Waking in his cell was never pleasant, but this morning was particularly miserable. Hans lay still for a moment, assessing his surroundings. Satisfied everything was normal, he sat up. Wincing in discomfort, he rubbed his chest. It was oddly tight and heavy, as though he'd strained his muscles.

He pushed himself from the bed with a grunt. That makes sense. If he'd unwittingly injured himself during his labor yesterday, that would explain the flare of pain last night and the dull ache today.

His back to the bars, he swiftly unbuttoned his night shirt and applied ointment across his torso. The additional moisture and massaging administration did little to ease the constricting sensation. He groaned and quickly changed into a set of work clothes. At least today was a hired day, so he could wear something more comfortable than his ragged royal vestments.

As he left the dungeon, he considered the day's agenda. Despite his decision to taper his time aboard La Stella Luminosa, he had to visit today. It would appear incredibly rude for him to be absent after the family's overwhelming hospitality the previous evening.

They would understand, though.

He paused as the hidden door clicked closed behind him. They were truly gracious people.

What if I told them?

He shook the thought away.

Don't be ridiculous. You know exactly what would happen. Even the kindest people have their limit.

He wiped his moist forehead on his damp sleeve. The Southern Isles weren't known for scorching summers, but high noon was proving brutal today. Part of him was regretting his customary undershirt, regardless of its necessity.

Hans sighed as he kneaded his chest with his knuckles. The morning ache had persisted despite stretching and cautious movements. He'd hoped his work would distract him, but it was too monotonous. The pain was constantly nudging the back of his mind.

Movement caught his attention. He looked up to see two figures entering the barn.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Hans asked dryly as Pierre and Ulrik approached.

"Business, of course," Pierre replied.

Hans returned to his raking. "And it couldn't wait because...?"

"I invited Natalia out again, and she was... extremely reluctant. She wanted to think about it first."

Hans suspected "extremely reluctant" wasn't Pierre's first choice of descriptor, but opted against commenting on that particular point. "If she's hesitant, you haven't made any progress. You need to try a new tactic."

"Like what?"

Hans wondered if the man was truly this idiotic or if he was simply lazy. "Have you given her any gifts yet?"

"No," the merchant's son admitted. "I sort of... used up my allowance for this month."

Hans raised his head while furrowing his brow. "Then how were you planning on taking Natalia out again?"

Pierre counted his points with his fingers. "Oh, I've got people who owe me favors, people who want me to put in a good word with my father, people who extend me a line of credit—"

"So why can't you use any of that to buy Natalia a present?" Hans interrupted.

"It's all in the service industry; no one directly owes me any money. Plus, my father doesn't allow me to patronize any shops serviced by competitors, and I have to pay upfront for anything from any of my father's stores."

Hans raised a skeptical brow.

"I once got myself in trouble with 'borrowing' items," Pierre added sheepishly, "so my father instated that rule."

Hans rolled his eyes. This keeps getting increasingly complicated. "So you can't purchase any gifts until next month. That makes things difficult."

"Actually," Pierre contradicted, "you could just buy something for her and say it's from me."

Hans stopped and gawked. "Were you dropped on your head as an infant?"

Pierre frowned. "No. Why?"

"I have no money and no access to anything of value," Hans elucidated as though he were instructing a small child. "How in God's Name am I supposed to buy something?!"

"Oh." Pierre mulled this over for a moment. "Well, if you're clever enough to figure that out, I'll throw something extra into our deal for you."

Hans repeatedly rubbed his chest. This aggravating interaction had turned the ache into a throb. "And if I don't?"

"The presents are irrelevant. She just needs to agree to see me again." Pierre folded his arms. "If you can't do that much, the contract is void."

Hans considered cutting his losses. Is this truly worth the hassle? Then again, a certain brother did owe him a favor. Should I really use it now, though? Analyzing the benefits of a day of royal seal use versus successful completion of the agreement, he concluded the deal with Pierre was better in the long-term.

"You'd better build me my own damn house for this," Hans muttered.

"I have something even better in mind."

Hans shot him a confused look. "What?"

Pierre shook his head. "Never mind. Let's just get going on this next step forward."

Hans scoffed under his breath. Easy for you to say.

"May I help?" Hans inquired upon boarding La Stella Luminosa. Mirella was wringing laundry, which Natalia then hung on the line to dry.

"No, thank you," Mirella declined. "In fact, this is almost done. Natalia, why don't you and Lars go read or something?"

Hans and Natalia simultaneously glanced at the heaping pile, then to each other. Hans smirked and shrugged.

Natalia also sensed that there was no arguing with her mother. "Alright, but please call if you need anything."

"Yes, yes," Mirella chirped, waving them off.

The younger woman sighed silently but smiled at her companion. "How has your day been?"

"Normal," the ex-prince replied as they entered the smaller cabin.

"Is 'normal' good?" Natalia asked.

Hans shrugged. "Not particularly." At her downcast expression, he added, "But being here is good."

She grinned. "So what do you think of The Captain's Daughter?"

"I am enjoying it, as you said I would," he answered with a grin of his own. He picked up the book and sat by Natalia's bed.

She settled next to him. "I'm glad."

Hans parted the pages to the ribbon that marked his progress. He read a short paragraph before realizing Natalia hadn't moved. Looking up, he caught her staring at him. She blushed and began tracing the pattern on her quilt.

"Is something wrong?" Hans queried.

"No," she murmured, running her fingertip over the fabric. "It just makes me happy that you enjoy being with us."

Their eyes met and they exchanged smiles. Hans could only hope it was enough to satisfy her, since he was strangely struggling to formulate a verbal response.

"Guess what!" Leone exclaimed breathlessly as he burst through the door. "Mrs. Connolloy gave us a chocolate cake!"

Natalia giggled awkwardly, patting her chest to calm her heart. Hans smirked, thankful for the disruption.

"I was curious as to the cause of your extra exuberance," the seated man remarked.

Leone laughed. "We get to have cake two nights in a row, and chocolate cake is my favorite! Have you had ganache filling before? It's amazing! Oh, but are you well enough to eat dessert? I hope so! You must be feeling better today, right?!"

"Yes—" The response was automatic, though his hand instinctively moved to his abdomen. "—I do." He paused, his fingers hovering a hair above the fabric. I really do feel better. He hadn't noticed until this very moment that the ache was gone. His bewilderment quickly gave way to reason. Being with them diverts my attention from my own thoughts. Of course they'd distract me from my physical pain as well.

"Are you sure?"

It was Leone who had spoken, but both siblings were watching him with concern.

"Absolutely," Hans answered.

Leone looked unconvinced. "Alright, but you have to promise to tell us if you start feeling ill."

Hans pressed his palm over his heart. "I promise."

The former prince perused an array of bolts in the seamstress' boutique. He'd made sure to finish his daily labor extra early so he would have enough time to shop in leisure. That had been a smart decision, considering how much time he'd spent in this store alone. This is definitely outside my areas of expertise. Still, he'd worn a variety of fabrics in his lifetime. He was confident he could select an assortment that balanced quality and durability.

It's a good thing I'm doing this instead of Pierre. That clueless buffoon would surely pick the most useless items. He chuckled to himself as he pictured Mirella's reaction in that scenario. She'd certainly question his sensibility. Hans paused in front of a sky blue material. Though I suppose some high-end silk isn't a bad idea. Natalia does need a new evening gown.

He instructed the shopkeeper on the lengths of his current choices, then returned to his browsing. Another tidbit to consider was that anything he sent their way would benefit him as well. They had proved generous with little; they would surely be just as giving with plenty. I'll have to make sure I send enough fabric for several men's outfits. He suddenly envisioned Mirella's devious glee as she showed off matching clothing for Vincenzo, Leone, and himself. Hans grimaced. Well, enough for one article per swath.

Exiting the seamstress' shop, Hans ran down his mental list. Food. Nautical supplies. Fishing tackle. Books. Sewing materials. The last item was art supplies.

"Good afternoon!" the clerk greeted as the auburn-haired patron entered the stationary store. It was the same man that had been there during his previous visit with Leone, but Hans wasn't concerned with being recognized. If Natalia had mistaken his fashionably-dressed self for a non-existent brother, there was no possibility that a shopkeeper would question him.

Hans returned the pleasantry as he approached the rack he'd perused once before. He quickly selected two different-sized sketchbooks, then continued his shopping. It didn't take long, as he'd already planned out everything he intended to buy.

He placed his purchases on the counter. "Send the bill to the royal treasury," he instructed as he removed Damian's seal set from his coat's inner breast pocket.

"Of course, sir," the clerk acknowledged. He quickly wrote on a heavy paper, which he handed to Hans. "Shall I send the items to the castle, then?" he asked as Hans dripped burgundy wax onto the parchment.

"No," Hans replied. He extinguished the stick's wick and set it aside. "They're to be sent to a ship named La Stella Luminosa—" He pressed the seal into the semi-solid puddle. "—except for these." He indicated the separated pile of paper, envelopes, ink, and pens. "I'll be taking these with me." He returned the small tin to his coat pocket.

"As you wish, sir."

Købense's postal office was extremely spacious and sophisticated, offering amenities such as a lounge, café, and private booths where one could read or write in peace. Hans — taking advantage of the latter — leaned back in his chair, examining the letter he had just finished.

It has come to my attention that one of the Westergaard horses has been missing from the royal stables for some time. The head stable hand has informed me that the stallion in question is a Norwegian fjord horse, gold in color with a black snout and hooves, a black and white mane and tail, and a diamond-shaped mark on his stomach. The horse is classically trained as a thoroughbred mount, and responds to the name 'Sitron.' We believe the steed accompanied (former) Prince Hans to Her Majesty Queen Elsa's coronation last July, but did not return with him.

Any assistance in resolving this matter is greatly appreciated.

Best Regards,

HRH Prince Damian Westergaard

Satisfied, Hans sealed the paper in an envelope. He knew better than to address it to Elsa or Anna. They would likely destroy the letter outright. Even if they did bother to read it, this matter wasn't worthy of a queen's or princess' time. No, the letter would go to Kai, the head servant. Kai had proven invaluable to Hans during Arendelle's surprise winter. The man knew everything, from the location of the winter items in storage to the best mountain travel routes. At first, Hans had thought the man's array of knowledge unusual, but it made sense upon further reflection. Arendelle was a small city in a small country. The royal staff was severely limited. King Agnarr and Queen Iduna had presumably spent large amounts of time dealing with Elsa's powers, and after their deaths neither Elsa nor Anna ever left the castle. Kai had dealt with much more than the average servant; he would know the answer to Hans' inquiry.

Hans stretched. Of course, that doesn't mean I'll ever see a reply. There was always the chance Kai tossed the letter upon seeing the Southern Isles' seal. With that in mind, the ex-royal made a second copy, then sealed one letter with the crested stamp and the other with a plain mold. He slotted the second into the common mail, and the first he handed to a postal clerk. He exited the building and set out for the castle, satisfied with the day and the fact that he'd made the most of this rare opportunity.

Pathetic.

Hans exhaled audibly at the berating inner voice.

Some common garbage and a pointless letter, and you think you've taken advantage of this moment of power?

He shoved away the intrusive thought. As though I hadn't already considered every other possibility. Damian's rank was far too low to guarantee anything more than a shopping spree and his note's postal fare. Trying to usurp the king's orders in any form — from escaping down to the slightest adjustment to his sentence — would make him an enemy of the crown, and he'd seen how his father treated those. Even his current actions were teetering on the border of acceptable, but he'd come too far to turn back now. All that mattered was surviving, and if he could keep himself above the threshold of desperation, all the better. Today had been a positive step toward that goal.

Now I just have to wait and see if any of it bears fruit.

Natalia swallowed thickly as she trailed behind the housemaid. Strangers, new places, actually talking to people — all things that terrified her. She glanced aside, thankful Leone was with her.

"In here," the maid stated, opening the door to a drawing room. "Master Pierre will be with you momentarily."

"Thank you," the siblings said simultaneously.

The woman curtsied and left.

Natalia entered the room, examining it before she opted for a chair over the couch. Leone flopped down and sprawled out over the larger seat, but straightened upon receiving a disapproving glare from his sister.

She sighed, wringing her hands in her lap as she rehearsed her words for the hundredth time.

"Natalia!"

She bolted upright at the exclamation, practically jumping out of her skin in fright.

"It's good to see you," Pierre continued, oblivious to the girl's reaction. "Have you come to accept my invitation?"

"Ah— Er— Um—"

Her brother's hand grasped her shoulder as he spoke. "You sent us a lot of stuff."

"R-right," Natalia agreed. "Which was very kind of you, and we all thank you, of course. But it was too much. You really shouldn't have gone to such trouble."

Pierre's expression unsettled her. He appeared confused for a moment, then his lips broke into a grin that seemed more self-pleased than benevolent.

"It was nothing, truly," he asserted nonchalantly. "Simply a token of appreciation for our time together."

"Yeah, right," Leone scoffed under his breath.

Natalia hoped Pierre didn't hear her brother. "We're grateful to you, Pierre, but please don't send any more gifts."

"Why not?"

"I— Em—" Movement caught the corner of her eye. Leone was making small gesticulations with his hand, encouraging her to speak.

She took a deep breath. "I don't want you to spend money on me when I'm not even sure I enjoy being around you," she blurted.

Pierre said nothing. He only stared at Natalia.

Is he sad? Angry? I can't tell!

Pierre turned to the other man. "May I have a moment alone with Natalia?"

Leone frowned as his eyes darted between the pair. Natalia gave him a slight nod.

"Fine," he grumbled as he headed for the doorway, "but I'll be right outside."

He paused long enough to glare at Pierre. "Right outside."

Pierre watched the door close before facing Natalia.

"You care about your family, right?"

Her brows knit in confusion. "Of course!" she declared.

"Then you should marry me."

What?! Her jaw dropped. Is he proposing?!

Pierre noted her shock. "I know it's sudden, but this would be best for everyone. You wouldn't have to worry about overworking yourself, and you can send money to your parents every month."

Natalia fingered her sleeve cuff. That... makes sense. Her family would be better off if they didn't have to constantly watch over her, and any extra income would certainly help. Marrying Pierre would be a logical course of action. But why would he suggest marriage after what I just told him? I don't understand...

"What do you say?"

Her stomach knotted. She couldn't look at him, instead directing her gaze to a window as she twisted the cloth around her arm. "I... I don't know."

Pierre gave a short grunt. "I suppose it is unreasonable to expect an answer right away." He stepped toward the closed entryway. "Just think about it. You're welcome here any time, so whenever you've decided, don't hesitate to call on me." He opened the door. "Alright?"

"Alright," Natalia whispered. "Good day." With a quick curtsy, she darted through the exit.