**Chapter 7: A Night of Despair**

The grand hall of the castle was filled with the murmur of conversation as the royal family and their advisors gathered for a meeting. Prince Hans, the youngest of the thirteen princes, stood at the edge of the room, his auburn hair neatly styled, but his eyes betraying his nervousness. His brothers, Rudi, Runo, Caleb, and Lars, were all present, each with their own distinct personality on display. Caleb, the crown prince, stood at the front of the room, his expression condescending as he addressed the assembly. "I propose that we increase the taxes on the common folk," he said, his voice dripping with superiority. "It is only fair that they contribute to the wealth of our kingdom." Rudi and Runo, the twins, snickered in agreement, their faces cruel and heartless. Hans, however, felt a surge of discomfort. He had always believed that the kingdom's wealth should be used to benefit its people, not just the royal family. When it was Hans's turn to speak, he stammered, his words tumbling out in a rush. "But, brother, if we tax them too heavily, they will have nothing left to live on. Is that truly just?" Rudi and Runo burst out laughing, their jeers echoing through the hall. "Hans, you're so naive," Rudi sneered. "The people are nothing but peasants. They'll do what they're told." Caleb turned to Hans, his expression disdainful. "You're not fit to rule, Hans. You're weak and foolish." The room fell silent, with all eyes on Hans. He felt his face burning with shame and humiliation. His brothers' words cut deep, and for a moment, he wondered if he was indeed fit to be a prince. As the meeting adjourned, Hans stumbled out of the hall, his heart heavy with despair. He felt like he didn't belong, like he was a failure. The weight of his family's expectations bore down on him, and he didn't know how to escape. That night, Hans sought solace in drink, trying to drown his sorrows in the ale. He stumbled from one tavern to another, the liquor burning his throat and clouding his mind. Eventually, he collapsed on the floor, unconscious and alone. The next morning, Queen Marie, Hans's mother, found him lying on the floor, his face pale and clammy. She called for the servants to take him to his chambers, but as she looked at her son, she knew that he needed more than just rest. She sought out Iduna, the queen of Arendelle, who had been recovering in the castle. "Iduna, I need your help," Queen Marie said, her voice urgent. "Hans needs someone to care for him, to help him through this difficult time. Will you be that person?" Iduna nodded, her brown hair styled in a coronet braid, her eyes filled with compassion. "Of course, Your Majesty. I'll do everything I can to help Hans." As Iduna entered Hans's chambers, she was met with the pungent smell of sweat and ale. Hans lay on the bed, his skin hot and flushed. Iduna gently took a rag and a bowl of warm water, preparing to give him a sponge bath. With gentle hands, she began to clean Hans's body, her touch soothing and calming. She washed his face, his neck, and his arms, using a soft rag to wipe away the dirt and grime. As she worked, she sang a soft melody, one that she used to sing to her daughters, Elsa and Anna. Hans, still unconscious, stirred slightly at the sound of Iduna's voice, but he didn't wake up. Iduna continued to care for him, her actions guided by a deep sense of maternal instinct. She had always been a protective and nurturing person, and now she channeled those qualities into helping Hans. As she finished the sponge bath, Iduna pulled the covers up to Hans's chin, making sure he was comfortable and warm. She sat beside him, watching over him as he slept, her presence a beacon of hope in his darkness.