The week passed with no upsets to the ex-prince's new status quo. He instructed his brother, visited his benefactors, and kept a low profile during his travels.

The day's agenda complete, Hans arrived at La Stella Luminosa around three in the afternoon. Seeing no one on deck, he poked his head through the open doorway of the master cabin.

"Lars!"

Hans was snagged in a one-armed headlock, Leone's other arm attacking him with a noogie.

"Why didn't you tell me there was a festival today?!"

Hans pried himself from Leone's grasp and began to tame his now-unruly hair. "I assumed you were already aware," he stated with an edge of annoyance.

"No, I wasn't! Nobody tells me anything!" Leone complained.

Hans approached the mirrored dresser in the far corner. "Even so, why did your lack of information require an assault on my person?"

"I'd hardly call that an 'assault,'" Leone retorted, sticking his tongue out.

Hans shot Leone a miffed glare. "Then what would you call it?"

Leone grinned in response. "A friendly wrangle."

Satisfied with his re-groomed appearance, Hans faced Leone. "If that's how you treat your friends, I'd hate to see how you deal with your enemies," he joked.

Leone's breath seemed to hitch for a second, but the oddity was overshadowed by his flailing arms. "We should get there early!" he declared, gesturing toward the door.

"Why? Nothing's ready yet," Hans countered. "We'd simply be standing around until the festival starts."

"We can scope out the booths and decide what we're going to do first!" Leone bounced on his heels, ready to take off at any moment.

Hans sighed, weighing his options. Arriving at the marketplace early could result in him being recognized. There wouldn't be much of a crowd yet, so he'd be more visible to wandering eyes. On the other hand, most people would be preoccupied with the preparations, regardless of whether they were assisting or observing. I should be fine, as long as I don't draw attention to myself.

"Alright," Hans conceded.

"Yes!" Leone shouted. He vigorously ruffled Hans' hair with both hands. "This'll be great!"

Hans was about to throw his assailant to the floor, but Leone must have sensed the pernicious intent. He scampered out of Hans' reach just in time. "I'll go get Natalia!" With that, he disappeared.

The former royal growled as he returned to mirror. Somehow, I know I'm going to regret this.

Even though Leone interrogated every vendor about their booth, no one appeared to mind the questions. Most were eager to advertise whatever they were preparing. Natalia and Hans trailed behind, ready to rein-in Leone's antics if necessary. Mercifully, he kept himself relatively in check. Despite Hans' initial misgivings, the start of the festival arrived with no incidents.

BOOM!

"This year's Anniversary Festival has officially begun!" the event organizer announced from his podium. The humming chatter of the crowd turned into a roar.

"Why'd they set off a cannon?" Leone queried of the auburn-haired native.

"It marks the start of the final battle fought by Bernard the First," Hans exposited. "When the battle ended, a treaty was signed that put all twelve isles under Bernard's rule. Twelve cannon shots mark the moments immediately following the signing, when Bernard was declared king of the newly-united Southern Isles. The festival draws to a close after the twelfth cannon."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Natalia murmured to herself.

"They're blank charges," Hans informed her, perceiving the young lady's quandary to be in reference to the cannon fire, "not real cannonballs."

Natalia had been taken aback when Hans first addressed her question, undoubtedly surprised someone was actually listening. However, she nodded understandingly at the end. "That makes sense," she acknowledged.

The trio perused the booths. Even though they had already browsed through once before, it was a different environment with the event in full swing.

"What booth do you think your parents are at?" Hans asked.

"Oh, they said they were going to the town square," Natalia replied. "They'll probably be there all night. Right, Leone?"

Her brother wasn't listening. He bobbed left and right, as though he were trying to look at everything at once.

"Stop that," Hans commanded. "You're making me dizzy."

Leone whirled around, a huge grin on his face. "So what should we do first?"

Hans groaned. "I thought the whole point of arriving early was for you to figure that out."

"But I can't decide!" Leone whined. "You pick, Lars!"

"Me?" Hans questioned without forethought. As a thirteenth child, he couldn't recall a time when he'd had first choice in anything. "I, um... I think Natalia should select our inaugural activity."

Leone shot Hans a baffled grimace and Natalia gasped in horror.

"I can't possibly decide! There's far too many choices! What if I pick something awful? What if it's a waste of money? What if I—"

"Calm down, Natalia!" Hans exclaimed, clasping her hands. "It's alright, you don't have to choose."

Natalia caught her breath and Hans' stare simultaneously. She instantly cast her eyes downward. "I'm sorry."

"I know, I know!" Leone bounced between the two. "Let's get apple fritters!"

"O-okay," Natalia agreed, dropping her hands out of Hans' hold.

"Good idea," Hans concurred, "but does anyone remember where that booth is?"

"Hm." Leone stood on his tiptoes and swiveled his neck, his head arcing across its full rotation several times.

"You look like an owl," Hans snickered.

Natalia snorted. Leone looked over his shoulder with a goofy smile.

"My keen eyesight has spotted the fritter booth down that way. But there's quite a line, so I'll just swoop in and save us a spot!" He put his fists on his sides and "flapped" his arms. "I should take the coin purse, just in case it's my turn before you two get there. Now, if my dearest sister would relinquish my prey, I won't have to attack her with my talons." He formed claws with his hands and silently threatened to tickle her.

Natalia, however, was already in hysterics. She retrieved the pouch and held it out, her body convulsing with giggles.

Leone snatched the bag from her hand. "Thanks!" He dashed away. "Hoot hoot!"

Hans merely shook his head, turning his focus to Natalia as she recovered from her laughing fit.

She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief before looking up at Hans with a smile. "We'd better go after him. He might crash into something... or someone."

Hans chuckled. "True. He's not a very wise owl. He could easily get distracted by a shiny bauble."

Natalia's laugh was lost in the surrounding clamor.

The pair followed as best they could through the dense throng. Hans became something of a ship's bow — "parting" the sea of bodies and leaving a thin clearing in his wake for Natalia to trail after him.

"Leone must be a good distance ahead," Hans speculated. He smirked as a bit of whimsy came to mind. "Perhaps if we pretend to be hawks, we can catch up."

There was silence from his companion. Hm. I expected a titter, at least. Hans looked behind him, but saw only strangers.

He frowned as he faced the opposite direction. "Natalia?"

No answer.

He spun in a circle, but no one stood out. His stomach twisted while his heart sank.

Oh no.

Those are pretty.

She'd caught sight of a display featuring small stained glass windows. The booth was lit with several lanterns, and the multi-colored panes sparkled in the crossing beams. There were a host of wind chimes reverberating in the breeze. Some were strictly metal, others had decorative glass strung throughout.

Wouldn't the glass beads break if the metal chimes knock against them too much? Then again, maybe not... or maybe the ensemble is built in such a way where that doesn't happen. The stained glass looks like it would break if you so much as brush against it. I wonder how the craftsman puts such delicate pieces together—

Someone bumped into her from behind, and she stumbled forward.

"Don't just stand in the middle of the walkway!" the offending man berated as the young woman pivoted to face him. "Either keep moving or pick a side!"

"Sorry!" Natalia squeaked. She darted away, hustling to the edge of the lane, where she planted herself in the narrow gap between the glass booth and its neighbor selling wicker wares.

Why am I here?

The woman closed her eyes. She recalled arriving at the marketplace well before the festival began, walking around with Leone and Lars, and...

Her memories faded there.

Was I waiting for them, or did we get separated? Should I go back to that spot, or is it best I stay here?

Natalia desperately scanned the crowd, but saw no one familiar in the ocean of faces. Everything blurred together, and she grasped a tent pole for support. There were so many lanterns that it was bright as day in spite of the darkened sky. It hurt to have her eyes open for too long, and the vociferous throng only worsened the throb between her ears.

I need to get back home.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Her head snapped up, and she immediately wished she could have repressed the reflex. A sharp pain shot through her temple, and her left hand flew to her head as her knees buckled.

"Are you alright?!"

A pair of hands now gripped her shoulders. She cracked her eyelids and peered through the gaps between her fingers. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed young man stood in front of her.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," Natalia finally replied, managing to straighten herself. "Thank you for your concern. I've just gotten a bit turned around, is all." She smiled. "If you would point me in the direction of the harbor, I'd greatly appreciate it."

The man frowned. "I could, but I'm not going to let you wander around by yourself."

"I'm not 'wandering' if I know where I'm going," Natalia contradicted.

"Here's what we'll do," the blonde announced, seemingly failing to hear the woman's soft voice. "I'll lead you to the harbor, accompanying you until you find someone you know, okay?"

Natalia hesitated. She certainly wanted to leave the marketplace, but balked at going anywhere with a stranger. "I'm not entirely comfortable with that—"

"I'm Pierre Mercier," he interjected. "My father, Aldric, is an established businessman in this city. You couldn't be in better hands."

Hands... She was reminded of his continued hold on her shoulders. "That's a very generous offer—" she slipped past him, "—but I don't wish to trouble you. Have a good night." She entered the mob of bodies once more.

It was slow-going, and she had only advanced a few paces when she felt a tug on her sleeve.

"It's no trouble at all," Pierre insisted. "Besides, the harbor's that way." He jerked his thumb in the opposite direction.

Natalia pictured the area as it was before it became packed with people, mentally retracing the route from the wharf to the market. He's right. "My mistake," she admitted.

Pierre extended his arm expectantly. Natalia placed her palm just above the elbow joint, careful to keep everything else at a reasonable distance. She honestly didn't want to touch him at all, but she couldn't risk losing her guide. The pain in her head was worsening by the minute. As soon as we're out of the crowd, I'll bid him goodbye. I'm sure I can find my way home from there.

He partially folded his arm around her hand and started walking. She trailed a step behind.

"You never told me your name," Pierre pointed out, weaving between obstacles.

"Natalia," the brunette replied with a wince. It was increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open. She rubbed her face with her free hand. I have to stay alert until I get home.

"Natalia," Pierre repeated. "That's a common name in Italia and Sicilia, isn't it?"

"Um, I don't know," the young woman answered. I don't think I've met any other 'Natalias'... but I haven't exactly met a lot of people, either.

She strained to see how close they were to the harbor side of the market, but the hectic atmosphere overwhelmed her senses. She hung her head once more.

"I'll ensure you make it home," Pierre reassured his companion.

"No, once we leave here I can manage on my own," Natalia contested.

Pierre smiled. "We'll see."

Natalia couldn't decide if the man's persistence was admirable or annoying. Although she was grateful for his help, she was also apprehensive at the prospect of being alone with a stranger. Once they left the marketplace, bystanders would become increasingly scarce. There may not be anyone in the harbor at all. Showing him where I live doesn't seem like a good idea. True, he's most likely to drop me off and be on his way... but what if that isn't the case? What if he takes advantage of my condition to burglarize the ship... or... other... unscrupulous things?

She studied her chaperon out of the corner of her eye. I should be able to give a description of him, just in case. His short hair was the color of sand, and his irises were a dull gray-blue. How would I describe his nose? It's not flat, but it's nowhere near as angular as Lars'...

Pierre glanced over and noticed Natalia's pensiveness. "See something you like?" he snickered.

"No." Her response was instantaneous and perplexed.

The young man gave a short, low whistle. "Ouch. You must be the direct type."

Only then did Natalia understand the insinuation of his question. She redirected her gaze at the ground, ears burning. "I'm sorry."

Pierre laughed. "It's okay. I was just making conversation."

Natalia flashed a weak smile and returned to concentrating on her movement. That must have been punishment for fearing the worst from someone who is only helping me. If Leone were escorting a lady home, I wouldn't want her to think such horrible things about him. Forgive me, Father. Please let this be over soon.

As though in answer to her prayer, she sensed the pressure surrounding her dissipate. The light and noise emanated from behind, instead of enveloping her. They were out.

Natalia pulled away from Pierre and gave a quick curtsy. "Thank you for your help."

Pierre frowned. "I told you I'd see you home, didn't I?"

"No, no, it's quite alright—"

"Natalia!"

Natalia turned to the familiar voice with an excited gasp. "Lars!"

The named man emerged from the sea of festival attendees. He appeared to be as relieved as she herself felt. She trotted toward him as he rushed to her.

"Leone and I have been looking everywhere for you!" he exclaimed. His cheeks were pink and he was somewhat out-of-breath.

"I'm so sorry!" she apologized. "I got distracted, and then you were gone, and I..." Tears welled up as she lowered her head. "I need to go home," she finished in a whisper.

"Of course," Lars complied, gently linking his arm through hers. "Let's go."

Natalia placed her other hand on Lars' raised forearm and smiled. A cough drew her attention. Pierre was still standing where she'd left him.

"Oh!" Natalia internally chastised herself for such a lapse in manners. Another part of her reasoned that this particular occurrence was excusable, given the circumstances. However, it was still best to be polite. "Pierre, this is my friend Lars. Lars, this is Pierre. He escorted me from the market."

Lars dipped slightly in a stiff bow. "Thank you for assisting Natalia."

"Not a problem," Pierre replied, looking the pair up and down. "Though I'd feel better seeing her home myself."

Natalia reflexively tightened her grip on Lars' arm. She thought he leaned closer, but perhaps she imagined it.

"I'm quite sure we'll be fine," Lars responded.

Pierre seemed unconvinced and opened his mouth to retort.

"Pierre!" A fair-haired man exited the crowd. "There are you are. I thought you were only leaving for a minute."

"My chum, Ulrik," Pierre explained before facing his friend. "I was busy," he announced without apology. "You know me."

Ulrik's eyes rolled to Natalia's form peeking out from behind Lars. The towhead's focus returned to Pierre. "I do, but it looks like you're done here, so let's go."

Pierre shot a glare at his pal. "Right," he grumbled under his breath. However, he gave Natalia a smile. "Until we meet again." The pair retreated, melting into the multitudes.

Natalia instantly began moving in the opposite direction. Lars followed suit.

The pair walked in silence, the noise growing dimmer with each step. Natalia clung to Hans with one arm while massaging her forehead with her free hand.

Hans reviewed the preceding events. He'd been lucky to spot Natalia when he did. Who knows what that Pierre would have done. Hans instinctively suspected the motives of Natalia's savior, and his mistrust had proved justified. First, the blonde had definitely been upset that "Lars" had found them — or, rather, interrupted them. Then, when Natalia's actions made it clear that she would be leaving with her friend, the newcomer was brash enough to keep pressing the issue. I have no doubt he had some manner of lascivious intentions.

Ulrik's reaction to the scene only cemented this theory. It was as though he was used to his chum's womanizing ways and perceived that intervention was needed. And then there's Ulrik himself... His face had struck Hans as vaguely familiar, but the redhead couldn't place it. If I knew him personally, I would remember him. It was rare for adults to have such light hair, since the color usually darkened as a child aged. Hans sifted through his memories, hoping to uncover a clue. Yet the more he immersed himself in thought, the more muddled everything became. I must have seen him in passing around the city. That's the only explanation. Still, Hans didn't find his conclusion satisfactory. The whole situation left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Where's Leone?"

Hans' gaze darted to the woman beside him. Her hand was still on her head, but her face was creased with more worry than pain.

"He's still at the marketplace," Hans answered. "When I realized you were missing, I went to the fritter booth and informed him. We agreed to search the area for you, and meet at the ship after the festival ends."

"So if one of you found me, we'd already be there," Natalia mused, "and if neither of you found me, you'd regroup and start again."

"Precisely." He was impressed that her intellect was still sharp in spite of her migraine.

"I'm sorry," she apologized once again.

"It's not your fault," Hans countered. "You can't help when your spells happen. If anything, I should have been keeping a closer watch on you."

"But I should know better than to let myself get distracted." Her head drooped, and the weight on his arm increased.

"Never mind that, we're almost there," he heartened her.

True to his word, they had just come into sight of La Stella Luminosa, albeit it was still a good way off. Its assigned dock was at the end of the wharf, so the pair needed to traverse the pier to reach their destination. Natalia's lethargic pace made for a sluggish trek. Thankfully, the harbor was deserted, so their trudging along wasn't bothersome to anyone.

With the lack of citizens and the clamor of the festival out of range, the music from the town square wafted through the air and settled over the harbor. It was a lively folk tune, and Hans pictured the pairs of townspeople prancing around to the beat.

"Pappa and Mamma are probably still there," Natalia mumbled, more to herself than Hans. "I'm sure they'll dance until the last song ends."

"I presume they don't get many opportunities to enjoy an evening to themselves," Hans stated. "Though I suppose the same could be said of any family."

A quiet but noticeable exhale was the only response elicited from Natalia. Hans bit his lip. Perhaps it's best to keep any further thoughts on that topic to myself.

"Are you able to walk up the gangplank?" Hans queried as they approached the vessel.

Natalia eyed the board warily. "Yes?"

Hans chuckled. "That sounded more like a question than an answer."

"Yes," Natalia repeated, attempting to sound confident. She took a step onto the plank. "But you should probably stay right behind me, just in case."

"Of course," Hans agreed, smirking at the lady's teetering balance.

He followed Natalia up the gangplank. She wobbled, but didn't fall. The young woman breathed a sigh of relief as she alighted on the deck.

Hans walked to the far cabin and turned the handle. The door was locked.

He looked at Natalia as she reached into a dress pocket. Her eyes widened in horror.

"I lost it!" she gasped.

"Lost what?"

"My coin purse! The key was inside!" She was near tears.

"You didn't lose it. Leone has it." Hans corrected. She must have forgotten.

"Oh." Natalia inhaled deeply to calm herself. "I suppose there's nothing to do but wait, then." She tottered to the bench and shakily lowered herself to the seat.

Sitting around wasn't a much of a solution to this predicament, but Hans couldn't think of a viable alternative. He possessed no tool to attempt picking a lock, and kicking in a door would result in a repair this family couldn't afford. Leaving the girl certainly wasn't an option, nor was there anywhere else she could find respite. Waiting was indeed their only choice.

Hans joined Natalia, though there was no indication she noticed. She was supporting her elbows with her knees and her head with her palms. Every breath was intentionally slow and controlled. She's really not doing well.

Hans propped his chin up with his fist as he continued to watch her. Should I offer her my shoulder? Put my arm around her? She might be able to relax if I support her... or she might become so uncomfortable that she feels even worse.

He thinned his lips at the quandary. The distant song came to an abrupt end, drawing his attention away from his own thoughts. Hans jolted upright. That's it! If Natalia was unable to rest, then she needed something to take her mind off her pain.

The notes of a slow ballad drifted to the ship. Perfect. He sprang to his feet, standing in front of the young woman with his right hand extended. "May I have this dance?"

She raised her head, blinking in confusion. "What?"

His smile widened. "May I please have this dance, Miss Natalia?"

She was flabbergasted. "You want to dance? Here? Now? That's crazy!"

"Didn't you know? I love crazy." With that, he pulled Natalia to her feet.

"Lars!" she protested as he began to step in time with the music. "I can't dance on a good day, much less—"

"There's no use arguing," Hans interrupted. "I warned you in advance that I would win our next dispute."

"True, but I didn't agree to that," Natalia muttered.

"Shh," Hans shushed her, a playful grin spread from ear to ear. "Just follow my lead. You'll be fine."

He tugged her forward, sideways, and backward. Her resistance faded a little with each movement.

"That's it," he encouraged. "See? I told you."

"Hush," she ordered, barely restraining the upward curve of her lips.

He felt her remaining tension slip away. They were perfectly synchronized with the music and each other. He spun her out, then back to himself, and she giggled as she returned to his arms.

Kiss her.

He went off-rhythm, but recovered with his next step. If Natalia noticed, she didn't say anything.

Of course she wouldn't. She isn't like your brothers, who point out each and every minuscule flaw at any opportunity.

Hans smiled to keep himself from glowering.

My brothers...

He'd seen enough of his siblings' exploits with women to conclude that seduction was for those too inept to dominate with their mind. Any fool could manipulate emotions when there was copulation involved. Only a true genius relied on wit alone. Plus, physical contact lowered defenses, thus exposing one to attack from the partner and/or a third party (not to mention the other risks associated with such salacious acts). Propriety was simply the best strategy.

The pair glided around the deck, their tempo increasing with the crescendo. This was no ballroom, however, and Natalia tripped over the hinge on the closed hatchway.

"Eep!"

Hans tightened his grip and yanked her closer to steady her. The minor bungle ended with the pair just a few centimeters apartment.

Kiss her.

"You're much better than you give yourself credit for," Hans complimented, impressed by how quickly she'd regained her balance (and ignoring the repeated mental command).

"Ah, well, my grandparents insisted on lessons when we were young. I guess I remember the training better than I thought," Natalia deflected.

"Your grandparents wanted you to learn ballroom dancing?" That seemed odd for such a humble family.

"They wanted Leone and I educated in everything, including all the arts," Natalia expounded. "Dancing, painting, sculpture, writing, instruments, singing... We had busy childhoods."

"I can relate," Hans chuckled. Life had often felt like one long, never-ending tutoring session. Though, unlike Natalia's relatives, the Westergaards valued the history and culture of the arts over actual performance of them. Thus the application of the lessons had been limited to dancing and letter-writing.

He glanced down at her. To his surprise, she was staring up at him, but shifted her gaze when their eyes met.

"Don't look away," Hans entreated.

Her eyes stayed downcast. "Why?"

He hesitated. 'Because I want to know that you trust me' would only cause scrutinization of my motives.

"Because I want you to feel comfortable being yourself when we're together," he answered as they continued on their swaying path across the deck.

She looked at him, but quickly focused her sight over his shoulder. "I am, and I believe it's rude to stare at people."

"If you say so," Hans acquiesced. "In that case, though, you ought to be rude to me more often."

Her eyes returned to his with a start. He struggled to keep a straight face as she searched his countenance, presumably for evidence that he was teasing her. Unable to find a chink in the façade, she shook her head with a laugh.

Kiss her.

The intrusive directive was becoming a nuisance. Hans hadn't included osculation in his calculations, and he wanted to avoid it. I absolutely won't consider it unless it's one-hundred-percent necessary.

Dancing occupied his attention again, and he locked eyes with his partner once more. Natalia's soft smile immediately brightened, her gaze fixed solely on him now. He mirrored the expression, which caused her grin to broaden. Hans had never placed much importance on physical appearance (especially given his own average traits), but he supposed any fair-minded man would consider her beautiful.

Kiss her.

He silently cursed whatever part of his brain was responsible for the nagging thought. Didn't it know what the rest of him knew? Even if he didn't have his own reservations regarding physical contact, he would still refrain from such an impulsive act. He couldn't act too affectionate, lest Natalia pull away.

Oh!

That was it! She wasn't pulling away. She'd had ample opportunity to distance herself after her slip, and she hadn't. Instead, she was staring at him, radiating happiness. Even if she wasn't "in love" with "Lars," she was certainly content with him.

Kiss her.

Considering this new revelation, he quickly devised a procedure for each possible outcome. A positive reaction would further strengthen his original plan, and in fact likely complete the goal. A negative reaction could be softened with compliments, explanations of being swept up in the moment, and apologies. Coupled with a brief recollection of what occurred the last time he chose not to kiss a woman, Hans flipped his decisiveness and resolved to commit the act at the end of the ballad.

He wouldn't have to wait long. His royal experience told him the song was almost over. The pair slowed their pace as the final notes played.

"Natalia," he whispered.

"Yes?" she breathed.

"I'm very glad that I met you."

He leaned forward as the music faded behind him.

BOOM!

Natalia yelped and grabbed Hans as he jumped and clutched her protectively. He could feel both their hearts beating wildly as he gulped air between pants. The recognition of the explosion as cannon fire didn't do much to calm his nerves.

Natalia covered her ears as the second shot echoed across the wharf. The cannons were stationed on cliffs near the harbor, and the sound was much more jarring at such close proximity. Hans realized Natalia was trembling, so he scooped her up and carried her to the bench. Tears began to run down her cheeks on the third shot.

"It's alright, it's alright," he murmured soothingly. Natalia hunched over, cowering like a terrified child, and pressed her head into Hans' chest. She flinched as the fourth shot sounded, and Hans finally understood why. Her migraine. The unexpected cannon fire must have brought it back in full force, and each successive sound only made it worse.

Hans held her tightly and counted off the rest of the shots aloud.

"Five... Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten... Eleven... Twelve. That's it. It's over."

Natalia didn't respond. Hans leaned back to get a better view. She had passed out at some point, and now lay against him completely unconscious.

Hans sighed.

So much for that idea.