Credits: Thank you hybrid-rain for being an amazing sounding board and the sparks of inspiration.

Disclaimer: Okay, I thought this was a given but I do not own Frozen and its characters, plots, etc and I do not make or intend to make any profit from this.

"Presenting His Highness, Prince Hans of House Westerguard."

Hans strode into the throne room with as much as pride and dignity as he could possibly muster in his situation, his wrists shackled and soldiers on either side of him. Never, not even during his childhood, had he been as humiliated as he was in his misadventures in Arendelle. All of his meticulous planning foiled by something as absurd as true love, by the adolescent Ice Queen and her bumbling fool of a princess. He thought being punched by said princess was the worst of his troubles. But after being carted in the brig of the French vessel to the Southern Isles, subjected to the jeers and taunts of the sailors, he had found his eldest brother, Frederik, waiting for him at the docks with a retinue of soldiers. The moment he saw his tall noble figure standing before him, Hans knew he had little chance for clemency. That had been two weeks ago. Since then he was imprisoned in one of the more comfortable dungeons while he waited for his fate. And now it seemed it was the day his judgment came.

As Crown Prince, Frederik stood closest to the throne. The rest of his brothers were gathered around the dais on which the throne sat on. On either side of the path he walked on stood the courtiers, the detestable sycophants. Some of them he recognised, those that he had helped in exchange for their support. He doubted he would find any from them now. And in front of him, seated above them, all was his father, King Christian of the Southern Isles. The years have slowly took their toll against him but he remained as intimidating as he ever did, gazing down at him with a stern look.

When Hans arrived at the foot of the dais, he did what he knew he had to do. He knelt in front of the throne, the throne that would never be his, and uttered, "Your Majesty." But as he stood to rise, his father's voice boomed, "Did we give you leave to rise, Prince Hans?"

Immediately he went back to his knees and said, "No, Your Majesty." He gritted his teeth as he heard the wisps of stifled laughter from among the court.

"You disappoint us, boy," he continued. "Youngest of our children you may be, we had hoped that you would, at least, display some of the resourcefulness and cleverness your elder brothers have possessed. Instead, we hear you have been defeated in Arendelle, one of the most insignificant kingdoms in the civilised world, and by two girls, no less."

"Your Majesty, it was not my fault," Hans quickly said. "It was…"

"Silence! We have neither the patience nor the desire to listen to your excuses. Do you remember when you came before us in this very room, in front of this court? When you told us that you would return with a kingdom in your hands? Were those not your words?"

Hans suppressed a sigh as he reluctantly said to the ground below him, "They were, Your Majesty."

"And instead, what do you come home with? Nothing. No, not nothing. You brought dishonour and disgrace upon our name, our house, and our kingdom. We have become the laughing stock of all of Europe. Imagine the embarrassment we felt when we received word of your humiliation abroad. Your mother did not give birth to you so you could proceed to shame both her and our ancestors."

"Your Majesty, please…" he tried but again his father interrupted.

"Your brother, Frederik, will go to Arendelle to repair the damage you have caused in our name. While we doubt even they would ever be amiable to us again, a possibility still remains that they will accept our apologies. However we have no illusions that this is a defeat the Southern Isles may never recover from for years and certainly not within our time. Which brings us as to what we should do to you."

Hans stayed silent as he wondered what fate his father had in store for him.

"Some of your brothers argued we send you back to Arendelle as a hostage to ensure them they should not expect any further trouble from us. Others suggested we imprison you indefinitely in one of our towers. Had you lived in the time when we were your age, you would have been beheaded in the public square and regained your honour through death. But it seems we have grown soft in our old age."

Wait, what? Hans thought. Was he actually going to get another chance? Or…

"Prince Hans of House Westerguard, the Fifth of his name," Christian said, "I, Christian of House Westerguard, the Seventh of his name, King of the Southern Isles, hereby order you banished from the Kingdom of the Southern Isles and all of its dominions."

"No, wait," Hans said, his feeble voice overpowered by his father's.

"I strip you of your titles, ranks, and lands, your claim to the throne, and your house."

"Just give me another chance, please," he pleaded in vain.

"Be gone, Hans, for you are no son of mine."

"Father, no, please…" he begged as he craned his head up to look at his father. There was no sign of mercy on his face yet there was no sign of rage either. In fact there was no sign of any emotion at all. It was if his father saw his banishment as insignificant as the dealings of a fishmonger. His brothers expressed mixed reactions. Some showed glee at their youngest brother's humiliation. One or two even showed a silver of pity yet did nothing to defy their father's will. But the rest were as impassive as the king.

Frederik descended down the dais as the guards pulled Hans from the ground and dragged him, his boots scrapping against the floor. Hans looked at his eldest brother as they walked under the furious mutterings of the court, looking for any sign of fraternal sympathy.

"Frederik, please," he said. "Tell Father that this was only a mistake. That it won't happen again. I can make it better. I can prove my worth. I just need more time." But his brother shook his head.

"The King's word is law, Hans," he said. "There is a ship, the Eksile, waiting at the docks. It will take you anywhere you wish to go outside our domains. In addition to what belongings you took to Arendelle, you have a small chest of gold, enough to establish yourself with modest comfort and make your own fortune. Upon arriving at your destination, the Eksile will immediately sail back home."

They reached the threshold of the throne room when Frederik said, "And one more thing."

Hans looked at him and saw his brother's cold glare piercing him. It was like seeing his father's eyes again.

"If you ever show your face in the Southern Isles again, I will kill you myself." And with that, the door slammed in his face, leaving him seething in rage. He angrily shouldered off the guards' grip over him and walked towards the docks, his mind working furiously to conjure a plan while clouded by his rage. Rage against the injustice of his father, the apathy of his brothers, and, what burned the hottest, against the royal sisters of Arendelle. It was their fault his plans fell apart, their fault he was forced to return empty handed, their fault his father and brothers were so mad at him. He clenched his fists at the thought to the point his nails nearly broke through the gloves. If he had to, he would burn the entire kingdom to the ground just to make them pay for what they did to him.

But he didn't have to do that. Not yet, at least. He could still take over the kingdom, he could still humiliate the sisters, and once he did, he would return home as the prodigal and triumphant son. He just needed time to conceive of a plan strong enough to ensure his victory and money, more than the pittance his family saw fit to give him, to bring his plans to fruition. The former he would get on the ship and the latter… A sudden blow of inspiration took him. When he arrived at the Eksile, the captain walked to him without proper greeting and asked, "Where to, sir?"

"Set course for Weselton," he commanded.

Author's Notes:

It is not my intention to depict the Southern Isles as a diabolical empire bent on world domination because quite simply they wouldn't last long until a conglomeration of European empires assembled and crushed them. However, I do see Hans' family as a very competitive family encouraged by their father to make them prove themselves to him. If you're finding yourself being sympathetic to Hans, don't worry. He's going to have plenty of asshole moments to come.

I highly encourage constructive criticism and feedback. Those are the instruments by which art evolves.