Chapter 10:

Thawing Out

Hans had thought long and hard about the arrangement that was proposed by King Elias and Anna; it wasn't ideal, but then again neither were the Corona Mines. He just couldn't help but think about her pleading eyes, begging him to stay with her. Part of him, the part that hated himself for letting her freeze to death on the floor of a castle library, felt like he did, in fact, owe it to her. But only for the sake of his own sanity. It wasn't as if anything was going to change. In the end, he had still left her for dead, and she had no reason to forgive him for that.

So, after much deliberating, Hans finally decided to accept the arrangement.

Even still, he had to report to the kitchen staff. However, as soon as he'd told Elias he would agree to be Princess Anna's personal servant, he was relieved from most of his other duties around the castle. He didn't mind kitchen duty, however, as it was still an opportunity to see Marguerite and at this point, he had actually come to enjoy knowing his way around a kitchen. At least now if he was stripped of his title and sent out into the world as a commoner, he wouldn't starve to death.

So the next day, Hans reported to the kitchen as usual, where he began dicing and cutting various vegetables for the upcoming meals that day. Although not all of the princes resided at the castle, there was still a great deal of work to do for meal preparation. Marguerite was her typical, cheery self. She was ecstatic when Hans told her that he would be a personal servant for the princess during her stay.

"I can't believe you get to spend so much time with the princess," Marguerite said, her eyes dreamy and her voice whimsical. "Perhaps you'll fall back in love and get to live happily ever after, eh Hansy?" She nudged him with her elbow, raising her eyebrows suggestively. He smirked and rolled his eyes, trying to pay attention to the celery he was dicing in front of him.

"There is no way in Hades that will be happening, Marg. And anyway, it is technically a punishment, there is nothing to be so excited about," he smiled. "I do, however, believe you should lay off of those romance novels you're so very fond of," he suggested, pointing the knife at her for emphasis. She smiled a wide, toothy grin, bringing her chubby hands to her pink cheeks.

"Oh no, you'll have to pry those books out of my cold, dead hands. They keep me young, my dear," she laughed, handing him a stack of carrots and potatoes to dice. "What's she like?" she asked him, leaning over the counter and propping her head up with her hand. "She's lovely, from what I've seen…" Hans sighed, wishing they could talk about something, anything, other than this.

"She's…I don't know," he glanced at her sideways; her awaiting face made it clear that that answer did not satiate her curiosity. He sat down the knife and turned to her. "Alright, if you must know, she is lovely.'

"I knew it!" she squealed.

"But…"

"But?" she echoed.

"The woman is insufferable," Hans stated.

"Oh yes, you've been saying that since the day you walked in here," Marguerite giggled, waving her hand dismissingly before picking up the knife and starting where Hans had just left off. "But what is she like? It's not very often a new princess comes wandering into the castle, not without a marriage certificate in tow."

"I…I am not sure how to describe her. She's… exhausting." He crossed the room, pacing a bit as he thought. "She…she has more passion and conviction in one memory than I have in my entire being. She's optimistic…to a fault. I mean, she was so love-deprived and eager to think good of me that she was willing to marry me after only knowing me for one day-"

"Aye. But then again," Marguerite mused, "it would take a strong woman to keep her wits about her with a handsome, wonderful man like you trying to steal her away."

"Please," he scoffed. "You're just being kind. I'm not all that much of prize, Marguerite. Especially now. If not a prince, what am I?" He asked, staring off at nothing in particular, the words echoing and taunting his own mind. She set the knife down, hard enough to make a loud bang against the counter and turned to face a puzzled, startled Hans.

"That's enough," she said, sternly, her happy face suddenly very cross. She reached up and took the prince's face in her hands, forcing him to look into her small, bright little eyes. "I am done with the self-loathing. Let the king punish you, it's his job. It is not your job to punish yourself. It's time to stop wallowing and get over it. What's done is done, all you can do now is try to be better," she scolded. Hans couldn't help but nod; if there was anyone left in this world he would listen to, it would be Marguerite. "The princess deems you worthy of understanding, you should do the same for her. Give yourself a chance, Hans. You don't deserve to be this miserable the rest of your life, no matter what you've done. Livet er for å leve."

"Wh-what does that mean?" he asked. She smiled brightly, her arms extending outwards, flamboyantly.

"Life is for living."

Livet er for å leve.

Life is for living.

The words ran through Hans' head over and over again as he walked towards Princess Anna's room with the food tray. Marguerite was right; he needed to let the past go. If there was any chance of redemption or forgiveness, this was the only chance he was going to get. The princess seemed to want to forgive Hans, although he had to admit, he hadn't been making it very easy for her since she'd been there. He'd broken her orders, he'd insulted her in her bedroom chamber, he'd even initially rejected her gracious proposal to care for her instead of being carted off to Corona. As much as he'd hated to admit it, he had a lot to be thanking her for.

Hans rounded the corner of the corridor, but stopped when he heard quiet mumbling. He stepped back, hidden from view as he saw Dr. Roahl and a nurse talking to Elias outside Anna's chamber door.

"…but will she get better?" he heard Elias ask.

"It is too soon to tell. I would suspect so; it doesn't seem to be worse than a mere flu, but her frailness and relapse has me worried. She needs to rest, garner her strength. I am afraid I cannot give more information than that just yet."

"Thank you, Dr. Roahl. I will alert you if there are any more…complications."

Hans began walking again, catching the sight of the doctor walking towards him, nodded a hello as they passed by one another. The king turned towards Hans, looking just as unwelcoming as usual.

"Hans," he greeted.

"Your highness," Hans greeted back, bowing, but only a little as not to drop the tray.

"I am pleased to see you are taking your punishment seriously," Elias noted, his eyes fixated on the tray of broth, milk, tea and toast. Hans didn't say more, just simply nodded, then walked past the king and continued towards the door of the bedroom. "Try not to upset her like you did yesterday, if you don't mind. I'd rather not have a dead princess on my hands to clean up. Especially knowing what her sister is capable of…" Elias said, crudely. Hans stopped, a shiver running down his spine. He turned back to face Elias.

"I will try my best," he said through gritted teeth, although there were a million other things he'd rather say to his sinister sibling. He instead faced the door, balanced the silver tray on his arm and gently knocked on the wooden door. "Anna? It's Hans…" he said through the barrier.

"Come in," she said, meekly, so much so that he almost missed it. He opened the door and walked in.

The room was much brighter than before, the drapes completely opened and the windows slightly cracked, letting in cold, mid-winter air. Anna rested, comfortably and nestled in the giant bed. The color had returned to her cheeks, and with the light he could see her freckles splashed across her nose. She looked up at him from her book she was reading, her bright eyes shining.

"Good, I'm starving," she said in almost a growl, shutting the book with a pop and setting it down on her lap. Hans set the serving tray upon the food cart by the tea, wheeling it over towards the princess. He pulled up a sitting chair and placed it close to the bed before he took a seat beside her. "What are we having?" she said, eying the spread and wringing her hands together.

"Just you," he said, draping a handkerchief across her lap. "And it's broth and toast; you need to be able to keep it down, so the simpler the better." He reached over to hand her the glass of milk, she recoiled a bit.

"Oh…no. No thank you…" she said, her hand stopping the glass from coming anywhere near her face.

"You don't like milk?" he asked puzzled, pulling the glass back towards him, raising one eyebrow.

"Despise it actually, I can't drink it. Unless, of course, you have chocolate milk, then you wouldn't be able to stop me," she said lightly, crinkling her nose and laughing at her own joke. Hans' mouth turned upward; he wanted to smile too, but he refrained. "You know, you can laugh, it won't kill you," she said, rolling her eyes. Hans ignored her, pushing the tray towards her.

"Here. Eat." he said in nearly a grunt, she stared at him.

"Well, aren't you a gentleman."

"You need your strength, you're not going to get better if you don't eat," he said, mechanically. She smirked, folding her arms across her chest in mock defiance.

"I'm actually not supposed to feed myself."

"What," he said flatly. It wasn't a question. He knew right away what she was getting at. "I'm not-"

"You're gonna hafta feed me, Hans," she said with a smug smile painted across her lips. She was loving this.

"No, no. Nope." Hans said, huffily. She remained motionless, staring into his eyes stubbornly. "Absolutely not, Anna. You are perfectly capable of lifting a spoon from a bowl to your own face, you don't need me to do it for you."

"Doctor's orders," she shrugged. "You wouldn't want my fever to come back, would you? You're supposed to be taking care of me, remember?" They stared at one another for a moment, and it was increasingly apparent she wasn't going to let this one go, it was too fun for her.

"You've gotta be kidding me," he grumbled under his breath, picking up the spoon. He hesitated, staring at the bowl and shaking his head. If it wasn't so annoying he would find this situation funny, actually.

Hilarious.

"I sure am hungry," she said aloud, her little hands clasped in her lap, waiting. Hans dipped the spoon in the broth and brought it to her lips. She looked down at the steaming spoon.

"Hansy…" she said in a bit of a whine. He looked towards the heavens, sighing irritably.

God help me.

"What now?" he asked, his patience running thinner by the second.

"Could you blow on it please? I would hate to burn my delicate, royal mouth…" she teased. Hans never took his glare away from her as he brought the spoon to his lips, blowing on the broth to cool it. She smiled triumphantly.

"You just love this, don't you?" he asked, unenthusiastically. She couldn't contain her chuckles at this point.

"You have no idea," she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. He took the spoon and jammed it in her open mouth, she nearly choked on it. "Hey!" she yelled through coughing.

"Whoops, sorry," Hans said, however clear that he was not sorry at all. Now he smirked to himself.

"Whatever," she said, but her smile indicated she wasn't sore about it. Hans continued to repeat the pattern, blowing on her soup and bringing it to her mouth. "This is pretty good," she finally said after a few bites.

"I'm glad it's to your liking," Hans said, although his tone indicated he couldn't care less. She shrugged a bit.

"I mean, it's not a lobster dinner or anything, but…" she added. She stared off, recounting a memory. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for some Danishes about how," she sighed.

"That's right. I recall your penchant for sweets," he said, thoughtfully. She turned her gaze back to him and smiled, seemingly happy that he remembered.

"Yeah…remember how many we ate at the coronation?" she remembered, laughing a bit to herself. "That should have scared you off right away. It's not healthy."

"Oh well, you only live once, right?" he commented without thinking. He wished he hadn't chosen that particular statement, since her near death was what got him into this mess in the first place. She seemed to think about that too. They both sat in an awkward silence for a moment. "Um…open," he instructed, bringing the spoon back towards her face. She took a bite, sitting back on the pillows and sighing.

"That seems like a lifetime ago," she said aloud, her eyes sheepishly finding his. He shrunk a bit at the thought. For a split second he recalled holding her in his arms, spinning and waltzing her across the crowded dance floor. But as fast as it came, it faded away.

"Yeah, I suppose it does." He lifted the spoon, she shook her head weakly.

"I am good for now," she said, her eyes looking tired. He could tell it was taking a lot out of her to socialize; she suddenly looked exhausted. He moved the tray away, standing and beginning to fluff up her pillows, her large eyes looking up at him intently from below. He brought the satin sheets up, followed by the heavy comforter, tucking her in. "You're good at this," she said. "Like, surprisingly good at this." He paused, looking down at her. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her about his mother, but then again, she was the one that wanted to get to know him.

"Well, it's not my first time," he said after a moment, finding his seat and settling in once more.

"No offense, by the way. You just don't really come across as the nurturing type," clarified. He nodded somberly; he wasn't. "Wh-who was it?" she asked.

"Hmm?"

"Who did you take care of?" Hans sat back in his chair, taking in a deep breath and staring at the beautiful, inquisitive princess. He fidgeted with his hands a bit, still hesitant to begin this story.

"My mother," he finally spit out quickly, as to not let it linger.

"Oh…I-I'm sorry, I didn't know," Anna said, quietly. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything about that time in his life, but nothing would come out. "You…you don't have to talk about it," she said sweetly, placing her hand on his forearm. He smiled politely, clenching his jaw.

"Would it be weird if I said that I actually kind of want to?" he pondered aloud after a moment.

"No, of course not." She shook her head sympathetically. Anna then settled in, like a child awaiting a bedtime story. Hans leaned in, propping himself up flush against the bed.

"I was little, I think about eight or so, when my mother fell ill. I-" he paused, pulling the memory from a place in his mind he clearly hadn't rummaged through for quite some time. "I remember when it first happened. It was summer…we were playing outside in the courtyard. We had been playing hide and seek. I climbed one of the apple trees, waiting for her to come find me. But…she never did. I finally climbed down after a long time; I searched everywhere for her before I finally found her collapsed by the rose bushes. She never really got back up after that. She was bedridden for months, until she passed away in the fall." Hans said these things so detached, as if it were a story about someone else that he'd recounted a million times. He was surprised when he looked up to see that Anna's eyes had misted over.

"I'm… so… sor-"

"Please. Don't," Hans said, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. "It was a lifetime ago. I hardly even think of it now."

"It just must have been hard, taking care of her like that," she said sympathetically.

"It wasn't. She had nurses and doctors. I just mostly stuck by her side and doted on her with a lack of anything else to do, it wasn't as if my brothers were playing with me or keeping me company. In a house full of people, all I had was her. And after she was gone, I had no one."

"Oh, you know I know exactly how you feel, what with Elsa and all-" she stopped herself, cleared her throat nervously. "I didn't have anyone, either."

"I know."

"You know…" Anna reached over, placing her hand on his, a weak smile crossing her face. "It does get better, though. If you would just allow yourself to open up to the possibility-" Hans stood abruptly, adjusting the lapels of his coat.

"You should really get some rest, Princess. I will be in to check on you soon," he stated, turning quickly and beginning to walk out of the room.

"Wait!" Anna called after him. He stopped, wishing that he could just disappear already.

"What?" he asked, never turning back towards her.

"Please, Hans. I've been in this bedroom for days now. I…I'm restless. I want to get out of here." Hans waited, then he sighed, turning and nearing her once more. He felt bad for her, all cooped up and so far away from home. He wished he could help, but even just being out of bed for a couple of moments the day before caused her to collapse from exhaustion.

"Anna, I think you're too sick for that," he said, recalling the conversation he'd overheard in the hallway with Elias and Dr. Roahl.

"Hans-"

"Anna, just rest. I'll see what I can do," he insisted, before turning around and walking out the door, leaving the bewildered princess to wonder if she'd said something wrong.

Hans walked the corridors aimlessly, biding his time until the Princess had a substantial opportunity to fall asleep. Letting Anna in was harder than Hans had anticipated. He wasn't expecting their exchange to go so well despite the fact that he still found her incredibly irritating and childish.

Although, what he hated to admit was that he didn't hate it. It was kind of nice to have someone to talk to other than Marguerite, Dr. Svedsen, Edvard or some of the other servants. However, he couldn't help but feel uncomfortable by Anna's constant need for understanding and coddling him, like he was a fragile child that could snap at any given moment. Everything felt loaded, as if she were just searching for reasons in their interactions and his stories to say 'ah, yes, that's why you did what you did," when in all reality, perhaps he was just an awful person.

Hans turned towards the library. The thought occurred to him that perhaps he could browse the library for a few books to keep Anna entertained while she was bedridden, and hoping to be able to spend some quiet time alone. It was clear, however, when he entered, that was not going to be an option.

Three of his brothers were in the lounge, their eyes peering back at him inquisitively. The first one he noticed was Prince Frederick, although his presence did not surprise him at all. Frederick was a scholar, and he was always in the library. In fact, he would spend days on end in there, browsing the books and reading, organizing and reorganizing over and over again. It was not uncommon to see him asleep on the sitting sofa, a book opened upon his chest, ready to be picked up again and read from where he left off. He stared up at Hans, his dark hair slicked back, his eyes peering out over his spectacles.

Next was Edvard, visiting from the cathedral, cloaked in his typical robes and rosaries. He was reading the bible, of course. He didn't seem put off by Hans' presence, simply glanced up, acknowledged him with a nod and went back to his scripture without so much as a word.

Lastly, however, was Prince Isaak, perhaps the most handsome and infamous of the Southern Isle Princes throughout the Isle Kingdoms. He was tall, incredibly well-read and handsome. He had light, auburn hair like Hans, it was much shorter though. He had a perfectly angled jaw and a clean shave always; in his entire life, Hans had never seen the handsome prince in a disheveled state. Even now, he was in his more casual attire of a wool sweater and riding pants, Isaak still looked the part of a regal leader. He raised his eyebrows, setting down the book he'd been sifting through.

"Oh, Hansy. What brings you to this part of the castle?" he asked, his deep, booming voice echoing. Both Edvard and Frederick glanced at their more obnoxious brother, clearly annoyed at his disturbance. Hans paused before walking over towards a bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines of various books before him. "I see you've escaped from your chores to grace us with your presence," he added, nearing Hans with an ornery grin.

"Oh, just let him be," Frederick groaned in Hans' defense, never taking his eyes from the page.

"What, I can't greet my littlest brother?" Isaak asked in mock offense. "So, Hansy, is the Princess still alive or have you off'd her yet?"

"You know, you should really leave the insults to Sedak. He's much better at it," Hans said, turning to his big brother and eying him irritably. "But, then again, you've never been the brains of this group, have you?" he added. Isaak's smile dissipated.

"You really think you have any room to come in here and insult me? You're pathetic. At least I haven't destroyed the Westergaard name with treason and attempted murder," he said, shrugging and beginning to walk off, losing interest.

"No, you've destroyed it in a way only you could, one skirt at a time." That was enough to get Isaak fuming, who hurried back towards Hans, seething.

"How dare you, you little rat. Have you forgotten your place? Because last I checked it was serving me meals and washing my linens."

"That's enough!" Edvard said, uncharacteristically passionate. Both Isaak and Hans looked at the holy man, rising from his wooden bench and clasping his hands together. "This family has suffered enough loss and hate, can't we just act like civilized men?"

"I hardly think Isaak can spell civilized, let alone act it," Hans spat, before realizing quickly that it was a big mistake. In a rage, Isaak leapt forward, his whole body tackling the youngest prince. The two scuffled, punching and ripping at one another, before falling backwards into the bookshelf, toppling it over and sending books lying around the room. This action was enough to get Frederick out of his chair, he and Edvard rushing towards the dueling princes to break it up. They were finally able to pull Hans off of his flailing brother, but not before Hans got some decent swings in at the handsome prince's face.

"You are going to pay for that," Isaak threatened, out of breath and clutching his palm to his left eye; Hans could see the beginnings of a bruise just under it.

"Oh my, Isaak. I seem to have maimed your glorious face," Hans said, equally breathless but feeling victorious. Frederick had to hold Isaak back with all his might to keep the prince from lunging at his mouthy little brother once more. Hans, however, felt like he was on top of the world. Never before had he ever so much as stood up for himself, let alone get in a nice right hook, even though he was quite sure he may have just fractured his hand.

"Get him out of here," Edvard demanded, loudly. Frederick helped Isaak to stand.

"Good luck getting another princess to fall for you with that mug," Hans said under his breath, but loud enough that Isaak glared at him once more.

"Oh I will have no problem with that, little brother. I shall start with yours," he glowered. Hans didn't like that comment one bit. Frederick walked Isaak out of the library and into the hallway, leaving Hans to bask in the mess they'd made to mull over that statement.

I shall start with yours.

"Why must you antagonize him, so?" Edvard sighed, helping Hans to his feet and dusting the prince off. "Turn the other cheek, Hans. It's what our good Lord asks of us, is it not?" he asked, his voice calming and serene. Hans shrugged.

"I'm just tired of getting pushed around," Hans said quietly. Edvard nodded, slightly sympathetic.

"You'd just better hope he doesn't run off and tattle on you to Elias, you're in enough hot water as it is you know…"

"I know," Hans agreed. Edvard smiled a bit, patting his brother on the shoulder. Hans smiled; it was the first pat on the back he could remember ever receiving, and to have it from a brother, nonetheless. It was short-lived. Edvard's smile weakened as he studied the books sprawled about.

"Now, get this mess cleaned up so we can ice your hand," Edvard said lightly. Hans laughed and agreed, beginning to pick up the books one by one with the hand that didn't ache. It was then that he glanced up and saw it in the corner of the library: an old wooden wheelchair. One that may be perfect for wheeling around a princess that was desperate to get out of her bedroom chamber.

Hope ya'll are loving reading it as much as I am loving writing it. xoxo