Work Text:
The queen of Arendelle is found dead while Hans Westergaard shivers inside the suffocating heat of his chambers. His ginger roots blossom white like snow and his skin is pale, the spots of his freckles stand out on top of it. When word is out that queen Elsa is deceased, princess Anna begins a relentless search for the one brave enough to commit treason. When she begins to suspect the Southern Isles, the investigation is shut down upon their father's own mysterious death and Caleb’s ascension to the throne.
In the familiar halls where they used to scream and shout as children, Caleb says nothing about the events. Even while Anna theorizes that one of his own people conspired against the queen for going after one of the princes. Rumors spread, but the Westergaard’s castle is silent. The gates close and it remains that way for a long time.
But on the night of the kill, when ten older brothers kept the fire alive and drew the curtains tight, the door slowly creaked open and everything stops for a brief moment. There was only one who stood beside the bed of the ice queen, and there were only two who were the needed muscles of the operation. Lars approached the end of Hans’ bed, and Caleb noticed his tear stained cheeks and the dried blood underneath his fingernails. His sword sheathed away on his person, but noticed the tiny droplets of red that smeared the scabbard.
Lars’ love for his youngest brother was unlike any other. He had loved him from the start, when everybody else used each other as stepping stools to gain father’s praise, back when everybody kicked Hans down and twisted his words. His love was bold and scalding like the sun, refusing to speak poetically, but scream out like it was too much to hold in. “I took care of it.” he said, forcing his voice out through the dryness of his throat. “You’re safe. I promise.”
Nothing else is said that night forward. They slowly kill the heat as Hans regains his consciousness and falls into a comfortable slumber. His complexion comes back and so does his bright red hair. Lars stays with him the following morning.
It’s almost universal that the Southern Isles is a weak nation. Their father severed any good connections with their neighboring kingdoms and plummeted his own kingdom into poverty. It’s an unknown fact that from one to twelve, they’re cleverer than most royals and have spent their lives out doing each other. None of them have ever seen eye to eye until that night, but they all understood just from a glance that the walls have ears.
Hans asks about Arendelle only once over a quiet dinner. His brothers have never once told him the truth.