A/N: Thank you for all the reviews. Hopefully despite this piecebeing a buffer chapter, you'll still enjoy it as this one will further explore the early years of Hans, Elsa, and Kristoff prior to their first meeting.
Chapter 2
Storge
As the morning sun began to rise over the horizon, so did the various servants who were employed by the de Mointeuin family. With great enthusiasm, they quickly started their day and set to work.
Unlike most other noble families, the de Mointeuins did not care much about the social divide and treated their staff with utmost kindness and generosity. They paid them well for their services, and gave them off-days as well. And should any of the servants fall ill, they would pitch in for medical assistance.
In return, the chateau staff were willing to give it their all and provide the best service that they could.
Among the number of these faithful retainers was the cook, Hedwig. With over thirty years of experience under her belt, she had been a faithful retainer of the de Mointeuins for just about as long.
With a cheerful smile, she bustled about the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her employer's family. 'I hope the Lord's familywill enjoy their food today, especially the Young Master.'
It had been several months since the de Mointeuin household had gain its newest member and everyone was doing their part to make him feel as welcome as possible.
But just as Hedwig had taken the egg bowl from the larder, she accidentally tripped over the old tomcat who had been warming himself by the stove. The startled animal woke with a loud yowl and the hapless woman, startled herself, dropped the bowl.
"The eggs!" she cried as the bowl crashed onto the floor, shattering on impact along with the eggs it contained. She righted herself and stared in dismay at the mess before her.
"Oh dear!" she clucked. Quick as a whistle, she fetched a mop to clean up the splattered eggs and ceramic shards. Once that had been taken care of, she then grabbed a basket and made her way to the henhouse to gather a fresh batch.
But little did Hedwig know that this little errand would cause her so much trouble.
"The eggs!" Hedwig's sharp cry shattered the stillness of the early morn, but the de Mointeuins simply slept on, all dead to the world, save one.
Green eyes slowly fluttered open to see the soft rays of the rising sun bathe the world in its gentle glow. The curtains danced gracefully as a light breeze wove around it in interesting patterns, kicking up a swirl of dust and a few errant leaves.
One-year-old Hans, Viscount de Mointeuin, giggled and clapped at the sight. A hale and healthy boy, he had grown considerably since he had been brought to the chateau all those months ago.
Curious about the noise he had heard just now, he hoistedhimself up and climbed out of the bassinet. He landed on his bottom with a soft thump, but he did not cry. Hearing some light snoring, he craned his head up to see his parents still fast asleep.
Not only that, but the door had also been left ajar, quite possibly by one of his parents who had failed to close it completely after using the bathroom.
'Lucky!' he thought in his own babyish way and promptly crawled outside. Mama and Papa usually would pick him up to do things, but since they were asleep, he was now free to do whatever he pleased.
Squealing happily, he crawled out the door and into the hallway. As it was still quite early, there was no one around, and the entire vicinity was quiet except for Méline's snoring and Galen's sleep-talking.
"You…" he mumbled in between Méline's snores, "I'll make a man out of you…"
Hans giggled at that and pushed on with his quest until he reached his first obstacle – the stairs.
For an infant, conquering the stairs on his was a terrific feat. Many a baby had gotten hurt in the attempt and there were even some who had lost their lives. However, Hans was what he had learned in previous attempts, he began to crawl down feet first.
Because he was so small, the journey to the foyer then to the kitchen seemed to take forever. From his perspective, the world seemed big, and at times scary, and yet, it was quite fascinating too as there was so much to discover and learn.
Arriving to the kitchen a loud clatter caught his attention, and he turned to see that the tom cat had clambered up to the kitchen table and was now helping himself to a plate of leftover fish.
"Gah! Aah!" he squealed, trying to shoo the cat away as he had seen Hedwig do, but the animal paid him no heed and continued to eat.
Hans frowned at that and pulled himself up to full height in hopes to intimidate the animal. "Bababawayaaah!" he cried, waving his chubby little arms.
Still, the cat paid him no heed.
Sufficiently frustrated, he toddled over and shook the table leg with all his might, but to no effect. No sooner than he did so, he heard the junior cook scream.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!? GET AWAY FROM THERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT! SHOO!"
Before Hans could even register what was happening, a broom came flying right out of nowhere and swiped at the cat. This in turn, frightened the animal and he leapt off, knocking down several pieces of chinaware and utensils in the process. Shaken out of his wits by the ensuing noise, Hans could only respond the only way he knew how… He sat down and cried.
His wails caught the attention of the junior cook, and Hedwig,who had just come back from the henhouse. They immediately dropped their tasks and ran over to comfort him.
"There, there, it's okay…" Hedwig shushed as she gently bounced him to calm him down.
The junior cook was close to tears herself. "I'm s-sorry!" she blubbered. "I had no idea he was there at all! If I had known–"
"Good Lord! What happened here?"
The two women looked up to see the Count and Countess enter the room along with the elder de Mointeuins. "What a mess!" Galen exclaimed with a low whistle. "What happened?"
"It's that blasted cat!" wailed the junior cook, "Caught him eating straight out of the chinaware, that I did. And when I scared him off, he knocked everything down. But thank goodness, the Young Master wasn't hurt."
"I see…" Alexander murmured, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He then turned to the now-calm baby who had been passed over to his mother and was now cooing in her embrace. "Still, that was very naughty of you, Hans," he scolded. "It's not right to wander off without Mama or Papa."
"Oh please, cut the boy some slack," Galen intervened, patting his son on the shoulder. "He didn't know what he was doing– unlike somebody I know."
The Count's ears flushed pink and he petulantly crossed his arms. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Well, I remember it like it was yesterday," said his father, "You were about three years old or so, when one night, you were kicking up a big fuss over supper. Then, you grabbed the table cloth and just pulled everything down. And when we scolded you for the mess, you just laughed and ran away."
"Goodness, Alex…" giggled Amelia, "I never knew you were so mischievous back then."
The Count was beet-red by then. "Look, I was really, really young back then and– Look, the point is, we need to be firm with Hans whenever he does something wrong or else he'll think he can do whatever he pleases regardless of the consequences."
Two years later…
Accompanied by his father, three-year-old Hans stared in amazement at the massive ships that sailed into Branaü Harbor, laden with all sorts of valuable cargo. Around him porters could be seen hauling rolls of fine textiles, barrels of sweet wine, crates of exotic spices, precious metals, and all other sorts of rare merchandise under the watchful eye of their supervisors.
"Easy, easy! Watch your step!" warned the harbormaster as he escorted Alexander and his family through the bustling crowds. "The Cygnus is just up ahead."
"Thank you, Herr Kirschner," said the Count. "King Frederick will be very pleased to know that the shipment from India has arrived."
"What's India?" Hans asked, his eyes brimming with innocence and curiosity.
Kirschner's ruddy face crinkled into a jovial grin. "Ah, I see you brought your son along," he remarked, patting Hans on the head. "Are you grooming him to become a merchant too?"
"No, I mean, if he wants to, it's fine," Alexander replied earnestly, "But I would most prefer that Hans should have to freedom to choose his own path."
"Oh?" The harbormaster blinked, surprised by his answer. Usually when a tradesman had a son, said son was expected to take his place as his father's primary apprentice, even more so with merchants, so he found it odd that the Count de Mointeuin would want his son seek his own calling when there already was a very successful business for him to inherit.
"What is India?" Hans repeated, a tad bit annoyed as no one had answered his question.
"Well, India is a place," his father replied, "It's a land far, far away."
"How far? Can't we just ride there?"
"No," Alexander laughed, ruffling the boy's auburn mop. "It's much too far to reach by horse. It's one of those places that you need to reach by ship."
"Other places?" Hans echoed, curious about the world beyond Corona. "You mean like more than just India?"
"But of course! There's Egypt, Great Britain, America, China, the East Indies– way too many to count! The world is wide and wonderful, and there is much for you to experience and explore."
"Wow…" Hans whispered, amazed. "And you say ships go there all the time?"
Alexander nodded again. "Yes! And you as well if you wish it so."
Hans' green eyes brightened considerably. He knew nothing of the places his father spoke of, but his curiosity knew no bounds and the thought of exploring these locations appealed to him. "Really?" he squeaked, rushing towards to the ship. "Then let's go now!"
"Oops, not so fast," Alexander chided, yanking his son by the collar. He herded him over to a stack of crates and sat him down. "You're much too young for sea travel. You can go when you're older."
"Aw phooey!" pouted the redhead, crossing his arms. "Grown-ups always have all the fun."
Still, Hans could not help but stare in awe at the Cygnus. This barquentine was the pride and joy of Alexander's merchant fleet and it had consistently completed its expeditions, bringing in all sorts of goods from around the world without any incident.
He glanced over to his father talking to the ship's captain. Whatever it was, it must have been very important because the man was completely immersed. 'It's probably going to take a long time too.' Bored, he swung his legs, watching the people pass to and fro, but eventually, that got old too.
Staring out towards the sea, he began to daydream. What was out there beyond the borders of Corona? What were these new lands like? What adventures would he find?
'I wanna know…' Then a thought occurred to him. 'Maybe I could sneak aboard the ship. Then I'd show them that I am old enough to travel by boat.'
He peeked over his shoulder to see his father still talking to the captain. So far, neither of the two men had noticed him at all. He slid off the crates and slowly tiptoed over to the ship.
He took a deep breath and soldiered on. This was it, the first step towards a grand adventure. He began to walk up the gang plank, barely containing his excitement.
"India, here I–"
"HANS!"
Startled out of his wits, he tripped, slipping off the gangplank in the process. He tried his best to regain a foot hold, but it was too late and he began to fall.
But just as he was about to hit the water, he felt someone catch his leg. He looked up to see that it was Alexander, and he did not look very happy. In one swift move, the Count heaved Hans up and herded him away from the ship.
"What were you thinking?" he scolded, his voice a sharp whisper. "Do you know how scared I was when I couldn't find you?"
"I'm sorry," Hans whimpered, "I just wanted to see what was out there."
"I know," said his father, "But you're much too young for this. These trips take months to complete, and worst of all, you were trying to do this alone!"
"But I what if I take you along with me?" Hans reasoned, "You'll take care of me, won't you?"
"Yes, but it doesn't work that way," Alexander chided, a bit more gently this time, but no less stern. "How do you think Mama and Grandpapa and Grandmama will feel if we don't come home?"
"They'll be really sad and worried, won't they?" Hans replied softly.
"That's right. And family isn't supposed to make each other feel that way. We're here to uplift and support each other, okay?"
"Yes Papa."
Alexander ruffled his son's hair. "That's a good boy."
Meanwhile:
Far to the north, nestled among the forested foothills of Arendelle's North Mountain, sat a small hamlet. It was a peaceful, rustic place, far from the hustle and bustle of the big city, and home to a close-knit community of ice harvesters and their families, including a certain Magnus and Ellen Bjorgman.
Unlike the de Mointeuins of Corona, this couple did not have mountains of gold or large tracts of land, and instead of a sprawling estate, they lived in a simple wooden cottage. Despite this, they lived happily, contented with the rewards brought by honest work and the love they shared between them.
However, like the de Mointeuins, they too were barren and longed to have a child that they could call their own.
That is, until that fateful Sunday morning shortly after church.
"My God, Ellen! Look!" Magnus exclaimed, pointing at a large wicker basket that had been placed on their doorstep.
"What is it, Dear?" she asked as they hurried down the dirt path that led to their abode.
Gingerly, they approached the basket and peered inside, only to reel back in surprise at the sight of a baby boy wrapped in plain white swaddling. He was fair-sized infant, roughly about a year old or so, with a head of tufty blond hair. He slumbered ever so peacefully as he sucked on his fist.
Both Ellen and Magnus shared a look. Whose child he was or where came from, they did not know as neither the basket nor his wrappings gave any indication of his parentage. However, there was one single item that gave a clue to his identity – a single, handwritten note, hastily written on a scrap of paper.
'Please give Kristoff a good home,' it read.
They flipped the note to see if there was anything else inscribed, only to find nothing of note. Whoever had left Kristoff had taken great pains to remain anonymous.
They reread the note again and again, unearthing a million questions, but not a single answer. Why was the baby abandoned? Were the parents unable or unwilling to take care of the baby? And why them? Why were they, out of everyone in the village, chosen to take care of the child?
Just then, these thoughts were interrupted as the child – Kristoff – began to stir. Brown eyes slowly fluttered open, staring groggily at the man and woman hovering over him.
'Papa? Mama?' he wondered. No, not Papa, and definitely not Mama. Yes, Papa had yellow hair like this man, but the man did not have a bushy beard like he did. And even though she looked friendly and kind, the woman looked nothing like Mama at all. Mama had soft, black hair and warm brown eyes, and this woman had brown hair and gray eyes.
Frightened by the strangers, he promptly burst into tears.
Ellen was the first to snap out of her trance. "Oh dear, oh dear!" she murmured, scooping the bawling boy into her arms. "Shh… It's okay…"
"I'll heat up some milk," Magnus offered, rushing into the house.
She graced him with a grateful smile. "Thank you, Dear."
"Where do you suppose he came from?" Magnus asked as he bustled about and set up the fireplace. In a short while, a small fire was blazing merrily underneath a saucepan of simmering milk.
"I don't know," Ellen replied as she rocked back and forth to calm Kristoff down, "But whoever left him here clearly wanted him to be raised well."
"Then that's just what we'll do!" Magnus declared. He ladled some milk into a bowl and handed it to his wife. "The poor thing clearly has nowhere else to go, and it'll be over my dead body before he goes to an orphanage!"
"Agreed!" said Ellen as she carefully fed the baby. She watched him sip and suck in deep, hungry gulps. "As if I'd ever let him set foot in one of those deathtraps!" As soon as the bowl was empty and the child satiated, she laid him over her shoulder and gently pat his back.
"That's right," Magnus put in, "He's family now, and family means that no one gets left behind."
"Did you hear that, Little Kristoff?" she cooed, holding him close. "You're family, that means you're safe here with us. We'll be your new Mama and Papa, and though we may not have much, what little we have we'll gladly share with you. We'll take care of you and make sure you're never alone, that we swear."
At around the same time, in the Arendellian capital of Christiana, a grand ball was being held in celebration for the formal presentation of the crown heiress, and it was without a doubt one of the most joyous events in the kingdom's recent history. Born on the Winter Solstice, she had come as an early Christmas present for her parents, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of the Royal House of Solberg, and people gathered from far and wide to see the little princess make her public debut.
No comfort or luxury was spared as she lay in an ornately carved cradle, surrounded by gifts, smiling happily at all those who beheld her. Aside from her silver-blond hair, the Princess Elsa was the spitting image of her mother, and it was clear that she would grow up to be a great beauty in her own right. Her very presence brought great joy to all those in attendance, but none were happier than the King and Queen themselves.
"Look at her," whispered Queen Iduna, misty-eyed with joy, "Look at how darling our Elsa is."
"Yes, she is," Agnarr replied, trying not to cry. He wasn't exactly the sentimental type, but the arrival of his daughter after years of wanting and waiting just elicited a certain type of elation unlike any he had felt before.
She cooed in delight; her laughter light and musical, much like that of tinkling silver bells.
"You are just precious," Agnarr laughed, tickling her chin, "You're my beautiful, stunning, per–"
Suddenly, Elsa's face scrunched up and she let out a sneeze, accompanied by a delicate spray of snowflakes, startling her father in the process. She sneezed again, giggling at lace like patterns that danced around her.
Agnarr stared, baffled by what had just transpired. For a moment, he wondered if he had been hallucinating, but judging by the equally stunned look on Iduna's face, that did not seem to be quite the case.
'Ice magic?' He felt his knees buckle. This was something utterly unexpected. Yes, he had spent months preparing himself for fatherhood, but parenting a magical child was definitely not on his agenda.
Just then, he felt a warm hand encompass his clammy one, and he turned to see Iduna, smiling encouragingly at him. "You're not alone," she said. "We can face this. Together."
"But Elsa–"
"Needs her parents now, more than ever," Iduna told him. "To be honest, I'm scared for her too, but I don't think fear is the answer."
He nodded, clenching his fist. "I know… It's just that– You know how some people view magic… I want to protect her from that. I just want what is best for her. I just want our daughter to grow up happy, accepted, loved."
"And she will…" said the Queen, "Elsa is a very special girl, but more importantly, she's our precious daughter, and whether she has powers or none, nothing will ever change the love that we have for her."
To be continued…
A/N: Hmm… Our protagonists' infancy seem to be progressing well, and they have established themselves as irreplaceable members of their respective family units. But as one chapter of life closes, another one opens. What kind of adventures will they have next? Find out in the next update!
