Chapter Six

When the dawn came, Hans was nearly afraid to breathe. He had been crammed in between two large crates and had scarcely moved in ten hours. He felt the sun's rays hit him, and he flinched and curled up, making himself even smaller. The hours crawled by, and by the time the second day had passed, Hans was exhausted from trying to stay awake and alert. He managed to stay put, but by the nighttime he was starving, exhausted, and desperately needed to move.

Listening for any movement from the skeleton crew, he moved reluctantly and then a bit more assured, pausing in his stretching to glance up at the night stars.

Deep down, Hans knew this wasn't freedom, but he felt freer than he had since that Jötunn had been in control. The situation causing this pseudo freedom was horrible, and Hans' heart squeezed in his chest every time Hania came to his mind, but he could also appreciate the first time in months that he had not been watched for every waking moment.

As the day broke for the third time, he scrunched back down in his place beside the crates, keeping an eye on the horizon. The day passed slowly, as his hunger rose more, passing insatiable and more on the starving side of hunger. Half the day passed, and he continued being eternally grateful that the crew on this boat seemed more than lackluster, and briefly wondered if it had been fate or by design of his elder brother.

The third day ended, and as the fourth one began, Hans felt relief as he knew that the northernmost island within the Southern Isles archipelago was near, and before the sun was at its highest point he began to hear subtle cries of "Land Ho!" and "Prepare to Dock!", and Hans nearly sagged with relief. The weather had been steadily growing colder and as the end days of November were upon the countries, Hans knew it was only a matter of time before the weather turned to a disgusting mix of snow and ice, and the fjords were too frozen over for boats to pass. His light open front coat and breeches were inadequate already, and Hans tried to ignore the growing concern over the bitter cold that would likely greet his return trip to the East Isles.

That was, if he wasn't found and slain in the Northern Isle.

Suddenly jerked off his feet and away from his dark thoughts, Hans saw the land and open water as the boat came to a slow halt. Seizing the opportunity to flee without notice, Hans took a crate of goods stacked near the edge of the boat and timed the next thud against the land and dock, quickly pushing it overboard and himself along with it. The cold water nearly took his breath away, but he knew his splash had been hidden as concerned shipmates hollered to one another aboard the ship that they had cargo overboard. Pacing his swim strokes with the ship, Hans found cover beneath the dock, lifting himself onto a wooden beam to shiver and hopefully dry, and waited for the night to come.

When night came, Hans used his newfound skill in inching up tree trunks to shimmy up the dock, swinging himself over and enjoying how the ground didn't move. Keeping eyes peeled for any guards or impressive looking officials, Hans slunk along the outer village area of the town, keeping to the shadows and then stopping as he came to the gates which spoke of the Northern Villa, the retreat once built for the entirety of the royal family but now only used for Hania and her own family.

Unlike the castle within the Main Island of the Southern Archipelago, this chateau was smaller, more intimate and homey. The main castle on the Southern Isles mainland was meant for any and all business. It was where dignitaries met, where wars were planned and prepared for, and was used as a one size fits all meeting ground. It had been built when the kingdom was first being established, and thus had several defense systems in place for any wars which might befall it. This villa, however, had only a modest fence, meant more for appearances than to keep undesirables out, and was kept unguarded for the most part.

Hans furrowed a brow as he paced, trying to remember the layout of the rooms within the home. He had not been here in years, not since his sister had married some twelve years prior. And even then, he was only a boy of eleven then, more inclined to pick up a Épée de Comba than to worry over which room lead to where. Searching his brain, a hazy memory came his way and he grinned, adrenaline pumping through his body as he prepared to act on the memory, hoping it was right.

Hans grabbed at the fencing, forcing his body up and over it, and grimaced as he landed with a thud on the other side. Moving quickly, he went around to the back and grinned as he found the small stables, and the attached terrace with the lattice heavily covered in ivy and other plants, with the large windows above the stables. Bracing himself, Hans took a running leap and grabbed at the lattice, thanking all the gods when it stayed attached to the wall and did not tear away. Climbing slowly, he kept his eyes on the one lighted window, maneuvering from holding on to the lattice to holding on to the bricks and stones that made up the building. Hans tried to remain stealthy, even as snow began to fall and he trembled from the onset of cold and wet flakes. When a pale hand reached out to close the window however, Hans couldn't help the strangled cry that fell from his lips, and then he shrieked as he lost his grip and nearly fell from the lattice and brick he had clung to.

The window swung open.

"JOHANNES?!" Staring down at him was his oldest sister, eyes wide with disbelief as she looked at her condemned brother.

"What is it, Darling? Come back and sit, you need your rest." Alvilda's voice floated out the window, and Hans flinched when Hania looked back at her and then to him. She moved the window so it opened more, and held out a hand to help him up. Barely able to care, Hans scrambled up the last few bricks and footholds, using more momentum than placement to get himself to the window ledge. Standing haphazardly on the top of the terrace, he watched as his sister moved aside and he flung himself through the window, brushing off snow and dampness on his coat.

His sister bent down to him, meeting his eyes as he stayed crouched on his knees and tried to stop his muscles from shaking. When he stood, he held up his hand and lifted her to her own feet, grinning as he saw her rounded form. Before the princess could say anything, he grabbed her and hugged her tightly, eyebrows drawing together as he felt her stiffen and then she suddenly returned the gesture, her hands digging into his back as her grief hit her full force and she clung to him in desperation and despair, choking quietly on sobs. In the corner their mother sat quietly observing and after the siblings had spent some time together, the queen spoke.

"Johannes, you should not have come."

Hans faced her, taking a few steps and then bowing on one knee, head bent in submission. "Maman, I honor your thought and your criticism, but there was little choice. When I received Hania's letter I knew I had to come. I had to support her as she had always supported me."

"She is not a criminal!" Alvilda stood, eyes blazing. "You have only made things worse for yourself. You pile punishments on as if they are of no concern to you. Johannes, when your father hears of this, you will be killed! I do not want to lose my son, but it seems you continually make choices which will force his hand."

She looked beyond distraught and Hans stood, going to her and giving her a hug. "Oh, Maman. I do not mean to upset you. But Hania's needs mattered more than anything, even my own life. I could not bear to think of her suffering alone in this cold house with nobody here to comfort her. Perhaps if her condition was not so… prominent, I might have allowed my own circumstance to overshadow her needs, but I could not bear to do so knowing her state." He glanced at Hania and smiled warmly, taking her hand and kissing it. Lifting his eyes to her swollen abdomen, he broadened his grin and spoke, "It suits you, Sister. Motherhood indeed becomes you."

She blushed slightly, and then smiled softly, though her happiness faded as she fingered her wedding ring. "I feel the same way." Looking at her brother, her brows furrowed and she clung to his arm. "How long do you plan to stay?"

Hans shrugged, looking out to the snow coming down heavier. "I took the only steamboat available. It might well be stuck in port with this weather, as I doubt the captain wants to chance the ice breaking the boat apart. So we might in fact have more time- I am aware that word from the East Isle of my escape can only be sent when that ship returns to the East docks and afterwards word would need to be sent here. Only then could I be arrested by law. So until then, I am safe. If the weather delays the ship from setting back out, then it is all the more helpful for me. As long as you'll have me, I'm here for you, my dear."

They embraced and then Hans stepped back, looking to his mother and dipping his head in respect. "You should know, Maman, I will not run from this. When the law comes, I will submit without resistance. I will accept whatever punishment comes my way without shame or upset; Hania was more important to me but that does not mean I will remain reckless."

It seemed as though the gods must have favored Johannes for once, as the storm picked up and sleet and hail blew heavily in. It was colder than any had remembered, and the harbor froze into a mix of ice and slush within the first day. Hans could barely hide his joy when his mother talked to him quietly and spoke that the sailors were all stuck on the North Isle until the weather cleared, which could be as far out as April.

Hania had hidden him in the adjoining room next to hers, and had locked the door from the hallway, instructing the staff within the house that it was her grieving room and was not to be touched until she gave word. The months passed slowly, and Hans met with Hania each night, the two siblings delighting in each other as Hania found comfort in her favorite brother. She spoke to him in detail about the sickness that had swept through the island fast and hard, and was gone within a weeks' time. Although the disease stopped spreading, people and animals had dropped like flies with little warning.

Hania's husband had been one of them. It seemed worse to Hania that she had been unaware for a few days since she had been immediately quarantined once the outbreak had been confirmed, hoping to save the unborn royal. Until both the guards and attending physicians were confirmed to not have the disease, she was kept in the dark. It wasn't until a week later that the doctors had knocked on her door and the attached nursery, bringing regretful news and a new lifetime of heartbreak.

For the first days after his arrival, Hans did little more than eat, drink, and sleep. However once a few days had passed, he took to looking out at the village, missing human interaction as his sister and mother stayed busy.

Though Hania had held no royal position while married, she was obligated as a widow to run the minority village on the Northern Isle, as her husband had done so before his death. Most of the Isle were a healthy mix between merchants of goods or wares, and hostlers. The hostlers traditionally reared the horses for breeding, as well as the oxen and cattle that later turned a profit within the Archipelago itself between the islands, and the animals could be sold for other uses when milking was no longer profitable. A few sheep shearers had joined the North Island in the last decades, which brought ample profit when sold to the tailors and seamstresses abroad.

Because the majority of the land was livestock and not as many people, there was very little to run and worry over, which worked in Hania's favor. Tradition stated she should have already entered into seclusion by this time, but her husband's untimely demise left the small providence without guidance, although Alvilda had come for that reason. The livestock and goods had to be counted and protected as the winter heavily settled within the land, and as the streets quieted so did Hania's duties. Christmas was a quiet affair with the secret of Hans in the house, and though it felt odd to not have all twenty immediate family members and fifty-odd extended cousins, aunts, uncles, and nephews in one room lighting candles and singing hymns, Hans found that the small ceremony he and his mother and sister held in the nursery around a pitiful little tree was more meaningful than any other Christmas he'd had since.

He, Hania, and Alvilda greeted the year of 1839 with caution, each watching as the snow began its tradition of stopping for a few days and then beginning heavily again, and it felt to Hans as though his family held their breaths, waiting anxiously for the day that the docks would thaw and the steamboats wuld set forth to eventually bring Hans' doom. However, it seemed that the winter was heavy this season, as the fjord remained frozen well over the usual time.

The months had passed quickly even with the cloud of anxiety hanging over, and soon Hania had no choice but to enter into her lying in period, although she fussed at her mother when Alvilda began to heavily insist on it. Hans kept a steady watch on his sister after that, ready to call for the midwife at any moment should his sister twitch the wrong way.

March 1839

"Son. Take these coins and this cloak and go out to the village and bring to us a block of ice."

Hans looked up from the footstool he occupied in the nursery. Hania's pains had begun at dusk, and now dawn was approaching with no child in sight and no relief for his sister. Looking at his mother's face, he stood and took the proffered cloak, slinging it on and accepting the outheld coins in her other hand. "Maman? Is Hania well?"

Alvilda hesitated and then nodded, looking more tired and older than usual. "First babes take their time coming, Johannes. You might get some rest while you can, after the ice is brought. She is well, though to say she is comfortable is far from true." The queen smiled and then glanced back to the bedroom as a pained cry was heard. "I must go back to be with her. Be cautious and do not be seen! Hasten your return, Hans."

Hans looked to the window, his only way out of the villa without being seen by the staff who bustled in and out of Hania's chambers. Hearing his sister let out another cry, the ex-prince cringed and went out the window, clinging onto the lattice roof of the terrace and quickly moving downward. Once he hit the ground, he kept his head down, letting the hood of the cloak engulf his head and moving quickly towards the village.

"Ma-Er, My Queen Alvilda, here is your block of ice!" Hans pushed open the door, careful to avert his eyes far from the bed. The midwives tutted at the male entering the room, but Hania gasped at him and reached for the cloak. Hans forgot about keeping their virtues and morals clean when she grabbed at it and seemed to try to not fall apart.

"Where… did you…" Hania was cut off by another pain, and she curled in on herself. Without thought, Hans grabbed a damp rag from a nearby basin and brushed her hair from her face.

"All of you, leave us!" Alvilda quickly called, and as the entourage of midwives left, Hans watched as Hania reached for his cloak again and choked, a tear running down her face.

"This was Aleksanders. Oh by the gods, I cannot do this without him!" She yelped as another pain came, and Hans found his hand slipped into hers, and as he clutched it tight, he kissed her forehead.

"You can do anything, Hania. I won't leave. Maman won't either." Hans shrugged the cloak completely off and wrapped it around Hania's shoulders, sending her an encouraging smile. "Now he's with you. As he always is. The love you shared was timeless, dear sister. Now come on. Let's bring this little one into the world. Maman? What can I do?"

The hours passed faster after that as Hans did everything asked of him. It mainly consisted of staying beside Hania and comforting her as their mother took a constant position at the foot of the bed and murmured words of encouragement from there. Hans had always known his sister to be strong, but watching her as the hours passed gave him a whole new respect for her and womankind. Finally, as the sun lowered in the sky, a loud shrill cry split the air, and Hans hugged his sister tightly as Alvilda wrapped the new child in blankets and dried it off. Beside him, Hania tried to reign in her ragged breath as she sagged against Hans and kept her eyes trained at the squirming bundle.

"What… what is it? Maman… is it alright?" Her whisper held a strange mix of fear and joy, and when Alvilda turned to them her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"Meet your little daughter, Hania. She's perfect. Look at her dark curly hair!"

Grandmother passed the new babe to the new mother, and Hans helped his sister steady her hands. She stayed leaning up against him, the utter joy in her eyes bringing a lump of emotion to Hans' throat. She peered over at the mess of blankets and snuggled the crying child, and as she did the large eyes opened. For now they were a dark blue, but Hans couldn't help but wonder if they would fade into a soft green color. The soft fuzz atop the baby girls' head was the ebony black of her father, and as her hair dried from being out of the womb, it indeed had started to curl into tiny miniature ringlets. She was red, wrinkly, and covered in gunk but as Hans watched her he couldn't help but think she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The little girl seemed to study him for half a moment and then as her face puckered into a dissatisfied cry he chuckled and moved off of the bed, allowing his sister to feed the child without him invading her privacy more than he already had in one day.

"Don't you want to know what I am to name her?" Hana's voice was soft and scratchy from all the strain she'd been through in the last twenty-four hours, but the happiness was obvious, and Hans felt an inner relief. He had worried she would be forever changed after Aleksander's death. "You can turn back around, Brother. Come here, please."

He turned and went back to the bed as requested, and was surprised as his big sister transferred the little human into his arms, "Watch her head, Johannes." Her voice was now full of mirth as she watched him partially panic at having something so small and fragile in his grasp, and carefully, Hania closed his fingers on the edges of the squirmy bundle. "Hans, meet Anneliese Johana of the North Isles." Hans stiffened at the first name, and then glanced at his sister as she spoke the second name.

"Johana?" his voice quivered, and Hans looked at the tiny bundle in his arms, bringing her close to his body and grinning at the new baby smell. She watched him, a satisfied look on her face as she nodded, laying a hand on his arm. "I will always believe in you, and so will she. So she is named for you, and for Aleksanders' mother." She put her hand on her daughter's head, rubbing the soft skin gently. "She is already so loved by us all. I can't wait for her future… but for now…" Hania closed her eyes and sunk into the bed, nodding to Hans. "I am long overdue for some sleep. Stay with her for me? There is nobody I trust more than you with my child."

A/N: So for anybody keeping track, it has now been about eight months since Frozen 1 here. I really enjoyed this chapter. I like the dynamic of Hans and Hania. They're sixteen years apart but they're so close. Hans pre-betrayal doesn't seem to be a man who guards his emotions when it comes to how he cares about others, so I wanted to expand on that some more. He is dedicated to family and to all things concerning those he loves- which is why his sentencing was so hard on him. He would stick his neck out for his siblings -even those he isn't close to- but none but Hania did that for him. Did anybody catch the subtle Christmas reference about the tree? I had a Cheshire grin while writing it, Ha! Alright ya'll, I have the next couple chapters plotted but not written. My school workload is heavy the next ten weeks so updates are going to be slower but I'm going to try to have something out within the next two weeks. Ya'll drop a review, lemme know what ya think!