Chapter 2: Descent into Madness

The grand, yet dingy, room within the castle walls was dimly lit, with only a few flickering candles to illuminate the space. The air was thick with the scent of old stone and stale air, a stark contrast to the vibrant and charming personality that once inhabited the room. Hans, once a prince with a promising future, now lay restrained on a bed, his wrists and ankles bound by thick leather straps. The sound of his labored breathing was the only indication that he was still alive, a stark reminder of the turmoil brewing inside his mind. His eyes, once bright and full of life, now seemed dull and lifeless, sunken into his pale skin like two empty wells. His dark hair, once perfectly styled, now lay matted and unkempt on the pillow, a testament to the chaos that had consumed his mind. The king, his father, stood over him, a mixture of concern and frustration etched on his face, his eyes clouded with worry. "Hans, my son, what has happened to you?" the king asked, his voice laced with sorrow, his words barely above a whisper. "You were once a prince with a promising future, but now... now you're a shadow of your former self." The king's voice cracked as he spoke, his emotions raw and exposed. Lars, who had been summoned by his father, entered the room with a somber expression, his eyes fixed on his brother's frail form. "Father, I've tried to reach out to him, but he's beyond reason," he said, his voice low and concerned. "I fear for his safety and the safety of others." Lars's words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. The king nodded, his eyes clouding over with worry, his mind racing with thoughts of what could have been. "I agree," he said, his voice firm. "We need to find a way to help him, but until then, we must ensure he doesn't harm himself or anyone else." The king's words were laced with a sense of desperation, a sense of urgency that hung in the air like a challenge. As the days passed, Hans's condition only worsened. His outbursts became more frequent, and his family grew increasingly concerned, their faces etched with worry and fear. It was then that Lars decided to take a drastic measure – he would send for Anna, the princess of Arendelle, who had been wronged by Hans in the past. Lars knew that Anna's presence might be the only thing that could calm Hans down, and he hoped that she would be willing to help. He was aware that Anna hadn't forgiven Hans for his betrayal, but he hoped that she would put aside her feelings for the sake of her friend, Elsa, and the fragile mental state of her former love. With a heavy heart, Lars dispatched a messenger to Arendelle, hoping that Anna would answer the call and help his brother, Hans, back from the brink of madness. The messenger was instructed to be discreet, to avoid drawing attention to the royal family's private struggles. As the messenger departed, Lars couldn't help but wonder if they were already too late. Had Hans's mental state deteriorated beyond repair, or was there still a glimmer of hope? Only time would tell, and Lars could only hope that Anna would arrive in time to save his brother from himself. The room fell silent, the only sound the soft creaking of the old wooden floorboards beneath Lars's feet. He stood there for a moment, his eyes fixed on his brother's frail form, his heart heavy with worry and concern. What had happened to the charming and charismatic prince that Hans once was? And would they be able to save him from the darkness that had consumed him?