Fight of the Fandoms (Frozen fanfic **ONGOING)

Chapter 5: Loki

A PICTURE OF DENNIS AND MARKUS AND HANS TO YOUR RIGHT! DENNIS IS OLDER THAN MARKUS.

Hans had been called to the throne room by his brother for yet an unknown reason, but as he went out of his quarters and into the hall, all of his siblings where headed there as well. Andrew never called all of us at the same time. Must it be that important?

Hans was dressed in his usual royal robes, as were his older brothers. The three who used to bully him grinned and patted his back like they actually cared about him. It made his brow arch. He never really trusted those three.

They all arrived in the throne room in a single file. Hans, as usual, was the last in the line, for he was the youngest of whatever's left with the Westerguard siblings. Andrew was on the throne as usual. He was already in his thirties. He'd even grown a beard, but his right hand had been cut off.

During Andrew's reign, Hans knew most of his brothers grew in envy. Two of them, the fourth and the fifth, attempted an assault on Andrew, and a poorly planned assault that is. Andrew and Christian both drew their swords at them. The fifth earned an empty orbit, both gained scars under their mouths and bruises on their arms to and from that night they have been charged with treason and were sentenced to death. Fortunately for the traitor-twins, they escaped before the day of the execution. And what's worse? They escaped with the help of their father's bastard!

The two royals were last heard to be criminals. Brutes. The bastard, who was raised in an orphanage, joined the two and eventually became a thief. Yet, according to a law made by their lord father, bastard, adopted or trueborn son, every one of the king's sons has a claim on the throne that cannot be taken away, not even by crime great or mild.

Andrew stood. "My brothers," he began. "Arendelle's eldest princess is becoming queen in three weeks. Some of us will leave for the celebration, some of us will stay in the Southern Isles, and some of us will travel to other kingdoms to settle documents. The day of the coronation is a busy day for the royalties of the Southern Isles. I'll need volunteers to go to the celebration, volunteers to go to the other kingdoms, and volunteers to assist me keep our land in order."

A long pause before Rickard, the seventh-in-line, spoke up. "That's it? Doesn't sound so important. It's only a coronation."

"Attending the coronation is way to patch the broken bond between our countries," Christian, the second-in-line, spoke up and walked out from behind the throne. He was specially assigned to be the royal adviser, the Hand of the king. Hans knew he was the wisest in their family, even wiser than Andrew. "Since the incident when the princess first--and last--got here, the ties of our countries have been..."

"Complicated," Andrew finished. "And the wittiest, friendliest and most charming siblings should be the ones to go to Arendelle." Andrew glanced at Hans and gestured to him. "Hans will go. He was supposedly the princess' betrothed, after all." Andrew smirked. "You can see that our trade with Arendelle is still ongoing, but we haven't directly contacted the monarchs in year. It is time the ice between our families gets broken."

"I shall go to Arendelle as Hans's chaperone," Anders spoke up and put his hand on his brother's shoulder in an endearing manner.  Anders was one of the brothers that bully him, and Hans can spy the mischievous smile his brother tried to hide.

"Us too," chimed in the other two, Dennis and Markus, that used to tease him. Hans felt disdained.

But Andrew announced, "No. You two will go to Weselton. The duke is getting frustrated not being able to settle our agreement."

"And what agreement is that?" Dennis asked.

"Our country has not been trading our goods with Weselton." Andrew sat on his marble throne. "We are experiencing a famine here, and we need you to talk the duke into being patient."

The two bowed their heads, trying to conceal their annoyed frowns. "Fine," they grumbled in unison.

"Five more will go elsewhere to seek help for restoring our resources and explain to other kingdoms that we will no be able to trade goods until five years. Rest of you shall stay," Andrew explained. "You are dismissed."

As they were walking back to their rooms, Anders, along with Dennis and Markus were snickering and grinning amongst themselves. "Brother dear," Dennis greeted him as they bump elbows

"Arendelle will be mine once I marry your precious princess. I am the most charming in our family, you know?"

"We know," Markus chimed in. "And once he rules, we'll be the first of his Kingsguard."

"So you better not mess this up, little brother," Anders spat and went to his room.

Hans was left in the empty hall, his eyes burning with anger, his fists clenched and his breaths deep. He returned to his chambers and immediately kick a leg of his vanity off. The desk fell with a loud thud. But his angst did not end there. "Stupid sons of ... Argh!" He grabbed a flower vase and threw it towards the fallen mirror the vanity, the mirror where if he goes in front, it will show him more mirrors and a tunnel leading into the dark. Every time he looks at any mirror, this is what it shows him. Useless piece of reflecting glass, never showing my face...

The mirror and the vase both shattered at contact. Hans bent and touched his knees and breathed deep breaths.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, friend," someone said. 

"Huh?" Hans stood erect and found a man sitting on a chair in the lounge area of his room. Seeing that's it's only a man, he bent again to breath. "Who are you?"

The man stood. "I am Loki. Son of Odin, the king of the Norse gods. And I have a proposition for you." He, with his hands behind him, hopped off the emerging stairs around the lounge and walked to Hans, who was slowly gasping for breath. Loki extended a hand and Hans took his and help him make proper his posture.

Hans retorted, "You're no god." He laughed. "You're a funny man. Now run along back to your circus before I call my guards."

Loki glowered. "You're testing my patience."

"No," said Hans firmly. "You're testing mine. Now get out!" he shouted and pointed at the door but Hans's hand returned to his side. Peculiar, he thought. He tried to examine his arm but his head couldn't move. Not only his head, his whole body. Hans struggled but notice Loki wasn't helping him. He looked at Loki, who merely smiled and gestured to him in a commanding way that offended him.

Hans was lifted, his feet above the ground, by an invisible force. He glided towards the chairs of the lounge. Once he was just above one chair, he was dropped by the invisible force and he landed painfully on his ass. When he did, the floral patterns from the lounge chair came to life and held tightly his arms and legs to the recliner. "Ugh!" he grunted.

Loki walked to the lounge, pulled a chair for himself and sat. He placed his elbow on the coffee table between them. "Now do you believe in Norse deities?"

"What do you want?" Hans almost shouted, only he does not want his the triplets to hear him squeal.

"That is not the question here," Loki replied. He looked at Hans and the young prince could almost see pity in the strange magician's eyes. "What do you want?"

Eyes frowned. "Who cares what I want, I'm not going to get it anyway."

"What if you can? You're just too lazy to find a way around your troubles."

"So?" Hans sneered.

"I can get you around those troubles," Loki said with a grin though Hans knew what was coming next: On one condition...

"But I can't get you to success unless you don't undergo a difficult procedure."

Toldja. But Hans furrowed his brows. "What procedure?"

Loki rose from his seat, smiled a sinister smile at Hans and spoke, "Geocian." and the room was filled with blinding luminescence.