God of Death was staring at the bowl of water. "Wow. This scene really...takes my 'breath' away."

The White Star ignored the being. There were only so many puns one could hear about their brushes with death before becoming desensitized. He looked around the room, really looking this time. He usually was distracted by the host, but not this time. “What...is this place?”

There were no walls. They were simply in a black void, surrounded by darkness. The sole exception was the chandelier, which was affixed to….nothing.

“I don’t think there is a word for it. I haven’t exactly named it,” the God of Death explained. “It is the place where people wait. It is sort of similar to...a lobby. Some people check in to stay, some people wait out a storm, and some people leave immediately after taking a step inside.”

The White Star looked around the void once more. A trace of doubt was in the mortal’s tone as he asked, “A...lobby?”

“Yes, a lobby, and my home.”

—

The thirty-first meeting was quiet.

The White Star was silent. He had a hand over his face and had leaned forward. His eyes were wet and stinging.

The God of Eternal Sleep almost considered allowing one dead soul to meet another after they both passed. He couldn’t make a deal with someone who had an ongoing deal with the demons; he would be castigated by both factions, an outcast being. But he also couldn’t do it for free.

Instead, Death pushed the bowl forward, to the center of the table.

The mortal lowered his hand and looked into the marble bowl. His eyes were red. "Is there a way to get back then, from this place?”

The God or Death would smile, if he could. That was exactly the question he wanted. “You’d have to fight it.”

“What do you mean?” Alberu Crossman the First, The White Star, did not look like a mortal at the moment. He looked worthy of being the one chosen by the demons. Any hint of kindness and humor was gone, leaving a cold rage. The dark blue ocean in his eyes was freezing over.

Death pointed out into the void. “I suggest running.”

The mortal nodded at the being in thanks, then he stood up—the chair legs made no noise, as there was nothing for them to scratch against—and sprinted into the dark void. Desperation and will was all that was needed for someone to force their way back to the living, and he had plenty of it.

Something twisted in the void and the mortal disappeared into the dark.

The God of Death turned his attention back to the bowl of water. He watched as among the carnage, the mangled body of Alberu Crossman the First, stood up and drew his sword against the Dragon Lord once again. Hueh had been shielding his injured friend, even as he bled grievously from a wound in his side.

Two half-dead, tiny mortals against a dragon, a moving ocean of blue scales. It was a laughable situation...but neither side could be counted out just yet. The end could be a pyrrhic victory for the humans if the Dragon Lord was not careful.

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

Warning-torture

XI. A Deal with Death

The White Star had always been able to answer the question of his life’s meaning. At least, he had been able to answer it before he achieved his goal.

Alberu Crossman the First’s meaning in life had been to conquer the world. That was what he had declared for himself.

He had crushed most of the rebels and subjugated both continents. The remnants of the dragons only consisted of one or two elderly that had hidden themselves in the mountains. The deal with the demons was almost complete.

The world was in his hands. The White Star, called the lord by his followers, could do anything he wished. He had freedom, safety, wealth, fame….

He really had everything he could want and yet, he found himself dissatisfied once he took the time to examine himself.

And he was left wondering. . .was any of this worth it?

—

They had drugged his dinner. He had become too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice.

He stayed in a half-conscious state as he was hauled into one of the castle’s secret passages. His head came close to being knocked against the wooden sides.

He watched with half lidded eyes as they shackled him.

This was...a private dungeon, from what he could remember. It was sound proofed, to ensure that no one heard the screams of whichever special prisoner of war was being tortured at the moment.

They waited in the cold, damp dungeon.

Alberu Crossman the First was able to move his tongue, but refrained from saying anything. He wouldn’t get out of this just by insulting his former followers. He thought, while he had the time.

They had reforged the deal with the demons and cut him out. Or, they were going to try to reforge the deal soon and decided to just discard him now. He had served his purpose and perhaps he did not seem willing to go through things. His recent hesitance was seen as a problem they could do without.

A sliver of light entered from the corridor.

“Is this the man?” The new person asked. He had a grin on his face as he walked in the room. He was thin and wiry, deceptively weak looking. “Wow, so many powers,” he gushed. “This is going to be painful.” He was one of the rare few born with a power. His ability was to steal other people’s powers...albeit through a painful process that took some time.

Not giving your torturer a reaction was a noble pursuit. However, it was sometimes impossible.

The White Star, conqueror of the two continents, screamed. His throat went hoarse and his eyes flooded with tears.

Some people feared fire. Some people feared war. Some people feared drowning. The White Star had experienced all of those, but they paled in comparison to the pain that occurred when parts of his soul were ripped out. His very sense of being was invaded and chipped away at, choice parts being broken off to steal or dispose of. It was as if a sick artist was carving into the marrow of his bones.

Hueh walked in after knocking on the door. He was just back from a mission on the Western Continent. His eyes were cold. He stood behind the two that had the light and dark attributes. He seemed to be watching the two in front of him, more than the torture being carried out on his former friend.

The six bottles were neatly lined up in the small chest. If they simply killed him, then it wasn’t guaranteed anyone would be able to reuse his powers after death. Those who left behind ancient powers had some influence over the tests and who could inherit the powers. The emperor they had just betrayed would certainly be resentful towards them.

“You f*cking thief,” The White Star said through clenched teeth. He would remember that son of a b*tch’s face.

“Alright. All done!” The thief exclaimed, ignoring the person he had just used his power on. He stepped towards the door, and where the people who had promised to pay him stood.

Someone was waiting for this opportunity.

Hueh stabbed the thief in the side, with a dagger, the steel coated with poison. He twisted the blade in deep, then rushed forward. There was a piece of mostly ripped paper in his other hand; he carefully inserted one end between The White Star’s teeth. “Tear it, you idiot,” he hissed. “Run! I’ll be right after you!”

The White Star’s eyes were wide. He could barely understand what was going on, despite the drugs wearing off. He bit down on the scroll and jerked his head back.

The teleportation scroll activated in a burst of light that blinded everyone in the room.

He landed in the courtyard, flat on his back. The chains around his wrists and ankles were gone. He twitched his fingers. He forced himself to his feet and immediately started to wobble. He needed to move.

Hueh did not follow after him. He had either been killed before he could use a second teleportation scroll, or he never had a second one to begin with. Every second that passed made both options more and more likely.

He wanted to believe in his friend, that he was simply late, that Hueh would just pop up from around the corner and greet him with a smile, no matter how strained. The sinking feeling in his heart told him that he was wrong.

Hueh, who had been his friend since they met as street children, was gone.

“Stupid, sacrificial b*stard,” The White Star cursed. He almost wanted to cry again, but he felt more rage than sadness at the moment.

He was lightheaded and had issues with balance. He felt like he would fall over. He was pretty sure those were the effects of being heavily drugged.

They would not expect him to head back underground, so that was what he did. He would avoid the first patrols they sent out into the forest this way.

There was a hidden chamber in one of the towers that he had designed to hide some things. Mainly, the place hosted one thing in particular: the egg of the Dragon Lord he had killed; no one was sure when the baby would hatch.

He had no reason to kill it and had been given more than enough reasons to do the opposite. He would let it live, if nothing but out of spite.

Alberu Crossman the First, slayer of the Dragon Lord, picked up the white egg. The shell seemed to be carved out of marble, and the weight of the melon sized egg did not disprove it. He would need to be more careful as he walked, so that he didn’t drop it.

Fortunately, it had been several hours and the drugs were almost out of his system.

He could still feel the throb in his chest as he exited the chamber, and the new chill in his bones. There would certainly be aftereffects to having his ancient powers stolen, along with pieces of his soul. It was not something that could be walked off, or dealt with through time alone.

Although he wanted to pick up supplies, the armory and kitchen would certainly be watched. He was not in fighting condition and carrying a fragile egg wrapped in a coat; his chances at breaking in and leaving without being noticed were low. His chances at breaking into the servant quarters while everyone was out at work and stealing some meager possessions were far better, however.

After a brief detour, he chose to slip out one of the servant gates. He traveled through the forest on foot and avoided any contact with other people. On the third day, he collapsed from a mix of exhaustion, starvation, dehydration, and sleep deprivation.

The hundred and eighteenth meeting was planned.

The God of Death propped an elbow on the table. “I mean, I’m surprised they tried to kill you considering your accomplishments,” he stated.

Alberu Crossman the First felt numb. He didn’t want to remember what had happened, he just wanted to move forward. He had one shot to keep himself alive. He pasted a smile on his face and asked, “Now that my deal with the demons has been broken, do you want to make a deal, Death?”

Chapter Text

Summary: A series of somewhat disconnected oneshots that explore the alternate universe life of Hans, formerly known as The White Star of ancient legends. Ancient White Star Hans, Dark!Hans AU.

XII. Hero

“Why thank you. You’re a real hero, young man,” the old lady croaked. Her grey hair was tucked into a bun, but some wispy strands had escaped. She smiled up at him.

Hans gave her a stiff smile in response. “Why thank you. I hope you have a great day, Madam.” Being called a hero felt fundamentally wrong. The lady could not see the blood of thousands that stained his hands and soul.

—

Hans wondered what Cale was hiding. There were the flashy outfits and delinquent behavior. Cale often went to town and pretended to be drunk despite being perfectly sober. These were the actions of someone afraid of forming real connections, or perhaps, of someone with a plan.

Hans had not had the fortune of meeting Countess Henituse before she passed. And he regretted that, if only because he felt that she held a large piece to this puzzle.

Then, suddenly, Cale Henituse changed, and the puzzle grew swiftly in magnitude.

Hans pinpointed the day that abnormalities started, as the day Cale Henituse first said he enjoyed the food he was given. This snowballed into other things, such as an oft occurring poker face, a more deadpan attitude towards Hans’ remarks, and a subtle fear of Ron, his personal assistant.

Choi Han arrived the next day. He was also a big question mark. Hans recognized him as the kid he had found in the Forest of Darkness. Choi Han was also apparently a swordmaster. He had left Harris Village after everyone there died to Arm; however, that meant Hans had no idea how Choi Han acted in Harris Village because there were no witnesses alive to gossip or tell any stories. Hans was, additionally, unable to track how Choi Han had ended up in that forest, or any of the young man’s past.

Cale quickly picked up the cats and Raon, then sent Choi Han to... get Lock of the Wolf Tribe and Princess Rosalyn of Breck Kingdom. The past and movements of these five people were far easier to trace. The cats were Mutants. They had left their tribe and managed to sneak their way to the Henituse Territory, living as street children. Raon was an egg that had been stolen from the Dragon Lord, Sherrit. He was supposed to have been killed, but someone had saved him, and he ended up being sold to Venion Stan as a toy. Lock was a Wolf Tribe member, and one of the last of his kind after Arm attacked them. Princess Rosalyn was an aspiring mage and had runaway from her home.

Stopping the terrorist attack in the Roan Kingdom’s capital seemed to throw Cale into the spotlight. Afterwards, he made alliances with the Roan Kingdom's Crown Prince Alberu, the Jungle's Queen Litana, the Whipper Kingdom's Toonka, the Paerun Kingdom's Wyvern Knight Clopeh, the golden dragon Eruhaben, etc. Frankly, the sheer amount of power Cale Henituse gained in two years was rather absurd.

It was...almost like he knew what was going to happen. Or, he was simply that good at plotting. All of this seemed strange to Hans, who had at least a front row seat—or knew someone who did—to most of the goings on.

—

"Young Master Silver Shield!"

“Commander-nim!”

“Young Master Henituse-nim!”

Cale winced. He plastered a smile on and waved to the cheering crowd as he walked past. “I’m not a hero,” he muttered to himself in quiet protest.

Laughter bubbled up inside of Hans’ chest. He clapped a hand over his mouth, paused to let out a fake cough, and then continued after the young master.

—

Hans was supposed to wake the young master, but the butler had many things to do in the morning and Cale always wished to sleep in late. Eventually, they settled with the agreement that Hans would wake Cale up by noon and bring brunch for the young man.

Cale was sprawled out on the couch; he had gotten up sometime during the night and likely didn’t go back to bed for fear of waking the kids. The curtains for the large, open window were lifted by the breeze and let in sunlight. The young man grumbled and turned over.

Hans shook Cale’s shoulder and then wheeled the trolley of food inside the room. He had brought enough for the children, but they hadn’t returned from playing outside yet.

Cale had his brunch: toast, eggs, and a glass of water. He seemed satisfied by Beacrox’s food, as usual. Afterwards, Cale walked onto the balcony and sat in one of the rocking chairs. He still seemed tired, but struck up a conversation with the butler.

Perhaps a normal butler would not have asked, but Hans was not a normal butler. "I'm curious about why you were doing all of that,” he said. "You say you want to be a slacker, but instead you have become a hero.”

There was a hint of disgust towards someone, likely himself. "I'm not a hero.” Cale had expressed his dislike before, but most of the people around him disregarded what he said. Being called a hero when he had failed and when he lived in this stolen body grated on his mind.

“Yes, of course,” Hans affirmed, with no hint of sarcasm in his voice. He could understand the sentiment. Being referred to favorably by people who did not know your past nor your thoughts, could be incredibly...frustrating.

Cale stared out into the forests that surrounded the estate. He combed his fingers through his red hair, now grown out to his shoulders. “I shouldn’t be called a hero. I am a slacker....”

Everyone had a skewed view of themselves, but it usually wasn’t this bad. This went past merely not being able to accept compliments. He just wondered why this boy had castigated himself as complete and utter trash, even seeming to take refuge in the idea. However, perhaps Hans should refrain from so simply judging the situation….Cale was still a mystery in some aspects. "Well, all die on a hill. We simply get to choose the hill we die on."

Cale slumped back into his chair, eyes narrowed. He still wasn’t sure why he sometimes felt unsettled around the butler. “What are you saying?”

Hans merely smiled in return, ignoring the wariness directed at him. "I'm rather curious about what hill you're standing on, young master Cale."

—

The Mogoru Empire had been overthrown.

The others were gone; Alberu had left Hans to keep an eye on Cale.

Cale had overexerted himself and insisted on being in the thick of things. He, as per the usual, had fallen unconscious once again.

Hans looked at the comatose boy and felt laughter bubble up inside of him. He used a cloth to wipe away the black blood that trickled from the corner of the young man’s mouth. “I’m still not sure exactly what you’re fighting for, but I think you have an entirely wrong idea about what it is and the after effects will be.” He let the slight smile curl onto his lips at the private jest told to a silent room.

The door opened and the black haired swordsman entered. "Mister Hans,” he greeted respectfully, after looking to check if the unconscious noble had woken up.

Hans picked up a few strands of hair, undoubtedly left by the cats who had been sleeping on the bed, and stood up to throw them in the trash receptacle. “Hello Choi Han, how are you?”

—

Alberu Crossman, Choi Han, and Cale Henituse were temporarily out of reach, dealing with something that involved the Demon God. Alberu Crossman and Cale Henituse were the real brains of the alliance, and Choi Han was one of their strongest members. Their loss was keenly felt by those holding the line against The White Star, the Endable Kingdom, and Arm.

Several of the remaining alliance members had gathered in the Molden Kingdom. They were hosted by the Shaman and recently crowned Queen Jopis. There were guest rooms made up and the Marble Room was refitted to her liking. She made sure to have the appropriate guards around the palace in case of an attack.

However, the intruder managed to walk into the conference room without a scratch on him. The man had blonde hair and wide shoulders. His face was similar enough to Alberu that he could be mistaken for a relative.

They watched the newcomer in quiet wariness, unsure about whether to attack or not. Hannah had unsheathed her sword, stepping in front of her brother, Jack. Eruhaben was tense and still seated at the table, but already working on trying to recognize who had crashed their meeting. On and Hong already had wisps of fog and poison around them, more of an instinctive reaction than a purposeful response to the sudden intrusion. Raon was more curious than fearful towards the unknown visitor.

“Who are you?” Queen Jopis asked. The expression on her face was as cold as the marble columns that adorned the room. She carried the demeanor of her status well, despite her mysterious opponent.

The man picked up the spatial bag on the table, ignoring the reactions his appearance received; he reached into the bag, and pulled out a white crown with a black jewel. The dragon eating crown quivered once in his hands before submitting. There was a satisfied look on Alberu Crossman the First’s face, knowing that the first part of this was done. He turned his gaze to his audience and bowed slightly, not deeply like a servant, but as equals. "My apologies, gentleman, and lady, for dropping by unannounced. I'm going to have to borrow this."

Eruhaben clenched his fist, trying to get his numb fingers to move. “Who are you?” Something about this person was familiar and he hoped that it was the expression, and not sense of dread that riveted him to his chair.

The intruder paused. “My name isn’t terribly important,” he dismissed out of hand. He suddenly grinned widely at them, in a manner that was ferocious, unsettling, and casual at the same time; it was a wolf grinning as he spotted prey that he had long been searching for. "I simply have a score or two to settle with my copycat, the demons and their god.”

No one tried to stop him from leaving, as they had the terrible feeling that they could not even if they tried.

Chapter Text

Hans rubbed away the spot of dirt, then wiped his hand with a handkerchief. With the mirror now clean, the butler picked up a comb and a pair of scissors. He was glad he had been forced to cut his hair many times before this, or he would have to keep trying until he did it right.

He had grown out his hair in this form for a while. Eventually he had to put it into a ponytail during work.

One might ask about why he couldn’t try to just shorten his hair using his shapeshifting ability, but the problem was that he found it never looked right that way. Because of that, Hans had been manually doing his hair cuts for centuries.

He gathered the long strands of ginger hair he had just cut and dumped them in the trash. His first cut was a bit jagged, but that was fine. Hans fixed his bangs first. After that, he layered the back of his head. He checked that the sides were even and then went to throw out all of the hair he had cut.

—

Reactions to his sudden hair cut varied. Cale either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Beacrox probably noticed, but he didn’t care at all. Lily noticed and said that style looked good on Hans. Basen, standing beside his sister, nodded at him. He said something quietly that seemed positive. Ron seemed to approve as less hair was more practical. Deruth and Violan both noticed when Hans walked in. They were surprised, but quickly smiled and complimented him.