A/N: This story is set in my own version of the Frozen setting. I'll provide more information as the story goes on, but a few notes for now:

- As I have not seen Tangled, it does not exist. There are no crossovers with any other works, save one sorta-crossover with the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

- They do have some advanced devices (bicycles, clocks), but no gunpowder. Or at least, it isn't common.

- While it is heavily based on medieval Europe, this setting is NOT medieval Europe. They practice Christianity, but it is closer to Eastern Orthodox than Roman Catholic.

Highchester

Kingdom of the Southern Isles

King Andrew IV of the Southern Isles looked down the long table. He saw a familiar sight: his younger brothers, seated in order of age. Since his coronation three years ago, he had arranged that once a month, he and his brothers would meet and speak of matters important both to the realm and to the House of Westerguard. He had hoped this might put a damper on infighting and rivalry - his nightmare was that the petty squabbles and brawls that had echoed through the palace when they were children might now involve armies and assassins.

It had not been easy. Westerguards were prone to holding grudges. One of the bigger sources of conflict lay between Prince William, the second eldest brother, and Prince James, the third eldest. Being the only brothers aside from Andrew himself with any reasonable chance of taking the throne, they had often clashed. One of the more recent sources of tension was over Lady Beatrice, only daughter of the late Count of Seahaven. Both brothers had courted her, and two years ago, James had married her, making himself Count of Seahaven, and one of the most powerful nobles in the realm. Andrew had advised William to accept his defeat graciously. Instead, William had refused to even attend their wedding.

But this meeting was different. One brother was missing: Prince Hans, the youngest. Hans had been one of James' allies, mostly out of resentment for the way that William, along with Prince Karl and Prince Stanley, had pretended for three years that Hans didn't even exist. Andrew had thought that it had been funny the first three minutes, but three years? No wonder Hans had held a grudge.

None of them had had any illusions about Hans' reasons for going to Arendelle. While he was thirteenth in line to the throne, he was widely considered a very handsome young man. If he could woo either Queen Elsa or Princess Anna, or even simply persuade Queen Elsa of the benefits of an alliance with the Southern Isles, he could become King of Arendelle in one fell swoop. Andrew would have welcomed such an alliance, especially if it meant more of Arendelle's timber, furs, and ice flowing into Highchester and Seahaven rather than Weselton.

But now a routine attempt for a marital alliance had turned into disaster. Leaving aside that Queen Elsa possessed ice magic and could bring about an eternal winter if she got too stressed, Hans had definitely tried to kill Elsa, and possibly Princess Anna as well. If he hadn't been a foreign prince, his head would probably be decorating the gates to the royal palace in Arendelle. Instead, they had sent him back to the Southern Isles. Which meant it now fell to King Andrew and the other eleven princes to determine his fate.

Breaking out of his reverie, Andrew brought his scepter down on the table. It was a gentle thing, but the scepter was heavy enough that it made a very audible sound, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "My brothers," he began, "we face a most troubling issue. Our youngest brother, Prince Hans, is accused by the Kingdom of Arendelle of attempting to murder both Queen Elsa and Princess Anna in an attempt to seize the throne for himself. Queen Elsa has graciously allowed us to determine his fate. The question falls to us: what shall his fate be?"

Prince William spoke first. "Your Majesty, it seems to me that this is merely a diplomatic gesture, albeit a great one that speaks well of Queen Elsa. Arendelle would have been within their rights to execute Prince Hans themselves,. They have, as you said, graciously allowed us to determine his fate. I say that we should repay their gesture in kind, and send him back to Arendelle!"

Prince James slammed a fist on the table. "And what will the people say if we do that? That we do not care for our own? He is our brother." He turned to Andrew. "Your Majesty, we cannot send him back. Arendelle has permitted us to decide his own fate. If Queen Elsa wanted him dead, she would have had him executed, or even killed him herself! We should not send him back, nor should we even consider executing him ourselves. To do so would destroy the unity among us that you have worked so hard to build."

Andrew nodded. James was good, very good. And yes, Andrew had, ever since he was small, tried to keep his brothers united, or at least united behind him. In truth, he had allowed some of their rivalries to continue, as long as he wasn't involved. Princes against princes was bad, but better than princes against the king. "So, I should pardon him?"

James visibly deflated. As Hans' ally and patron, James, more than any other, would want him alive and free. But Andrew didn't like the idea. Aside from the repercussions of pardoning a man accused of attempted regicide, the Hans Andrew knew would not be capable of such crimes… which suggested he didn't know the real Hans at all. A man capable of deception and regicide like that was not a man Andrew wanted running around with the privileges and powers of a Prince of the Southern Isles.

Prince David, the seventh eldest, was stroking his goatee, which indicated he was working on an idea. Of all his brothers, Andrew trusted David the most. David had been three when Andrew was confirmed as Crown Prince, and had been the first to swear allegiance to his future king. Even as David had grown into a sneaky and clever young man, he had never once given Andrew a reason to distrust him. What ambition he had was apparently fulfilled by being spymaster to the King of the Southern Isles.

"Well, we could keep him imprisoned in the Red Tower, but more than one plot has been hatched from there. So my suggestion is that we have him join the Order of Saint Lucas. Let him atone for his crimes by fighting infidels."

Andrew raised an eyebrow in appreciation. "That would be a clever solution. A Knight of Saint Lucas would forsake noble titles, and was bound to serve the Church for life. But it would be a dignified exile, and Hans would still be able to earn glory and renown in battle." And his own claims that he had tried to save Arendelle from an evil sorceress-queen would probably play well with Grandmaster Frollo.

James opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted when the doors burst open. Andrew rose, his blood boiling. He had given express orders that these meetings would not be interrupted, and that the seneschal should handle all minor matters. But he froze when he saw who was there.

It was Prince Hans, armed with a sword, and surrounded by soldiers. Before Andrew could say anything, four crossbow bolts shot out. One took him in the belly. The others hit Stanley, James, and David. Andrew slumped back into his chair, eyes fluttering as his strength went out of him. But he could still watch in horror as Hans and the soldiers massacred the other princes. The last to die was William, who Hans decapitated. Then Hans stormed over, a cruel smile on his face.

It was in that moment that Andrew realized that he had never truly known Hans at all.

"You'll… you'll…" Andrew choked, finding it hard to speak, especially with blood in his mouth.

"Never get away with this?" Hans offered. "Oh, it'll be difficult, but with the support of the Duchy of Weselton, I think I should be able to keep everyone in line. Especially when the Archbishop of Highchester proclaims that you and the others had been corrupted by demons and were conspiring to send me back to that witch who now rules Arendelle."

Hans lifted Andrew up by his neck and carried him to an open window. He pushed Andrew across the windowsill, stopping just in time to take Andrew's crown and place it atop his head. He was now standing so that the national coat-of-arms - two black lions combatant on a field of white - was framed behind him.

"Goodbye, Your Majesty."

And with that, King Hans pushed his eldest brother ought of the window. It was nearly a hundred feet to the water below.