In the Shadow of Camelot
(A/N: This chapter was kind of born out of speculation of what it would be like to find a perfectly preserved medieval city and be the first to traverse it in centuries. Also from speculation about how it would feel if the people who once lived there could come back to it. Kind of like going back to your hometown that's become a ghost town over the years. The poem quoted in this chapter is 'The Lady of Shallot' by Alfred Tennyson, but not the whole thing. I took mainly the parts that describe Camelot without only a couple exceptions, and it doesn't feel like it has closure becaue it's not the whole poem, but the whole
poem is incredibly long and would take up too much space, so I kind of let it slip to the wayside. Enjoy.)
Hans, Kristoff, Erik, and Francis stepped off the boat onto the large docks. Erik, Francis, and Kristoff looked utterly amazed, never having seen this place before. Hans looked around for Duke Carl Alexander, who was staying in Britain at a vacation home. He'd informed his friend of their immanent arrival and Carl had determined to meet them personally. It didn't take long to spot him when he was sitting in probably one of the most splendid carriages Hans had ever seen. The man, or someone in his household, had expensive tastes. "Come on, this way," he said to his three friends, making his way towards the carriage.
"We're going in that?!" Kristoff exclaimed, flabbergasted.
"Royalty, peasant. Royalty," Hans replied, smirking. Kristoff frowned at the peasant remark but let it go.
Carl, waiting inside the carriage, stepped out and gave Kristoff an incredulous once-over. "We're bringing that?" he dryly asked.
"Go screw yourself!" Kristoff protested.
"I have people to do that for me," Carl replied, smirking teasingly. Kristoff blinked then gave an unimpressed frown before rolling his eyes.
"He takes getting used to," Hans brushed off. He entered the carriage followed by the Duke, then Erik and Francis, then Kristoff.
"So, girl troubles was it?" Carl asked.
Hans grimaced. "Let's not talk about it," he replied. Carl smirked. "Straight to Dickens' residence or lunch first?"
"Lunch with who?" Hans asked.
"Everyone," Carl replied.
"Charles, don't tell me you arranged a shindig," Hans said, grimacing.
"Of course I did," he replied. "Why not? Gives you a chance to rant about your marital problems with the boys. I'm sure you've had quite enough of feminine companionship for a while."
"Let's not talk about it," he repeated with a groan, blushing. "By everyone you mean…?"
"Myself, Edvard, Harald, Jekyll, Jekyll's friend Gabriel John Utterson, and if you're really dying to know, Dickens will actually be there as well. You can go home with him afterwards," Carl said. He looked over at the other three. "But he won't have room for all of you. Hmm… I'll tell you what, I'll put you up in my manor."
"Your hospitality is appreciated," Francis said.
Carl nodded and turned to Hans. "They're eager to see you, your highness," he said, smiling.
"No using my real title in front of Dickens, okay?" Hans said a bit nervously.
"Yes, yes, I caught on fast how he feels about royalty so don't worry about it," Carl said. "He won't hear it from me."
"He doesn't know you're royalty? You know, the longer you keep secrets like that the more damaging it's gonna be to the friendship when he finally finds out. Which he will. They always do," Kristoff said.
"I know, I know, just… I'm working up to it, okay?" Hans mumbled, a bit embarrassed.
Carl looked out the window. "Here it is," he said with a smile as they neared a large restaurant. The carriage pulled to a stop and the party stepped out. "Brace yourselves, gents. This is going to be damn entertaining." The group approached the doors and stepped into a large and elaborately decorated room with stairs leading upwards. Their coats and hats were taken and they walked up the steps before entering into the dining area. Kristoff's mouth dropped. Even Erik and Francis looked a little shocked and unsure what to say about this. Hans seemed totally at ease and so did Carl. "There they are, boys," Carl said, pointing out a table around which were gathered their party minus Jekyll and Utterson it seemed. Carl whistled and all sorts of eyes looked over, but it was their party who reacted.
"Hans!" Harald exclaimed excitedly, leaping up with a wide grin beaming at the older man. He ran towards him and embraced him tightly before kissing him on the cheek. Erik and Francis gave Hans incredulous looks, Erik raising his eyebrow. Hans winced and turned attention back to Harald. "Gods I've missed you," the dancer said, pulling away but still holding his arms.
"I've missed you too," Hans replied, smiling fondly.
"Come, all of you. Let's sit down," Harald said, taking Hans' arm and pulling him along. Erik, Francis, and Kristoff exchanged looks before following.
"Mr. Hans Andersen! It's been too long," Charles Dickens greeted, grinning at his friend and going to Hans, clapping him on the shoulders. "I was worried we'd never meet again say for through letter, the rate things were going."
"Charles, it's great to see you," Hans said, grinning.
"Sit, my friend, there's so much to discuss! Tell me of your newest stories and I'll tell you of my book," Dickens said.
"Save it for home, Charles," Hans replied, laughing. "Then we can talk one another's ears off. Right now, though, there are others to entertain as well."
"Fine," Charles said with a huff, sitting down.
"Oh come off it, Charles. Relax," Carl said. Charles huffed at him—nobility and all, and he low-key resented they shared a first name though 'Charles' wasn't exactly uncommon—but relented.
Frozen
It wasn't long before they were all laughing and joking together, a veritable smorgasbord set out before them. Two of everything on the menu. One drink of every type on the menu per person. Needless to say, they'd probably all be drunk out of their heads by the time the night was over. Around the sixth drink—the drinks reserved for Jekyll and Utterson were still untouched—the missing two members of their party sauntered in. Hans saw them first. "Henry, Henry's friend, there you two are! We had begun to think you were dead on the side of the road somewhere."
"Gabriel Utterson. My name is Gabriel Utterson," Utterson flatly replied.
Jekyll looked distastefully at the spectacle and gave Carl a look. "What?" Carl said. "We're just having a little fun! Come Henry, drink yourself silly with us."
"Unless you're meeting my sister after. In which case I'll gladly drink your portion," Edvard said, smirking devilishly.
"Really now, getting the poor man drunk after a falling out with his wife? It didn't occur to you that might be a bad idea?" Jekyll said, sitting next to Hans. He looked at his patient. "Do pace yourself, Hans. You're not in a mental state where drinking is a good idea."
"Oh lighten up, Henry, and drink," Hans said, sliding him a drink. Jekyll frowned, rolled his eyes, and sniffed distastefully at the drink. He'd never been large on alcohol.
"Bottoms up," he heard Utterson say. He turned in time to see his friend and lawyer toss back a whole drink. A good number of the others cheered and Utterson downed another. Jekyll looked vaguely disgusted then sighed, sipping at his drink. Someone ought to keep their common sense around here, he thought. He had a reputation to uphold besides. He caught sight of Harald almost passed out, laying on the table. Apparently drinking wasn't his game. Jekyll frowned. "Who gave the child alcohol?" he demanded.
"'M, in my twen'ies," Harald mumbled.
"You're cut off," Jekyll said in slight concern. If the boy was this bad now, if he tried finishing the rest of his drinks he could very well end up with alcohol poisoning and that was something Jekyll really wasn't in the humor to deal with. There were never guarantees with alcohol poisoning. He'd learned that fast and hard. The others booed him. Jekyll rolled his eyes hopelessly and went back to his drink.
Frozen
Hours later, when they'd finally been kicked out because closing time, most of them couldn't even walk straight. Jekyll had to carry poor Harald, who was clinging to him and whimpering. The doctor sighed. He should probably bring the dancer to his home and observe him to make sure he'd be alright. "Tomorrow a night on the town again, all of us," Carl drunkenly said while laughing.
"As long as there'll be less alcohol," Jekyll said. Carl blew in his face and Jekyll grimaced, looking away in disgust.
"Fine, no alohol. Albahol. Alcahole," a giggly Edvard tried to slur out. "Jus' night with the-the boys."
"Prostitutes for the recently expelled husband," Carl joked, nudging Hans.
"Bite me," Hans said.
"Can I?" Harald asked hopefully.
"He's mine tonight," Dickens snickered.
"Screw you all," Hans said.
"Meow. The kitty has teeth. And claws," Erik heckled, poking Hans.
"You're makin' 'im zound so much more 'pealing," Harald said with a groan.
"At least Hans has semi kept his senses. And Francis," Jekyll said with a sigh. Utterson was plastered and singing to himself quietly now. In the restaurant said singing had been raucous.
"Learned from Franz. Family has good alcohol tolerance," Hans said. He froze, wavering and almost falling, just reaching out in time to balance himself on Erik. Which backfired because Erik stumbled and fell with Hans and the two burst into laughter laying on one another before Kristoff pulled Hans up, laughing as well. Francis and Carl helped up Erik.
"Tomorrow then, men," Charles said, staggering towards a carriage. "Come on, Hans, let's go!" Hans followed him giggling. The others said their goodbyes. Kristoff, Erik, and Francis joined Carl in his carriage, Jekyll and Utterson took Harald into theirs, the dancer just newly passed out, Edvard got into another, and they all went their separate ways.
"Afraid the book talk will have to wait for tomorrow, Charles. I'm exhausted," Hans said.
"Agreed," Charles said. The two barely made it into the house before staggering to their rooms and collapsing onto the beds.
Frozen
The flagship of the Southern Isles sailed towards the distant coast of Britain. The seven knights, upon seeing it, had made their way to the bow and hadn't moved from it since, eyes fixed on the distant shore. Connyn approached them tentatively and looked towards it too before turning to them. "Cornwall," Lot murmured, holding Mordred in his arms. The little boy was staring in solemn silence, grief and regret reflected briefly in his eyes before he hid it.
"A number of us came from there," Hoel added quietly. "Mark was its king. One of them. The grandest one."
"The one who forced himself on his niece and killed her when she produced his son? The one who murdered his brother and later murdered Tristan?" Rudi incredulously asked.
"Those stores are lies!" Hoel snapped sharper than he'd intended, casting a fiery, scathing gaze and scowl at Rudi. Rudi jumped in surprise, regretting his remarks instantly. Hoel winced. "I'm sorry," the knight said with a frustrated sigh, looking away and leaning on the ship's railing. "I didn't mean... It's just hard to hear things like that... Mark was a good man, not at all like what you've heard."
Rudi nodded in understanding, squeezing Hoel's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring and sympathetic gesture. "The ones I read were later works anyway," he said gently. Earlier ones had probably gotten it a little more right, if Hoel's reaction was anything to go by.
Connyn looked towards Britain's shores again once he was sure Rudi wasn't going to get attacked for his words. "We'll be sailing up the coastline," he said.
They were quiet. Soon, though, Lot looked at him. "Search the coast, and where you see two waterfalls cascading into the ocean, that is where Camelot was… But I don't believe you'll see them… They would have been hidden from sight long ago."
Connyn looked curiously towards the shoreline. "We'll watch for them," he finally said before retreating to his brothers along with Rudi to give them this news.
"Two waterfalls cascading into the ocean? I've never seen such a thing along Britain's shores when I've been here before," Jurgen Meilic murmured. Of course he hadn't sailed the entire coastline, but still.
"Maybe you weren't meant to see and so you didn't," Coth remarked. "If Camelot's been hidden or barred from even them, there's probably a reason for it."
"Perhaps with them aboard now, we'll see where it once stood too," Justic murmured, eyes wide in excitement as he scanned the coastline for these two waterfalls…
Frozen
Hours passed. Time, though, soon found them all staring and gaping over the side of the ship towards two waterfalls cascading into the ocean… Whatever stood above them was shrouded in forest, hidden from view by thick flora. The princes looked towards the knights solemnly. The knights stared. "If you want us to weigh anchor and go ashore…" Jurgen began. He trailed off. He had to confess, he'd love to see the place. Or what was left of it. He just wasn't sure if they would. The knights were quiet.
"Majesties? Sirs?" Justic prompted gently.
Silence. "Papa? I want to go home…" Mordred quietly said after a moment.
"You can," Caleb said to them all. Goodness knew each one of them had probably been thinking it.
There was a long silence. "What was once our home was lost long ago," Lot finally replied.
"What it is now may still be," Caleb pointed out. "We're right here. You can almost touch it. It's only a short skiff ride away. All you must do is say the word. You might not get another chance..." To say goodbye to it, he inwardly added, but he didn't voice the thought lest it upset them more. But it had revealed itself for some reason here and
now, and he felt like it was just for them. It might not give them another opportunity if they rejected this one.
It was Kay that acted first. He turned to Menw. "Find where the port once was. Gods be willing, you reach it. And if you can, then it means the powers that be have granted us that small grace and honor. To see it as it is now. Or at least part of it," he said.
Menw was silent. Finally he stood on the ship's rail and leapt overboard, taking on the form of a seal and swimming towards where the port had once stood. Lars started, eyes widening in shock. The shapeshifter? Menw was the shape shifter! A shape shifter like him! His mouth dropped in disbelief and he willed back the million questions suddenly swimming in his head. If Menw was a shape shifter then maybe… maybe he could help him improve in his own abilities. Mozenrath could cover most everything else in his tutelage, but not the shape shifting. He may need to approach the knight later about it.
Swimming towards a mess of thick briars that apparently blocked something off. Menw surfaced, examining them, and began to swim around before disappearing. After some minutes, they heard him whistle, and the knights drew in shaking breaths. They could reach it… But they hesitated, torn in their next actions. The princes weren't so uncertain. "Lower the anchor and ready the skiffs!" Jurgen shouted to the sailors. They were quick to obey.
Frozen
Mist had descended rapidly soon after Menw's whistle. Perhaps as soon as he'd set foot on land. Needless to say, excitement had turned to something much more somber. At least for the knights. Not so much the princes. Three skiffs put to shore, six men to each not counting Mordred. Menw waited for them they knew. The princes believed he was probably agitated and impatient to move onward. The knights knew better. To the royals of the Southern Isles, this was an adventure, the discovering of history, ancient and unspoiled lands! …To them it was a wake… Just instead of a human corpse, it would be a shell of the land they had once called home…
The Knights led the way towards the briareid cove, the princes following them. As they neared the overgrowth, it almost seemed to part for them to pass. They sailed through them a little way, but soon, with a final part, the briars opened. The lips of the princes of the Southern Isles slowly parted in awe. There ahead of them was a large port, ancient looking and weathered. Wood that should have rotted away to nothing long ago but hadn't. Bound to it were ships that seemed to have floated from the pages of history books, decrepit with sails a ruin—almost ghost ship like in appearance—but still holding on. Still floating as if waiting for those who had once manned them to return…
Impossibility made possible, by a means the royal family wasn't sure they wanted to know of…
Morded gave a dismayed little sound, small hands wrapping around his adoptive father's sleeves. The other six were silent, staring. Menw stood on the docks with back turned, staring up at the largest ship there. It was massive and beautiful and impossibly splendid… Unmatched by even the most intricate and unique of the ships of the Southern Isles. Tears burned in Menw's eyes as he gazed.
"The Prydwen," Lars realized with eyes like saucers, hardly even able to believe it was there and that he was laying eyes on it. The knights pulled into the dock first. Slowly, tentatively, they slipped from the skiff, tying it up, and joined Menw in staring at the living memory.
"It's still here," Hoel whispered, approaching it and placing his hands against the boards, feeling along them like he couldn't quite believe this wasn't a dream or illusion. He let out a shaking breath, resting his forehead against it and feeling tears pricking his eyes. The princes of the Southern Isles docked and slipped onto the pier, giving the knights a respectful distance. It was almost like the group had forgotten they were there. The princes turned, looking toward a path crawling up a steep cliffside, winding alongside trickling falls and the few trees that had managed to grow on the rocks. The pathway was flanked by dark age buildings and warehouses, but only for a little way.
As they stared, the knights walked by them, so silent they jumped and for a moment almost believed these men were ghosts, which of course they weren't. The knights began to walk up the path. The princes followed quietly, staring in wonder and awe at all that was here. It almost felt like they were walking through a dreamscape, it was so surreal. Crates and barrels still stood waiting to be stored away.
"How could they be this remarkably preserved after so long? And remain undiscovered?" Rudi mused, looking all around in wonder.
"Not through mortal means, that's for sure," Runo replied, slightly uneasy but also marvelling.
The path began to widen out as they neared the top. No sooner had they reached the cliff summit when it opened wide onto endless fields stretching acres that once, long ago, would have would have been beautiful, lovingly tended by farmers and the like.
All was overgrown now…
And up ahead the princes gaped at a long, large wall stretching out, surrounding what had to have once been a city… And in the distance they saw the looming outline of a large, magnificent castle unlike any castle they had ever seen before in all their lives…
Frozen
"I can't believe it… I can't believe we're actually here…" Coth said in awed wonder. The knights were quiet, staring. Coth looked over at them. "Well? What are we waiting for?" Silence met the question. He frowned in concern at them. "Well?" he repeated again. Finally, Alexander made the first move to approach, walking down the ancient, overgrown once-road towards the wall. The others were still, but soon followed him. The princes stayed put as they watched after them, shifting a little uncomfortably. "Did I say something wrong?" Coth asked.
"They may not want to see," Rhun murmured to his little brother.
Coth looked confused. "Why?" Connyn asked, voicing his brother's confusion.
"All is lost that once was theirs, little brother. To us this is the discovery of a lifetime! …But to them it is a wake…" Caleb stated solemnly.
"Huh?" Coth asked.
"Once upon a time you would have heard the voices of farmers calling out or cheering to see them, of cattle and livestock baying and bleating. Reapers would have once been reaping, men planting, children playing… Once upon a time you would have heard the bustle of a city peerless of all Britain, people laughing and singing or brawling or drinking. You would have seen royal carriages making their way up towards the palace, perhaps crowds of citizens following and cheering… It would have been alive… And now it isn't… Dead. Just as they are. Or should be," Rudi replied.
"On either side of the river lie,
long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky,
and through the fields the road runs by,
To many towered Camelot…" Lars sang softly. The others looked at him.
"And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow,
Round an island there below,
The Island of Shallot..." he continued, starting to follow the knights who had slowed down now to listen to this sung poem. They felt their hearts twist inside of them with longing.
It was then that Sir Kay of all men picked up the tune:
"Willows whiten aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver,
Through the wave that runs forever,
By the island in the river,
Flowing down to Camelot...
By the margin willow veiled,
Slid the heavy barges trailed,
By slow horses and unhailed;
The shallop flitteth silken sailed,
Skimming down to Camelot..."
They spoke from memory, the princes sensed. Not from having read the actual poem, but from their own memory. Here King Alisander continued for Kay:
"Only reapers reaping early,
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerily,
From the river winding clearly,
Down to towered Camelot.
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening whispers, ''Tis the fairy,
The Lady of Shallot'"
Now sang Sir Hoel, drawing his hand wistfully and longingly along the walls of a nearby shop as they passed the ancient walls and entered the city:
"And moving through a mirror clear,
That hangs before her all the year;
Shadows of the world appear…
There she sees the highway near,
Winding down to Camelot..."
He had almost whispered the words 'Shadows of the world'. Really it must be how they were all feeling at this very moment, walking through shadows of a world that had once been; a world they'd known and loved and longed for still. He couldn't bring himself to sing two verses, but he didn't need to. King Lot took up the mantle and continued:
"There the river eddy whirls,
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
And abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long haired page in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot…"
It was Sir Menw's turn to carry the tune now:
"And sometimes through the mirror blue,
The knights come riding two and two,
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shallot.
"But in her web she still delights,
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights,
A funeral with plumes and with lights,
And music went to Camelot," he sang softly, sounding like he was about to break down at his two verses. Gods only knew how often they'd watched such funerals that were for even their own friends… Sir Dinadan spelled him from that point:
"Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed,
'I am half sick of shadows,' said,
The Lady of Shallot...
Their gemmy bridles glittered free,
Like to some branch of stars we see,
Hung in the golden Galaxy,
The bridle bells rang merrily,
As they rode down to Camelot."
For him now sang finally Sir Mordred, his voice soft and with a measure of grief and guilt:
"Often through the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott…
In the stormy east wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining,
Over towered Camelot..."
Frozen
They passed through the silent streets, long ago deadened of any activity; the shops, long abandoned, standing as if the next day they would open once again with even ancient wares spotted, every so often through the windows thick with dust. "It was beautiful," Caleb remarked in a murmur to them. Tears threatened the eyes of some of the Knights almost immediately at the words, while others let out shaking and pained breaths, nodding their thanks where they couldn't find the words to speak. Finally, they reached the palace courtyard, moving into the overgrown remnant and looking up at the great castle looming there before them. Even age and ruin couldn't hide its beauty. As lovely in ruin as it had been while tended… Perhaps lovelier still with time…
It was Lot who approached first, going toward the ancient doorway unused for millennia. He pushed it open carefully. It parted with a loud and eerie creak. He peered into the dark halls. Sunbeams spilled through ancient windows and new openings and cracks in the aged stone. Cobwebs and spiderwebs hung all around glistening with dew. Tears pricked all their eyes now… And at this point the eyes of even some of the princes…
"It was so beautiful," Iscawin whispered softly, looking around. Ruin and web couldn't hide that. "It's beautiful still," he amended. Two grand staircases stretched upwards to a balcony above the entrance hall of marble and stone.
Caleb looked at the knights. "Will you go farther in?" he asked in a murmur.
Silence. "No," Lot finally answered for them all. "If you wish, you may look around. But touch nothing and take nothing… If only out of respect for us… We can't see it anymore… Not like this… Not as just a remnant of what we once were…" The princes nodded assent but they didn't leave to explore. They didn't feel like that was their right. Or would ever be. So they retreated silently outside, leaving the seven ancient legends to remain gazing numbly up at the large central window above the balcony between the staircases. A stain-glass mural of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur…
In London
Hans woke with a groan and a headache. He cursed under his breath, burying his face in the pillow and damning the light. He damned himself more for letting himself be drawn into the stupid behavior of his friends and their drinking. He didn't even like to drink! Dammit. He cursed himself again then reluctantly and slowly started to sit up, grimacing and holding a hand to his head. Yet again he cursed. He took a deep breath then stood up and staggered. A wave of nausea hit him, but he willed it down and stumbled into the guest bathroom to wash his face in the basin and rinse out his mouth that felt disgusting and cottony. Once he finished, he looked at his reflection, grimaced, and set to making himself presentable to Charles' family. The man had mentioned a wife and children, he knew, though he was unsure of how many. Wow, the man was his junior and already had a gaggle of little ones. Goodness knew when he'd started.
As soon as he finished making himself presentable, he made his way out of his room to find Charles and family. He came out into the kitchen and froze on seeing his friend wincing as he got chewed out by his obviously furious wife. Hans stood in place awkwardly, waiting for the argument to finish. "You were out getting drunk while your children and I were left here fretting about whether you would even come home or not! Who influenced you to go to a damn pub, hmm? Who?!" she demanded.
"I went myself, woman!" Charles defended. "And of course I would have come back! Why on earth would you think I'd ever leave?!"
"If you'd been paying attention to the papers you'd know there's a killer somewhere out there," she all but sneered. "You could have been dead in a ditch somewhere and we might never have known!"
"I wasn't alone!" he defended. "I came back with a friend. The one I told you about."
"The author?" a girl's voice asked a bit excitedly. Hans glanced over and spotted a young girl coming into the kitchen. It was hard to tell her age.
"Yes, my dear. The writer," Charles replied, relieved for the distraction. "Hans Christian Andersen in the flesh."
"Who probably encouraged you!" his wife snapped.
"I actually didn't even know we were going to drink," Hans spoke up. All eyes turned quickly to him. The girl almost squealed, eyes lighting up brightly. "Miss and Mrs. Dickens," Hans greeted the two girls cordially, smiling and bowing to them.
Mrs. Dickens blinked then looked at her husband, then to a picture on the back of a book Hans had written, then to Hans, then to her husband again. "That's not him," she said. This stranger was decidedly not the man in the pictures.
"It is. The picture was meant to hide his identity," Charles said.
Mrs. Dickens looked at Hans again, then the picture, then at Hans. It seemed the photos were highly misleading. She would have said outright falsified, except she did see some of the look in this young man before them now. "Huh…" she said, not quite able to find her words. Which was understandable given the jarring difference in appearances, Hans figured.
"Apologies for interrupting," Hans said.
Charles looked at his stunned wife and star-stuck daughter, then turned to Hans. "Mr. Andersen, good morning," he greeted, visibly relieved.
"Morning Charles," Hans replied. "No need for formality between you and I."
"Right. Hans, please, sit down," Charles said, gesturing to a seat. Hans smiled and bowed his head to the man, going to the seat and sitting. Charles followed suite, then Mrs. Dickens. The young girl immediately made herself comfortable in the seat next to Hans, grinning up at him in awe. He blinked at her then smiled before turning attention back to the table and the food that had been laid out.
"Now, what's this about a murderer on the prowl?" Hans questioned.
"Oh Mr. Andersen, it's so exciting! A mysterious man wandering the streets of Britain picking off the unsuspecting," the girl stated. "No one has a clue why. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to the killings. They don't seem linked at all. Mother's up in arms over it. Father thinks there's nothing to fear."
"Has anyone got a look at him?" Hans asked.
"Not a good one," the daughter replied. "Here's a picture." She slid over a paper and Hans looked at the photo. He started, eyes widening a bit and an uneasy feeling coming over him. That… that looked like Mr. Hyde…
"Hans?" Charles asked. "Something wrong?"
"I… No. Nothing," Hans replied. "Just… startling that someone got so close and yet came out alive. If he's dangerous as all that."
"So, Mr. Andersen, how long will you be staying?" Mrs. Dickens asked, obviously unenthusiastic about hosting a guest.
"I-I'm afraid I don't know, Mrs. Dickens," Hans replied. "There are some… things going on at home and just… I'm not certain when they'll be worked out."
"Oh?" Mrs. Dickens replied.
"Yes. I'd rather not talk about it," Hans said. Mrs. Dickens frowned but let it go.
In not long more children shuffled into the dining room, sleepily rubbing their eyes. Hans counted them up. Nine in all, seven boys two girls. Dickens smiled. "Hans, allow me to introduce my family," he said. "This is my wife, Catherine Thomson Hogarth. In order from eldest to youngest my children are Charles Dickens Jr, Mary Dickens the child next to you, Kate Dickens, Walter Landor Dickens, Francis Dickens, Alfred D'Orsay Tennyson Dickens, Sydney Smith Haldimand Dickens, Henery Fielding Dickens, and Edward Dickens." His smile fell a little. "There… was a third daughter once… Her name was Dora Annie Dickens…"
Hans, who had been smiling until then, felt the smile vanish. He looked over at his friend in concern. He looked deeply upset. The other children were bowing their heads solemnly. Catherine's eyes were tightly shut, her hands clasped in her lap. She was swallowing over a lump in her throat. He didn't need to ask what happened to have guessed, and an uncomfortable feeling twisted painfully in his gut. Many children died so very young… A cold chill raced through him. What if… what if his and Elsa's child became one of them…?
"I'm sorry, Charles," he murmured softly.
Charles shook his head. "There's nothing to be done for it," he said, forcing a pained smile. "At least we had her for… for a little while… She was eight months…" Hans felt like he'd been punched in the stomach and fought the urge to excuse himself and just flee right back to Arendelle and Elsa and make sure nothing like that ever, ever happened to her or to their baby even though he knew that if it ever came to such a tragedy the both of them would be powerless to stop it. Silence. "Let's eat, shall we?" he said with a forced laugh that tried to lighten the mood but failed miserably.
"Let's," Hans agreed.
Frozen
Hans stood outside after breakfast—and a million questions from Charles' eldest daughter Marie—looking out over the streets. He heard his friend approaching. "So then, what really startled you about that picture?" Charles asked.
"It... It looks like Hyde..." Hans replied. Charles' smile fell instantly, his skin paling a little. "Seeing him here is… unsettling. You know what he is. A violent, dangerous, debauched man who kills without discrimination. It's not a pretty picture. If he's on these streets again, I fear… I fear it may be Jekyll he's trying to find."
"Should we warn him?" Charles asked, visibly concerned.
"Yeah. Maybe. Definitely," Hans replied. "Next time we see him."
Charles nodded in agreement. "I could invite him over," he said.
"That's a good idea," Hans replied. "The sooner he's warned the better."
Silence. "So… what do you think of them? My family?" Charles asked.
"I'm pretty sure your wife hates me. Haven't figured out your children yet," Hans replied.
"Catherine's… outspoken," Charles said. "She doesn't like being inconvenienced. Apologies if she's made you feel unwelcome."
"It's okay," Hans replied, shrugging. "Hey, maybe she won't resent your friends so much after she meets the respectable doctor. And the lawyer that comes with him. Utterson seems a good man."
"He was a riot at the restaurant," Charles replied, smiling wickedly. Hans chuckled at the remark, nodding in agreement.