[personal profile] amaranthinewriter
Turning over to his side, Hans found himself no longer in an incarcerated institution; the dark, gloomy, shroud surroundings dissipating to an iron hearth where Hans felt it warming his face to the tips of his toes. No longer were authoritative men in dark uniforms with predatory glares looming over him. Rather, Hans woke to the profile of a large man looming over the iron cast stove, humming to himself as he took care of a dish which scent filled the entire home with such an earthy, warm delight that overwhelmed Hans' senses. The prince blinked and stared at the blonde's profile, confused for a few seconds, until he attempted sitting up, aches and pains rippled through his body, the stinging of wounds and a pounding in his skull were all that remained from the events prior. Moaning, Hans signaled his wakefulness, which caused Kristoff to comment tersely.

"Oh good. Just in time too."

Stirring slightly from his dazed state, Hans had memories of loud hollering, hooting of alcohol scented prisoners and guards. Blood, sweat, and vomit mixed with blows from fists to his torso, boot kicks to his sides, and blunt blows from the stock of rifles to his head, all of them flooded back as he gently applied pressure to the places that hurt the most, which were now bandaged with what looked like some animal skin wraps covering herbal remedies that arose in Hans' nostrils.

Finally, with the supper ready, Kristoff was in Hans view, lowering himself and the food to Hans level. Images of a man in regal, princely attire flooded Hans' memory, looming down at Hans with cold calculation with a hint of sadistic lust.

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