CHAPTER CONTENT WARNINGS
- vomiting [depiction]
- menstruation [references and explanation]
- sexual references [implied education and behavior]
"Lars!"
He jumped at the combination of the loud yell and a sideways face popping into his field of vision. Hans had been so engrossed in his reading that he hadn't even noticed Leone enter.
"Leone!" Natalia scolded. "Don't startle us like that!"
"It's not my fault you're dead-to-the-world when you've got your nose in a book!" Leone protested. He glanced from his sister to her companion. "A trait you have in common, I see."
"I take it you've never been enthralled by a literary tale." Hans stretched as he set the book on the bed behind him.
"I don't have the patience for long reading spells," Leone explained as he helped Natalia to her feet.
"Is that so? I would have never guessed." Hans' droll tone was complemented by a roll of his eyes.
Both siblings giggled before Leone spoke. "Mamma sent me to fetch you two for dinner."
Natalia was aghast at this news. "Dinner's ready?! Why didn't she call me to help? Or set the table?" With that, she scurried from the cabin.
Leone watched her leave, a peculiar smile on his face. He turned back to Hans. "This is good."
"What?" Hans' inquiry was the natural response to such a statement, though he already knew the answer.
"Her reading instead of doing chores," Leone clarified as he motioned after his sister. "Mamma told me that she mentioned Natalia's work habits to you."
Hans nodded. "Your mother wanted me to distract Natalia from assisting with a sewing project."
The dark-haired youth grinned. "And you did an excellent job of it." He offered his hand to Hans. "You two being friends will be great!"
The redhead paused with his arm partially extended. "Excuse me?"
"It's perfect!" Leone insisted, closing the remaining gap. "You get someone to read with when you don't feel like talking to me, and Natalia gets human interaction that keeps her from wearing herself out!"
Hans allowed Leone to pull him upright. "Is that what friendship is? Mutually beneficial trade-offs?"
Leone scratched his head. "Sometimes, I guess. Other times it's just enjoying someone else's company!"
"Hm." The former royal straightened his clothes, more out of habit than necessity. "Does that make us friends?"
"You're definitely my friend!" Leone confirmed. His bright energy faded slightly as he added, "I can't speak for you, though."
Hans knew how he had to reply. "I suppose 'friends' is an suitable term for our relationship." Leone's face lit up, but Hans continued. "It's far less pitiful than 'charity case.'"
Leone frowned. "Don't be like that."
"You're right," Hans apologized. "'Sponge' is more accurate." Leone's disapproving glare drew out the ex-prince's playful smirk. "'Leech?' 'Parasite?'"
"Ugh, you're so depressing!" Still, Leone laughed as he lightly punched his friend's tricep. "Enough with the dismal humor!"
"Alright, alright," Hans agreed with a chuckle of his own.
"Come on, let's eat!" Leone trotted from the room.
'I need them here.'
Hans shoved away the recurring thought as he followed.
Dinner was not as plentiful as it had been the previous evening. Mirella had made a soup out of pasta, beans, and ham scraps. It was still delicious, of course, but he'd purposely eaten as little as possible (which proved to be rather difficult under the mother's watch). He still had the remainder of last night's leftovers, which needed to be finished before they spoiled. They shouldn't have given everything to me. It was plain that the feast they'd enjoyed was out-of-the-ordinary for this family. Still, even a light meal for them is better than what I've been given since...
He let his thought trail off as he eyed his city surroundings. Darkness was settling in as the ex-royal traveled back to the palace. This wouldn't even be a point of contention if you hadn't failed so miserably last year. Hans shook his head in an attempt to erase the nagging voice. You'd be eating like a king because you'd be one. He dug his nails into his palms.
Navigating the quiet streets, he understood why he'd needed the family's presence earlier. They're a distraction. He didn't have time to reflect on his regrets when there were external focal points. You wouldn't have needed to bother with peasants like them beyond the usual pleasantries... unless there was another disaster which required the citizens to see their king's benevolent compassion— Hans gave a low growl that filled his ears and chased the inner noise away.
By the time he reached his cell, he'd resolved to spend as much time in the presence of his new "friends" as his circumstances allowed. It might be the only way I can survive. He rubbed his head with a sigh, removed his boots, and turned down the covers.
What the—
He grabbed a candle and lit it in haste, illuminating his bed.
Clothes.
Hans gingerly prodded one of the dark fabrics that had been nestled between his sheets. They appeared to be pest-free, but Hans remained cautious as he moved the top layer aside.
They're my clothes.
The piles consisted of a few shirts, trousers, undergarments, socks, and a jacket — all the plainest, least elegant pieces of his former wardrobe. Hans sank into the chair, his mind abuzz.
Who— Damian. Why? It can't be that he felt sorry for me. That doesn't happen with Westergaards. It must be a trap. Maybe he thinks I'll be foolish enough to wear these to the stable. Or maybe he'll claim he saw me sneak into my room, and of course they'll find these when they search the cell. Then again, he could have just done that today while I was out, and then there would have been guards waiting here to punish me.
He grunted in frustration and slammed his fist on the table. The candlestick wobbled and tipped over the edge, but Hans snatched the light source before it tumbled to the floor. A shadow under the bed caught his attention, and he knelt down to investigate.
There were slippers, loafers, and boots lined up against the wall. Hans grabbed one of the boots and examined the interior.
Empty. He was half-expecting there to be a snake or some other creature residing in the footwear. Of course, there were still five more shoes left to check.
He picked up the other boot and froze. It was heavier than the first. Hans slowly pulled the footwear into the open and peered inside. There was something white resting at the bottom. It's not fur... there's no scales... it's too smooth to be bone... He carefully tilted the boot until the object slid out. It was a lidded ceramic jar.
Hans gasped as he bolted to a standing position. How— Of all things— He clutched his left side. The incident was seared into his memory, no matter how desperately he wanted to forget. A wave of pain crashed over him afresh, his own agonized scream ringing in his ears despite the silence in the dungeon.
Calm down. He gripped the chair to steady himself. It's just a jar of salve.
The voice of reason was drowned out by the overwhelming recollection of that particular moment. The cell started to sway and twist before him. He dropped to his knees and fumbled for a bucket. His breath came in sharp pants as he hung his head over the wooden pail. Pull yourself together. The soundless order went unheeded as his stomach emptied its contents.
When the heaving ended, he collapsed onto his side. His throbbing temple found slight relief against the cool stone floor. The former prince lay still for a long while, until his breathing and heart rate returned to normal.
Hans slowly eased himself to a sitting posture. That was disgraceful. He ignored the chiding words as he stared at the jar in the middle of his cell.
It took him a moment to realize he was simultaneously massaging and itching his chest. Damn. He'd gotten used to his tight, dry skin, to the point where it no longer bothered him. Until now, thanks to his idiot brother (which was all of them, but, presently, specifically Damian). Hans shoved his hands in his pockets as he warily eyed the container.
Maybe it's a warning.
He grabbed the bag he'd received the previous evening. Making sure it was empty, he stuffed all of his "new" old things into the sack, then placed the bag and bucket across the hall. He'd take care of the contained mess tomorrow morning before he began his work. The sack would have to be hidden somewhere in the stable. If anyone ever found it, he could feign innocence or say it had been there since before he went to Arendelle.
After a morsel of bread and water to settle his stomach, the weary man flopped into his bed and was soon fast asleep.
It was late afternoon as Hans climbed the gangplank to La Stella Luminosa. Once again, no one was on deck, but both cabin doors were open this time. Hans poked his head through the main cabin's doorway.
"Good afternoon, ladies."
Mirella and Natalia both looked up from their needlework. The mother and daughter shared the same smile, though Natalia's was decidedly more tired.
"Good afternoon," they replied in unison.
Hans returned their smiles as he took a step into the room. "I hope you don't mind if I continue my progress with Hamlet."
"Of course not," Natalia assured him. "It's on the bed, right where you left it."
"Thank you," Hans replied. He turned to leave as Natalia resumed her sewing.
Mirella cleared her throat. "Natalia, why don't you go with him?"
The named woman didn't look up. "I don't think the book will be that difficult to find."
"Yes, but Lars is our guest, and I'm sure he would like some company." The matriarch's voice was honey. Her daughter remained preoccupied, so a devious smirk crossed Mirella's features despite her sweet tone. "Didn't you two have a nice time yesterday?"
Natalia started to fiddle with her fabric. Hans noticed and interceded. "It's not necessa—"
"Now, now," Mirella interrupted, "it's not hospitable to relegate a gentleman caller to a dusty corner all by his lonesome."
Natalia furrowed her brow as she pulled her thread taught. "Why would we put him in a dusty corner?"
A snicker died in Hans' throat as Mirella shot him a menacing glower.
The mother heaved a pointed sigh. "Natalia."
The younger woman's shoulders sank in defeat. "Let me just finish this sleeve."
Mirella grinned in triumph as she waved farewell to Hans. The "gentleman caller" nodded and retreated from the cabin. As he left, he witnessed Natalia accidentally knock some thread to the floor when she reached for a pair of scissors. He giggled to himself at the way her nose crinkled in annoyance as the spool rolled away.
Hans was halfway through the entrance to the children's cabin when he heard Mirella's voice from the other room.
"Why didn't you tell me today was the day?" Her inflection indicated a mix of concern and rebuke.
Hans couldn't tell that Natalia had replied until Mirella spoke again.
"A couple hours? You march yourself right into bed, missy. I'll be in with a hot water bottle as soon as it's ready."
Hans took a step backward. Natalia emerged from the main cabin a moment later. She was slightly hunched over, her arms wrapped around her lower abdomen.
Hans was by her side in a few strides. "Are you alright?!"
She smiled weakly. "I'm fine. I just don't feel very well."
Hans gave a small chuckle as he put a supporting arm behind the young woman's back. "Then the answer is 'no,' you're not alright."
Natalia's tiny laugh was almost imperceptible. "I'm used to it."
Hans cocked his head. "Do you fall ill often?"
"Not especially," Natalia responded, her cheeks turning fuchsia as the pair crossed the threshold. "This is usually just one or two days a month."
Hans wanted to ask what afflicted her so regularly, but Natalia was already uncomfortable. Don't make it worse.
"I'll be fine from here," Natalia stated, breaking from Hans and beginning to close the cabin's dividing curtain.
Hans put out his hand to stop the shroud before Natalia pulled it between them. "I hope you feel better," he murmured as he caught her eye.
Natalia's face was now bright red. "Thank you, and thank you for helping me."
"It was my pleasure," Hans chuckled.
She flashed one last smile. "Have a good night."
"Good night," Hans replied as the drape completed its journey.
Hans had concluded that the deck was the optimal place for reading. The weather was nice, and he wanted to give Natalia as much privacy as he could. He wagered she'd feel uneasy if he stayed in the room, despite the heavy curtain. He'd settled between the twin masts, leisurely working his way through the play until he recognized the thud of footsteps.
"Are you going to be here every day?" The bubbly inquirer cast a shadow over the former prince. "I hope the answer is 'yes.'"
"As often as I'm able," Hans affirmed without glancing away from the volume.
"Great!" Leone plopped down next to his friend, his head swiveling as he searched the deck. "Where's Natalia?"
"Sleeping, I presume. She said she didn't feel well, and your mother sent her to bed."
"Was it a headache?" Leone's worried voice prompted Hans to finally tear his eyes from the page.
"No, her stomach," Hans reassured the brother.
Leone exhaled, relieved. "It's probably just the start of her 'lady days.'"
Hans blinked in confusion. "Her what?"
"Let's see, how else do people refer to it?" Leone drummed the wooden boards beneath him. "Oh! 'Nature's monthly gift.' No? How about 'on the rag?' Hm. 'The woman's curse?'" Each phrase was met with an increasingly perplexed grimace. "Okay, the more medical term is 'menstruation.' I'm sure you've at least read that one—"
"Would you stop with the guessing game and just explain it plainly?" Hans snapped.
Leone squinted at his companion. "You do know how babies are made, right?"
Hans' eyes widened in alarm. "She's pregnant?!"
Leone's roar of laughter echoed across the ship. "Don't be ridiculous!" he snorted.
Hans' ears were burning. He was obviously missing something here, and he didn't like being ignorant of pertinent information.
The foreigner finally caught his breath and noticed Hans' peeved scowl. "Wow, you really don't know, do you? You must not have any sisters."
Hans didn't bother hiding his irritation. "No, I do not, and I fail to see how any of this is related to Natalia's illness."
"It's not an illness, exactly, it's..." Leone scooted closer to Hans, as though he were about to divulge a secret. "When women are of childbearing age but aren't pregnant, they... bleed."
Hans gawked at Leone before managing a whisper. "They bleed?"
"Yup."
"From... down there?"
"Yep."
"And it's painful?"
Leone gave a single, solemn nod. "It seems to hit Natalia harder than most women. She usually has to spend the first day or two in bed."
Hans' entire face was crimson now. "How long does it last?"
"Depends on the individual. Anywhere from a few days to a week-and-a-half."
Hans bit his lip. "Isn't it dangerous, losing that much blood?"
"Well, it's not a consistent amount, first of all. The flow starts heavy and gradually tapers off," Leone elucidated. "Secondly, it's not the same as bleeding from a cut. The womb stores blood-rich tissue for use by a baby, but when there's no baby, the body gets rid of it and starts over. It happens once a month, give-or-take a few days."
"I wasn't aware my education on female anatomy was so lacking," Hans muttered.
Leone gave the man a consoling pat. "It's alright. Most people don't talk about it."
Hans raised an eyebrow at Leone. "Then how are you such a wellspring of knowledge?"
The foreigner's blush was subtle, his tan skin hiding most of it. "Well, you know, I chat with anyone and everyone. Some women share the details of their bodily functions with any listening ear."
Hans hoped he would never meet such a woman. The whole affair was horrid enough coming from the lips of a man. Despite his superb skills, he had no desire to test how long he could maintain his composure while a lady discussed bleeding from her nether region.
"Now, Lars, just so I know for certain—" Leone paused to make sure Hans was listening, "—you do know how babies are made, right?"
The faded flush flared anew on the redhead's countenance. "Yes, Leone, I am perfectly aware of the process of copulation!" His tutor had at least explained that, albeit briefly.
"'Perfectly aware?'" Leone repeated with suspicion.
Hans groaned and hid behind his book. I can't believe I'm having this conversation. "I mean, I obviously learned about it." He glanced over to see Leone's stern stare boring into him, and was once again reminded of how much he took after Mirella. "Nothing from personal experience!" His flustered addendum was louder than he intended, and he hoped there weren't any open ears nearby.
"Good, good," Leone mused, his serious attitude a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. "And I expect that will remain the case in regard to my sister, correct?"
That was the final straw. "Of course it will! I'm not some lecherous, reprobate miscreant!" Hans spat.
Leone pulled away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound accusatory. It's just a big brother's duty, you know?" He bit his lip. "Er, I guess you wouldn't."
Hans sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. "I understand it rationally, I just don't relate to it emotionally." He managed a small half-smirk. "You don't have to worry, Leone. I'll be a good little Christian boy, just like you."
Leone's eyes widened for a split-second before a hollow smile appeared. Hans hadn't thought it possible to apply the word "disingenuous" to Leone, but that assessment had just been proven wrong. The brunette's expression was plastered on, attempting to hide some other emotion. Hans studied his companion for a moment before naming it. Regret.
"Have you ever played shuffleboard?" Leone asked while jumping to his feet. He didn't wait for a response before continuing. "It's pretty easy. I'll go get the stuff!" With that, he bounded down the stairs.
Well well well...
Hans stroked his chin as his mind marinated this new morsel. If half of his brothers were any indication, it wasn't uncommon for a man to fool around with an assortment of ladies before marriage (and, in Gerard's case, after marriage as well). It was simply unexpected to find such a vice in a family so devoted to their faith. Then again, everyone has their secrets.
Hans moved his hand to his mouth, covering the grin that threatened to break out. What a fantastic gift. He now had a shield. If any member of the family insisted on discussing his past, he could deflect the conversation to Leone's after-hours activities.
The former royal could hear his "friend" clattering up the stairs. Hans composed himself before meeting Leone at the hatchway. The foreigner began to enthusiastically detail the ins-and-outs of the game as he chalked boxes on an open area of the deck. Hans was only half-listening, being well-versed in the sport from his time as a prince and a sailor.
"I think that's everything," Leone concluded as he surveyed their playing field. He turned to Hans with a sly grin. "So, are you ready to lose?"
Hans countered with a wily smirk of his own. "Funny, I was just about to ask you the same question."