**The Fall of Hans**

The cold, unforgiving fjords of Arendelle seemed to whisper a haunting melody as Hans stood on the deck of the ship, his eyes fixed on the receding horizon. The memories of his betrayal and defeat still lingered, a festering wound that refused to heal. The crew's murmurs and the creaking of the wooden hull were the only sounds that broke the silence, a somber reminder of his downfall. As the ship sailed into the Southern Isles, Hans' thoughts drifted to his family, particularly his brother Lars, who had always been a voice of reason in their chaotic household. The Southern Isles, a land of rugged beauty, now seemed to loom over him like a specter of shame and disappointment. The once-familiar landscape now felt foreign, a constant reminder of his failure. The ship docked, and Hans was greeted by the stern faces of his family members, their expressions a mix of disdain and disappointment. His father, King Westergard, stood at the forefront, his eyes blazing with anger and disgust. The air was heavy with tension as Hans' brothers, Rudi and Runo, sneered at him, their cruel words cutting deep. "So, this is the great Hans, returned in triumph," Rudi sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm surprised they didn't chain you to the ship's hull." Hans' anger flared, but he bit back his retort, knowing that any further confrontation would only lead to more trouble. His father's scowl deepened, and he spat on the ground at Hans' feet. "You're a shame to our family, Hans," King Westergard growled. "You've brought nothing but dishonor to our name." As Hans was dragged away, he caught a glimpse of Lars, who looked at him with a mixture of sadness and concern. It was a fleeting moment, but Hans sensed that his brother was genuinely worried about him. The journey to the palace was a blur, as Hans was thrown into a cold, dark cell, the only sound the creaking of the wooden door and the distant clang of metal on metal. Days passed, or maybe it was weeks; time lost all meaning as Hans' mental state began to unravel. Paranoia crept in, and his anger simmered, always on the verge of boiling over. The palace staff whispered among themselves, exchanging worried glances whenever they saw Hans. His behavior grew increasingly erratic, and it became clear that he needed to be restrained. The family made the difficult decision to put him in restraints on a bed, a desperate measure to protect both Hans and those around him. As the days turned into weeks, Hans' wrists grew raw and sore, a testament to his struggles against the restraints. His mind was a maelstrom of emotions, a tangled web of anger, shame, and despair. The darkness closed in around him, and Hans felt himself slipping further into the abyss. In a last-ditch effort to save his brother, Lars sent a messenger to Arendelle, to seek the help of Anna, the very person Hans had betrayed. It was a desperate plea, but Lars hoped that Anna might be able to reach Hans, to bring him back from the brink of madness. The fate of Hans, and perhaps the entire Southern Isles, hung in the balance, as Lars waited with bated breath for Anna's response.