Kindled

Chapter 1: Coarse

By: Lady Yami / Moonybell

AN: Hello. I feel like I should preface this by immediately stating this is a GENDER SWAP. It takes place after the movie. If you do not like gender swaps, then...you will not like this. It is Hans/Elsa and Anna/Kristoff, except y'know...swapped genders. Why did I decide to swap the genders? I'm not particularly sure, but it's fun to write. Feedback appreciated, hi and stuff. For clarification:

Hannah = Hans

Elias = Elsa

Arvid = Anna

Kjerstin = Kristoff

I don't own Frozen, etc.

X X X

I woke up this morning not quite knowing if I'd be executed or not.

Most of my nights had been sleepless, really. What bitter snatches of rest I had were pervaded by nightmares. In the easy to swallow ones, I was simply executed. In the horrifying ones, I was left alone to die in a cell somewhere. For the thousandth time it seemed, I glanced between the weathered bars of my confines and out towards my kingdom. If I could call it my kingdom, anymore. Over and over, it summoned the image of King Elias, bound and desperate. Irony didn't even begin to cover it, I thought. My shackles clattered as I turned on my cot. No. Didn't even begin to cover it. The rough-spun fabric of my coarse dress dragged over my dry cheek. I remembered to wince.

Footfalls made heavy by soldiering boots echoed down the hallway outside my cell. The bolt slid, and with a wheezing creak, I had company.

"Hannah." Sighed the third eldest, Felix. "It's time." Two soldiers stepped forwards to pick me up, while my brother watched dispassionately. He didn't make eye contact with me anymore. Not that he did much to begin with. It mattered not anyway, for a cloth sack was put over my head. I wondered what the point of that was, really. Everyone knew about the Southern Isles' evil princess. The venomous snake who'd courted one royal to kill the other. That was me. What was the point of a sack?

I'd really done a number on myself. And my family. I struggled to care about the latter. Seems as though they'd kill me anyway. My clan was a veritable group of experts at brushing their hands of things they found vulgar as quickly and apathetically as could be done. I knew this dearly, because I was many times the one cast aside.

Between my cell and the palace, I caught a few blessed seconds of the tropical breeze my country was celebrated for. It wasn't long before I was counting the familiar twenty three steps to the throne room under my feet, and the smell of father's cigars that clung to the upholstery. Mother so hated him smoking in there, but he did anyway. It was good to be king.

I heard a great rustling of feet, coughing, and general awkwardness that always came with these meetings. I'm sure my identity caused the situation to be more delicate still. The sack was pulled from my head. Less people than I'd originally surmised would be in attendance. The King and Queen must have done their best to keep it as private as possible. Still, there was everyone important. My parents. All twelve of my siblings, all brothers in proud military uniforms.

I'd been in a stupor for most of my arrest, the whole listless month of it, and even with my own death growing closer, I'd felt quite removed from it all. I'd been as numb as I could be, until I caught my reflection in the grand mirror that adorned the side of the room. One on each wall, to make the room look bigger, mother had said. Much of my childhood had played out in those mirrors. Playing, reading at my father's feet, watching him run the country. The time when one of my brothers let a frog lose during a visiting dignitary's speech. I could not have imagined the reflection it threw back at me now.

They'd cut my hair off. I knew that, of course. I knew why they did it. It was one of the first things they'd done. Shame, shame on you. Let your hair fall as far as your dignity. You've lost the privilege. Ginger locks stuck out at uneven angles, hastily sliced. Boy short, and so uncouthly jagged. Purple bags were stark under my seagreen eyes. I'd once thought myself at least half decent looking. I couldn't brush Mother's austere beauty, certainly, or the Snow King's perfection. I mourned my hair, more than my own life, for a moment. If they were going to kill me, they could have at least buried me with it. I felt it was my right as a woman. I tried to straighten my back. Nights of insomnia and a hard cot did my spine no service. I withered, just a bit.

The King stood. The hush intensified, if possible. One of my brothers- I couldn't tell you who, came up behind me and pushed me to my knees. In the silence of the hall, my own indignant squeak of pain was boomingly loud. My mother winced, turning her head away. The trial was swift.

"Hannah, Princess of the Southern Isles." He started, steely gaze unflinching as ever. "You have made attempts on an innocent life. And not only that, you made attempts on the life of the king of one of our allies." He gained momentum. "You manipulated Prince Arvid, plotted against countless allied emissaries, and attempted to take the life of King Elias." He paused again, seeming to have trouble continuing. I dared to look up, and regretted it. I'd never seen my father have any trouble telling anyone anything. Ever. My brothers were a mix of emotion, from cold to barely holding back tears. The twelfth son, and my twin, was being held back by two others. I'm sorry, Aron, I wanted to tell him, but couldn't. His voice broke a bit. "Hannah, Princess of the Southern Isle. Thirteenth of my children. My only girl." His voice cracked. "You are sentenced to death for treason."

I didn't move, I'd already expected it. Aron swore. The audience mumbled. My sentence was mete. The sack was pulled back over my head, and I was already being pulled to my feet in a daze.

The last thing I heard, as I was pulled from the throne room, was my mother's wail: a solitary, high pitched thing that shattered what was left of my heart.

X X X

I woke up cold. In the early dawn of my kingdom, it was cool. But never cold. There was a great commotion from outside. I was torn, then, between letting myself sleep or waking up to spend the last few hours of my short life doing something. What could I do, really? Pray? Hardly. I'll save my dignity. What was left of it. I fingered my destroyed locks morosely.

"I beg of you, y-" A guard's voice called out. My, that was a lot of people. Could they truly need half the guard to bring a half-starved girl to her death? Seemed like overkill, to me. The people's taxes being squandered, as usual. Well. At least I wouldn't have to worry about that business any longer. Or my hair. Or anything, really. Another day in this horrid, sandpapery excuse for a garment would probably be too much for me, anyway.

I pulled myself to a sitting position shakily, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my head atop them. I listened to the tumultuous storm of whatever drew closer, and dearly wished for a sandwich. My very soul called for a sandwich. I was just dreaming about pickles when the noise finally reached my door.

"I insist, you leave the lady in peace. Rest assured, her sentence will be carried out as per our law. You need not worry that justice will not be-"

"Oh, do bugger off." Came a crisp, confident voice.

"H-hey. El. That's not nice, he's only doing his job. And you can't just-" Came another, achingly familiar one.

Then, my door blew open. I did not expect that. I put forth my best effort at a royal shriek of feminine indignation, my last one, and barely managed to croak. Bugger. A glass of water with that sandwich would be just heavenly. I'd somehow summoned the energy to stand up on my cot, back to the wall. I couldn't get far, due to my shackles.

King Elias of Arendelle stood in the doorway to my prison cell. I stared. Dust from the shattered door mingled with glittering ice crystals in the pink dawn light. From behind him, Prince Arvid starred at me with great dark owl eyes, freckled face nervous.

I took a shuddery breath.

"Hello, Hannah." Said the Snow King, calm as a glacier despite all the bumbling guards around him. "Fancy seeing you here."

My chains rattled as I plopped down again.

That wasn't a sandwich at all.