Chapter Text
“The Princess of Arendelle is to be coronated soon,” Roy, the oldest of thirteen brothers, and the current King of The Southern Isles, announced once everyone was settled down for dinner. At the long table adorned with an elaborate display of seasonal fruits and candle sticks sat eleven men and one woman: The King, The Princes of the Isles (minus two who were otherwise occupied), and their Mother.
“What’s it to us?” James, the brashest of them scoffed, shoveling food in his mouth.
“Well, despite their being majorly uncommunicative, we received an invitation and we must show our support or they will have reason to cut off trade,” Roy explained. “They are our main supplier of many goods and purchase exports from us, as well, so that can’t happen.”
“Why don’t you go, Roy?” Tom, one of the twins, smiled up at him.
“Yeah,” Liam, Tom’s twin and biggest conspirator, agreed. “You’re the King, after all.”
This remark was a direct shot, since everyone present knew that’s Roy’s Kingship was not only unfortunate, but temporary. The reining king, and the Princes’ Father was extremely sick in bed. The best doctors in the land, and some other lands, were tending to him. At present, the belief was that he’d survive the illness, but Roy had been temporarily crowned to keep the Kingdom in motion.
A few of the others laughed, but a pointed look from the Queen turned the sounds to muffled coughs.
“He can’t go because he has too many duties here,” the Queen stated, in a matter-of-fact way, spooning some soup.
“Which means,” continued Roy, “one of you gets the honor of representing The Southern Isles on the princess’s big day.”
“I can’t go,” Timothy said. “I have a Polo game next weekend.”
“I don’t want to go,” laughed Caleb, the second oldest and definitely the laziest of the brothers.
James smirked and pointed the brussel sprout on the end of his fork across the table at Hans. The red-headed Prince was the youngest of the thirteen and consequently the target of most jokes. “Hans should go.”
“Do we really want him as the face of the Southern Isles?” Liam asked emphatically. “I mean look at him.”
“He is a little scraggly, isn’t he?” Tom agreed with a wry smile.
“If the sight of him doesn’t scare the Princess off, his personality will,” butted in Tyler, another brother.
Hans spoke up then, cutting them off. “I will go,” he said wiping his mouth with the napkin and placing it back in his lap. “If Roy is okay with it.”
“Of course you would want to go,” James scoffed. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at the failed attempt at scrutiny.
“I’d be happy for you to go,” Roy chimed in. “Thank you for volunteering.”