Children of the Winter

Chapter 2: She Noticed Him

Hans. A simple name. Just four letters, like in Elsa's name.

"So, if your brother's a prince, that makes you a prince too," realized Elsa. "Will you be king someday?"

Hans breathed heavily and his lip quivered. "Anton says I'll never be a king because I have twelve brothers. They say I'm last in line for the throne And Leopold said I'm useless. Never a king, always a prince."

"That isn't very nice of them. Don't listen to them."

"Okay, Els- Princess Elsa," he said quietly, trying to smile. "How old are you, Princess Elsa?"

"I am six, Prince Hans. Three plus three equals six," she stated.

"I know that. I'm eight."

Hans' brother Karl, an older-looking version of the littlest prince, cut in all of a sudden.

"Oh, look at the two little children. One of them will be Queen of Arendelle and the other will amount to nothing," he scoffed.

Little Elsa folded her arms. "Hans is a king, too."

"Really?" mocked Anton, the oldest of the three.

"Yes... he's the king of..." she looked out the window at the light snow that gently fell. "Winter. King Hans of Winter."

The boy and the girl smugly smiled and left the ballroom, entering the carpeted hall. The hallway was much quieter than the ballroom, but faint music could still be heard.

"King Hans of Winter?" the little prince asked dubiously. "I've never been king of anything before." In spite of himself, he blushed.

"Do you want to explore my Papa's castle?" the girl asked. Hans nodded eagerly and the two ran off down the corridor together. When they came to a large window, they stopped.

Elsa hid her hands behind her back in case she accidentally started freezing things, just as Papa had warned her to do, but she pushed the thought to the back of her mind and focused on the outside scene. It was a light, calming November snowfall, a beautiful evening. She didn't know what to say to her new friend, so she remained quiet.

Hans didn't talk much either. He knew his place- last. Last Prince of the Southern Isles. Last to be born. Last to get dessert at dinner. Last to be king. The boy in last place was supposed to be seen and not heard. But he spoke. "Thank you, Elsa."

"Thank you for what, Hans?"

"For noticing me. For being nice," he clarified. Growing up with a dozen brothers, Hans didn't know what girls were really like. His mother hadn't shown him much affection, but if most girls were like Princess Elsa, he would have been happy.