Hans looked out the window, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His breath caught in his throat. It was snowing! Hans jumped out of bed, throwing on clothes quickly and running out the door as he pulled on his left boot. "Guys! Guys! It's snowing!" He called throughout the halls as he skidded to a stop outside his eldest brother's.
"Thomas! Thomas! Do you want to build a snowman? It's snowing outside! Come on!" Hans beat his small, childlike hands against the door. "Go away, Hans. I'm studying." His brother called back. Not defeated yet, Hans ran to the next door. The twins would build a snowman with him, right?
"Arno! Leon! It's snowing! Let's all build a snowman, come on!" he pounded against the ornate door. In unison, they called back. "No, Hans. The last time we played with you, Arno broke a finger." Hans frowned, "Because you pushed me down the stairs and I accidentally grabbed Arno's finger!" He called defensively. They hit the door hard, startling Hans. Sad, but still not defeated, he continued to ask his brothers to build a snowman with him.
With each 'no', Hans lost his hopeful voice and cheery attitude for the day. The last brother, only two years older than him, had slammed the door in his face. Was he really that annoying? Deflated, he trudged to his mother's room and knocked lightly on the door.
"Hans?" She called. "Yes, mother." He replied, voice low. "Come in!"
He walked inside, closing the door gently. "Mother, no one will play in the snow with me." He said, pouting sadly. His brothers never played with him. His mother sighed, patting the bed next to her.
She was a sick woman, unable to leave bed and constantly ignored by her husband and other twelve sons. Hans, the youngest, was they only son that ever visited. He ran over to her bedside, climbing up next to her and resting against her side. "Mummy? When you're better, you'll build a snowman with me... right?" He asked, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. "I would love to build a snowman with you, Hans." She replied, wrapping an arm around him and hugging him tightly.
Her bed was positioned right next to the window so she had something to look at. Most days, when Hans was outside, he would wave up to her as he ran around and explored. It was enough to bring light to her boring life in bed. Hans was her little boy; her cheer.
Smiling, he sat up. "Mummy, lets play the story game!" He said. The queen smiled at him and nodded. Hans jumped up, retrieving the serving platter from the bedside table. The servants always had the instruction to leave one there in case Hans and his mother played the game.
He opened the drawer and pulled out a pillowcase. He wrapped it around his face, trying to fashion a knight's helmet. Looking at his mother, she laughed and fixed it so he could see. Han's grinned underneath the fabric. He took his wooden spoon and ran to the center of the room so his mother could see him.
He stood in a awkward stance, trying to seem big and tough. The queen couldn't withhold her giggles. "You look so handsome, Hans." She indulged him, when he really just looked adorable and childlike. He nodded excitedly, holding up his spoon. "The last time we played, the dragon was just about to shoot fire at me!" he said.
The queen nodded knowingly. "And what did the young hero do?"
Hans thought for a minute, eyebrows furrowing deeply. "I hold up my magic sword and say the words that the wizard told me to say!" "Then say them, quickly! The dragon is getting ready!" She said, voice urgent.
Hans gasped, screaming out a string of sounds that formed no real words. "The dragon's fire surrounds the young hero... but he's left unscathed!" his mother called out dramatically. Hans jumped with joy, "Now I need to slay it!" He said, holding his spoon dangerously. "You must attack quickly!" She pulled a pillow from the other side of her bed and threw it at him. "From your right!" she warned. Hans spun around, smacking it aside with his spoon. She tossed another, and he deflected it, looking very much like he had slayed his first monster. "Now the dragon!" She pulled her last, biggest pillow, and threw it at him. It was so much energy to throw so many things, she felt exhausted. The queen leaned back, closing her eyes and missing her son as he parried away the 'dragon'.
"Mummy! I hit it so hard I killed it! Did you see that?" He cried out, dropping his shield and running over to her. She smiled, eyes still closed. "I'm sorry, Hans. I'm sleepy now. Too much excitement for a storyteller." She said lightly. "It's okay, mother. I know you try your best." He said, kneeling at her bed. "I'll always be here for you, even if no one else is." He said. And in those small words of a child, she felt her strength building up.

"Lady Catherine!" The guards rushed into her room, holding a grown up Hans between them. Slowly, she turned her head from the window. "Hans." She said, voice catching. "I'm... I'm sorry mother. I was going to be a king and I was going to move you to Arendelle... I thought you would like it there. A different view, I thought..." He said, eyes not looking up from the floor.
"Leave him here."
"But my lady-"
"I am still your queen. Leave him here, I must talk to my son."
They dropped the chains, and Hans sunk to he knees once the doors were closed behind them.
"I did horrible things..." He whispered.
The queen stared at the floor, seeing a small droplet of water collect on the wood. She hated to see her son cry.
"I will always love you, Hans. But I can't protect you. I never could." She said. Her hair, once brown was now entirely grey. Her wrinkled hands were small and rested on her lap. She brought a cloth to her mouth, coughing. It came away stained with blood. Her illness only got worse.
"You always protected me... You kept the sadness away." Hans was neglected being the thirteenth son. His father never thought he would be as great a swordsman as Thomas or Phillip. Never as smart as Viktor. Just Hans; the boy with a huge imagination and no outlet.
Lady Catherine felt tears collecting in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Queens didn't cry.
"It's not my time, anymore. Once I'm dead-"
"You won't die." Hans spat out, finally rising his eyes to her. Even as an aged woman, her eyes were as clear and green as her son's.
"No one can live forever, and my passing is near." She said, coughing once again, this time it seemed almost violent.
Hans struggled to his feet and walked over to her bed. His hands were chained behind his back so he couldn't hug her. "What you did, you did out of loneliness and out of the need to feel wanted. Am I wrong?" She asked.
Hans didn't reply. Her statement was spot-on.
"But I always wanted you. You're my son, my youngest boy." She coughed, choking on her own blood. "Guards!" She called. They rushed in. "I want him pardoned." She rasped out, wiping her lips with the cloth. "But lady-" "He has done no crime that wasn't foreseen by his abandonment." She spat out, using the last bit of ferocity she had. "Take him to his room and remove the chains." She said, looking away from Hans.
It struck him, a sudden knowing that she was dying. "Mother, I won't leave you in your last hours!"
"My last minutes. I want you to remember me as I was. Playing the story game with you." She said. The guards grabbed his arms, leading him away. "NO! Don't take me from her! Don't you see she's dying!" He cried out, angry tears rolling down his face. "I love, Hans. I always did, and I always will; my favorite son." She said.
He cried out one last time, "Mummy!" as the doors shut tightly and Lady Catherine took her last breath. She died remembering the child who wanted to build a snowman and used a spoon as a sword.