CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING
- implied nudity [bathing]

La Stella Luminosa.

Not the most eloquent name for a ship, but he'd seen worse. The Italian words revealed where the foreigner was from, and the vessel was how he'd arrived.

Of course, Leone had already answered these and many more unasked questions without so much as pausing for a breath. Hans hadn't concentrated on the man's ramblings, instead lost in his own contemplations of why this stranger had come to his aid and the consequences of being discovered. Luckily, they hadn't seen another soul since beginning their slow trek. The ex-prince wondered if his new companion had scared everyone off with his boisterous enthusiasm. After all, it'd be foolish to choose a victim who can be heard clear across the harbor.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" Leone commented after Hans let another inquiry pass in silence. Rather than be annoyed, Leone grinned. "You'll get along great with my sister!" He released Hans' arm as they reached the base of the gangplank. "It's too narrow for me to stay beside you, but I'll be right behind you to help you balance!"

Hans considered the possibility that this was all a set-up and he would be ambushed upon his ascension to the deck. Granted, that was a tad illogical, but so was everything else that had happened today.

He must have telegraphed his thoughts — again — since the other man gave his shoulder a reassuring pat.

"There's no need to worry, I promise."

A horrified gasp emanated from above them. Their attention snapped upward to see a middle-aged woman fly down the gangplank, her cocoa-colored irises glued to her target.

"Leone! Where have you been?! Who is this?! What happened?!"

The flurry of questions stunned their guest, but the young man had expected such a greeting.

"Well, I was coming back from dropping off the trash when suddenly—"

"Never mind, I don't want to hear it," the woman groaned, instantly dissuaded by the beginning of the tale. "The least you could do is avoid dragging innocent folks into your messes—" she scrutinized the filthy pair, "—literally."

Leone chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry, Mamma."

His mother sighed and smoothed her maple hair. "Well, I suppose there are worse things than dirt." She studied the two again and shook her head, removing a damp dishcloth from her apron pocket. "At least the Lord gives me the ability to deal with these situations. I had an inkling that something else was going to need washing tonight." She handed the rag to Leone and wordlessly indicated for him to wipe his hands. "Natalia's just finishing setting up a hot bath, and I was about to start a bit of laundry. Go on up, now." She stepped aside while motioning toward Hans. "You first, naturally. Oh, but don't be slow drying off, or you'll catch a cold in the night air."

If it were all a ruse, it was an exceedingly complicated one performed by superb actors. Still, he couldn't help but brace himself as he stepped onto the ship.

Illuminated by both moon and lantern, he was greeted by an innocuous scene. Sheets were strung up between the twin masts and a freestanding pole to create a private area. One linen was pushed aside as a young woman emptied a pot into a large washtub. Her bunned hair was the same shade as her brother's, but her olive complexion was paler than both his and their mother's. She must spend more time indoors.

Hans' steps alerted her to his approach. She looked up anticipatively, but her deep-brown eyes widened in shock at the sight before her.

"W-welcome! The bath is ready." She gestured behind her as she peered at the stranger. "Would you like me to fetch a cool compress?" Her soft voice held a note of concern.

He instinctively lifted a set of fingertips to the swollen cheek, his light touch prompting a slight wince at the subsequent soreness. His dingy glove picked up some new mud stains after the investigation, and Hans was mildly impressed the woman noticed the injury underneath the concealing coating.

"I apologize for any and all trouble my brother's caused you. He means well, really. I hope you can forgive him."

Hans could do nothing but stare. It was odd for another party to be shouldering the responsibility for his current state. Ever since childhood, his brothers had blamed him for anything and everything they could, regardless of his actual guilt. I lost count of how many times I was unfairly punished. At least the past year's hardships were a direct result of his own failure, instead of unjust condemnation. His view of the world had been confirmed as well: people were only pleasant if they believed you were useful in their own pursuits. His sentence had been an invitation for the public to show their true nature: nobility turned up their noses at him, royal guards reveled in grinding him beneath their heels, citizens spat on him or threw things at him, and even paupers oblivious to his identity would shoo him away like a mangy animal. Everyone whose path he crossed took the opportunity to add to his misery. Everyone except this family. He was giving himself a headache trying to make sense of it.

Natalia clutched the pot and shifted her weight, the visitor's extended silence making her uneasy. "Everything you need is in here," she squeaked as she removed herself from the makeshift doorway. "I'll get the compress and some fresh clothes and slide them under the curtain." She scuttled to the right-side cabin without waiting for an answer. Hans tracked her movement to the open door, through which Leone could be seen pondering the contents of an unlidded chest.

Hans entered the bathing area, removing a glove before pulling the covering closed. After ensuring there wasn't a gap to be found, he took in his surroundings. There was barely enough room to maneuver, as the wooden tub took up most of the space. A chair held folded towels, a bar of soap in a dish, and washcloths. Two pails of water for rinsing were stationed near the pole.

He tested the steaming water with his naked hand. Perfect. The baths he'd been granted since his fateful trip had been lukewarm at best. Glancing around once again, his eyes returned to the basin. I might as well take advantage of this. He hastily disrobed and eased himself into the tub.

Releasing an extended exhalation, he let himself relax. Pain he'd long ignored melted away as he fixed his gaze on the sky. He immediately recognized the visible constellations and mentally traced them. When was the last time I watched the stars?

Something scraped the deck. His head swiveled to find a cloth and water-filled bowl atop a tray. Slim hands darted between the linens to place a neat pile of clothes on the chair. A pair of short boots appeared next to the chair legs.

"I could've just brought it all in, you know." Leone's voice reverberated despite the linen partition. "What if he can't reach the tray?"

Hans took hold of a corner and dragged the wooden slab to the tub as noisily as he could.

"Well as long as you're listening," Leone bellowed, "I'm taking your dirty stuff so Mamma can wash it."

"That's not necessary," Hans assured him. Whatever presumptions the family had made about their guest were sure to be questioned if a seasoned caretaker thoroughly inspected his attire.

"See? I told you he could speak!"

"Leone!" Natalia hissed, embarrassed.

"What? If someone didn't talk to me, I'd wonder if they were mute, too."

Natalia's grumble suggested she was used to her brother's lack of tact. Hans found himself smirking, until a hand snatched his soiled garments to the outside of the enclosure.

"Hey!" was the best protest he could muster as he failed to snag the items.

"Hay is for horses!" A childish laugh echoed across the ship.

"Don't worry," Natalia reassured through the curtain, "we'll do our best to get all the mud out."

Hans grimaced. Not all of it is mud. "You needn't trouble yourselves. I'll have them laundered when I return home."

"It's no trouble at all. Besides, we already have to wash Leone's clothes."

The grimy boots disappeared beneath the sheet.

"Mamma gave me shoe-shining duty!" Leone proclaimed before scampering off again. The opaque barrier didn't stop Hans from pointing a mystified face in Leone's general direction.

"You can take as long as you like," Natalia offered. "We'll be out here when you're done." Her footsteps withdrew from the homemade bathhouse.

Hans grabbed the soap dish. The less time spent in such a vulnerable position, the better.

Hans emerged from the curtained area to find buckets of water lined up outside. They must be for Leone. Hans suspected the young man was the usual wearer of his borrowed outfit, which he was adjusting for the fourth time. It was rather loose on him, the shirt in particular. It was definitely meant for Leone's straight torso, not his own tapered one.

"Looks good!" Leone called from his spot on a stool near the rail. His mother and sister raised their heads from wringing laundry.

"Couldn't you have found something that fits him better?" the elder woman inquired with a click of her tongue.

"I picked out the most comfortable stuff I own!" Leone protested.

The declaration gave Hans pause in his battle with the left sleeve. He would have expected to receive clothes that were worn out or ill-fitting, useless to their owner. Yet this man had once again defied logic, selecting the favored pieces of his wardrobe for use by a complete stranger.

"I'm going to take a bath now."

Hans lifted his eyes at the squeaky slide of the stool to see Leone trotting to him.

"I finished cleaning your boots, but you should let the polish dry before you wear them."

His mind still befuddled, Hans blinked and returned his gaze to the loose cuff. Leone stooped to catch his eye.

"You can keep everything you're wearing," Leone murmured. Upon seeing Hans' mouth fall agape, he added, "I'll have Mamma or Natalia adjust the measurements the next time we do wash for you." He clapped the redhead's shoulder twice before continuing on his way.

Hans stared at his wrist, his opposite hand frozen on the uncooperative clothing. The whole situation was surreal. Is it possible I died in that alley and this is the afterlife? But that couldn't be, as this certainly wasn't the eternity he deserved. Unless my assigned torment is to improve my condition, then pull the rug out from under my feet.

"Pardon me."

The gentle voice broke his trance. His head jerked up to reveal Natalia standing a few paces off.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I was trying not to startle you." She pointed to the cuff. "Do you need help with that?"

Hans nodded and held out his arm. Natalia swiftly secured the button to the proper hole.

"There," she affirmed as she backed away. "It's not precisely your size, but it's the closest match."

He examined his forearm. She chose correctly without hesitation. They're all surely used to making the best of imperfection. Hans observed a speck of lint and brushed it from the green cloth. His bare palm detected the unevenness of the skin beneath with a flinch, so he dropped his arms to his sides while focusing on a nearby lantern to distract himself.

The peculiar action did not elude Natalia's notice. "Are you hurt?!"

"I'm fine," was his dismissive reply.

The young woman seemed unconvinced. "Do you feel ill?"

"No, I'm just tired." He wanted to keep her from prying, but the answer wasn't entirely false. He was, in fact, exhausted.

"Ah, of course. I'll go prepare your sleeping quarters."

While "sleeping quarters" sounded vastly more appealing than "dungeon cell," he wasn't about to make his desires conspicuous. "You've already gone above and beyond what was necessary. I can't impose any further."

"Nonsense. Besides, it's much too late for you to walk home, especially after whatever adventure Leone entangled you in." Natalia took a step toward the stairs that went below deck, then turned back. "Oh, but my mother isn't going to let you go to bed without eating first."

"Excuse me?"

"She's Italian," Natalia stated as though that were the only clarification needed.

As if on cue, her mother appeared in the left-hand cabin's doorway.

"Have you eaten supper?" The question was clearly directed at Hans.

"Yes," he lied.

"Well, I'm sure my son's antics rendered it pointless. Come, I have a little something fixed for you."

A tiny giggle escaped Natalia's lips. She gave Hans a timid wave before resuming her mission.

Hans crossed the threshold and was surprised by the unorthodox room: an all-in-one kitchen, dining area, and bedchamber. The iron stove in the corner radiated heat, adding to the cabin's cozy atmosphere.

"Here." The woman pulled out the chair with a meal of soup and bread set before it. The young man obediently sat down. "It's rabbit stew," she explained as he stirred the bowl's contents.

Peasant game made into a peasant meal. Compared to the scraps he was given, though, this was a king's delicacy. The former prince resisted the urge to wolf it down after the first spoonful.

"It's delicious," he complimented. He ripped a bite-sized chunk from the thick slices beside him and popped it in his mouth. "The bread is soft and tasty." Another gulp of the main dish followed. "You made these?"

"Yes, with my own secret recipes!" Her pride in that fact was evident.

Hans flashed a smile and returned to his methodical eating.

"Mercy!"

The woman's dramatic exclamation startled him (though he managed to avoid any food casualties).

"I never introduced myself! My name is Mirella." She smiled expectantly.

"Lars," Hans replied with a nod. While washing, he'd decided it was best to give a fake name if asked. This family may not be Southern Isles natives, but who knew what gossip they'd heard.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lars." Mirella's smile widened, then dropped to a frown. "Although I am sorry it was under such disconcerting circumstances. I do apologize for Leone. He has good intentions, but tends to act without thinking."

"Leone! Why are you strolling about in nothing but a towel?!" Natalia's frantic whisper carried through the open doorway.

"I forgot my change of clothes," the unabashed male stated matter-of-factly. The other cabin's door thumped shut.

Hans cast a sideways glance at Mirella. The disgruntled mother rubbed her temples, inadvertently drawing his attention to the thin streaks of gray scattered throughout her long hair. I presume Leone is responsible for a fair share of those.

Mirella patted Hans' knee as she stood. "You just finish your food and leave the dishes where they are. I have some more laundry to tend to." With that, she whisked out of the room.

When Hans exited the cabin, Mirella and Natalia were hanging towels while Leone swabbed the deck. The ex-royal concluded he ought to offer help so as to not be impolite. However, steps on the gangplank halted his idea.

"Pappa!" Leone cried, dropping the mop. His attempt to run across the wet wood would have likely landed him on his backside if weren't for each woman grabbing an arm.

The bearded man chuckled at his son's exuberance. "It's good to be home after a long day. I'm looking forward to—" He spied Hans. "Why, hello! I'm sorry, I didn't realize we had the pleasure of entertaining company." His springy salt-and-pepper curls jiggled as he bowed to introduce himself. "I'm Vincenzo."

"Lars. Pleased to meet you."

"I take it you're a friend of my son?"

"Acquainted via Leone's usual method of befriending strangers," Mirella lamented as she placed the last clothespin.

Vincenzo let slip a bemused grunt, which he covered with a cough when his wife shot him a scowl. "Is that so? Well, everyone seems to be in one piece, and that's what's important." He smiled at his son, who grinned in return.

"I believe it's time we all retire for the night," announced Mirella as she gave the deck one last inspection. "You two get our guest settled." She gesticulated as she spoke, waving her children toward the hatchway. Leone bolted to the descending staircase, while Natalia shuffled along behind him.

"Come on, Lars!" The young man's hair bounced around as he beckoned wildly.

"Lars" was about to comply, until he recalled what he'd been mulling over just a minute prior. He turned to the couple. "Thank you—"

"There's no need to thank us," Mirella interrupted. "Now, off to bed with you. It's late, and you need your rest."

Hans' perplexed expression sparked Vincenzo's amusement.

"My wife has a tendency to mother everyone," he chortled. "Even myself, on occasion."

"That's because you'd work nonstop if I didn't force you to take breaks," Mirella retorted.

"And I appreciate you looking out for my health." Vincenzo planted a kiss on his wife's cheek before turning back to Hans. "You should do as she says. My dearest is always right about these kinds of things." Mirella nodded in agreement. "Spend enough time here, and she'll adopt you," he added with a wink.

That would be nice.

The spontaneous thought astonished him. He mechanically accompanied the siblings below deck as numbness overtook his being.

What sort of lunacy was that? Wishing to be coddled by an overbearing surrogate mother. I must be exceedingly enervated.

A double bunk was nestled against the back corner. Nightclothes were atop a chest at the foot of the bed. A lit lantern hung on the wall. Leone was pointing all this out as though Hans was blind.

"... and here's a lantern so you can see down here, and some pajamas — you can just wear what you have on now tomorrow — and if you want a third pillow or an extra blanket you can just take them off the top bunk, unless you want to be in the top bunk, in which case we should move everything—"

"You don't need to change a thing. I'm quite pleased with the accommodations."

"Are you sure? If there's something else we can do—"

"You've done plenty."

"Will you be okay down here by yourself?"

Hans bit his tongue to keep from spouting off an incriminating quip regarding his normal bed. Natalia read it as aggravation and smacked Leone's arm.

"Alright, alright," Leone conceded. "Just yell if you need anything." With that, he bounded up the stairs.

Hans shook his head. I don't understand that fellow. His attention refocused on the figure paused mid-flight. Natalia had stopped on the steps, apparently waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

"There are locks on every side except the hinged one," she pointed out. Hans strode to the front of the staircase for a better view. "We don't lock the hatch from above when someone's down here, but feel free to lock yourself in."

Hans couldn't suppress his bemused smirk at her choice of words. This only unnerved the apprehensive girl.

"I mean, you don't have to lock it, but you can if it will make you feel safer. We wouldn't be offended at all; it's completely understandable since we're basically strangers." Her blush increased throughout the fumbling addendum until she was entirely red-faced by the end.

The former prince allowed himself a chuckle. "We haven't been formally introduced, have we? My name is Lars." He bowed deeply, making a show of it. He raised his head at her shy giggle.

"Natalia." She curtsied expertly.

He straightened with a charming smile upon his face. "Now we're acquaintances instead of strangers. And I do believe I will take your suggestion of locking myself in for the night. I expect your brother is the sort of person who would come bumbling down here during the wee hours of the morning, disturbing my slumber to rave about having just awoken from a fantastic dream."

Natalia tittered at the scenario. "If he woke up. He sleeps like a rock. Mamma has to rouse him practically every morning!"

Hans joined in her momentary mirth. The woman flushed and coughed as she regained her composure.

"I'm sorry, I should let you rest."

"There's no need to apologize," Hans heartened her. "I actually do enjoy conversation — when I don't feel I'm being plowed over, that is."

"Leone's simply... excitable. He doesn't mean to be discourteous. He just wants to be friends with everyone."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Natalia nodded in appreciation. "I'll take my leave now."

"Pleasant dreams, Miss Natalia."

Her cheeks became crimson as she smiled. "You as well."

She ascended to the deck. He trailed behind, pulling the hatch door over his head as she trotted to the smaller cabin.

Hans' smile faded with her footsteps. His skills were not as dull as he'd feared. He'd obviously left a sweet impression on the lady. It wouldn't do well to have her constantly nervous around him, thereby giving her family a reason to cease their charity.

Indubitably, they'd give him the boot the moment his true identity was revealed. In the meantime, he'd be a fool to squander the opportunity his last shred of stubborn pride had nearly cost him.

Satisfied the locks were secure, he quickly changed into the provided nightclothes. The soft mattress and fluffy pillows were a far cry from the sparsely-stuffed imitations that adorned his usual bed. No one would check — or care — that his cell was empty tonight. There would only be trouble if he skipped out on his duties tomorrow.

Truly comfortable for the first time in nearly a year, he was soon fast asleep.

Vincenzo munched on an apple as Mirella finished tidying up the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, dear," she sighed for the third time. "I know you were looking forward to that stew."

"Darling, please, stop apologizing. You know I would have given him the food myself had I been here." He tossed the core in the garbage pail.

"I know, I know. It's just that I didn't make as much as I normally do since we've been stretched so thin lately..."

"Ah, yes, that reminds me—" Vincenzo dug into a pocket and produced a coin purse. "—Brogan paid me today."

Mirella clapped her hands together. "Wonderful! I can make a big breakfast tomorrow, enough for all five of us! Lord knows that poor boy could use another good meal."

Vincenzo took a moment to bask in his wife's radiant glow. As much as she loved cooking, she loved feeding people even more.

"Speaking of Lars," he said as he retrieved a nightgown, "how did he and Leone meet, exactly?"

"I don't know." Mirella glanced in the dresser mirror as she readied herself for bed. "I stopped Leone before he could launch into one of his stories. I assumed he'd gotten preoccupied with something silly and inconvenienced some unfortunate young gentleman, but after washing their clothes, I'm not so sure. Both were filthy, but the dirt on Leone's was fresh. Lars' clothes had layers of set-in stains. Plus, they were fancy but well-worn. In fact, the palms of his gloves were threadbare!"

"A penniless nobleman, perhaps?" Vincenzo mused as he doused the light.

"That's what I was thinking." Mirella joined her husband beneath the blanket.

"Such a man wouldn't admit his need, either. I can see why Leone would be eager to assist."

"So it's agreed: we're going to help him in every way possible."

Vincenzo smiled at his decisive wife. "Of course."

Author's Note: La Stella Luminosa is Italian for "The Bright Star"