CHAPTER CONTENT WARNING
- death [past possibility]
He couldn't open his eyes more than a slim slit between the lids. Everything felt heavy, sore, and hot. What happened? He tried to recall something — anything — but his mind was similarly exhausted.
"You're awake!"
The soft yet bright voice prompted him to focus his gaze. Natalia... His thoughts were muddled, but a sense of safety washed over him.
"Are you thirsty?"
Unable to respond, he managed a small sip from the cup held to his lips. A cool, moist cloth dabbed his forehead.
"Just rest. One of us will be right here if you need anything."
He drifted off to sleep once more.
"You're going to be fine, Lars."
She felt a tad silly whispering to him — he'd been asleep for hours. Then again, there was nothing to lose in doing so. If the periodic encouragement helped him in any way, it was worth acting nonsensically.
"Everything's alright now."
It was a miracle they'd saved him in the first place. However, he'd been in a very poor state, thus everyone spent the first night on pins and needles. By Heaven's grace, Lars survived, albeit with no improvement in his condition. The previous night had passed the same way. Today was the first time he'd moved, much to their relief. Her mother had checked him over after his brief wakening and concluded his fever was decreasing. Hopefully he would recover quickly once it was gone.
Natalia looked up. Thank You, Lord.
During the worst of it, she'd unintentionally imagined losing him. The possibility was all too real, and she'd stifled her crying while pretending to sleep. Simply thinking about it caused a prickling sensation across her face.
Natalia squinted at Lars to reassure herself. His breathing was rhythmic — much steadier than last night. His skin's hue appeared nearly normal, especially compared to yesterday's sickly shade.
What's that? She leaned closer to inspect several darker specks on his cheeks. Oh! I never noticed he had freckles! The spots weren't extremely distinct, thus requiring encroachment to be seen. She giggled at her discovery of the cute little flecks. Any other time, I either looked away, or there wasn't enough light to make out such fine minutiae.
The thin sunbeam allowed through the mostly-curtained window flickered back and forth, and a nearly-imperceptible flaw in his skin caught her eye. An examination of his right cheek revealed an uneven V-shape scar with a bulge at the tip. She remembered the disfigurement hidden by his clothing, and tears threatened to break free as she cupped the lighter blemish. What happened to you?
Lars exhaled and snuggled his cheek into her palm. She went rigid, terrified he'd reawaken at that precise moment. Mercifully, he stayed fast asleep, but now she was a bit stuck. Heat rising in her face, she bemusedly resigned herself to the awkward position. If this is what it takes for him to feel better, so be it. She bit her lip as more solemn problems returned to mind. He would have died if we hadn't been here. He needs us, and we need him. He's part of our family. There has to be something we can do to alleviate whatever traps him in this city. If not, maybe there's a way for us to stay... or, at the very least, for me to stay.
A twitch allowed her to extract her hand from its pleasant prison. Lars nuzzled the pillow with his right temple, resulting in a shift of his auburn locks. Natalia smiled as she instinctively brushed back some stray strands. This is where I belong.
She stiffened, regaining her senses. Her heart skipped a beat and butterflies materialized in her abdomen.
Is this... love?
She retracted her hand. Don't be ridiculous. He's only a dear friend... a brother, even.
Her insides were at odds with her brain over the validity of that notion.
Natalia slowly released a puff of air. How can I be sure?
She recalled the months after Leone's disappearance. It's been years since then. When was the last time I thought about it? Despite the time lapse, the memories of distressing days and prayer-filled nights were still clear. Weeks were relived in seconds in her mind's eye, comparing the long-ago heartache to the worry of the past two days.
It's different.
She tried to picture rescuing Pierre from drowning and sitting by his bedside. Such a situation seemed outrageous, given his family's wealth — there would be servants, maids, doctors, and nurses tending to his health. Just imagine he has no one, like Lars. Natalia squinched her eyes shut and produced a mental image of herself hovering over a Pierre at death's door. She would be concerned for him as a fellow human being, of course, and more so because she knew him. Still, it wasn't the same panic as realizing it was Lars in the water. It wasn't the same dread as the uncertainty of Lars surviving the night.
Visions drifted through her consciousness. Reading in silence. Discussing books. Talking about their daily lives. Filling pails at the well. Celebrating his birthday. Their sewing lesson. Dancing on the dock.
The happy times were unique, too. I haven't bonded with anyone like I have with him.
She entwined her fingers, her emotions solidifying.
I never dreamed of much for the future... but I know it includes us, together.
She retrieved her used sketchbook and parted the bound paper. The evening of his party, he'd fallen asleep on the same bed in which he now rested. She'd taken the opportunity to practice from a live model, filling a few pages with both the entire scene and enlarged details. Only later had she noticed that the last page was comprised entirely of head sketches. It's because he's easy on the eyes and interesting to draw. At least, that's what she told herself at the time.
Was I already in love with him then?
She studied his face.
I suppose it doesn't really matter when it happened.
She flipped through the book until she reached a particular piece with an unfinished head.
What matters is what happens now.
Natalia exited the cabin and spotted Leone sitting on the railing.
"Are you done for today?" she asked as she approached him.
Her brother nodded. "We got back a couple minutes ago. How's Lars?"
"Better, but not lucid. Will you watch over him for me?"
"Sure," Leone agreed, "but where are you going?" He pointed to the shawl around her shoulders.
"There's something I need to do."
"I'll go with you. Mamma can take care of Lars," Leone declared.
Natalia shook her head. "No. I want to do this myself."
Leone frowned. "Then you at least need to tell me where you're going, just in case..."
He trailed off, but Natalia understood his meaning.
"I'm going to see Pierre and tell him that I don't want to court him. In fact, I'd rather not see him again."
Leone's mouth broke into a grin. "That's great! I didn't like that guy. Completely not the right man for you."
"Oh?" Natalia smirked. "And who is the right man for me?"
"A man you enjoy being around, and who enjoys being around you. A man who's at ease when he's with you, and in whose presence you feel free to be yourself."
Natalia couldn't help her reflexive glance towards the makeshift sick-bay.
"Someone like Laaaaars," Leone teased.
Natalia blushed, hiding her embarrassed smile with her shawl. "Yes."
Leone's jaw dropped in disbelief, and the two simply stared at each other for a moment.
"Woohoo!" Leone suddenly cheered as he sprang to his feet. "Finally!"
"'Finally?'"
"Well, it was obvious! I mean, he brought out the 'you' I haven't seen since we were kids!"
Both siblings froze as the weight of Leone's words settled on them.
"I'm sorry," Natalia breathed. "I never realized—"
"It's fine," Leone interrupted, forcing a smile upon his distraught face. "You have nothing to apologize for. It was my fault. I know that."
"But you're not the same person, Leone." Natalia sniffed, her eyes beginning to water. "I didn't mean to make you feel guilty."
Leone sighed. "Every single thing about our lives reminds me of my guilt. Maybe... maybe that's why I like Lars so much. He distracts me, and he makes you like your old self. Perhaps he's not my friend at all. Maybe I'm only being selfish again."
"Hey!" Natalia exclaimed with a stamp of her foot. "I just said you're not the same person!"
Leone blinked in surprise at his sister's outburst, but Natalia ignored him and pressed on.
"You've changed. We all have. And the way things are now far surpasses what we had in the past, because we have each other. Please stop thinking that you have to make up for what we lost. We gained so much more."
Leone smiled despite the tears that threatened to escape. "You're right, as always."
"Not always," Natalia corrected, returning the expression. "I'm happy and proud that you're my brother, Leone. I love you."
The siblings wrapped each other in a hug. "I love you too, little sis," Leone murmured. He pulled back and clapped Natalia's shoulder. "Now, go say goodbye to that Pierre guy as fast as you can! You need to be tending to your future husband's health!"
"Leone!" Natalia gasped, reddening as she darted for the gangplank.
Leone's laugh echoed over the ship. "I know I'm right about that!"
She found herself being escorted to the same parlor as her previous visit.
I need to be quick about this.
Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.
"Natalia!" Pierre greeted. "Have you made a decision?"
"I have," she replied, "and my answer is, 'no.' Not only that, but I believe it's best that we go our separate ways."
His face fell. "I see. May I ask why?"
"God has always provided for our family. I need to be faithful to what's important, not take matters into my own hands and marry for wealth. I honestly wish you the best. I'm certain there's a woman out there who will find you fascinating and love chatting to your heart's content. I, on the other hand, am a very nervous person. It's not easy for me to speak openly with you, and we have nothing in common. I don't think we're meant to be anything more than very casual acquaintances."
Pierre stroked his chin. "So you would marry for love, then?"
Natalia shifted her weight. Why is he so fixated on the marriage part? "Well, that's not the only factor, but, yes, I certainly need to love the man I wed."
"Do you have someone specific in mind?"
"Perhaps," she acknowledged evasively. She wasn't comfortable with this line of questioning.
"It's not Lars, is it?"
She flinched, unable to control the flush spreading over her cheeks.
"I was afraid of this."
"And what's wrong with it?" she demanded defensively.
Pierre crossed his arms. "Do you remember my friend, Ulrik?"
Natalia gave a single nod. "Yes. Why?"
"He's a royal guard. He couldn't shake the suspicion that he'd seen Lars before—"
Natalia's stomach somersaulted. She definitely didn't like where this conversation was going.
"—but he didn't say anything because he couldn't be sure." Pierre inhaled audibly. "He stopped over not an hour ago and told me he'd figured it out. Lars... isn't Lars."
She perceived a distinct draining sensation — the color leaving her face. "What do you mean?"
"His name is Hans. He was a prince of the Southern Isles, until last year."
He paused, seemingly waiting for Natalia to inquire further. Her tongue refused to cooperate.
"From what I hear," Pierre continued, "he committed treason and attempted murder while abroad."
"M-murder?" Natalia squeaked, her eyes like saucers.
"The queen and princess of Arendelle," Pierre specified. "Anyway, they sent Hans home for punishment. His family disowned him and sentenced him to manual labor."
She couldn't move. Her blood had gone cold.
"Also," Pierre added, "Hans is missing."
"S-since when?"
"Yesterday. The guards have been quietly searching for him day and night." He lifted an eyebrow at the young woman. "A bit of advice: if you know where he is, tell the police or Royal Guard. You don't want to be caught helping him."
Natalia didn't respond.
"I know this is a lot to take in. I was quite shocked myself." He unfolded his arms. "You're still welcome to come here anytime, for any reason."
"O-oh, t-thank you." She turned to leave.
"I mean it. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."
"Okay," she whispered, slipping into the hall.
The air was stifling, suffocating her. She dashed for the front door, snatching her shawl from the waiting maid. She didn't stop until she passed the main gate.
She wanted to collapse, but forced herself to keep going. An invisible haze seemed to constrict her. Nauseous and lead-footed, she trudged down the street.
It can't be true... can it? This "Hans" sounded so foreign from the Lars she'd come to know. Plus, she couldn't help but consider the convenient timing of this revelation.
There must be some way to investigate his claims. However, she couldn't ask just anyone. She needed to find somebody she could trust for the truth. Mrs. Connolloy. The family friend did enjoy the gossip of nobility. She's sure to have heard of any royal scandals. If nothing else, it was the best place to start.