CHAPTER CONTENT WARNINGS
- injury [theoretical possibility]
- death [theoretical possibility]
The remainder of their labor passed uneventfully. The pair finished early and left after the grumpy butler grunted his approval.
As they headed for La Stella Luminosa, Hans marveled at how unnoticeable he had become. He had longed for recognition for so many years, yet was always passed over in favor of someone else. That was his life as the thirteenth child, the youngest of the current generation of Southern Isles princes. No one in his family cared about him, and no one outside his family knew of him. Arendelle was his chance to change that. If he had become king, his father would have seen him as a valuable heir instead of a worthless spare. The citizens of Arendelle would have revered him, and the residents of the Southern Isles would have no longer asked "Who?" when they heard the name Prince (or King) Hans. That would have been his new life had his plan succeeded. Instead, he was thwarted by events he still didn't quite understand.
Ironically, his fall from grace had garnered him recognition, but not the kind he'd always dreamed about. He'd been the center of his family's attention for a brief time after his return, when they debated his punishment. After disowning and sentencing him, he hadn't seen any of them, so, in that regard, his life wasn't much different from the few years prior to his last foreign excursion. And the current state of affairs with his brothers was certainly better than his pre-navy existence, as he hadn't had to deal with the verbal and physical abuse that had been so common in his childhood and adolescence. But, then again, the people of the Isles more than made up for his family's absence. He was ignored or berated, shunned or reproached, avoided or attacked. It was the same life he'd always lived, only now everyone, from the aristocracy down to the plebeian, was free to participate.
However, as he'd noted that morning, a change in wardrobe meant he was simply another face in the crowd. The few who had a memory for faces eyed him with suspicion, but ultimately did nothing. Perhaps Leone's presence made those few second-guess themselves. After all, no sane person would enjoy being around ex-Prince Hans. No one ever enjoyed being around me unless I was somehow useful to them.
Hans glanced at his companion. Leone was rambling on about the layout of the city streets compared to other cities he'd visited. The man was practically shoulder-to-shoulder with Hans, and kept pace no matter how fast or slow the ex-royal walked. Hans ignored yet another of Leone's questions, and the chatterbox continued on, unfazed. Had this been his old life, Hans would have guaranteed the underlying reason: his conversation partner wasn't actually interested in conversing and merely liked hearing his own voice. However, this wasn't his old life. This man had put himself in harm's way to rescue him, a stranger. And when he had ungratefully lashed out, this man had thrown himself down to his foul, muddy level.
Hans gave the man beside him a more thorough scrutinization. Leone was looking in the opposite direction, commenting on the names of the streets they passed. His face seemed to naturally rest in a cheerful state, the ever-present smile widening whenever he saw anything that tickled his sense of humor. I suppose it's easy to be like that when you're raised in a family as kind as his.
Leone snapped his head right, having spotted something of interest. It was quickly forgotten, however, as he caught Hans' gaze. "Are you alright?!"
The two locked eyes, Hans trying to solve this puzzle of a person while Leone attempted to ascertain the answer to his inquiry. His worried tone and concerned expression were the same as the previous evening (albeit less intense due to the lack of dire circumstances).
Genuine concern.
That was it. Leone loved talking, but not for his own sake. He wanted to be friends, as Natalia had said, and his method of making friends was to speak of every topic that popped into his head until he found one that was met with mutual enthusiasm. His frequent questions were his way of making sure the other party felt welcome to join in. Hans' silence at every opportunity signaled disinterest to Leone, who would then try another subject. Plus, Leone wasn't entirely stupid. He'd witnessed Hans pull away when pushed too hard. Thus Leone never pressed any point, content to let his curiosity go unanswered and give Hans his space. Uniquely, Leone's incessant babbling was a mark of selflessness rather than selfishness.
"Lars?"
"I'm fine," Hans replied, shaking off the daze he'd fallen into. "My apologies, I was lost in thought..." He searched for a distraction, and his eyes fell on a street sign. "Did you know this avenue was named 'Heldig Hest' in honor of King Anders' favorite stallion?"
"What?! Who's King Anders?! What's 'heldig hest' mean?!"
Hans couldn't tell if Leone was genuinely intrigued by the trivia or if he was just excited that "Lars" was actually speaking to him. "Anders was the third ruler of the Southern Isles. 'Heldig hest' translates to 'lucky horse.'"
"Really?! Why was he considered lucky?"
Hans smirked as they continued walking. I suppose a little pointless discussion wouldn't kill me.
Mirella must have been anticipating her son's return, since he hadn't even stepped off the gangplank before she stuck her head out the cabin door. "I need you to buy a few things from the market."
"I thought you and Natalia went to the market this morning," Leone whined as he retrieved a paper and money pouch from his mother's waving arm.
"We did, but since someone wouldn't wake up to come with us, we couldn't get everything we needed," Mirella retorted as she took the lunch box from Leone.
"Oh. Heh heh. Sorry, Mamma." Leone read the list before stuffing both items in his pocket. "This shouldn't take long. Do you want to come with me, Lars?"
"He's had a long day of tough work," Mirella tutted before Hans could open his mouth. "You go by yourself. Don't dawdle and stay out of trouble."
"Yes, Mamma," Leone acknowledged, though his disappointment was clear. Hans, however, was secretly relieved. Someone might reveal him if he interacted with the townspeople. Mirella had saved him from having to think up a reasonable excuse. Still, it was best to be polite.
"I feel fine. I'm perfectly capable of assisting in any manner." Even though he suspected Mirella wouldn't rescind her judgment, his hardiness wasn't a farce. Having an extra set of hands on the job meant he had strength to spare.
Leone silently begged his mother's approval as she considered her guest's offer. Immune to the pleading gaze, Mirella set her sight over Hans' shoulder.
"Natalia could use help fetching water," the matriarch announced with pointed volume.
Hans turned around to see the aforementioned girl halt her ascension of the staircase. Her bewilderment at the trio's stares was plain.
"Uhm, yes?" she ventured, wary of the context of her mother's declaration.
"Okay, okay," Leone muttered dejectedly, trudging away. Mirella smiled triumphantly and returned to the cabin.
"May I?" Hans reached for a bucket but grasped nothing except air. Natalia had vanished. Hans peered through the hatchway. "Hello?"
"Just a moment," the unseen woman answered. She re-emerged from the belly of the ship with a second set of buckets.
"Thank you for helping," she said as she handed over a pair of pails.
"It's my pleasure," Hans replied with a broad smile, taking a handle in each palm.
Natalia led the way down the gangplank without another word. Her silence didn't bother Hans. After dealing with Leone, it was nice that the only sounds were the wind, waves, and bustle of harbor life. With nothing to actively engage in, Hans relaxed. The gait of the girl ahead of him was steady, and the pails swinging in his grip provided a calm tempo.
That was clever.
He could appreciate a woman who thought of the most efficient way to complete a task. Every lady he'd encountered in his royal life would have simply given him a bucket — or both buckets while she sat on a couch doing nothing. Then again, none of those women would be fetching water in the first place. Necessity is the mother of invention. One must make the best use of their labor and time when they're not handed everything on a silver platter.
He grimaced as his eldest brother's face flashed through his mind. Klaus, as the crown prince, never had to worry about his place in life. If their father lived to a ripe old age, the oldest of the Westergaard bunch could carry on as he had done thus far: making no difficult choices and enjoying the privileges of his status. Unlike Hans, who always had to fight to glean a scrap of attention from anyone. Even something as basic as receiving one of his brothers' old garments was a chore when there were twelve more important princes for everyone to tend to. Never mind that I had outgrown my only overcoat. No, Clement wasn't happy with his new vestment for the third time that month, so it needed to be completely remade before anything of mine was given a moment of thought.
The clatter of wood against stone alerted him to their arrival at the well. Natalia had set down her equipment and was pulling the rope over the side.
"Why don't you put the bucket on the ledge?" Hans suggested as he tapped the stone-and-mortar cylinder.
"Leone did that once and knocked the bucket into the well," Natalia explained, "so I always tie it off on the ground." She finished attaching the pail, lifted it into the well, and pushed on a lever to swiftly drop the bucket. A splash signaled her to release her hold, stopping the gear once more. Leaning over the opening, the young woman grabbed the rope and swished it around.
"Be careful, now," Hans reprimanded, placing a chivalrous arm in front of his companion's chest. "We wouldn't want to lose you down the well!"
Natalia giggled. "You don't have to worry. I know my limits."
"Alright," Hans conceded, withdrawing his limb, "but I'm not diving in after you."
Natalia laughed outright this time. Judging the bucket to be full, she straightened and reached for the crank.
"Please, allow me." Hans began to turn the handle, spooling the rope around the shaft and raising the pail. Natalia seemed to be watching him, but when he glanced her way she was focused on the ascending water.
When the bucket was high enough, Natalia pulled the pail to the lip of the opening.
"Hold another bucket on the well while I transfer the water," Hans advised. Natalia eyed him warily as he placed an empty pail on the ledge. "I won't knock it down the well," he reassured her. "If I do, I'll go in after it."
Natalia clamped down on the rim as though the pail might float away. "So you'll jump into a well to retrieve a bucket, but not me?" She was doing an awful job of masking her amusement.
Hans tipped the contents of the anchored pail into the gripped one. "It makes more sense to throw you a line and pull you out. If I dove in, then we'd both be stuck down there."
Natalia pondered this as she lowered the now-full bucket to safety. "What if I had hit my head and was unconscious?" she queried as he dropped the tied pail for its second trip.
Hans raised curious brows at her. "Hm. First and foremost, I would locate a rope that could support both of us. Then I would climb down so I didn't hurt you or myself by diving into the well. Finally, I would secure you to my back with the end of the rope before climbing up like a mountaineer."
"That's very thorough," Natalia complimented. They filled the second pail. "But what if I was face-down in the water? I might drown before you could save me."
Hans chuckled over the splash of the bucket below. "Isn't that rather morbid, especially for a lady?"
Natalia's shoulders tensed, and not from tugging the rope back and forth. "I always envision every possibility for a given scenario," she mumbled, releasing the cord and brushing back a stray lock of hair.
"As do I. It's nothing to be ashamed of," Hans encouraged her. "Most people don't have the wits for that sort of thinking."
Natalia blushed as they filled the last loose pail. "Maybe." She watched the bucket's final descent. "So what would you do?"
"I suppose I would drop the well's rope," Hans began as he released the lever, "then slide down it, hoping the structure can support my weight." Natalia checked if the bucket was full as he continued. "I think that would be the fastest way to get to you with the lowest chance of further injuring you. Then, as before, I would tie you to my back and climb out." He started the now-routine rotation of the handle. "However, if it seemed like the crankshaft was going to give way, I would stay put, using the dangling rope to keep us afloat with minimal effort while we waited to be rescued." He stood back as Natalia retrieved the pail. Of course, no one would bother if they knew it was the ex-prince that needed help. They'd save Natalia and leave me at the bottom of the well. Probably seal it off while they're at it.
He became aware of the fact that he was absent-mindedly staring at Natalia and shifted his gaze sideways as she looked at him.
"Are you alright?" Natalia inquired softly.
"Oh, fine," Hans replied, bemusedly noting this family's habit of asking him that.
"That's good. I was worried your bruise was bothering you."
"Ah, not at all." He hadn't even thought about the previous night's injury until her mention of it. It felt a bit sore now that he was focused on it, but that was still far better than he would have expected. "I just get lost in thought sometimes."
"Me too," Natalia admitted bashfully as she hooked two buckets to the shoulder yoke. She motioned for Hans. "Here. It's easier to carry the pails with this."
"No, you use it," Hans graciously declined. "I'll be fine carrying the buckets at my sides."
"Are you positive?"
"Of course I am." Hans assisted Natalia in placing the yoke across her shoulders, then retrieved the other two pails.
The pair began the journey back to the ship. Hans stole a glance at the girl beside him. She was looking at him, but much lower than eye level. He tracked her vision for a moment before realizing the target of her focus.
He mentally cursed himself as he prepared his most affable tone. "Am I correct in assuming you made my new gloves last night?"
Natalia's eyes met his in shock before she abruptly turned away. "Yes."
Hans could read her body language like a book. "Why are you embarrassed?"
Natalia's grip on the yoke tightened. "Because you noticed I was looking at them."
"It was a little obvious," Hans informed her with a smirk.
Natalia seemed to shrink into herself as she widened the gap between them. "I'm sorry. I was just trying to see how well they fit you."
Hans inwardly cringed at his gaffe. "There's no need to apologize." The last thing he needed was Natalia closing herself off from him. "I know you're hesitant to say what's on your mind, but I hope that perhaps you'd do me the honor of speaking without reservation."
Natalia's knuckles had turned white. "I didn't want to seem like I was trying to guilt you into thanking me by broaching the subject."
Hans laughed. "I would never presume such a thing. I can tell that you aren't the sort of person who would do that."
Natalia sighed. "Well, not on purpose."
"Certainly not."
The two lapsed into silence. Hans casually side-eyed the young woman. Her lips were pressed together and her eyes fixed on the cobblestones before her, but her hands were returning to their usual shade.
"May I ask you a question?" Her voice was so low, she was almost whispering.
"Absolutely!" Hans replied with measured gusto.
Natalia's smile seemed to indicate appreciation for his zeal. "How did you know I sewed the gloves last night?"
"They're clearly new, and you were tired at breakfast." It had been easy to deduce, though he was still frustrated that it had slipped his mind in the first place.
"That's quite an astute conclusion," Natalia commended. She fell silent for a moment, deliberating her next morsel of speech. "Um, how do they fit?" she asked.
"They're perfectly sized for my hands."
"Oh, good! I didn't know if they would be, since I was going by the size of your worn gloves, and I didn't actually measure them, I tried them on before we washed them and then used the comparison to cut the material. At first, I thought I should make them a little bigger, because if they were too small they'd be worthless and I could always take them in if they were too large, but then I remembered that I had to account for the material stretching with wear, so I ended up leaving them the same size as your old gloves..." Her nervous ramble trailed off when she noticed Hans staring at her. "I'm sorry, was that wrong?"
Hans blinked and shook his head. "No, no, I was just impressed that you crafted something so accurate with such an inaccurate method. Your skills are impeccable."
Natalia looked away, her shyness getting the better of her. "Mamma always says I have an eye for details, but I'm simply of average ability," she murmured.
Hans chuckled. "Your mother's right. Speaking of details, I am curious as to your reasoning for choosing blue silk as the lining." He had wondered about the light blue cloth on the interior of his gloves since his earlier examination of the gift.
"Ah, well, I chose silk because it's superior to other fabrics in controlling heat and moisture." Natalia sounded unusually self-assured, confident in her education on the craft. "So it was the best material to use. The color was because... uhm... it was the only silk I had," she finished in a tiny voice.
"Of course. I'm sorry." He felt foolish for even asking. If Natalia had options, she would have picked a color more suitable for work gloves than the delicate shade she'd used. It wasn't as though she was a royal tailor with an array of bolts to select from. She was probably lucky to have a piece of silk in the first place. And she wasted it on me.
Natalia smiled at him. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm just glad they fit. Your old gloves probably wouldn't have lasted much longer." Her smile disappeared as it dawned on her what she'd just uttered.
Hans could see the questions on her mind. "It's alright, you can ask whatever you want." He was confident he could handle any inquiries about "Lars" she would be bold enough to vocalize.
Natalia tapped the yoke with her thumbs as she gathered her thoughts. "When you first arrived last night," she finally began, "Mamma and I assumed you were a gentry who'd gotten caught in one of Leone's mishaps." She paused, uncertain of whether or not to continue.
Hans nodded once, signaling her to go on. He knew where this was headed.
"But someone of nobility would never let their clothes become so worn, and they wouldn't work as a stable hand. So, I suppose I'm just wondering..."
"Who I am?" Hans finished.
"Uhm, yes." Natalia seemed distraught, as though it were a horrible transgression that she'd dared to pry into his personal affairs.
Hans flashed a reassuring smile. "Your inquisitiveness is completely appropriate. As you suspected, I am of noble blood. However, I haven't lived a gentleman's life for some time. I won't bore you with the particulars. Suffice to say, I have some older brothers who squandered the family fortune, leaving me with naught but the clothes on my back. Now I must labor for my meals. A per diem stable hand is an in-demand line of work."
Natalia's horrified expression signaled she'd completely bought the fib. "That's terrible! To be so irresponsible and leave your younger sibling with nothing—" Her eyes widened and darted around, searching the pier.
Hans wondered what had spooked her. "Is something wrong?"
"Oh, no! I was just worried that someone overhead." Satisfied there wasn't a soul within earshot, she returned her gaze to Hans. "I mean, I'm sure you don't want the whole world to know this."
While there was truth to her words, Hans could tell her given reason hadn't been her primary motivation in looking about. A tidbit to store for a future date. "It's not something I wish to openly advertise."
"I understand, but I'll need to inform my family of this." She smiled apologetically. "I don't want to keep secrets from them."
Hans looked her in the eye. "I would never ask you to lie to your family. Although I have a feeling you aren't capable of it anyway," he added with a note of amusement. Natalia was far too easy to read. Any attempt at outright dishonesty would be written all over her face.
Natalia's red cheeks deepened to crimson. "Pappa tells me that's part of my 'appealing sincerity,' but I think others just see me as naïve."
"That's their loss," Hans vehemently stated. If anything, the whole family shares a certainnaïveté. I'd be amazed if they weren't regularly swindled.
"At least it's not much of a loss," Natalia mumbled under her breath.
Hans cocked his head at her, but the young woman was staring at her feet. She didn't appear to know that her accompaniment had overheard her muttered self-insult. Transparent and low self-esteem? What a perfect combination.
"May I ask a favor of you?" Hans whispered.
Natalia perked up. "Absolutely!"
"Don't tell your family about my past until after I've left this evening. I'd rather not discuss the whole affair. No doubt they'll be amenable to that."
"Yes, of course."
The duo reached the base of the gangplank. "Ladies first," Hans urged with a slight bow.
"Thank you," Natalia politely replied before deftly scaling the angled board. Once on deck, she turned back to Hans. "I'll show you where we store the water." She descended the staircase.
Following close behind, Hans glanced from his companion's back to the wooden planks beneath his feet. 'I tried them on before we washed them.' Natalia had been planning on sewing a new pair of gloves from the start, before their conversation on the stairs. At least they practice what they preach. He couldn't recall ever meeting anyone who would stay up all night making something for a poor stranger.
There were several barrels secured in a corner, one of which had a funnel sticking out of the hole in the lid. The pair emptied their buckets, filling the barrel nearly to the brim.
"Perfect," Natalia stated as she removed the funnel. She tapped the cork back into place with a wooden mallet. "There."
Hans watched as she returned the tools to their homes. "We're done?"
"Yes. Thank you for your help."
"I didn't help very much," Hans chuckled.
"You helped as much as you could. Either way, I appreciate it." Natalia's smile complemented her words.
Hans returned the expression. "Not as much as I appreciate everything you and your family have done for me."
Natalia repeatedly smoothed non-existent wrinkles in her apron. "Helping others is the right thing to do."
Hans smiled despite Natalia still fiddling with her garment. Some would argue that people like himself were a reasonable exception to that creed. He had been lucky to find a family unfamiliar with his crimes. "Speaking of that, is there anything else I may be of assistance with?"
"No, all the chores are done." She took a step toward the staircase.
"Are you certain there's nothing I can do before we eat?"
She seemed to be considering something. "Do you like to read?"
"It's one of my favorite pastimes." At least, it was. Access to the royal library was one of the privileges he missed the most.
He didn't have time to mourn his lost life. Natalia's face had lit up at his response, and she was halfway up the stairs before she noticed that Hans hadn't moved. "Follow me!"
Hans heeded her invitation. The pair climbed to the deck and entered the smaller cabin. Double bunks took up most of the left and right sides, with chests and dressers lining the remaining wall space. The curtain that divided the room was pushed back, and sunlight filtered through the multi-panel window on the far wall. His gaze roamed from the panes to Natalia as she opened the trunk next to the head of her bed. The contents were neatly divided into stacks of books, piles of cloth, and small baskets of sewing supplies. "I don't have much of a selection," she apologized, "but it's better than nothing."
"Natalia?" Mirella's call was barely dampened by the wall that divided the two cabins. "Will you please set the table?"
"I'll be right there!" Natalia hopped to her feet. "Feel free to take whatever you want," she told her guest. "I've read them all dozens of times." With that, she disappeared.
Hans grabbed several books and silently read the titles. 'Oliver Twist'... 'Hamlet'... Hm. The third book had nothing on the cover. The rest of the binding was blank as well, so he opened the volume. Oh! It was a surprise to find sketches when he expected a novel. Hans thumbed through the pages. The works were rather proficient, despite the humble medium. He stopped at a detailed drawing of a bride and groom, and chuckled when he recognized the bride as Natalia. A plain yet elegant style. That definitely suits her. He turned his eyes to the groom, dressed in a simple suit, but with only the faintest oval for a head. Hans found himself smiling as he returned the stack to the chest. I suppose it's common for women to dream of their wedding day, even if they don't fancy anyone in particular. He froze with his fingertips still touching the sketchbook. What if... He shook his head as though he could erase the inspiration, but it was too late. The idea had manifested. It needed some thorough planning and polishing before it could be implemented, but he had already laid the groundwork.
"DINNER'S DONE!" Leone's voice echoed through the ship.
Hans gave his appearance a quick inspection in Natalia's mirror. He was no perfectly-groomed prince, but this was the best he'd looked since he was cast out of his royal life. I have them to thank for that. The ex-prince stopped in the middle of the room. He truly was indebted to this family. They had so little, and yet they willingly — joyfully — shared everything with him. I really am grateful.
Boisterous noise from the adjacent cabin reinforced the pleasant feeling. "Lars?! Where are you?!"
"Coming!" he exclaimed, though he still lingered. A welcoming family had been a childhood dream. It was odd to experience one first-hand. He was honestly beholden to them for all they had done.
I just need to ensure that I continue to have a reason to be grateful.