A/N: I'd like to thank drawing-cookie on tumblr for creating the fic's new cover art!

Chapter 15: Compromises

"Has the medic gone?" Viktor Beker asked. He stood off near the fireplace in the study watching the flames flicker back and forth. Behind him near the desk was Sturgis with his hands clasped behind his back.

"About an hour ago," Sturgis replied, "I don't see why that woman deserves such special treatment. She's a prisoner like the rest of their lot."

"And queen to one of the most powerful kingdoms in all the realm. Her husband's navy is strong enough to cripple any opposing force. There's a reason why the Southern Isles hasn't gone to war in over a century. No one is foolish enough to dare a direct confrontation. I will certainly not be the first to let their empire crumble from premature, foolhardy provocation."

Sturgis raised a brow, "Then you have a plan for her?"

"I do." Beker said, "or I did, until her sudden bout of sickness. Did the doctor speak to you before departing? You were overseeing his visit."

"No." He shook his head, "I was not permitted inside the bedchamber by order of a lady's maid."

Beker burst into laughter. "You being spoken down to by an old woman? I'm sorry I missed that conversation."

"If it is your wish, Sir, I can enforce my presence at the doctor's return."

"No," Beker shook his head, "I'm sure the queen will not be pleased to have you in her chamber, anyway. But have the man report to me on his next visit. She will not willingly share what ails her, so I will find out my own way."

"…Yes, Sir…"

It wasn't lost on the Chancellor that Sturgis' tone changed significantly. He turned away from the fireplace to glance at his right-hand man. "Is there more?"

Sturgis shook his head slightly and stepped forward. "It's the matter of our escapees. Our men are still unable to locate the Arendellian princess or the Isles prince." He let out a loud sigh, "I was hoping they'd be picked up in the northern region by now."

"…why north?"

"That's the obvious route they would take." Sturgis explained, "Why wouldn't they? The ports are the quickest and easiest way off the continent."

"Perhaps…" Beker rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But I highly doubt they would make a move so predictable." He moved to the desk and braced his arms on the high back of his chair. His gaze was forward towards Sturgis but there was a faraway look in his eyes. "What do you know of Prince Hans?"

"Nothing, I'm afraid."

"I met him once." Beker said. He still had a distant look on his face as he pulled forward the memory, "Not directly, of course. We were both present for the snow witch's coronation. I was trapped in that miserable kingdom when the queen cursed us all with her magic. We all watched as Prince Hans was forced into command of the situation. He managed well enough to start, but he was calculating everything all the time. A bold proposal to a naïve princess was nothing but a rise for power, and he played the game long enough to have the throne just beyond his fingertips." Beker straightened up and leveled his man a serious gaze, "It can't be a coincidence that this same man slipped right through our walls with just the right girl by his side."

Sturgis shrugged, "What does it mean?"

Beker's eyes narrowed, "The mere fact that Hans fled so quick suggests he knows more of our plans than I'd expect. Too much, in fact, considering he left his own family behind for an ex-fiancée."

"We have to find them."

"Yes, and that has proven far more a difficult task than the men anticipated." His fingers drummed against the chair, "If not north, where would they go?"

"The Southern Isles is nearer than Arendelle. Would they have gone east to Malengrad? Their lands border Rheland but come up further north on the continent." Sturgis suggested, "that is… assuming the Southern Isles is their intended destination."

"All Queen Charlotte said was they were 'going home'. She wouldn't elaborate." Beker moved to one of the windows. His fingers pulled the curtains aside so he could get a glimpse of the gardens below. "Sturgis—if you were in their position, how would you plan such a journey?"

The officer remained silent for a few moments as he thought it over. "Well, my first instinct would've been to try the northern ports."

"Yes, but now you have to think outside the box." Beker replied, "we have to think as Prince Hans—I'm sure he's the one orchestrating this entire operation. If there's one thing history has taught, it's to never underestimate a Westergaard."

"I'm afraid I don't know much about the Westergaard lineage."

Suddenly, Beker snapped his fingers and glanced over his shoulder, "there's someone here who does. Come, my friend. Perhaps a little bit of knowledge can light our way." He swept from the room with Sturgis immediately following behind. Together they moved briskly through the castle halls. Any servants they encountered quickly and nervously moved to the sides to allow them past. It wasn't long before they reached the library and Beker wasted no time pushing the doors wide open. Guards flanking the door inside immediately saluted as the gentlemen entered.

At the far end of the chamber, seated at a large table covered in texts and parchment was Lord Mason. There was a pen in his right hand, however he wasn't writing; his head was even slumped down towards the table.

As Beker made his way around the table, his eyebrows raised curiously at the sight of the elder scholar. The man appeared to be asleep, and unlike Sturgis, who was ready to violently wake the man, the chancellor merely watched him snooze for a few minutes with an amused expression on his face. He eventually took his knuckles and rapt them on the wooden surface when it seemed the man wasn't going to awaken on his own. Lord Mason was then startled awake, and after a few hard blinks, he raised his head up. His body immediately stiffened upon seeing the two Alvanians across the table.

"Good afternoon, "Beker said cordially. "I didn't realize we were disturbing your mid-day nap."

"I wasn't aware you were allotted an afternoon snooze in the first place." Sturgis added with his arms crossed over his chest.

Lord Mason's gaze shifted between the gentlemen, but he remained silent.

Beker's eyes moved to the open rolls of parchment scattered around the table. "There does seem to be a significant lack of progress done here. Perhaps we need another man here to keep a better eye on you—"

"NO!" Lord Mason blurted out, then immediately cleared his throat, "It… it was not my intention ton sleep, Sir. Only the constant reading had tired my eyes. They needed a respite."

"Perhaps you could make better use of your break by offering some of your vast knowledge."

The scholar's eyes narrowed. "And if I refuse?"

Beker shrugged casually, "Then I'll leave, and Sturgis will stay behind to put you back to work—and I can guarantee you'll get no further 'rest breaks' until I get results."

Lord Mason sighed and set his pen down. "I imagine the other alternative would be killing me."

"I would prefer not to. You are far too valuable to discard like trash."

"Like you did my king?" Lord Mason spat.

Sturgis stepped forward, "Watch your tongue!"

The scholar's glaring eye shifted briefly to the officer before he readdressed the Chancellor. "I will say what I please! If you fully expect me to cooperate and betray my royal house, then I should have the small freedom to speak my mind. It's not as if my personal opinions would change your beliefs, anyway."

Beker raised a brow? "What if I choose to censor you?"

"Then you may dispose of me now because I will be of no use to you. I'd rather join my king in a better, peaceful place."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Beker sighed, "It's not Rheland nor her people that I seek insights about today."

"…then what?"

Beker pulled out the chair opposite the scholar and sat down. His hands clasped together on a clean part of the table. "What do you know about the Westergaard line?"

"Westergaard?" Lord Mason asked surprised. "The Southern Isles royal house?"

"Yes."

The elder man cleared his throat and shifted his position in the chair. "The Westergaard lineage dates back several centuries. I believe the first monarch to bear the name was Leopold I back in the fifteenth century when—"

"—please." Beker held up a hand, "I'm afraid I'm not exactly interested in extensive history. My inquiries are about the more recent members of the crown." He said after a brief pause, "the current family, perhaps."

"Ah." Lord Mason removed his spectacles and wiped the lenses with a handkerchief. "Strength. Loyalty. Solidarity. Valor. These are the qualities that define the Westergaard name. King Alexander III was well known to be fair to the people, but strict in maintaining the traditions and laws of his land."

"He was the one to pass recently, no?"

"A few years ago." Lord Mason pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "His eldest son Frederick now claims the throne. But even with the change in kings, there has not been much difference in the kingdom's political atmosphere, as far as I am aware. He and his father are very like-minded."

Beker frowned, "what else?"

The scholar shrugged, not entirely sure what Beker was after. "A great bit of the crown's strength comes from the massive size of the family. King Alexander was blessed with thirteen sons. Many of them play active roles in the kingdom."

"What do you know of them? The brothers—do they hold that much power?"

"My knowledge of the individual princes only goes so far—"

"—whatever you can share." Beker replied.

"There are a few more notable members. I've heard that the current heir to the throne, Viktor, and his twin brother Georg, usually serve as direct liaisons to the people. They are heavily involved in charity work—"

"Domestic affairs do not interest us—" Sturgis butted in.

Lord Mason shot him an agitated glance, "You were not specific."

"Easy, Sturgis. Any little detail could still be useful, even if the opportunity won't come for some time." Beker gestured to the man across the table. "Please continue."

"…Astor is the fifth son. He is the Isle's royal ambassador. He travels to every allied land in the realm at least once a year."

"I assume he's been here recently then?"

Lord Mason nodded, "He was last in Rheland back in the spring. He is a strong diplomat and an expert politician. I've sat in conferences with the young man. It's damn near impossible to pull a lie on this man. He can smell a bad negotiation in the making."

"And where would this Prince Astor be right now?"

Lord Mason stiffened, "I'm a scholar, not a spy."

"Make a guess."

The older man shrugged, "With the late-king's festival taking place and most kingdom representatives here, he could be at home. He has been known to remain in the Isles during the Christmas and winter season."

"It's still November." Sturgis said.

"If you think my information is not useful, you are welcome to leave me in peace."

"Hmm…" Beker hummed and drummed his fingers against the wood surface. "Anything else?"

"Alexei, the seventh son, holds the rank of admiral in the navy."

"That's all you have to offer?" Sturgis groaned to the irritation of the scholar, "none of that is helpful in the slightest."

"What about their minds?" Beker asked, "I'm afraid I've only met Prince Hans before. He was shrewd. Calculating. Manipulative. Would his brothers share these traits?"

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know." Lord Mason replied, "I've only been in the presence of Prince Astor until this festival. And while the young Prince Hans has resided in the castle here, we haven't been formally introduced."

Beker shook his head, "I suppose I'm merely trying to get into Prince Hans' mind. He's fled the castle, and I'm left wondering what steps he would take to return to the Southern Isles."

Lord Mason snorted, "then my protested aide stops here. If the young man managed to escape, good for him! I will not be responsible for his recapture."

"Not even at the expense of his sister?" Beker asked curiously. "Queen Charlotte remains here, and I'd hate for her to go through an undue stress—especially with her as ill as she is."

The color slowly drained from the man's face, "you would threaten a defenseless woman over such an inconsequential man? You have so many others trapped here. What does it matter if one managed to flee?"

"It matters because this one knows far too much for my liking, and his flight could have dire consequences for our mission. Now… tell me something I can work with or we'll have to pay a visit to the queen upstairs."

Lord Mason sighed. "The only way to the Southern Isles is by sea. Surely you didn't need me to tell you that."

Beker's eyes immediately narrowed and he leaned forward menacingly, "Please. We're no fools. The northern ports have been closed for days. He has not made an appearance."

"Then I have nothing else to offer." Lord Mason said quickly and picked up his pen.

Beker leapt to his feet without taking his eyes off the librarian, "Sturgis, find General Andersen. Have him meet you at Queen Charlotte's room."

"Yes, Sir." Sturgis straightened to attention and bowed his head. He only made it a few steps away from the table when Lord Mason's resigned voice stopped him.

"Chartridge." He said defeatedly.

"Chartridge?" Beker repeated quizzically. "What is that? What does that—" he paused for a moment as his mind began to race. The name sounded familiar, and he knew he's heard it before. "…Are you referring to Chartridge University?"

"I've said enough." Lord Mason grumbled. "Good day."

Beker raised his brow and motioned for Sturgis to follow him into the corridor.

"Shall we go to the queen?" Sturgis asked.

"No. I believe we can decipher that ourselves." They walked down the hall together. "Chartridge University is in the middle of Corona."

"Corona? Do you really suspect Prince Hans to have gone there? What's the connection?"

"I don't know. It seems an unlikely place, and I'm surprised he didn't suggest Malengrad. They're only east of here and closer to the Isles by sea."

"Perhaps he is trying to deceive us." Sturgis suggested. "Malengrad does seem like a logical choice."

"We'll have to increase our efforts, regardless. King Alastor will be my next priority here. Claiming his lands will make It harder for our fugitives if that is truly where they've gone."

"What about the university?"

Beker paused and turned to his officer, "In order for Hans to make it to Corona, he'd have to cross Alvania first." He glanced away as the possible scenario played out in his mind. It was almost ludicrous to flee a captor and then waltz right into their own territory. It wouldn't be his idea of an escape. If it were up to him, he would have gone northeast to Malengrad, and perhaps they could even be halfway to the border by now. But this was Hans. Would he have imagined Malengrad to be as obvious as going straight north to the closed ports?

"Send our scouts back out west. Get word to our forces to search everywhere in our land, just in case."

"But what about our military needs elsewhere?" Sturgis asked, "Surely if we're rushing the timetable, our forces will be scattered incredibly thin."

"Then we'll use the working class to our advantage, and I know just how to do that." He signaled Sturgis to follow him upstairs to the third floor. "When it comes to peasants, they'll always respond well to gold."

Anna was surprised to find it was morning when she woke up. She distinctly remembered Hans telling her he'd stay up for a while, not all night. A part of her wished he did wake her sometime overnight. A good portion of her early hours were rather restless. Her dreams, from what she could recall, were strange, often disturbing images and mixtures of her memories on the frozen fjord and yesterday's grim slaughter. Up until last night, she thought she had seen the last of Hans plaguing some of her nightmares. It didn't matter if his sword was coming down onto her, her sister, or a foreign soldier. Murderous intent was all the same. Despite their honest talk and his reasonings, it would be a while before she ever became comfortable with his survival methods.

She was better at hiding discomfort every time that she forced herself awake. Her quiet gasps and groans didn't disturb Hans. Every time her eyes opened; he was sitting in roughly the same spot by the fire. Not once did her look her way.

As Anna struggled into more of a sitting position, she felt something slide from her lap onto the ground beside her. It was the sketchbook. She picked it up and gently brushed off some small bits of leaves and dirt from the leather surface. Once it was clean, she slowly opened the book and ran her fingers along the inside cover, stopping them just above the inscription. Now that there was daylight, she got a better look at his message. The penmanship was surprisingly tidy considering he wrote it in the dark. Glancing slightly to the right, the first blank page stared back at her. Even though Hans gave her the book to help her unwind, she couldn't bring herself to start using it. At least not yet. She found the idea of using art as a coping mechanism intriguing but wasn't sure what to draw first.

That, and he never gave her a pencil. She found herself too shy last night to ask for one.

I wonder if Hans followed his own advice.… she wondered. He seemed a bit stressed, too. Her eyes scanned the areas where Hans was sitting last night. A second sketchbook was nowhere to be found.

There was also no sign of Hans.

Wait, what? Anna did a double take around their campsite. Surprisingly, the fire was still burning. There were shaved twigs and branches all over the place. But no Hans. She missed it at the first glance, but leaning against one of the surrounding trees were his boots and socks.

…where did he go? "H-Hans?"

There was no verbal reply, however a few minutes after her call, she heard loud splashing coming from the lake.

"Aha! Gotcha!"

That was definitely Hans' voice, and her eyes scanned near the water for a glimpse of her companion. Suddenly he appeared coming up from the small incline at the lakeshore with a large fish in his hand. His trousers were hiked up above his knees, and his lower legs and feet were dripping wet. She watched him curiously, silently, as he sat back down at the fire. He didn't even make one glance in her direction.

"…good morning…" She said softly, hoping to get his attention.

His eyes immediately snapped upwards and locked on her. His gaze softened and a half-smile formed on his face. "Good morning! I didn't expect you to be awake so early."

"Early? What time is it?"

"It's barely seven-thirty. Or… it was when I went down to the lake." He replied, "Considering how easily you slept in on that miserable excuse of a bed yesterday, I thought you'd be out a lot longer."

She forced a smile and turned her head away to hide the faintest bits of a blush forcing its way onto her cheeks.

"Did you sleep?"

She glanced back to him, "A bit of a delayed start, but I got some rest. What about you? I thought we were going to take turns keeping watch."

"Don't worry about me. I wasn't tired." He replied and redirected his attention back to the task at hand.

Anna tried to lift herself up from the ground to get a better view of his work. "What are you doing over there?"

"Making breakfast. I hope you don't mind fish."

She shrugged. "I like fish."

Once the catch was cooking over the flame, he came over and knelt beside her outstretched legs. "How do you feel?" he asked and glanced to her propped foot.

Anna bit her lip and wiggled her toes slowly before trying to shift her foot back and forth. It was no longer unbearable, but the pain was still there. "It still hurts, but not like yesterday."

"Do you think you'll be able to walk?"

"I suppose there's only one way to find out." She said with a shrug.

He gently placed his hand under her calf and slowly raised her foot from the satchel. "It certainly looks a little better." He said after getting a closer look and tracing his free hand around her ankle. She didn't violently react to his touch as she did the night before. That was a good sign. "Would you like to join me by the fire or stay here?" He asked once her foot was carefully replaced onto the prop.

"I'll have my breakfast in bed, thanks." She said coyly. "Now go back and check on it before it all turns to char."

He didn't show it at the campsite, but Anna noticed once they set off that Hans looked dreadful. Whatever energy he had before was long gone now. Every time she glanced over at him, she saw an increasingly tired expression across his face. His eyes only seemed half-open, and his posture was rather slouched.

We should have taken turns last night. Anna sighed. He may have been doing me a favor by letting me sleep, but he's the one paying for it today.

"…are you sure you're alright? She asked. Her voice broke the long silence between them. His head jerked suddenly at the sound before turning to her.

"I'm fine."

Yeah, I doubt that. Still, she didn't force the subject. His exhaustion tolerance was far better than her own, and she didn't raise her voice at him until much later that morning when Hans' body slumped forward to the point that he almost fell from the saddle.

"You can't go on like this!" She exclaimed as she steered her horse right up next to his. "Hans, we have to stop! You need to get some sleep."

He immediately shook his head. "We can't. Too much time was lost yesterday."

"But you're no good the way you are. Sure, you managed to wake up this time, but what if it happens again and you can't catch yourself? It's bad enough I'm still hurt. We can't afford to have you hit your head on the ground or something."

"Anna, I—" He was interrupted by her reaching across and snatching the reins from his hand.

"No! It's my turn to be in charge. You're going to get off that horse right now! You're going to find a nice cozy spot under a tree of your choosing and you're going to take a nice little nap."

His eyes narrowed. "And what are you going to do?"

"Sit watch," she replied. "What else?"

He shook his head and with a huff, swung his leg over and got down from the saddle. "This is a waste of time." He muttered as he walked around to the other side of her horse and helped her down to the ground.

"Well we wouldn't be doing this if you had woken me up to switch shifts last night."

"You were traumatized and needed the rest. I can't believe you're punishing me for being considerate." Once she was steady on her own feet, he took the reins and secured them to a tree. A pointed look was shot her way as he moved off to a neighboring tree trunk and slumped down onto the ground.

Anna sighed softly as she slowly limped over to him. When she knelt next to him, he turned his head away to stare off in the other direction. "Hey," she whispered and nudged his arm gently. When he didn't move, she lifted her hand to turn his head towards her. "I'm not punishing you. And you're right. You were being very considerate last night. I appreciated every bit of sleep that I managed to get—it just wasn't practical. You keep denying it, but you needed the rest too. A-and you're injured also, it's not all about me." She said with her gaze shifting briefly to his one arm. His bloodstained sleeve was now wrapped up by a torn-off piece of her petticoat.

"This is nothing." He remarked and followed her gaze. "It doesn't really hurt much anymore. And it really doesn't compare to what you went through, which is why I don't want to—"

"—well too bad!" She cut him off. "Lay down. Get comfortable—oh. And give me your pocket watch. I'll keep track of the time."

He removed his satchel and placed it under his head. "Wake me in an hour. I mean it."

"…fine." She said with no real intention of following his request. If anything, she was going to try and give him two unless he woke first. If he was truly adamant about being her protector, he wouldn't be of much use without energy. She got to her feet once he settled and closed his eyes. Laying next to him on the ground was his sheathed sword belt. Not wanting him to roll over on top of the weapon, she quietly moved around him to pick it up.

If I'm going to keep watch, I might as well be able to defend myself properly.

As she stepped away to put some distance between her and Hans, she looked down at the scabbard in her hands. The sword had some weight to it. Nothing unbearable. She examined the belt. The band seemed rather large. Even with the smallest adjusted setting, it would still probably be too loose to hang around her waist. After a short while of holding it, she decided to just sit down instead and draped the weapon across her legs.

I'm sure the odds of me using this are slim anyway, she thought to herself, Hans seems keen to be the keeper of virtually everything. I don't really see why it has to be that way.

Her fingers traced slowly and mindlessly over the sword's hilt. Just like the previous night, she was feeling the effects of the quiet time. Her mind started to race as it brought up memories of yesterday's maddening chase. The brief encounter really put things into perspective for her on how fast everything could go downhill. And Hans' words echoed in her mind.

"kill or be killed…."

NO. She shook her head. That might be Hans' way, but it's not mine. It will never be mine. Those men put me as an easy target, but it didn't have to be that way. She slowly removed the sword partially from its scabbard and moved her gaze along the exposed edge. How different would yesterday have been if I had a sword of my own? A means of fighting back?

Anna frowned and glanced across the way to where Hans was dozing. His bandaged arm stood out. Hans may not have gotten hurt if he wasn't all by himself. He sent me away because I couldn't do anything to help. And he really can't expect to be the sole defender between the two of us. What would happen if he were incapacitated? I must be able to protect myself, too, not solely rely on him.

A wave of determination coursed through her as she forced her way to her feet. The sword belt then went around her waist and she easily buckled it at the tightest setting. The instant she let go, it fell loosely around her hips.

"Well… at least it's still up." She muttered out loud and then immediately unsheathed the sword to get the extra weight off her. Then she took a few steps away towards the trees and firmly gripped the hilt with both hands, the blade extended upward.

Pfft. As if Hans is the only one who can swing this thing around.

Anna's face formed into a frown as she closed her eyes and imagined one of the Alvanian soldiers from yesterday standing before her. The harsh eyes; the smug grin; the very vision before her made her blood boil.

Never again…. She vowed to both herself and to the specter in her mind. Never again will you or any other man believe they can get their way with me. I am not weak. I am not a maiden in need of defending. I am Anna, Princess of Arendelle, and I will fight back with every bit of strength that I have.

Immediately, she stepped forward and swung the sword right into what would have been the ghostly soldier before her. What she didn't expect was for the tip of the blade to collide with something.

"Oh!" She gasped in surprise and forced her eyes open. She was closer to a tree than she than she thought and managed to sever one of the lower hanging branches. She stared at the fallen limb on the ground before turning around to glance at Hans. With his seemingly keen hearing, she expected him to stir himself awake. He didn't seem to move.

"He must really be out of it." She whispered before facing forward again. "I guess I better do this with my eyes open before I beat up another tree."

She resumed her previous stance and began moving the sword through the air, swinging the weapon at a much slower speed than before. One direction, then another. After one particularly long thrust, she lost her footing through a turn and ended up putting too much weight on her injured ankle. Anna bit down on her lip as she lowered the weapon and limped her way to the nearest tree. She leaned against it for a few minutes to let the throbbing subside.

Stupid foot… she sighed. When she did push away, she made more of an effort to keep her weight to one side. With the sword raised up, she began practicing again as if there was a real opponent opposite her.

This time, however, before she could get too many moves in, she was startled when a set of hands came around her from behind and grasped the sword hilt over her own.

"Anna…." Hans sighed exhaustedly, "what are you doing?"

She turned her head slightly to the side and frowned, "just passing the time. Go back to sleep. It hasn't been an hour yet."

"It doesn't matter. I'm up, we can keep going." He replied and nudged her hands. "I'll take this back now."

"Wait, what?" Anna roughly broke away and whirled around to face him. "Why?"

His brow immediately raised, "what do you mean 'why'?"

"Why can't I hold onto it?" She elaborated and held it a bit further from his reach.

Hans snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response—"

"—Hey, c'mon! Give me some credit here." Anna exclaimed. "You can't be the only one in charge of everything all the time. And why can't I? Maybe I actually want to be able to defend myself."

"Well you're certainly not going to use that." He remarked and gestured to the weapon in her hands. "For one thing, you're holding it wrong. Your posture is all off. In a real fight, you wouldn't last five whole minutes the way you were swinging it about."

"Hmmph!"

"For another thing, how do you expect to transport it? You sheathe that sword and the whole belt will slide right off your hips."

"It will no—HEY!" She gasped loudly as he boldly stepped forward and unbuckled the clasp as she wore it. It easily came undone and he yanked it away. Her jaw dropped as he reattached it to his own belt and held out a hand for the sword. "I can't believe you just did that!"

"Give me the sword."

"NO!" She shouted back. "If I'm so terrible, then teach me how to use it!" When her plea was only met by a glare from him, she leveled one of her own. "What's the matter? Afraid I'll best you in a fight?"

He scoffed. "Hardly!"

"Ooh, so you don't think I can do it because I'm a girl. Well let me tell you something." She leaned forward and prodded an index finger into his chest. "I know I can do it. I'm not afraid. I once bashed a lute into an angry wolf's face, so don't make me out to be some pathetic—"

"You're putting words in my mouth!"

"Prove me wrong then!"

His eyes narrowed as he pushed past her towards the trees. Her gaze followed, and when it appeared that he wasn't going to turn back, she started hobbling after him. It was harder to keep up with his faster strides, and finally he stopped near one rotted out tree trunk. There was a decent sized branch hanging low enough for him to reach and with a good bit of strength, he broke it away from the trunk. By the time she reached him, he was bouncing the branch from one hand to the other, testing the weight.

Immediately, he sprung on her. His entire body whirled around to face her and then swung the branch like a sword. Anna barely had time to put her own weapon up to block the strike. As soon as his weapon seemed to lower, it was up and striking back just as fast.

Hans was fighting her one handed, but it didn't soften the force of his blows. Every time the branch hit the sword, she felt her body being pushed back. There wasn't much time in between for her to even attempt a counterstrike. From a swing to her left, her arms then had to come up when Hans' next strike came higher. As the two weapons clashed, she could hear the branch begin to fracture.

Hans held his position for a moment as he pushed more of his weight onto her. His eyes were extremely focused on his otherwise expressionless face. She took his brief pause to take a half-step back and attempt an actual strike of her own down towards his right side. It was immediately blocked, and this time when he slammed his branch against the sword, the force of the impact broke the weapon right in half.

"O-oh," Anna sighed and started to lower the sword. She believed the impromptu sparring session to be at an end. With most of his branch now splintered all over the ground, Hans wasn't left with much else to fight with. How wrong she was—while her guard was down, he feigned a swing to distract her so his boot could jut out and knock her off balance.

"Aah!" She cried as her feet were knocked out from under her and she fell hard to the forest floor. Her foot throbbed as the impact knocked the wind from her. Just to her side laid her weapon mere inches from her reach, but before she could even try to grab it, Hans had picked up the sword, sheathed it, then knelt beside her with a conceited look on his face.

"Hans!" She hissed and propped herself up on her elbows. "What were you doing?" She felt her cheeks redden as his face lowered closer to hers.

"Proving my point. That is why you won't have the sword."

Her eyes narrowed. "I was doing just fine until you decided to cheat!"

"And you're naïve if you think a real opponent would fight fair. That's like the first rule in engaging an enemy. And no—you didn't put up much of a fight. I disarmed you pretty fast, and I even went easy on you."

"It didn't seem like it."

"I let you stand still. In a real fight, I would've circled you like a predator seeking out your weak points—which I can guarantee you—will happen if an actual soldier picks a battle with you."

Her frown deepened, "well you won. Are you satisfied now?"

Hans shrugged. "Brute force seemed the only way to get you to understand since its clear all of our arguments go right over your head."

Anna sighed and turned away. "I'm just tired of feeling helpless. You're in control of everything. What we eat. Where we go. When we stop. I don't have a say in anything. I don't even have a hand in my own safety. You made the decision to make me flee that fight. And after the way yesterday turned out…." She trailed off. "I don't want to feel weak again. I don't want to be defenseless or an easy target. But what I want never seems to agree with you." Her mouth twitched as she felt his fingers touch under her chin and force her gaze in his direction.

"For the record," he began, "I have no issue with you wanting to protect yourself. It'd be a great relief to know that while I will do everything I can to protect you, that you're also capable enough to protect yourself—and me to an extent—should the need arise. But we have to do this rationally." His one hand moved to rest on the sword hilt. "I've been wielding a blade since I was ten years old. I was taught by my brother Alexei-one of the most skilled swordsmen in my land. I'm sure even you can acknowledge that that outranks your less-than-an-hour practice session."

"…it does." She grumbled quietly. "But that doesn't mean you can't help me do better. If you're that skilled, you can pass some of that on to me! I'm willing to learn! Just give me a chance! Please."

Hans took a deep breath. "Alright, fine. I'll concede to you. At a more opportune time, we'll practice."

"Why not now?"

"I'm too tired. And your foot is still healing."

"And I'm sure you just set me back another day or two with that little stunt earlier," Anna huffed. "So thanks for that."

"…sorry." He sighed.

Anna shook her head. The morning's squabble might've been over, but the issue was never resolved. There was no way she would let him off so easily. "What am I supposed to do then? Sit around while I watch you play hero every time? I want to fight, too!"

"…well I'm fresh out of lutes."

"Ha. Ha." She briefly stuck out her tongue at him, "I was just taking advantage of what was accessible at the time. So…what's here that I can use?"

Hans tilted his head to one side as he thought it over. "We could try something conventional." His hands moved to his waist to detach the holster from his belt. "Would you like the pistol?"

"I…" she stared warily at the weapon. "I've never used one before…."

"It's pretty straight forward," he replied casually, "Raise. Aim. Shoot."

Anna flinched and made no effort to take it from him. Her mind immediately flashed to Viktor Beker shooting King Wilhelm at point blank range; to Hans firing on the soldiers yesterday. The pistol represented death therefore she wanted no part of it.

"I'd rather not…" She eventually replied quietly. "That thing has killed."

"All weapons will kill, Anna. Even the sword that you desire so much can easily put an end to someone. It's the intent of the wielder and the grace of god that determines someone's fate. Carrying a weapon—any weapon—to defend yourself also means you are comfortable using deadly force if needed." He watched her sit up and squirm, "I'm not saying it will happen, but there are risks to everything."

"But that…" she gestured to the pistol, "almost guarantees it. Is… is there nothing else we have?"

He scratched his cheek. "A dagger in my boot?"

Her brows raised curiously. "May I see?" Her eyes followed his hand to his left boot as he reached in and pulled the small knife out.

"It's not much, but it's sharp and better than nothing at all."

Anna nodded and turned it over in her hands. The small sheath was only adorned with a clip. "I don't suppose this would fit in my boot."

Hans shrugged and pushed up the bottom hem of her skirts to rest just beyond her footwear. "I doubt it. But maybe we can get a band for it in the next village. You could wear it under your cloak."

She nodded enthusiastically." I'd like that."

Hans then got to his feet and offered his hand to get her upright again. He pulled her up a lot faster than she was ready for and she ended up wobbling right into him.

"Well, this is awkward…" she mumbled as arms came around her to keep her upright. He only shrugged but made no effort to move his hands from her shoulders.

"You can still walk, right?"

"Um… yeah. I think so." She took a few small steps back. Once she felt confident that she wouldn't buckle, she turned and pointed back to where they abandoned the horses. "If you're not going to sleep anymore, then let's go."

This time, Anna welcomed his arm draped around her to keep her steady. If she crumbled to the ground, it was all his fault, anyway. And with luck, the rest of the day would be smoother now that it seemed their daily squabble was out of the way. This one at least resulted somewhat as a victory in her favor, even if the physical spoils had to wait. Still, that didn't mean she couldn't try to bargain for something else in the meantime.

"Can I have something else, too?" She asked suddenly once they were in reach of the horses. "I want control of our money." Hans didn't verbally reply, only shot her a curious look. She sighed, "It's only fair. If you're in charge of both our offense and defense wherever we go, why can't I manage our financial status while in town?"

"Well…."

"I promise not to go on frivolous spending sprees! We only have so much gold left and I know we've got to save it. A-and anything major that I want to buy, I promise to consult you first." She quickly added, "please, Hans. We're a team, right?"

"Yes…"

"And holding money seems like a very domestic thing for a wife to do!" Anna beamed.

Hans couldn't resist snorting, and for a moment, Anna thought he would refuse. "Not that either of us are experts on how the common folk handle their marital roles." He pointed out, "but if it makes you feel better, fine."

"Really? Just like that?" She blinked in surprise as he dug through his saddle bag. Maybe there really was something to keeping just one argument per day. He caved to this request incredibly fast.

"Not all of it." Hans pulled out the large coin pouch and deposited it in her hands so he could dig through the satchel for something else.

The sack weighed far more than she anticipated, and it seemed to bulge far more than it did when he took it out at Helga's Inn.

"How did this get so heavy?"

"I'm sure you recall three unfortunate soldiers that got taken out yesterday."

"Yeah…" she said at first, and then her jaw dropped when his meaning suddenly hit her. "Wait—you pick-pocketed dead men?"

His brow raised as he took out a smaller velvet pouch and split up some of the coins for her. "It's not as if they'll need it anymore. Their loss is our gain. And we'll need every advantage we can get. I can assure you, most of our minor problems can be solved with a little extra gold."

Anna was rendered speechless, but not in the way she would expect. For all her opposition to Hans' acts of violence, this was one aspect of it that she could find no fault. It was a strange sensation, to benefit from someone's demise. And as she pocketed the smaller velvet bag of coins, she wished she actually felt a little bit of guilt.

Heidelberg, one of the smaller cities in Alvania's southeastern region, was not what Anna expected. She was hoping for some small-town charm like what Greja offered. Instead of neatly landscaped lawns, clean streets and pleasant atmospheres, here everything seemed… in a word, dirty. The buildings along one of the central streets all seemed large, bland, even run-down in a way. The streets themselves looked too crowded for their own good. Citizen pedestrians, horse-drawn carriages, even a few soldiers here and there all rushing about.

The livery stables were mostly empty. The caretaker had no problem stalling two horses for a few hours. Judging by his reaction to their arrival, it seemed Heidelberg didn't receive many travelers. Hans was delighted to get a cheaper rate per horse compared to what they had to surrender in Greja, but Anna wasn't sure if it was a good thing to lock away their only means of transportation. Now that the border had been crossed, she felt a heightened sense to flee every time she saw a familiar black and emerald uniform. But being the submissive wife that she had to pretend to be, she kept her mouth shut.

She stuck close to Hans as they walked around the city. It was such a relief to be able to blend into the crowd. Passersby's paid them no mind. Soldiers brushed right by them without giving them a second glance. She let out a huge sigh of relief and glanced up to Hans. He smiled warmly to her and even brought their joined hands up to lay a brief kiss on the back of hers. A blush formed on her cheeks, though inside she wanted to vomit. She enjoyed passing through towns on a general sense—they made for a great change of scenery compared to endless trees, and it gave the opportunity to restock some food and supplies. But being forced to endure an affectionate Hans and even reciprocate said romantics was not one of her preferred activities. It was the one aspect that made her long for dirt roads and thick forests.

They turned down a side street that was slightly less bustling, and up ahead they could see the market square in the distance. She tugged Hans along eagerly. Regardless if she was on a shopping spree or strictly forced to window-shop, Anna always enjoyed browsing vendor carts and boutiques. Enemy city or no, this could still make for a fun afternoon.

Just as they entered the market, she felt a resistant tug from Hans. "Wait."

She looked up at him expectantly. "What? Don't want to go shopping with me?"

He leaned his head closer to hers. "Don't stray too far. I don't want to lose you." His index finger then gently tapped her nose, "and no splurging, Dear."

She grinned at him and batted her eyelashes. "You can trust me, Nikki." And with a giggle, she tore away from him to peruse the merchant carts. On the way, she passed an Alvanian soldier tacking a notice to a nearby message board. She ignored it, but it caught the attention of Hans, who walked over to the board once the soldier had walked away.

The board was covered in different messages, from locals trying to recruit farm work to a plea about a lost dog. A few them got an honest chuckle out of him. But then his eyes landed on the newest post and his jaw dropped in shock and horror. Staring back at him was a wanted poster with a very familiar artistic rendering of Princess Anna right in the center.