Hans paused by the bow of the ship. He'd been preparing himself all day, yet he wasn't quite ready for the compulsory strategy shift. He exhaled as he traced one of the engraved letters on the hull. It's lucky I was interrupted. If he had kissed Natalia, his arrangement with Pierre would be impossible to complete.
The sea breeze died down, and a new sound reached him. It's coming from inside. He pressed his ear against the wood.
Singing.
He moved closer to the stern and leaned his head against the hull once more. Natalia's soft voice echoed from the other side.
"'Love so amazing, so divine...'"
It was a hymn, though he couldn't recall which one.
"'Demands my soul, my life, my all.'"
The notes faded, though that wasn't saying much given how faint they were to begin with. Is she afraid of being heard? Considering her self-doubts with her other hobbies, singing probably wasn't any different. She would never consciously allow anyone to listen to her.
Hans was about to pull away when Natalia began a new song. Intrigued by the unfamiliar tune, he remained still.
"'Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
"'That saved a wretch like me!
"'I once was lost, but now am found,
"'Was blind, but now I see.'"
"Lars!"
Hans started and spun to see Mirella behind him.
"What's the matter? Are you unwell?" the matriarch inquired, looking him up and down.
"Not at all!" Hans insisted, unnerved by the woman's piercing scrutinization.
"Hm." The mother laid the back of her hand across Hans' forehead. "Well, you don't have a fever," Mirella concluded. She pulled her hand away, only to snatch Hans' chin instead. His eyes bulged at the intrusiveness, though Mirella was oblivious to his discomfort. She rotated his head left and right for a better examination. "Eyes are clear. Skin is normal." She took a step back and placed her hands on her hips. "Physically, you're fine. Is something on your mind?"
"N-not particularly," Hans smattered. "I was just on my way to see Natalia."
"Oh?" A knowing smirk flashed across the mother's face. "Go on, then."
Hans gave her an awkward smile and retreated up the gangplank.
She's going to be disappointed.
Hans stepped onto the deck as Natalia alighted from the hatchway.
"Good afternoon," he greeted.
The young woman grinned and opened her mouth to reply, only to be silenced by her mother.
"Were you cleaning just now?" Mirella demanded, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.
Natalia paled, guilt clear on her face.
"I leave for five minutes..." her mother grumbled, shaking her head. She waved the two off with a sigh. "No more work. Go read or sew or whatever you're doing today." The matriarch disappeared into the master cabin.
Natalia giggled. "Well, we finished your boots, so unless you'd like to learn how to make a shirt, I'll get our books..."
She trailed off upon noticing footsteps on the dock below. Hans could tell from her puzzled expression that she didn't recognize the gait, meaning it wasn't Vincenzo or Leone. Hans ran through plan once more as he waited for the uninvited guest to make the first move.
"Hello?" a familiar voice called. "Is anyone home?"
Natalia went rigid. Hans put a hand on her shoulder as Mirella exited the cabin.
"Yes. Who's calling?" the elder woman replied as she peered down at the stranger.
"I'm Pierre Mercier," the man answered. "Do you have a daughter named Natalia?"
Mirella glanced to the pair behind her. Natalia was clutching her apron. Hans gave Mirella a single nod.
"Come on up," the matriarch acquiesced.
As the visitor climbed the gangplank, Hans put his lips near Natalia's ear.
"Don't be nervous. Just talk to him as you do me."
"But he's not you," was the only protest she was able to mutter before Pierre approached her. Hans moved aside so he was perpendicular to the two.
"Natalia." Pierre made a half-hearted attempt at a bow before continuing. "I wanted to check up on you, given your state during our last meeting."
"Well, as you can see, I'm fine!" She laughed nervously. "I'm curious how you found me, though."
"When you're a Mercier, it's easy to find any information you seek," Pierre explained with a shrug.
"Oh." Natalia resumed fiddling with the white fabric near her waist.
Pierre's gaze shifted ever so slightly to Hans. Hans blinked, and Pierre refocused on Natalia.
"Since your health has improved, I'd be greatly honored if you would join me for dinner tomorrow."
The color drained from Natalia's face. "No thank—"
"Of course she will!" Mirella interrupted, gently taking hold of her daughter's arm.
Pierre's smile strained at the conflicting messages. "So that's a 'yes,' then?"
Natalia's eyes darted to Hans. He read her silent pleading instantly. She wants me to save her. He felt a pinch in his stomach, which he immediately put out of his mind.
"You deserve a break, especially since your time at the festival was cut short," Hans commented. He ignored the growing panic on Natalia's face. "I imagine a nice evening out would make up for that."
Pierre snapped his fingers. "I know just the place! It's an exquisite little spot in the business district. What do you say?"
Natalia could only shake her head with wide-eyed terror.
"I think it's a marvelous idea," her mother encouraged, giving the younger woman a squeeze.
The girl shot one last desperate glance at Hans. With a smile and a nod, he affirmed Mirella's sentiment.
Natalia hung her head in defeat. "Alright."
"Excellent!" Pierre exclaimed. "I'll have a carriage pick you up around six." He gave another sloppy bow. "I'll see you tomorrow!" With that, he left the ship.
As soon as he was gone, Mirella scampered down the stairs. "This is wonderful! Absolutely fantastic!"
Hans' eyes followed the matriarch. She's far more enthusiastic about this than I anticipated. Good.
Natalia stood motionless, staring at the deck. Hans caught the quiver of her bottom lip as he retook his place by her side.
"Why?" Her voice quavered with her trembling form.
He deduced the rest of the question. 'Why didn't you defend me?' His hand returned to her shoulder. "He gave you much-needed assistance at the festival, Natalia. If he requests this small gesture, it's only polite to return the favor."
She sniffed and wiped her face with her handkerchief. "I suppose."
He took her hands in his own. "As I said, don't be nervous. You'll do fine. Just be yourself. I'm sure he'll love you."
Natalia flinched, but said nothing. Hans released her hands as Mirella bounded up the staircase.
"Here we are!" she announced, unfolding the mass of fabric in her arms.
Hans raised his eyebrows. Natalia gasped.
"We still have that?!" the young woman questioned. "But I thought—"
"I kept something for each of us," Mirella interjected. "You never know when they might be needed!"
The item was a deep blue, silk evening gown with a light blue layer that was only visible on the bodice and front of the skirt. Embellished with sheer overlays, fine embroidery, gold trim, and white lace accents, the dress was something straight out of a noblewoman's wardrobe. Wait... Hans squinted at the lighter underdress. The material was identical to the lining of his gloves.
Natalia ran her hand down the sleeve. "This probably doesn't even fit anymore."
"We're going to check right now!" Mirella declared. She began to guide her daughter to the master cabin. "Even if it doesn't, I'm sure it will be an easy fix." The matriarch suddenly remembered the family friend. "I'm sorry, Lars. You'll have to read by yourself today."
"It's quite alright," Hans assured her. "I understand."
Mirella smiled. Natalia cast one last forlorn look over her shoulder before the mother and daughter vanished into the room.
Hans re-read his menu for the dozenth time. He knew to stay away from the Italian dishes (as they would surely pale in comparison to Mirella's cooking), but everything else sounded appealing. Decisions, decisions.
The articles from his old wardrobe had proven useful after all. With proper clothes and slicked-back hair, he appeared to be an average nobleman out for an evening meal. It also helped that Pierre knew the restaurant staff personally.
"Morten, I'd like you to meet my old friend, Albert," Pierre had said to the host when the two arrived. "Unfortunately, I have other plans for dinner, otherwise I'd have you seat us together. His meal is on me, though." He then addressed Hans. "I do apologize, Albert. We'll have to catch up some other time."
If nothing else, he's a halfway-decent actor. Hans glanced up from his pondering. Pierre was already seated at the next table over, and Natalia had just been escorted in.
"I'm sorry," she breathed as the host helped her into the chair. "Were you waiting long?"
"Not at all," Pierre replied. "I just wanted to make sure everything was in order before you arrived."
Morten handed each one a menu before departing. Pierre opened his, so Natalia did the same.
The ex-prince's eyes bored into the side of Pierre's head. Compliment her. Hans was there to observe and give advice post-dinner (perhaps mid-dinner as well, if Natalia opted to use the powder room). However, he was now wishing he and Pierre had worked out a more sophisticated code than the "one blink means yes or continue, two blinks means no or stop" method they had used yesterday. Idiot. Flattery was a key component in all interactions — one merely had to employ the proper tactics. I told you not to over-do it. That didn't mean don't do it at all! Some sort of pleasantry should have been said as soon as the two were alone, but now they were wordlessly studying their menus. This isn't that difficult! It wasn't as though Natalia was some hideous hag that no man in his right mind would find attractive. If one could find her beautiful as a peasant, there was no argument to be made against her allure in her present state. Her curly hair reached her waist, with the sides pulled back and held together with a delicate blue bow. Her dress, though likely a few years old (judging from Natalia's comments upon seeing it), suited her well. Overall, she was quite elegant.
Pierre shifted his menu so it blocked his face from Natalia's view and turned to Hans.
'Say something!' Hans mouthed while gesturing to the preoccupied woman.
Pierre nodded in understanding and lowered his menu.
"You look lovely."
Natalia gave a small smile. "Thank you. You as well. Er, handsome, not lovely." She bit her lip and hid her blushing face behind the bi-fold cover.
"I have to say, I didn't expect you to show up in something so fancy," Pierre admitted.
"Am I overdressed?!" Natalia seemed quite horrified at the possibility.
"No, no," Pierre assured her. "I just didn't think you would have such a gown in your possession."
Hans gripped his pant legs to keep himself from physically smacking his own face.
Thankfully, the waiter arrived to take the pair's order, followed by Hans' requests. The two fell silent after the waiter moved on, Natalia folding her napkin while Pierre sipped his liquor. Hans was unsure if this lapse was good or bad, given Pierre's astounding failure so far.
The appetizers were served without another exchange between the uncomfortable couple. Natalia stabbed a fork-full of salad while Pierre stirred his soup.
"So, how old are you?" Pierre asked nonchalantly.
Hans groaned inwardly. Natalia would think nothing of the question, but the merchant's son had apparently never held an actual conversation with a woman.
"Twenty-two," the maiden answered.
Hm. Leone couldn't be more than a few years older than her, which meant he was close to, if not the same as, Hans' own twenty-four years. Not that he acts like it.
Natalia had kept her focus on Pierre after her reply, but the man began sipping from his soup spoon without further comment. Natalia's shoulders drooped and she returned to her salad.
She was waiting for a remark. A courtesy platitude, or, more likely, Pierre divulging his age.
Hans sighed quietly and turned his attention to the hors d'oeuvres on his own table. He paced himself, going back-and-forth between the crab-stuffed mushrooms and the shrimp bowl.
"What do you enjoy doing in your spare time?"
Hans' head snapped up in surprise. Pierre was momentarily stunned that Natalia had spoken, but recovered quickly. "Oh, normal stuff. Talking with my friends, watching sporting events, the occasional hunt every now and then. You?"
"I like sewing and needlework, and I read when I can," Natalia responded.
Hans grimaced. She left out drawing. The omission was obviously intentional. She doesn't trust him with that information.
Pierre nodded as though Natalia had just revealed something extremely interesting. "You know, my father has quite the library. I should show it to you sometime."
Natalia flashed a forced smile. "Perhaps."
Hans popped a mushroom in his mouth. This is going nowhere fast.
The waiter returned and exchanged the pair's empty bowls for their entrées.
"The portions are quite substantial here," Pierre pointed out.
"I suppose," Natalia murmured.
Hans' dish was brought out, and he understood why Natalia hadn't readily agreed with Pierre. While the serving was indeed large for a Southern Isles native, it was slightly underwhelming for someone used to an Italian mother's cooking.
The conversation between the two lulled once more. The atmosphere hummed with distant chatter and clinking silverware, but the couple ate in silence.
Hans rolled his eyes and began to methodically work his way through his steak, lobster tail, potatoes, and asparagus. He doubted Natalia minded the silence (after all, she never did). However, Pierre was supposed to be making a memorable first impression. Or rather, a second impression greater than his first. So far, however, the man had proven himself to be downright dull company.
The former royal was almost finished with his meal when he heard Pierre give a low whistle.
"I'm stuffed!" the man proclaimed. There was a small amount left on his plate — nothing out of the ordinary — yet he was making a show of being full, as if he wanted his companion to be impressed with how much he'd taken in. "I can't eat another bite!" Pierre leaned forward. "How'd you do?"
Hans' eyes flickered to Natalia's side of the table, then darted back to Pierre in panic. Pierre's mouth hung agape, shocked at finding not a single speck of food on Natalia's plate. Natalia's forehead creased with concern at Pierre's expression, glancing from his face to her dish and back again.
For the love of God, don't say anything stupid—
"You didn't need to push yourself," Pierre scolded.
"But I didn't," Natalia insisted. "It was just the right amount of food."
Pierre arched his brows, looking Natalia up and down. "Well, at least no one will ever think you're malnourished."
It was a miracle Hans didn't snap the stem of his wine glass in half.
He's a fool. Damn it all, I've been trapped into helping a complete and utter moron. Good God. This is punishment, isn't it? For Arendelle, or Natalia, or my mere existence. She'll never want to marry this inconsiderate buffoon!
He looked up from his internal cringing to ascertain exactly how much damage had been done. His eyes met brown ones, as Natalia was peering across the gap at him. Realizing she'd been noticed, she returned to her gaze to the empty plate, her ears turning red.
A string of obscenities shot through Hans' mind, but he forced himself to eat the remainder of his dinner. Leaving would seem suspicious. He couldn't even be sure that she'd recognized him, with his dapper appearance and the dim lighting. I can't worry about that right now. I'll deal with it if she confronts me.
"Are you interested in dessert?" Pierre inquired.
"No," Natalia retorted bitterly. Realizing her tone, she corrected herself. "I mean, 'no, thank you.'"
"Perhaps you'd like something to take with you?" Pierre prodded. "They have waxed boxes for that exact purpose."
Natalia considered this. "I want to get something for my brother, if that's alright with you."
"Of course," Pierre confirmed. He passed her the dessert menu. "That's really nice of you, to think of your brother."
Hans perked up as the gears in his head began to turn. Perhaps there's hope after all.
"How was the ride to the ship?"
Pierre shrugged and took a seat at the table next to Hans. The pub was noisy, as it had been the previous night.
"Quiet," Pierre responded. "She only gave me one-word answers and didn't initiate any conversation whatsoever."
"That's normal with her," Hans informed him (again). "Though, frankly, your social skills are substandard as well."
"She doesn't give me any material to work with!" Pierre whined.
Hans rolled his eyes. He'll need to be trained in manners before he completely alienates her. "We'll discuss that later," Hans dismissed him. "In the meantime, I've figured out what your angle should be."
"And that is?"
"Economic stability," Hans revealed. "Not for Natalia herself, but for her family."
Pierre frowned. "So I'd have to give money to her family? My inheritance is sizable, but it's not unlimited."
"Most wealthy men give their wives an allowance," Hans exposited, "especially if that man wants his wife to stay out of his business. So you'd be giving Natalia a monthly allotment anyway. You simply make it clear that she can do whatever she wants with it, including sending it to her family."
Pierre stroked his chin. "Do you really think that would be enough to convince her?"
"She feels guilty that she's physically unable to help her family beyond simple chores — and sometimes even those are too much for her. If you give her the opportunity to help them monetarily, she should see the benefits of that over their current way of life."
"And I can count on you to help guide her to that conclusion." It was a statement rather than a question.
"If necessary," Hans replied. "Her mother would be more influential, though, especially since she wants Natalia to have an easier life out of concern for her health."
"So what's my next step?"
Hans hid his annoyance at how he had to spell everything out for this imbecile. "You need to show your wealth without flaunting it. Keep taking Natalia to nice places, but don't draw unnecessary attention to her. Buy her gifts that are useful, not extravagant. Casually mention things that remind her family about your quality of life. Mirella will support a marriage if she believes it will be better for Natalia, and Natalia will accept a marriage proposal if she believes it will benefit her family."
Pierre nodded. "Sounds good. In fact, that gives me a few outing ideas."
Hans suppressed a scowl. Let's just hope they go better than your first one.
Author's Note: The first hymn is "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" by Isaac Watts. The second hymn is, obviously, "Amazing Grace" by John Newton. However, in 1840, it wasn't very well-known (especially in Europe). The decades-old verses had been paired with its now-famous music only 5 years earlier, and the new composition was passed around orally until publication in a "tunebook" in 1847.