Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sea wind from the Southern Isles slipped through the white marble walls and the blown-glass windows, carrying with it an unmistakable mix of salt and warm breeze. Beyond the harbor, the ships swayed in a slow rhythm, and the polished stone alleyways filled with merchants offering freshly caught fish and food. The palace, imposing in its architecture, dominated the city from the highest hill, with its towers and battlements reflecting the golden light of sunset. However, at the top, among the halls adorned with tapestries depicting past victories, there reigned a profound silence, one that was not of peace, but of great misfortune.

Richard, the king, had lost his rest for weeks. His desk, always cluttered with documents, seemed like an empty extension of his mind, trapped in a single image: that of his wife, Alysanne, lying in her bedroom, her eyes lost in the horizon. Since that fateful day, when tragedy struck their home with devastating force, she had not been the same. The sorrow consuming her had created a distance between them, a barrier impossible to cross, no matter how many times Richard tried. The pain was palpable in every corner of their lives.

And yet, the kingdom needed to be ruled. The coronation of the future Queen of Arendelle, an event of immense political and diplomatic importance, was just around the corner. Arendelle, with its mysterious air and the stories of its reclusive royal family, was on the horizon. The invitation to the ceremony had been selective, and only a few royal houses had been summoned, which only increased the mystery. Under normal circumstances, Richard and Alysanne would have been the ideal representatives to attend, but with the queen trapped in her depression, the duty fell to his younger brother.

Hans.

The prince had an inexhaustible energy, a constant restlessness to prove himself. Richard had watched him with the mixture of pride and frustration that an older brother feels when seeing the impetuosity of youth. In part, he thought the trip would do him good. Meeting other monarchs, sharing at the court of Arendelle... perhaps even finding a wife. The princess Elsa was almost the same age as him, young, single, and was set to rule a prosperous kingdom. The prospect was not far-fetched.

"It will be a good opportunity for him," he had told one of his advisors the night his brother sailed.

But now, days later, that certainty had turned into anguish.

His brother had not returned. There were no messengers, no correspondence. Nothing. Worried, Richard ordered ships to be sent to find out what was happening. When they returned, the sailors brought with them even more alarming news.

"The fjord of Arendelle is completely frozen, Your Majesty," reported the captain of the royal fleet. "It cannot be crossed."

"Frozen?" The King frowned. "But it's summer."

"We know, your Grace. But the ice is so thick that our ships cannot approach the port. There is no way in or out of the kingdom."

The monarch felt a tightness in his chest. Something was terribly wrong.

For days, he convened meetings with his sailors and ministers, discussing possible routes to Arendelle, exchanging information with other kingdoms whose envoys were also trapped there. No one knew anything. The uncertainty weighed like an imminent storm.

Then, a messenger burst into the council chamber.

"Your Majesty..." The man could barely catch his breath. "Prince Hans has returned."

Richard exhaled a sigh of relief, standing up immediately.

"Where is he? Is he injured? What happened?"

The messenger hesitated.

"My King... The prince has returned... but he is under arrest."

The silence in the room was absolute.

The king felt the ground beneath his feet become unstable.

"Under arrest?" he asked, his voice rising with a mix of disbelief and fury. "How could anyone dare to arrest him? He is a prince!"

The messenger, a man with silver hair and an impassive face, cleared his throat.

"Your Majesty, the news we bring from Arendelle... are not favorable."

Richard felt something tighten in his chest.

"Speak now."

"Prince Hans has been accused of treason. He attempted to murder the queen of Arendelle and her sister."

The accusation struck like lightning in the council chamber. A murmur of astonishment rose among the ministers and admirals, some exchanging looks of disbelief, others of concern.

Richard, however, did not say anything at first. He stood there, his muscles tensed, trying to process the words he had just heard.

"That’s absurd." His voice was firm, but there was a crack in it. "My brother would never do such a thing."

"We have witnesses, Your Majesty," the man continued. "The reports from Arendelle are clear. It is said that prince Hans and princess Anna got engaged on the night of the coronation, but then he left the princess in a critical state, assuring the court that she had passed away, in order to seize power in her name. But the princess survived... and when the queen was captured, he himself raised his sword against her."

A chill ran down his spine.

"Engaged?" he repeated in a whisper, as if the phrase was inconceivable to him. "What are you talking about? What does it mean that he left her in critical condition? And why would they believe she was dead?"

The messenger hesitated for a moment.

"Well, Your Majesty... Princess Anna was frozen."

The silence that followed was almost as oppressive as the confession itself.

"Frozen?" Richard furrowed his brow, searching the man's gaze for an explanation that made sense. "How is that possible? What does Hans have to do with that?"

The advisor seemed to choose his words carefully before responding.

"That is precisely the point, Your Majesty. Nothing about what happened is... conventional. The circumstances in Arendelle are unique. Queen Elsa... she..."

He paused, lowering his gaze for a moment before raising it again, as if burdened by the need to share a truth he would rather remain silent about.

"She possesses extraordinary abilities. It is said she has the power to create ice and snow. She was the one who, unintentionally, covered all of Arendelle with a sudden winter. Somehow, her sister was affected by this power. And according to the reports, she was completely frozen... until she came back to life."

Richard couldn’t process it. Everything in his world, in his certainties, in his most basic logic, was collapsing around him like a sandcastle swept away by the tide.

"Sorcery..." whispered a minister from the crowd.

Richard felt an unbearable vertigo. His wife bedridden, his country under scrutiny from all the courts, and now... his brother embroiled in a scandal with a queen who, suddenly, was not just a young sovereign, but a creature straight out of childhood tales.

And Hans… his brother, his little brother… had he really done all that?

"It can’t be," Richard whispered. "Hans wouldn’t..."

"Your Majesty," the advisor interrupted seriously, "it’s better if you hear it from him. The prince is about to arrive."

The murmurs among the ministers grew louder. Richard, however, said nothing. He stood there in the middleof the room, his gaze fixed on a dead point, not really seeing anything. When he left the room, the castle was silent, but it was not a peaceful silence; it was a silence heavy with whispers that slithered through the halls like an invisible current. Richard moved forward with a firm step, but his mind was a whirlwind.

Hans.

His younger brother. His responsibility. The child who had grown up in his shadow and that of their other siblings, eager to prove himself, desperate to find his place in a family where power was everything. Richard had always known he was ambitious, even reckless at times, but he never would have imagined he would take his desire for recognition this far.

 He attempted to murder Queen Elsa and Princess Anna.

The words of that man still echoed in his head, absurd, impossible. And yet, if they were true, then Hans had crossed a line from which there was no return.

As the king walked, the servants passing by the corridor stopped to bow before him and also to glance at him discreetly. It didn’t take much for rumors to spread. He didn’t bother to deny them or quicken his pace. He felt the weight of every gaze on him, the contained expectation in every whisper.

"My king."

A voice stopped him.

He looked up and saw one of his younger siblings leaning against the doorframe, the expression of someone who had already made up their mind about the whole situation.

"Is it true what they're saying about Hans?" he asked with a hint of mockery. "By the gods, what an idiot. Our dear brother tried to become king the easy way. He was always a bit of a fool, but this... this exceeds all my expectations."

Richard felt the fury rise in his throat like bile.

"I don’t want to hear another word about this, Thomas," he replied in a low, tense voice, each word sharp as a knife.

The other prince raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you feel sorry for him. He was always a lost cause."

Richard stopped dead in his tracks, and for a moment, the urge to respond was so strong that he felt his muscles tense. But he held back. He wasn’t going to argue with him. Not now.

Without saying more, he resumed walking.

When he arrived, Hans was in the audience chamber, sitting in a chair beside a dark wooden table, both wrists shackled, resting on his lap.

For a moment, Richard barely recognized him.

The Hans before him was not the younger brother he remembered, nor the impeccably dressed prince from just days ago. He looked different. He had lost weight, and his skin had the dull tone of someone who had spent too much time on a ship without seeing the sun. His red hair was longer, somewhat disheveled, and his clothes still carried dust from the journey. But what caught Richard's attention the most was his nose. It was swollen and bruised, with a slight cut across the bridge.

"My dear brother. You have no idea how much I've missed you," Hans said, with a mocking tone and a forced smile.

Richard frowned.

"What happened to you?"

The younger man lifted his gaze with an expression of utter indifference.

"Anna."

Richard blinked.

"The Princess Anna?"

"Yes, she hit me."

The tone in which he said it was almost... bored. As if he were describing the weather.

Richard felt a knot form in his stomach. He forced himself to remain steady.

"Hans... Is it true what they say? Did you try to murder the Queen of Arendelle?”

Silence.

Hans held his gaze for a long moment, then, with a calmness that froze Richard’s blood, he replied:

"Yes."

The word dropped between them like a stone into a deep well.

The king felt a shiver run down his spine.

"You admit it?" he whispered, unable to contain his disbelief.

"There’s nothing to admit," Hans replied with the same icy calm. "I did what had to be done."

Richard felt a burn in his chest.

"What had to be done?"

Hans didn’t hesitate.

"Arendelle was on the brink of disaster. The Queen had condemned her own people to an eternal winter, and the princess... wasn’t fit to rule. Someone had to take control."

Richard felt as if he had been punched in the stomach.

“And you thought that someone should be you?”

“I was the only one with the will to do it.”

“Will?” Richard let out a bitter laugh “ Do you think you did something good?”

Hans narrowed his eyes.

“What other choice did I have? Let everyone freeze to death? You weren't there,” he said, his tone unchanging “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Don’t you dare justify it like that! Don’t you dare!” His fist hit the arm of the chair, but Hans didn’t even flinch. “ Do you really think you can disguise your ambition as sacrifice? You went to Arendelle with a plan from the start! You got engaged to the princess without my consent, without your king’s advice, as if the fate of an entire kingdom could be decided on your whim!”

The sound of his voice echoed in the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Hans remained unshaken.

“And tell me, wasn't that what you wanted? That's why you sent me…”

Richard fell silent for a moment, but the fury in his eyes didn’t fade.

“I didn’t want this, Hans.” His voice was quieter now, but full of deep pain “ I wanted you to do the right thing. I wanted you to meet a noble young woman, earn her trust honorably, offer her your sincere love, not with deceit.”

Richard took a step toward his brother, his gaze now a mix of disappointment and anguish.

“And what did you do? You deceived her, got engaged to her only for your own purposes.. You tried to kill her, as if her life was just a pawn in your power game. How could you? How could you go that far?”

“Do the right thing? Honor? I think those words are a little too big for you, brother.”

Richard’s expression hardened, knowing exactly what Hans would say.

“Don’t try to make yourself a victim.”

"And why not? Because it's easier to see me as a monster?" Hans stood and took a step forward, his eyes burning with suppressed fury. "The opportunity to seize power was right in front of me. You thought I wouldn't take it? You knew what they did to me. You knew they treated me like I was nothing but a nuisance. And what did you do? Nothing. Because the only thing that matters to you is your crown.”

“That’s not true…”

“Want to talk about betrayals? Fine. Let’s talk about betrayals. Let’s talk about all the years you watched me be humiliated without lifting a single finger. About all the moments when you could have done something, and you chose not to. Isn’t that also a betrayal, brother?”

Richard inhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment, but when he looked back at him, his voice was firm.

“None of that justifies what you did in Arendelle. You manipulated and endangered the lives of two young women who had done nothing to you.”

The silence that followed was heavier than any shout.

“I had the chance to have what I’d always wanted, and I did what I had to do. I didn’t expect you to understand,” he finally said with a slight, twisted smile. “You’ve never had to fight for anything.”

Richard’s laugh was brief, dry.

“Is that what you think?”

“Yes,” Hans didn’t hesitate.

Richard held his gaze, but there was no anger in his eyes, only something colder, more lethal.

“What a shame you are, brother.”

“Don’t talk to me as if you’re better than me. You would’ve done the same in my place. You know what I had to do to survive here.”

“Surviving doesn’t mean trampling on others, Hans. It doesn’t mean becoming someone who can’t even look at himself in the mirror without making excuses.”

Hans’s face hardened.

“If I had achieved my goal, you’d be telling a different story.”

“But you didn’t succeed,” Richard didn’t blink. “And now you’ll have to live with the consequences.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?”

“I don’t think you understand even half of what you’ve done. Arendelle isn’t just any kingdom. Its allies won’t let this be forgotten. When they come to demand justice, who do you think will lift a finger for you?”

“No one, of course. No one in this family has done anything for me.”

“No one?” His voice dropped a tone, filled with contained danger. “Despite everything you’ve destroyed, they brought you here, and you’re protected under a mercy you don’t even deserve. And tell me, where do you think that leniency comes from?”

Hans raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

“Oh, forgive me, brother, I didn’t know I should thank you for not throwing me to the wolves. How magnanimous you are. You’re such a responsible brother, an honorable king, a devoted husband. Since when, Richard? Since you put a ring on her finger?”

The brunette immediately tensed, fury igniting in his gaze.

“You dare speak like that to your king?”

Hans smirked, the coldness in his eyes cutting like a knife.

“I’ll speak to you however I damn well please. Maybe you spent years convincing your wife you were worthy of her. Maybe you managed to fool everyone in this family with this illusion of nobility and honor. But deep down, we both know the truth. You’re nothing but a hollow man, a selfish coward hiding behind a crown. Just like our father. You haven’t changed. No matter how much you pretend, you’re still the same piece of filth you’ve always been.”

The impact of those words was immediate. Before Richard could even respond, a guard seized Hans by the arm, and in an instant, two more stepped between them.

“Mind your words, prince!” one of the men thundered, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “No one disrespects his grace in the presence of the Kingsguard.”

Hans struggled, but the grip held firm. His breath came fast, not from fear, but from defiance. Richard, however, remained still. He merely watched, with the composure of a man who had weathered storms far fiercer than the rage of one man.

“Let him go,” he ordered at last, his voice steady, unyielding.

The guards obeyed, though they did not release Hans entirely. Richard stepped forward—just enough for his presence to command the respect the crown demanded.

“Do you feel better now? If you need to see me as a villain to avoid confronting who you truly are, then do so. But don’t mistake the past for the present. I am no longer the man I once was... and you, Hans, are nothing more than a shadow of what you’ll never become. You sealed your fate the moment you chose to take advantage of those innocent girls. Every choice after that has been nothing more than a step toward your downfall.”

The air between them grew dense, heavy with everything they had never said.

Then, the door creaked open, and a maid entered with her head lowered, her voice trembling.

“Your Majesty…”

Richard didn’t even look at her.

“Not now.”

“But, my king… the queen…”

They both abruptly separated their gazes.

“What’s happened?”

The maid hesitated.

“She hasn’t eaten all day… She refuses to see anyone… She’s in very bad shape. It would be better if you talk to her.”

Richard felt the ground crumble beneath his feet. The anger at Hans still burned in his chest, but something bigger, more urgent, was calling for him now. His lips pressed into a tight line.

Hans blinked, confusion still clouding his face.

“Is she okay?”

Richard turned toward him with the coldness.

“No, Hans. She’s not okay. While you were plotting your schemes in Arendelle, I was here, trying to console my wife, who, if you’ve forgotten, just lost another baby. And while doing that, I spent days trying to find a way to send my men to bring you back. And for what…? Now, how do you think she’ll feel when she finds out everything you’ve done?”

His words were like arrows, piercing the silence that had settled between them. Hans’s face, once marked with disdain, now showed genuine concern, but Richard didn’t let him hide from the reality of his actions.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said finally, with weariness. “We’ll talk later, but not now.”

He turned toward the guards without looking at him again, his words cold and final.

“Take him to the dungeon.”

Hans froze, his defiance returning with full force. His eyes narrowed, and his voice shook with indignation.

“To the dungeon? But I'm a prince! You can’t just…”

Richard’s gaze hardened, and his voice dropped, filled with ice.

“Not anymore. If you want to act like a criminal, then you’ll be treated like one.”

And for the first time, Hans hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face as the guards 

Outside, the hallway seemed endless.

Richard moved forward with steady steps, but his mind floated in an abyss of chaos and noise. The echo of his own footsteps mingled with the voices surrounding him, the incessant chatter of ministers and advisors trailing behind him like a pack, each one more impatient than the other.

"Your Majesty, we need a statement."

"The Council is awaiting your orders."

"The ambassadors will want an explanation. Will they be granted an audience?"

"How shall we respond to the court of Arendelle?"

The words bounced aimlessly in his skull. S tatements. Explanations. Orders. God, he didn’t even know what he was supposed to do.

His heart still thudded with the fury of his encounter with his younger brother, but beneath the anger, there was something deeper, more unbearable. A cold weight that anchored itself to his chest. Alysanne.

"My king..."

Richard closed his eyes for a moment, pressing the bridge of his nose.

"One moment."

The murmurs continued around him.

"Your Grace, with all due respect, we cannot..."

Richard stopped dead in his tracks and spun on his heels.

"I said wait a moment!"

The hallway fell into complete silence, and the representatives stopped dead in their tracks.

He took a deep breath, trying to contain the storm raging inside him.

“I’m going to see my wife,” he said in a more controlled voice, though each word scraped at his throat. “Afterward… afterward, we’ll attend to this matter.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He simply continued walking.

When he reached the antechamber of his chambers, one of the maids looked up with evident nervousness.

“Your Majesty…”

“Don’t let anyone speak to her about what happened with the prince Hans,” Richard ordered in a low voice. “Understood?”

The young maid immediately nodded, not daring to reply.

With a tense exhale, Richard pushed the door open and entered.

The room was dimly lit.

Thick curtains blocked the sunlight, plunging the room into a muted twilight. The air carried a faint scent of withered roses and medicine. On the table by the bed, a tray with soup remained untouched.

And on the bed, lying like a marble figure, was she.

The Queen of the Southern Isles.

For a moment, he felt a tight knot in his throat, so strong that he could barely breathe.

She looked fragile. Too fragile. Her normally shiny and well-cared-for brown hair lay tangled on the pillow. She wasn’t sleeping. He knew this by the stiffness of her posture, by the way her chest barely rose and fell with each breath.

Richard slowly approached.

“Alysanne…”

No response.

He knelt beside the bed and took one of her hands in his.

“My love... “ his voice cracked for just a moment, but he forced himself to continue “You need to eat something.”

She didn’t react. Not even a blink.

Richard felt desperation rise in his throat like a suffocating wave.

He stood up and walked toward the window. If he could bring in some light...

But when he slightly pulled back the curtains, Alysanne's voice rose, hoarse and faint:

“Close it.”

He turned, surprised.

“Just a moment” he said softly ”The room needs air.”

“Close it, Richard.”

This time, her tone left no room for argument.

He felt the command as if a wall was rising between them. He closed his eyes, exhaled slowly, and, with a heavy heart, released the fabric. The darkness reclaimed the room, enveloping his wife in its somber embrace.

He turned back to her. She was as always, leaning against the pillows, her body little more than a shadow between the sheets. She didn’t raise her gaze when he approached.

He forced himself to smile, even though his heart sank.

“I was thinking… maybe we could have dinner together tonight. Like we used to, on the terrace. I could ask the chef to prepare that stew you love... with freshly baked bread. Would you like that?

Alysanne turned her face toward the wall.

“I don’t want dinner. I don’t want anything.”

Richard felt a cold stab run down his back.

He took a deep breath and reached for her hand, but she pulled it away before he could touch it.

“The doctor is worried because you haven’t eaten. Your ladies are worried too. Come on, Alysanne... just tell me what you’d like to eat, and I’ll make sure they bring it to you. Anything.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Richard closed his eyes for a moment. Desperation rose up his throat like a suffocating wave.

He picked up the bowl of soup that had been left beside the bed. It was still warm. He slowly moved the spoon, watching the steam rise in the dim light of the room. The weight of the crown, of his people, of his family, clung to his shoulders like a stone, but nothing pressed more on him than the woman in front of him, sitting with her gaze fixed on the small object between her hands.

A golden rattle.

A dolphin with soft carved details, designed for tiny hands that would never hold it.

Richard felt a pang in his chest, but he forced himself to speak.

“Aly... “ his voice cracked for just a moment, but he forced himself to continue. “Just a little.”

She took a while to react, but finally, with the same resignation as a leaf being carried by the wind, she parted her lips and allowed Richard to feed her the first spoonful.

He felt a slight relief. But the guilt still weighed on his chest. He trusted her more than anyone to talk about what tormented him, about what was happening outside these four walls, but how could he add more weight onto her when she could barely hold her own?

So, he turned to trivial matters.

“Do you remember the orphanage you helped build in the capital?” he asked, making a conscious effort to keep his voice light” We received letters from the children this morning. They want to see you.”

Alysanne turned the rattle between her fingers, but didn’t make any other gesture of interest.

Richard felt the sting of helplessness, but tried again.

“Oh, and the Viscountess of Elysium asked about you. She wanted to visit you today; she says it would be a shame for you to miss out on the court gossip.”

Silence.

Not even a blink.

Richard pressed his lips together. He knew she wouldn’t answer, that every word of his slid over her like rain on a stone. And still, he kept speaking because the silence was unbearable.

“She mentioned something about the Duchess of Montreuil… Apparently, her parrot has learned to imitate her husband’s voice. It does it so well that the servants are going crazy because they don’t know if it’s the Duke scolding them… or just a bird with too much sense of humor. Can you imagine?”

Nothing.

Richard waited, almost with the naive hope of seeing even the slightest hint of a smile, a slight tremor on her lips. But Alysanne remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the small dolphin between her fingers.

“She doesn’t want to intrude, but she’ll come when you’re ready to see her.”

Nothing.

A ghost.

He tightened the spoon in his hand and exhaled slowly.

“Your people miss you, my dear.” He said gently.  “They’ve left flowers at the castle entrance. We could go down and see them together.”

Alysanne didn’t respond immediately. Her mouth barely parted, but the only word she uttered was a muted murmur:

“I don’t want to.”

Richard felt the weight of those two words like a blow.

The rattle tinkled softly as she turned it in her palm.

He shifted his gaze toward the soup. It wasn’t as hot anymore.

“Come on, just one more” he insisted, bringing the spoon to her again.

She parted her lips, but in a clumsy movement, some of the liquid spilled onto the sheets.

And then, for no apparent reason, the trembling began.

Her shoulders shook as if a freezing chill was running through her.

And then, without warning, the crying erupted.

The rattle slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a hollow, metallic sound.

Richard felt like his entire world shattered at that moment.

He leaned toward her without thinking, wrapping his arms around her, holding her against his chest as sobs shook her fragile body.

“it’s okay…” he whispered, his voice broken by helplessness. “I’m here.”

But Alysanne pulled away sharply.

“No…”

“Aly…”

“Please, Richard. Leave me alone.”

Her plea struck him harder than any rejection.

“I don’t want to leave you. I can’t” he said, his voice barely audible. “Not when you’re like this.”

She didn’t look at him.

“Please” she repeated, weakly ”Just go.”

He stayed there, his heart pounding with an indescribable pain, watching the woman he loved who, even in his presence, was irretrievably alone.

He didn’t want to leave.

He didn’t want to abandon her.

But she wasn’t with him anymore, even though her body remained in that room.

Finally, he stood up.

The rattle lay on the floor, reflecting the dim light from the window.

Richard picked it up carefully, It was cold in his hand. He placed it on the table, and headed for the door.

“I’ll be back later.”

She didn’t answer, though he could hear a fragile sob against the pillow.

Each step back down the hall was a titanic effort. Outside, the light and the noise of the castle seemed like another world. His ministers were waiting for him. His brother was waiting for him.

But everything he left behind in that room weighed infinitely more.

The council chamber was shrouded in an unsettling twilight, barely illuminated by the exhausted chandeliers, which, after hours of deliberation, flickered with uncertain light. The air, thick with the scent of melted wax and the weight of unspoken words, grew more oppressive with each passing moment.

The clock was nearing midnight, but no one seemed willing to give in to exhaustion. The ministers whispered among themselves with tense gestures, their faces etched with worry. At the far end of the table, Richard remained still, his elbows resting on the wood and his hands intertwined before his face. It wasn’t just the fatigue that weighed on him, but the unbearable certainty that every decision made that night would have irreversible consequences.

To his right, his brother Aldric watched him silently. He hadn’t spoken much during the meeting, but his mere presence was a statement in itself. He wasn’t there to defend Hans—both knew the damage he had caused was too great—but he couldn’t help but worry about his older brother, who carried the weight of an entire kingdom and his own family on his shoulders.

“We cannot afford indulgence, Your Majesty” one of the ministers began, his tone grave “ We have already received notifications from the Zaria embassy. They are withdrawing from our trade alliance with immediate effect.”

“The ambassadors from Corona and Vesterland have also announced their departure “ another added  “They say they cannot associate with a kingdom that does not publicly condemn Prince Hans’ actions.”

“Your Grace, we must also consider Lirathys” commented one of his oldest ministers cautiously “Your brother, King Consort Nicolás, has informed us that his wife’s court has decided to exclude him from all deliberations on this matter, precisely because of his connection to the prince. So far, they have maintained a neutral stance. Which begs the question: does this assure us that they will not yield to the pressure from their allies? And if that were to change, not only would we find ourselves in an even more vulnerable position, but your brother’s position could also be compromised.”

Richard closed his eyes for a moment and ran a hand over his forehead.

“I know “ he finally said, his voice more subdued than firm. “But resolving this requires more than a hasty decision at midnight.”

“People demand an answer.” the Prime Minister continued “Rumors are circulating that riots have begun in some cities. If we do not show that the crown repudiates his crimes…”

“Then let’s decide once and for all” interrupted another, in a severe tone. “Exile him.”

The air seemed to grow heavier.

“Exile is too lenient an option” someone else replied “ Who guarantees that he won’t seek refuge in another kingdom? That he won’t try to conspire from abroad?”

“And if…” the voice of the oldest minister dropped to a low, solemn tone  “If instead of exile, we consider the gallows.”

Aldric felt the cold grip his spine. Unconsciously, he exchanged glances with his older brother, his jaw tense, his fingers clenched until his knuckles turned white.

He spoke at last, his voice unwavering.

“No.”

His refusal fell with overwhelming weight on the room. Aldric saw how the ministers exchanged glances, some bewildered, others clearly displeased.

“Majesty, with all due respect…”

“I will not have my brother’s blood on my hands” Richard repeated, more sharply.

But the murmurs did not cease.

“If the crown does not take decisive action, its authority and morals will be called into question…”

“The people demand justice, not mercy…”

“If he is not executed, at least we should…”

“Has no one heard the king?” Aldric interrupted with an unusual harshness.

The murmurs immediately ceased. All eyes turned to him, surprised. Even Richard shot him a brief glance, though the tension on his face remained.

Aldric sighed and leaned toward the table, intertwining his hands with forced patience.

“We have been here all night repeating the same arguments to exhaustion” he continued, his tone now more measured but no less firm. “Does anyone in this room truly believe it’s wise to make such a monumental decision under these conditions?”

Silence was his only answer.

“Your king has spoken. There will be no execution. And if you are not satisfied with that, you must know that discussing it until dawn will change nothing “he added, looking at the group of ministers with calculated calm”. No decision will be made tonight. The meeting will resume tomorrow, with clearer minds and less inclination to impulsiveness.

One of the ministers attempted to speak, but Aldric looked at him with the same determination Richard had used to silence them earlier.

“That’s an order“ he said softly, but without leaving room for discussion.

An uncomfortable silence spread across the room before, reluctantly, the ministers began to rise. The prince watched them withdraw one by one, some exchanging disapproving glances, others simply too exhausted to continue arguing.

When the last chair was empty, Aldric turned to Richard.

“You should rest, brother.”

He let out a slow exhale but shook his head.

“Not yet.”

He straightened up, though with evident effort, and turned his gaze toward the guards stationed at the door.

“Bring in Prince Hans.”

A few minutes later, his younger brother crossed the threshold, escorted, his wrists still bound with shackles and his bearing as unflappable as ever. Even in the state he was in, with his hair disheveled and his clothes slightly wrinkled, his expression retained that unbearable arrogance Richard had always detested.

The king observed him in silence. He couldn’t understand him. He couldn’t understand how someone could look at the ruin they had caused with such blatant indifference.

“I’ve made a decision,” he said at last, crossing his arms. “I will sell your properties on the Elysium Peninsula. Also your ships, your jewels, and all of your suits. The proceeds will go to those affected by the frost in Arendelle.”

For a brief moment, he saw a flash in Hans’s eyes. It was indignation and fury hiding behind a  restrained reaction.

But in less than a breath, he regained his composure and nodded, with an infuriatingly feigned calm.

“Fine.” he finally said ”I doubt the princess and the queen will accept that money, but if it makes you happy.”

Richard felt something inside him tear apart.

"Is that all you’re going to say?"

Hans looked at him with apathy.

"Did you expect me to beg?"

The older brother's anger flared.

"No. I expect you to at least pretend to feel remorse."

"For what?" Hans replied with a slight tilt of his head. "You know as well as I do that nothing will save me."

Richard exhaled a trembling sigh, bringing a hand to his face, while Aldric, who had remained on the sidelines until now, finally spoke.

"Hans, if you keep up that attitude, you’ll only make things worse. Stop pretending you don’t care."

Hans stared at him for a long moment.

"You're wrong, brother. I truly don't care."

It was a simple word, without emphasis, without drama. But to Richard, it was like a dagger.

The sound of his boots echoed for a moment on the marble floor as he walked in the great council hall, thinking about what to say. His hands clenched, opening and closing into trembling fists, as he looked at the young, defiant prince who stood before him with an unreadable expression.

"Do you know how many years of alliance the Southern Isles had with Arendelle?" Richard asked suddenly, his voice barely contained, vibrating with an emotion bordering on desperation.

Of course, he didn’t expect an answer.

"Eighty-three years," Richard continued, each syllable spoken with sharp precision. "Eighty-three years of agreements, trust, bonds forged through diplomacy and blood, all reduced to ashes in an instant by your foolishness."

Hans remained unmoved.

"Our allies are abandoning us. These are not rumors, not mere assumptions. These are facts," Richard took a step forward, his gaze burning. "The withdrawal letters keep coming, one after another. Nicolás  declared neutrality from Litharys, but it won’t be long before his wife succumbs to the pressures of her court and turns her back on us too.

He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Nothing.

"When the famine begins, when trade collapses and the citizens suffer the consequences of this disaster, what will you say then? Because it won’t be you going hungry, Hans. It won’t be me. It will be them. The ones with no voice in this power game, the ones who trust their representatives every day to keep them safe."

Hans’s silence was like an ice wall, impenetrable, exasperating.

"They’ve given you everything. And this is how you repay them?"

Finally, Hans lifted his head with a slight sigh, as if he had been waiting for all of this to happen. His gaze met Richard’s, filled with such palpable disdain.

"Did you really pull me out of my cell in the middle of the night to tell me all of this?" he said, his voice so calm it almost sounded like a mockery in itself. It was as if he had just heard a story that was not only tedious but almost comical. "Do you think I don’t know what’s going on? Of course I do. I know exactly what’s at stake, but so what? If I cry publicly, will it all be solved? Will everyone be pleased with that? I’ve got news for you, brothers, that won’t change a thing.”

Richard, so beside himself, let out a bitter laugh. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. That response, so indifferent, so completely detached from the gravity of the situation, burned through him like a slow fire.

“By the gods! Who are you?” he exclaimed, feeling for a moment as though he had lost touch with reality, as if he didn’t recognize his own flesh and blood standing before him.

Aldrich shifted his gaze, uncomfortable.

“Our ministers are already discussing your fate” said the prince, his tone more serious “Some demand that we exile you. Others… believe the only solution is to end you.”

Hans raised his eyes, barely for an instant, as if those words had touched him for a brief second. But as quickly as the spark of concern appeared, it vanished, leaving his brother facing a wall of indifference.

Richard saw that flash, and he didn’t like it.

“Say something!” he exclaimed, fear and fury intertwining in his voice. He grabbed him by the arms, holding on to him desperately. Aldrich tried to stop him, anticipating that he might hurt him. “Give me a reason to believe that there’s still something in you worth saving!”

His green eyes held his gaze with defiance, as if everything Richard was saying carried no weight at all. The silence stretched on, dense and tense, filling the air with an unbearable pressure.

“Do what you must.”

For the first time, he understood that his brother was beyond his reach. He couldn’t save him. Not with his title, not with his power, not with the pity he still stubbornly insisted on feeling.

His brother was not there.

Not the child he had once been. Not the young man who still had a life ahead of him.

Richard closed his eyes for a moment, and in that brief blink, he realized something that hit him like a slap: this wasn’t the first time.

It was not the first time he had to deal with the consequences of what his father had destroyed.

It was not the first time he had to pick up the broken pieces of what was once his family.

It was not the first time he felt more like a father than a brother.

But this... this was beyond him.

Because now he was not a child throwing a tantrum. He was not a young man desperately seeking approval.

He was a lost man.

A man who spoke as if everything were empty.

As if his life had no weight.

As if he truly didn’t care if he died.

Richard felt the knot in his throat tighten painfully. He didn’t want to kill him. He didn’t want it to end like this. He didn’t want to see him so cold, so indifferent, as if his fate wasn’t worth anything.

“You’re an idiot,” Aldrich intervened, his voice breaking the tension. There was no anger in his tone, just a tired exasperation. “But I doubt you really want to die, no matter how much you try to pretend otherwise.”

Hans didn’t bother to respond.

Richard took a deep breath, trying to swallow the bitter feeling in his chest. Maybe, if things had been different…

If his father had been a different man.

If he himself had been a better brother.

But the “maybes” didn’t change reality.

He straightened his back, and with a tense voice, said:

“Take him away.”

The guards nodded and began escorting Hans out of the room. Just before crossing the door, Richard saw him turn his face slightly, and for an instant... for a brief instant, it seemed to him that indifference slipped from his face.

But it was only for an instant.

When the door closed, Richard stood there, next to Aldrich, with the echo of his brother's farewell resonating in his mind.

He placed a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he would have to face the storm.

The night in the castle moved with a slow and heavy pace, as if the very stone walls were weary from the day’s events. Richard walked through the hallways like a man carrying more than just his own weight; the echo of his footsteps was drowned by the silent coming and going of the servants, who were extinguishing the candles one by one, plunging the place into shadow.

Upon reaching his room, he opened the door carefully, allowing the silver light of the moon to filter through the curtains. In the bed, Alison slept peacefully, her breathing steady, her face serene in the shadows.

Richard let out a sigh as he closed the door behind him. His hands fumbled for the clasps of his suit, but they moved clumsily, as if fatigue had stolen his dexterity. Each garment he removed fell heavily to the floor, and with it, the weight of a night too long. Finally, he collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the softness of the sheets with a weariness that was both physical and mental.

Of course, sleep did not come.

Hans.

That stubborn, unbearable, ungrateful boy... Richard furrowed his brow. He clenched his jaw. Then, with a resigned sigh, he rubbed his face and murmured to himself:

"Mother, if you're listening, could you make your son sensible for just one hour?"

He wasn’t expecting a response.

"Richard?"

But he got one.

He tensed immediately and turned his head toward the voice.

"Alysanne." His tone was low, almost cautious. "What are you doing awake, my dear?"

She didn’t answer right away. Her gray eyes, illuminated by the pale moonlight, searched for him in the darkness.

"Did something happen to Hans?" she finally murmured.

Richard blinked, surprised.

"Why do you ask?"

"I overheard my ladies talking about him. They seemed... worried. They said something happened in Arendelle... Is he okay?" Her voice trembled slightly, and uncertainty shone in her eyes.

He snorted. It wasn’t possible that not even in his own bed could he escape from the damn brat. The youngest of the Westergards had always been his favorite brother-in-law. He couldn’t understand her.

"He’s fine, my dear," he said sarcastically. "Never been better, in fact. A model of good behavior, a pride to the family. I’m considering writing him a poem."

"Are you lying to me?" she asked, with genuine concern.

Richard, who had remained still at her side until then, suddenly sat up with a sharp movement.

"I’m not lying to you, my queen," he said, as sincerely as he could make it sound, while staring straight into her eyes. "Hans is fine. He returned from Arendelle this afternoon, and he’s here, in the castle. He had a... little setback, but you don’t need to worry."

A slight tremor ran through Alysanne’s body, and for a moment, her eyes, so full of uncertainty, seemed to calm.

Taking advantage of the brief stillness, he moved closer slowly, his trembling hand tracing her cheek. She looked at him, so still, but never breaking her gaze. The contact between them was fragile, almost as if she feared any movement could shatter the little that remained of them.

"Today has been..." he paused, searching for the right words. "...very hard, more than I can bear. And, honestly, I’m exhausted, Alysanne. I need... to talk. I need to be close to you, even for just a moment, to try to find some peace."

The words hung in the air, and though he didn’t say it aloud, Richard saw in her eyes a silent understanding. She didn’t say anything, but for an instant, he believed he could find something in her gaze. Driven by an inexplicable need to feel connected, he leaned toward her, slowly closing the distance until their lips met.

The kiss started softly, almost with a delicacy that reflected their vulnerability. But soon, the coldness of her response became palpable. Before he could fully understand it, his wife pulled away from him, almost as if the contact was unbearable.

She didn’t look at him. The words that came out of her mouth were whispered, almost lost in the tears that began to blur her vision.

"Forgive me, Richard..." she said, her voice broken by pain. "I’m sorry, truly, but... I can't. I can’t do it."

"Please..." he whispered, his tone a sigh filled with frustration. "I need you to talk to me."

Pain shot through his chest, sharp. He stayed there, looking at her, feeling the distance between them grow even more insurmountable.

Almost without realizing it, he began to cry. A low, muffled sob, one he didn’t even know he had been holding back. The tears fell uncontrollably, something he had never allowed, something he never thought he would need to do.

When she heard him, she finally lifted her gaze. She saw him there, broken, his face consumed by suffering, and for an instant, a flicker of awareness crossed her eyes.

"I don’t know what else to do," she said, her voice shattered by the pain. "I’m doing everything I can, but I’m so lost."

That reaction from her husband was something she had not expected.

"Do you know what it’s like to come back to this room every night and feel like this bed is empty, even if you’re here?" The words came out in a trembling whisper, heavy with helplessness. "Do you know how it feels to see how I’m losing you, piece by piece?"

She couldn’t help but shudder, but she didn’t answer him.

"I know you’re suffering, Alysanne. But I also lost our son, you know?" His voice was a low sigh, almost inaudible. "And I was so afraid when I thought I would lose you too. Every night it’s the same image in my mind over and over."

Alysanne covered her face with one hand, Richard’s bitter laugh echoing in her mind.

"And yet... here I am, trying to stay strong. Because I have no other choice. Because I have to be strong for everyone... for the kingdom, for my brothers, for us. Everyone expects that form me. But sometimes I feel like I don’t even have the strength to be here."

He leaned forward, eyes closed, his hands clenched. Something in his face, the broken expression, betrayed the weight of everything he carried.

"I can't do this alone," he told her, vulnerability painted in his voice. "I need my Queen, my best friend... I need you."

Not knowing what to say, his wife simply stroked his back, trying to comfort him. Her gaze was empty, but there was something of pain there, something that seemed buried deep inside her.

Richard continued crying incessantly, the pain evident in every sob that came from his chest. He hadn’t been able to hold back, and the tears fell with a force he didn’t know he still had within him. He stayed there, broken, staring into the void, trying to find words that could ease something, but everything seemed in vain.

"And Hans..." he said, almost in a whisper, unaware of the words leaving his mouth. "That stupid, ungrateful boy... They’re going to kill him, and he doesn’t even care. I don’t know what to do with him... I don’t want them to kill him, I don’t want them to kill my brother..."

Alyssane, who had been silent until then, frowned, feeling that those last words hit her like a torrent of cold water. For a moment, she couldn’t understand if she had heard correctly, if all of this was part of her husband’s anguish, or if he was truly saying what he thought.

"What did you say?" her voice came out lower than she intended, tense, incredulous.

Richard froze completely, as if he had just realized what he had let slip. A cold sweat ran down his forehead as his eyes widened, as if he feared he had betrayed himself.

"No, no... I didn’t say anything," he replied quickly, trying to erase the words from his mind. But his wife’s gaze, fixed and expectant, didn’t let him escape.

"You said they’re going to kill your brother..." she repeated, with a mixture of confusion and growing alarm. "You told me everything was fine. What’s going on?"

"Hans..." he began, his voice broken, his hands trembling slightly. "He made a... grave mistake. He tried to kill Queen Elsa and the princess to take the throne in Arendelle. Everyone knows. And they want him dead. It’s just a matter of time. They’re completely justified. I want to help him, but I don’t know how."

She didn’t know what to say, Richard’s words floating in her mind, and the shock left her completely still.

"What are you saying?" she asked in a trembling voice, shaking her head. "Hans... would never do something like that."

Richard lowered his gaze, feeling the bitterness of the truth all around him. His face reflected an indescribable sadness, a resignation he had feared to accept.

"I wanted to believe that too."

The disbelief in his Queen’s eyes slowly turned into anguish.

"Why didn’t you tell me anything?"

"I didn’t want you to worry more," he finally responded, his tone low and pained. "You were already so... so devastated, and all of this... I didn’t want you to carry more."

Alyssane closed her eyes for a moment, processing his words.

"And what are we going to do?"

Richard looked at her with a mixture of surprise and frustration, trying to find a way to calm her. He didn’t want her to get more involved than she already was. He had seen her crumble under the weight of her own pain, and he feared that plunging her back into that darkness would be too much for her.

"You’re not going to do anything," he said, with a firm, almost authoritative tone. "You’re going to rest. You’re going to stay here, calm, where you’re safe. This is too much for you, I don’t want you putting yourself in danger for anything. I’ll take care of all of this."

A flash of frustration crossed her eyes, and her breathing quickened.

"Calm?" she repeated, as if the words themselves were impossible to accept. "How can I stay calm after everything you’ve told me?"

"The most important thing to me is that you’re okay," he insisted, but his tone was softer, as if he had to force himself to be rational amidst the chaos surrounding him. "You need to be okay, Aly. I can handle Hans and the court. You can’t... you can’t keep going through this. You need to rest. You have to be strong, for whatever comes next."

The silence that followed weighed heavily between them, an abyss of unspoken emotions. Alyssane watched him, seeing her husband face to face in his vulnerability, in his exhaustion. He was being so strong, so firm, but at the same time, he was crumbling under the weight of everything he had to face for the two of them. Somehow, she had been so focused on her own pain that she hadn’t noticed the suffering he carried on his shoulders.

Her heart beat strongly as she saw the struggle on his face. She couldn’t turn away anymore. She couldn’t leave him alone. Suddenly, as if guided by instinct, she moved closer to him, leaving behind the resistance that had kept her distant, and wrapped him in an embrace.

Richard, surprised by the gesture, tensed for a moment, but then allowed the warmth of her body to envelop him, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair, in its soft brown curls. It was a release from the rigidity he had struggled so hard to maintain. The relief of feeling her contact, of her not pulling away, was greater than he had imagined.

"Forgive me for abandoning you, Richard," she said, her words soft, still carrying a slight tremor of the sadness she longed to leave behind. "I’ll be your wife and queen again. I won't leave you behind. I promise."

For a moment, neither of them spoke again, simply holding onto each other, with the silent understanding that, despite everything they were facing, the strength they had together was the only thing that could keep them standing.

The next morning.

The council hall was a whirlwind of discordant voices. The discussion had escalated into a full-blown verbal battle between the ministers, with Richard and Aldrich struggling to contain a resolution slipping from their grasp. Hans remained silent, watching the spectacle before him without expression as his fate was decided without even granting him the dignity of a voice.

“We cannot allow this matter to drag on any longer,” declared Lord Vardon, an elderly man whose voice still carried the sharp edge of authority. “An immediate resolution is needed.”

“A just resolution,” Richard corrected, his fists clenched on the table.

“A resolution that ensures the future of the Southern Isles,” another minister countered, slamming his palm against the table. “The Crown cannot continue protecting a criminal.”

“Our allies’ trust depends on our strength, not our cruelty,” Richard insisted.

“Then show your strength, Your Majesty,” one of the councilors interjected. “Decide his punishment here and now.”

“Exile,” Lord Vardon proposed. “A ship with no crew and no provisions, set adrift toward the Dark Sea. Let the tides decide his fate.”

“That is the same as sentencing him to death,” Richard retorted, his voice ice-cold.

“Life imprisonment,” another minister suggested. “Complete isolation in the Tower. A fair sentence, with no bloodshed.”

“Fair?” Richard repeated, his voice lower but laced with venom. “You call it fair to lock up a young man until he withers away and dies inside a cell?”

Richard felt the air grow heavier.

What they proposed was not unreasonable. Hans’s crimes were grave enough to justify any punishment decreed in that room. Any other man would have been executed without further deliberation. Any other man would have been exiled with no right to return.

But this was not any other man. He was his brother.

And that was why, for him, the decision was impossible to make.

“He is your blood, Your Majesty,” one of the ministers said, his tone measured but his stance unwavering. “We know you will not deliver the verdict that is needed. So we will do it for you.”

The ministers exchanged glances, ready to decide upon the harshest of resolutions. Richard watched his authority crumble before his very eyes. They were straying from his leadership, acting as if the throne were nothing more than a decorative relic, as if his word were dispensable.

Aldrich, at his side, was ready to stand against them with his fists if necessary. And Hans… he remained silent, his gaze lowered, as if he had already accepted that his fate was beyond his control.

Then, the metallic clang of spears striking the floor echoed through the hall, like thunder heralding the arrival of a storm. The great doors swung open with a resounding crash, and the herald’s voice rang out with imposing clarity:

“Her Majesty, Queen Alysanne of the Southern Isles! Mother of the Tides, Star of the Navigators, and Protector of our Seven Isles.”

Silence fell over the room like a leaden shroud. Every minister instinctively rose to their feet, as did Aldrich and Hans. Richard turned at once.

She was not the broken woman he had left in her chambers the night before. There was pain in her eyes, yes—an open wound still raw in her soul—but there was no weakness in her stance. She stood with the dignity of a sovereign, with the strength of one who had faced loss and chosen to move forward. Her gown of pearls and deep blue seemed to mirror the waters she ruled, and the light filtering through the stained glass made her appear almost unreal.

Hans, too, looked at her, his expression betraying surprise. How could she be here after all she had endured?

Alysanne looked at no one but her husband when she spoke. Her voice, firm and steady, left no room for doubt.

“This council will make no decision without the approval of its king and queen.”

The weight of her words rippled through those present. The ministers exchanged uneasy glances. Richard, despite himself, felt a spark of pride.

Alysanne continued, her tone slower but no less resolute.

“ I have known Prince Hans since he was little more than a sixteen-year-old boy, when I was betrothed to the king,” she began. “I watched him grow in this castle, watched him struggle to find his place in a court that rarely showed him affection. While other princes spent their days at feasts and hunts, he studied navigation and strategy. He served in the royal fleet, where he safeguarded the sanctity of our isles and saved the lives of more than one soldier. He defended us from pirates and brigands, risking his life in our seas. And now, when he makes a mistake, suddenly everyone here seems to have forgotten that he was once a son of this nation.”

Some ministers lowered their gaze. Others remained defiant.

“ Do not misunderstand me. I am not seeking excuses for him. I condemn his actions just as you do. They have no justification. But what you propose is not justice—it is vengeance. And vengeance does not strengthen a kingdom. There are other ways to amend the past. ”

““And what would those be, my Queen?” one asked skeptically. “Do you intend for him to stay in the Southern Isles and perform hard labor? That such a thing would be enough to atone for his crimes? Our allies do not want symbolic gestures. They want action.”

“I propose that Prince Hans be sent to Arendelle, to serve under the authority of the queen.”

A murmur erupted among the ministers. Some were left speechless, others paled. Richard tensed, unable to discern the purpose behind such an idea. Hans, for the first time, showed genuine concern.

“Alysanne, no!”

All eyes turned to him. But she did not even blink.

“Queen Alysanne,” she corrected him, her tone so cold it left him motionless.

“Serve in Arendelle?” a minister repeated, incredulous. “Your grace, the Queen and the Princess would never accept such a thing.”

“They will. We must try.”

Alysanne raised her voice with authority, forcing everyone into silence.

“Queen Elsa is young. Inexperienced. She has barely been on the throne for a few days. Her kingdom has been isolated for far too long, and that has made her blind to what lies beyond her borders. I do not deny that she has every right to be furious with us, but if her inexperience makes her incapable of seeing that the fate of a single man should not dictate the future of entire nations, then it is our duty to make her understand. It was not she who forced her allies to turn their backs on our kingdom, but if she herself extends a hand to us despite everything, it will open the eyes of many.”

Richard smoothed his expression—he finally understood.

“If Arendelle accepts,” Alysanne continued, “Hans will have the chance to learn from his mistakes. And if he earns his redemption, the other nations will see it as proof that the Southern Isles is a kingdom that respects justice, and they will return to us.”

Hans stood up again, this time more anxious.

“My Queen… my King…” he began cautiously. “Please, no.”

Richard raised an eyebrow.

“No?”

Hans nodded with feigned seriousness that barely concealed his panic.

“Yes. No. I mean… you can kill me. Really, no hard feelings. Exile, prison—whatever you want. Put me on that ship without supplies, even. Life imprisonment? Fantastic. But don’t make me go see her.”

The ministers stared at him in disbelief.

“Hans…” Alysanne sighed, but he raised both hands.

“No, no, seriously. I’d rather face the sharks. Or a firing squad. Or better yet—how about a combination? Firing squad first, then the sharks. But please, do not send me to Arendelle to face Elsa again.”

The Queen cast a glance at her guards, and without the need for words, they returned the prince to his seat.

“Prince Hans will remain here until Queen Elsa grants us an audience,” she declared. “If Arendelle accepts, Hans will serve her kingdom in whatever way she demands. If she does not, we will reevaluate our options. But one thing is certain—he will neither be executed nor exiled to die at sea.”

Silence stretched through the room until, at last, Richard stood. His voice rang with the same authority as his wife’s.

“The Queen has spoken,” he said. “And I stand by her decision.”

No one dared to challenge both sovereigns at once.

Richard glanced at Alysanne from the corner of his eye. His Alysanne. Unyielding, resolute, with a fire in her gaze that he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Yes, he thought. If he could marry her again, right at this moment, he would do so without hesitation.