A/N: Next chapter time! Emotions peak, history returns, secrets are brought to light, and much more. Also rather clear reference to another Disney movie here for someone who catches it. Don't worry, the chapters will start to be brighter after we get through the low places.

Chapter Thirteen

Friends In Low Places

"Your highness, are you dressed?" asked the servant for the third time, rapping on the closed door a little louder. "The people are gathered, and your family is ready to start when you arrive, as they have been for some time. Your highness, are you there?"

Heins stared at the stranger's reflection in the mirror, trying to discern how it could possibly be his own. This isn't me. The stranger stared back, undaunted, apathetic, wearing all black, from head to toe, a presentable but mournful outfit which had been picked out for him.

"Your highness?" the servant persisted, jiggling the handle again, "your highness, please, they're ready to begin."

He heard more knocking, and then an exchange of words with the familiar voice of his mother calling to him. "Heins, love, please open the door." More jiggling of the handle, and a click of the key turning in the lock. He remained stiff, gazing at the glass, reconciling what was truth and what was not. This can't be me.

"Heins…" His mother touched his arm, breaking the hold the stranger had over him. "It's time. Everyone is waiting for you… were you looking at yourself? I had the servants pick it out for you; I hope it's alright."

He hadn't let anyone pick out his clothes since he was… well, a child. I don't feel like me.

His mother began to lead him out of the room, murmuring soothing things. She led him outside, by the cliffs, into a blurred world where everyone wore black, where color seemed void and faces held no joy, only sadness. He took his place among the rest of his family, but to do so he had to pass the wooden box, and he looked inside as he did. There his wife lay, her face peaceful. She could have been sleeping.

The crowd's low murmuring hushed as their leader moved forward. "It is tradition to allow the ones closest to the deceased the opportunity to speak first," the king started the ceremonies, looking to Heins and gesturing for him to approach and take his place.

Heins shook his head slowly, sinking down into a chair. I don't feel anything.

Allowyn bade her husband go on, and the king did so, knowing his son would have the chance to speak later. "We thank our citizens for their concerns. Our hearts are heavy in this troubled time as we mourn the loss of our beloved Princess, Helena Olivia Westergard. Each of our sons would like to speak of their memories of her. I will speak shortly afterward, with my wife, and then others will give a final word before dismissal. We will begin with the youngest, Hans."

Hans stood, making his way to the podium, some parchment in hand. He'd spoken in front of the citizens only a few times before growing up, and he'd gotten used to it, but never had he spoken so soon after a tragedy. He glanced down at the paper, where he'd copied a few texts of Shakespeare and other famous poets, but the words suddenly seemed worthless. His brother deserved better than someone else's sympathies. He quietly rolled the paper up to speak instead from the most sincere source: his heart.

"I loved Helena. As a man with twelve older brothers, I think I can say with confidence we don't agree on much… but we all agreed on that." Low murmurs of agreement came from his siblings. "Helena was many things… things which I'm sure others can elaborate on with greater eloquence than I. She was kind, gentle, forgiving, but that's not what made me love her." He paused for a moment to gather himself. "I loved her because of how happy she made my brother." He paused again, drawing from his own well of strength. Allowyn drew a satin handkerchief from her folds of clothing and wiped at her eyes. "She made us all happy, but she made Heins happiest of all. I know it will take time, but please… don't deprive the Isles of your happiness, Heins. You're too big a part of it, and you're too big a part of me." Hans returned to his place in line, having nothing more to say, glancing to see Heins, who was looking at him, but whose expression had not changed.

From there each son stood to stay a few words. The twins spoke briefly on how they loved her baking and the socks she'd made them, Harry, despite his shyness, had spoken on her particular attention she'd given him, and Helm on how she'd brought a feminine presence to their family which had been sorely missed since the loss of their sister. Horatio, of course, was full of words to say, and his voice held heavy emotion. Harken typically did not speak much to the citizens, but even he took some time and managed to sound magnanimous.

When Hugo took the stand, he raised an arm and displayed his scratches to his family. "Helena taught me many things. Many of you know I've not been the example of a prince in the past. Many of you know our royal creed for the Southern Isles. It describes what a prince is to be, how he should act, how he should treat others." He paused, lowering his arm to his side. "I've not followed our family creed, idolizing women and forgetting my place more often than I would admit to anyone… but Helena believed in me… she helped change me." He pointed at the bushels of blooming roses lining the coffin, the cornucopia of color a stark contrast against the dark environment of the funeral. "I chose these roses for her, even if it hurt… because she was willing to look past my thorns. And I'm willing to look past these for her." He abruptly took his seat and blinked rapidly to chase away the tears.

The funeral was meant for a healthy period of mourning. It was meant for all of them, but what Harald had been dreading soon turned into opportunity. Maybe the last he would have. He had patiently awaited his turn, dressed in his finest, the uniform clear of any mud or debris it had been covered with days before now. He looked at Heins, giving him yet another opportunity to speak, but when his brother stared blankly ahead, he knew he would have to take his place for the time being. He was afraid of this moment, but he'd been afraid too long. Ghosts had tormented him for years, leaving him to plunge into his work, to store his feelings behind walls. He shakily stood and unsheathed his sword, pointing it at the sky. Today he would slay them. The soldiers close by, who had been previously told to follow their captain, did the same.

It was time.

With a fluid downward motion he stabbed the blade into the wet earth before him, where it sank down into the ground a few inches. He gingerly bent to one knee and bowed his head, a solemn picture of reverence.

He let the sprinkles of rain patter on his bare hands, the drops sliding down his skin and soaking into his clothing. He lifted his head to the heavens briefly as if silently communing, and then focused it on the figure in the coffin, speaking in a sovereign, clear voice, loud enough to be heard. Words he'd longed to say for an eternity came spilling from his lips, the time between past and present melding into one, the figure in the coffin shifting appearances. "I couldn't save you." Even the rain pattering on his clothes seemed deafening to him. "I'm sorry." He tightened the grip on his sword's hilt, the rain making it slick. "I'll watch over your daughter… I'll not let her come to harm. I swear to you, I'll keep her safe. She will be safe… and she will be loved." Tears mingled with the raindrops trickling down his face. "If I am deserving of peace… I only ask I receive it."

He bowed his head once more and did not move until his mother bent beside him and helped him to his feet.

The queen and king could not possibly add anything more than what had been said, but they each took time to reflect and grieve on their loss in their own words. It was finally time to lay the body to rest, but Allowyn looked expectantly to Heins. Her son kept his mouth shut, posture rigid, eyes steady on the horizon, as if he were hardly present at all. The queen turned from the crowd and whispered to her husband, "should we delay?"

George observed his son, gave him another moment to respond, then shook his head, gesturing to the team of men to close the lid and the bishop to begin his words. It was only when the bishop finished and the men took the lid in hand that Heins spoke.

"Wait…" it was too quiet for anyone to hear, no more than a gasp of air, but finally his eyes focused on the coffin, and suddenly something seemed to snap for him. "Wait, Wait! Wait!" He vaulted from his chair and towards the coffin itself, where he fell to his knees beside it. "Wait, wait," he repeated, reaching inside to take one of his wife's hands and stroke it between his own. Allowyn wrung her hands as she watched Heins begin to break into tears in front of the mass of attendees. She bade the men obey and the company waited as several minutes passed. When he showed no signs of moving, she moved to his side and placed a hand on his shaking shoulder.

"My love… it's time now."

"No, wait," Heins murmured, rocking as he held his wife's hand. Allowyn began to pull him away with more power, but he shook her away.

"Heins, she's gone. We have to let her go," Allowyn pushed, tightening her grip.

"No, no, she can't be!" Heins again tore his grip from his mother, causing her to stumble. She tripped back and fell onto the moist ground, her crowd coming lose from her hair and falling alongside her. Gasps ensued from the people attending at the accident. Allowyn quickly silenced any attempts from her sons to help her up and stood with the assistance of her husband, who returned her crown to her and gave her his cloak. She moved regally to Harald and quietly spoke in a firm voice.

"Help your brother. Be gentle."

Harald was loathe to obey in a time when Heins was so clearly unwell, but was obligated and wanted to help his brother however possible, even if that help did not seem so friendly at the time. He moved to his brother's side and put both hands on his shoulders, his grip much firmer than his mother's, leaning in to whisper, preserving what dignity he could for the widower. "Heins… come away now. Don't make me use force. Please… she's gone… she wouldn't have wanted it like this."

"Get off me!" Heins shouted, shoving his brother, but unlike his mother, Harald was prepared. He wrapped his arms around Heins and tightened in a bear hug, dragging him back. Heins, lighter than his brother, kicked in the air and shook violently, but it did no good against the seasoned soldier. At the queen's signal, the coffin lid lowered, and the dirt began to fill the gaping hole. The moment Helena disappeared, the energy seemed to drain away from Heins, and he went limp in Harald's arms. Slowly, Harald lowered him to the ground, releasing his grip. Heins remained kneeled before his wife's resting place as the citizens gave their sympathies to the royal family and departed, until only family and soldiers remained. Harald had not moved from his spot, replaying the confrontation in the woods over and over as he convinced himself he could not have done anything to save his sister-in-law. As the rain began to stop, he approached his crumpled sibling to try and offer comfort.

"I'm sorry…" he murmured, gazing upon his brother's defeated form.

"You're sorry?" Heins rasped, wiping the tears away with a sleeve as if the dam he'd put up around his emotions had broken free. He stumbled to his feet, slapping away his brother's offered hand. "I let her go with you because I trusted you!" He whirled to look at him, face pinched with rage. "And look what happened! Helena is dead!"

"That's not my fault," Harald steadily replied, posture growing rigid in defense. "And this is not the place to take out your anger. If you want to blame me, blame me later, not at her funeral, not in front of our family. You're a prince! Now act like one or I'll make you act like one," he hissed, one hand going to the hilt of his sword reflexively. He paused, looking down at the hand resting on his hilt, and forcibly removed it, hugging his arm instead.

Heins followed his hand movement and then looked back at his brother's eyes, holding his gaze steady. He spoke out loud, loud enough for those close by to hear, regardless of who they may be. "You'd like it to end in violence, wouldn't you… but this isn't the first time you've lost a sister."

Harald felt the cold of the outdoors suddenly seem to chill him at those words. He steeled himself against it, shaking his head. "That's not going to change my mind... I've put it behind me."

Suddenly Heins seemed all-too-aware of how blatant a lie that was. "Have you? Ah, but what of our faithful family, have they put it behind them?"

Lily had been a silent observer during the funeral. She had nothing she felt could be said enough to honor Helena, so instead she listened. Now, confused by the confrontation, she spoke. "Harald?... what is he talking about?"

Heins looked toward her and then back at Harald, eyes narrowing. "I see. So you haven't told her your little secret. Well, brother, now's your chance to tell her. Tell them all. Tell them who is responsible for Kris' death."

Harald turned and looked at his family, who were all watching him, particularly Hugo and Harken, the two others who had been there that day and taken the oath not to say a word. He knew in his heart he wasn't responsible, but he could have done more. He could have done so much more. He looked to Lily, who stood bewildered, realizing how much he wanted to tell her everything. He was so weary of keeping secrets, of trying to forget that day. It was time now. Helena would have wanted it that way. She would have wanted her death to bring freedom. He inhaled a breath, swallowed, and addressed them all. "I am."

"What…? Who?" Lily asked, wrinkling her forehead and shaking her head. "That's not true… that can't be true."

"It's true," Harald stated before anyone could object. "I've told Hans, but I've never told you all the truth. I won't live under a lie anymore; I can't take it! May Helena forgive me, but I must let this go. The day Kris drowned, you all know I was there. I saw her fall into the ice, and I could have run for help. If I had run for help right away, she might still be alive. But I froze… and I lost her." He hesitated, grasping for words. "I did the wrong thing. I should have come forward… but I never told anyone what happened, never told them that I could have saved her… if I hadn't been afraid. That Hans was following me across the ice, and she came after him… " Then, as thunder rolled overhead and rain began to fall harder, he looked at Heins, mouth agape. "How… how long have you known this?"

"… since we were children," Heins replied, obviously just as stunned by his brother's admission as the rest of the family. "Since you said you were going to pretend Hans was invisible… I was outside the door… and I heard… everything."

"You've known that long… and you never said anything?" Harald repeated.

"I knew you were hurt… but you were always so hard on yourself… I thought… you would come to terms with feeling like… like it was your fault…" Heins broke into a whisper, his tone low, and quiet. "I… I never knew it felt like this."

Harald bent down and removed his jacket, putting it over his brother. "I'm all too aware of how it feels to blame yourself for someone's death… hear me now. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. Sometimes… life is taken… unfairly. We don't control how long we're here. All we can do… is use what time we have before it's done." He squeezed his brother's shoulder firmly, his hair limp and soaked, his family behind him, observing beneath black umbrellas. "I'm sure you miss her… you'll always miss her… but she's gone, Heins… she's gone, and she's not coming back."

Heins blinked, wiping away moisture from his face to his already wet outfit sleeve, which did not help. He looked back at the grave, now a mound of fresh dirt, where his wife lay to rest. "I…" He tried to think of what to say to express his pain, to tell his family how much it hurt, but he couldn't find the words to say, his heart empty. Finally, amidst more tears, he gasped out the last words of the funeral in a defeated cry, "I know."

#

The days went on in a subdued matter, filled with rain, grey, overcast skies, and dinners only sparsely speckled in light conversation. The two brothers showed obvious change since the funeral. Heins would wander the halls and see his daughter occasionally for a few moments, but most of his days were spent in his room or out riding seeking solitary solace. He was an enigma to his family since the funeral, distant and subdued. On the opposite end, there was a weight lifted from Harald among the others, and his steps were lighter, his emotions more readable now that his secret feelings had been revealed. He would initiate conversation among his soldiers regarding their day and took time to stroll in the gardens and meditate after his work. His presence no longer seemed to inspire such tension in the air.

Lily allowed him the time alone for a while, but after a week went by without them exchanging more than a few passing pleasantries, she decided to confront him about the mysterious sister. It was just after their braille lesson together, which hadn't been near as difficult as she'd thought.

"You're doing very well," Harald complimented her as he shut the book for the day. "Soon we'll be starting our first chapter together."

"I get a little mixed up," she admitted, accepting the book and holding it close. "So many of the dots feel the same."

"There are small differences," Harald replied, getting up from the bench and reaching high to pick one of the blossoms from the tree above him. "We'll learn them together." He tucked the flower behind Lily's ear.

Her hand went to delicately touch the petals and she smiled in his direction. "Tell me about your sister." Harald was naturally taken aback by the question, though it was more of a command. He wasn't used to hearing orders, only giving them. In the pause, Lily pursued. "Please."

No one had asked him this for some time. Harald considered the request. He hadn't spoken of her to anyone but Hans, and even that had only been last year. "Why?"

"You never even mentioned her… and after what you said at the funeral… I know you blamed yourself… and that you shouldn't have. You were only a little boy when it happened… you're free of that guilt now. I'd think you'd want to talk about her a little to someone. And I want to hear," she elaborated.

Harald had known Lily long enough to know once she wanted to know something, she would not stop until she found what she was looking for. She was stubborn… like him. He let his thoughts wander, scratching his chin instinctively. He could tell her a few things… he trusted her more than he trusted anyone else, even some members of his own family. He took her hand in his and helped her up from the seat of stone. "Come with me." He led her into the castle, into a part Lily rarely ventured, one of the hallways which was quiet compared with the rest of the castle, coming to a stop before a door and opening it with a slight creak.

"Where are we?" she ventured, though she might have had an idea.

"Kris' room," replied Harald, stepping beyond the hollowed threshold. "Come in," he encouraged quietly. "I don't think she would mind."

Lily hesitated long enough for him to gently pull on her hand, and finally stepped inside the room. "… what's it like?' she whispered, too awed to move on her own.

Harald let his eyes wander. His parents hadn't changed anything since the day she died, first due to grief, then to denial. Occasionally, a servant would clean the room, but even this was rare, only done with permissions once or twice a year. The room was a pastel world of light color, the stained glass casting reflections along the carpeted floor, dust particles dancing in and out of the beams. "It's just how it always was." He reminded himself that Lily needed more and forced himself to describe it in words. "She wasn't always called Kris. That's what she liked to be called. Her real name was Hannah, and Kristina was her middle name. She liked pastel colors… soft shades. She sewed… maybe even inspired Heins a little. She made Hans a toy horse he carried around for ages." His gaze drifted along the walls, where the art still hung, the colors faded from the light, dull under the dust. "She painted, too. Especially pictures of the beach… the sea. She liked to make things. When I started to enter the service under my father's military, she collected scraps of tin and crafted them to look like medals… so I felt at home among the other men." He walked over to the bureau where her brush still held stray hairs, her jewelry box lay open, and then something caught his eye abruptly.

The bottom drawer of the bureau was ajar.

He kneeled and examined it briefly. "Odd…"

"What is it?" Lily asked.

"This drawer… it was open." He looked inside, but it was meticulously neat. Nothing appeared to be missing, but as he sorted through the people who could have entered, he could only think of one person responsible.

"The servants?" questioned Lily, coming closer.

"No…" Harald closed the door and glowered at the window, hoping the man would feel it. "Albrekt."

"That man at the party?" Lily murmured, confused by the idea. "Why would he want something from Kris and more importantly… what?"

"I don't know," Harald replied, flustered with the prospect of missing something from his search. "But none of us come here, not anymore. It had to be him. He… was going to marry her at one time, before she died. Or at least… that was the plan."

"It must have been important." Lily made her way to the door, sliding her hand along the frame thoughtfully. "I wonder what he wanted so badly."

"Why do you say that?" Harald responded, closing the sacred drawer carefully. He couldn't think of anything with significance here, at least not to some foreigner like Albrekt.

"He risked being caught. In fact, he was caught and you searched the room. I remember you talking about it. He wouldn't have risked that if it hadn't been important for him to steal." Harald was quiet, lost in thought as the death of his sister resurfaced and the failure of a thorough search of her room left him with the gloom of defeat. Even after her death, he couldn't protect her possessions from being stolen. Whatever had been in that drawer, it was long gone now.

Lily sensed something amiss, and wanting to comfort him by distraction, gestured with a wave. "Let's go for a quick ride to the shore. You described that Kris liked the oceans and… I never really got to see them. It's beautiful weather to be outside after all the gloominess the past few days. That is, if you aren't busy with the men?"

Harald decided an afternoon with Lily may help ease the sting of defeat he was tasting, and walked over, taking her hand. "I do have some drills to run with the men, but I can have Will take over them for today. I think Hans was going to spend a day with Elsa at the beach as well. We may even run into one another there. Do you want me to wait for you?"

"No, I'll have one of the servants help me get dressed and meet you there," Lily replied.

#

Elsa knew why Hans had really brought her to the beach, and it wasn't because the day was so fine, though even if it was true, she wouldn't have noticed. Both night and day for the past two weeks she'd thrown herself into caring for little Julia. She hovered over her as a true mother would, rocking her, dressing her, telling her all of her thoughts as she smiled and cooed to the infant and admired her beautiful mossy eyes. Even now, as she dug her toes into the sands and felt the tide sink into the divots she made, her thoughts were with the babe.

"-to the shores of Arendelle?" Hans asked, his voice suddenly getting her attention, floating into existence like a voice from a dream.

"What?" Elsa murmured, looking to him.

"I asked, did your parents ever bring you to the shores of Arendelle?" Hans repeated, wondering how she could be a whisper from him and yet so far away.

"No, we never had beaches… not like this," Elsa replied, sifting her fingers through the sand. "Our shores are rocky." She brushed the sand off her frilled bathing suit, knowing she could not pick it clean, welcoming the distraction before bringing her long braid to the front of her body, winding it over her shoulder and fiddling with it.

"My family used to visit the beach all the time when I was younger," Hans responded, staring at the clouds above him, whiter and puffier than he'd seen in days, thinking back on days passed. "Sometimes things would just… come together, and for a while, any animosity between my brothers and I, any… thoughts about the past, it all faded away…"

Elsa forced herself to listen to him, and felt guilt began to gnaw at her. No, but, Julia needed her… she shouldn't feel guilty about staying longer. Anna could handle anything at home. "I'm enjoying our vacation here… do you think we could stay a bit longer?"

"Longer?" Hans asked, eyebrows furrowing. "We've already been here for more than two weeks, my love. Arendelle needs us as well."

"But your brother…" Elsa protested, her fingers going back to the sand and scooping it into her palms, her hands feeling empty without a babe inside them. Her guilt prodded at her harder, reminding her of her true intentions. You want to be with Julia.

"I know he's torn… but I think with time, he'll recover. I don't know that we're doing any more good for him if we stayed longer. I want to help him… I just don't know how." Hans felt it, the subtle shift of her eyes, the way her hands stroked her braid, never-ceasing, calmly, a repetitive motion long-since performed in her life to comfort her. Something was wrong, but what?

"Here he comes," she remarked in a soft tone of surprise, the distant figure approaching on horseback down the beach at a slow, predictable pace. Heins often spent his days by himself since the funeral, but they didn't usually run into him. She glanced opposite them as more movement caught her eye. "And Harald?"

"Both?" Heins craned his neck to see as Elsa rose and dusted off her legs briefly.

"We should go meet them. I've never seen Harald come down here." She briefly forgot about Julia, curious about the man who was carrying a squealing girl into the shallow waves. "He seems so much happier lately…"

"Elsa?" Hans interrupted before her thoughts could go on.

"Hm?"

"Could you do me a favor first?"

"A favor?" She looked back and her cheeks bloomed into color.

"Could you… unbury me?" He wriggled, the weight of the sand covering his body too much for him to break. "The tide's coming in."

#

Freed from his grainy prison, Hans took Elsa's hand in his and walked along the coastline, the waves lapping over his footprints, slowly erasing them from existence. "Let's not say anything," Hans whispered as they grew close to his brother. He couldn't remember the last time Harald had come down to the beach on his own, much less with a girl. He watched with growing amusement as Harald teased the squealing woman in his arms.

"My grip is slipping!"

"Don't you dare let go!"

"You said you wanted to see the ocean!"

"Not like thiiis!" she screamed as he released her with a splash and she broke for air, grabbing his heel and yanking him. Her tug was strong, and the current helped submerge Harald alongside her. He floundered and broke into laughter as he sloshed to his feet, grabbing her around the waist.

"Come here, you traitor!"

"No!" she squealed, though she didn't fight him hard, feeling how strong his muscles were in his iron grip.

"Excuse me!" boomed a loud voice from the beach, causing Hans to turn and look. "I'm looking for a Captain Harald, in charge of the Southern Isles army! The stuffy sort? Wouldn't be caught dead at the beach having a time with a lovely lady? You wouldn't happen to know where I could find him?"

Harald froze in the water, a foreign feeling of embarrassment making the ocean feel colder than it should have, and turned with Lily still in his arms, his face slackening from chagrin into a little sneer. "What are you doing here?"

"Well that's a fine greeting!" Heinrik slung a bag from his back to the beach and nodded gracefully with a little bow to Elsa. "Look what I find washed up on our fair Isles… a lovely queen and her not-so-lovely king."

"Hey!" Hans interrupted, playfully punching his brother's shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" Harald repeated again before Hans had a chance, helping Lily up and stabilizing her against the waves as they waded back into shore sands.

"Supplies to restock before I go back to being a privateer under father's good graces," the rouge replied, one of his earrings catching the sunlight and glinting. "Ah, it is so easy to find family here!" he remarked, waving as Heins approached the party astride his steed, looking melancholy. "Good afternoon!"

"Afternoon," replied Heins quietly, surveying the little party for a moment. "It's a nice day today."

It was apparent Heinrik was puzzled by his brother's shift in demeanor from the last they'd met. "Aye, it is, fair sailing and hardly a gray cloud in sight, but I must say I am a little surprised. Where's the ray of sunshine you normally wear on your face? What happened, did someone die?"

An awkward hush swept over the party and Harald started to speak, but Heins stopped him. "Helena died. Two weeks ago."

Heinrik was struck dumb for a few moments, gaping, obviously pained by the news. "I… I'm so sorry… I-I had no idea, Heins, I promise, you know I speak without thinking and I…"

"I'm not angry with you," he replied, his voice void of emotion, lackluster, reflected in his green eyes, which stared unfocused in the direction of his brother.

"How… how did it happen?" Heinrik asked.

"Childbirth," Heins confirmed, the waves lapping at his horse's hooves lightly as the tide came in further.

"You're a father?" Heinrik gasped, trying to balance both his joy and pity. He'd been alright with the older brothers getting married, but having children made him suddenly feel a bit left behind on the curve. "I missed more than I thought. What's his name?"

"Her name is Julia," Elsa answered, tentatively glancing to Heins. Her stomach felt oddly heavy as he turned to look at her and for a brief moment their eyes met. She diverted immediately, breaking eye contact. She hadn't spoken to him since the accident.

"As she said," Heins replied, betraying no emotion if he held any at all.

"A girl!" Heinrik exclaimed, face brightening a bit. "I'm sure mother is absolutely ecstatic. I'll make it a point to stay a few days to see her before I head out to sea again."

"If you wish," Heins replied, nodding and digging his heels a little into his horse, who did not seem to want to continue on. Kalk snorted, a bit stubborn to have to leave company, but the social beast complied with another rough dig into his flanks and started trotting back to the castle. "I'll tell mother you've made port," he called back, his tone apathetic.

Heinrik heaved a long sigh and let his shoulders sag with the exhale. "Every time I come home I seem to manage to make a mess of things somehow."

"Don't let it bother you," Harald replied, going so far as to stoop and pick up the sack Heinrik carried, slinging it over his shoulder, offering Lily his other hand. "He's been this way ever since it happened."

"We should go back to the castle now. I'm starting to get pruny," Lily interjected, feeling the silence as if it were fog among them, thickening the air. "Come with us?" she asked Heinrik, "I don't think I've met you among the other princes."

"It would be my pleasure, my dear, to meet the woman who has both cleverly and wondrously made my flinty brother smile so," he started, avoiding the bag Harald swung in his direction, "only I think I've first some business elsewhere. Where is the grave?"

"I could show you," Hans offered.

"I'll take your… bag to your room in the castle, then…" Harald muttered as Heinrik strode up to Hans and slapped his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Why thank you, brother. I'll be at dinner tonight and we can talk all about the fascinating changes which have taken place in your life," he replied with a wink and a sideways glance at Lily.

"Fine, fine, just go," Harald replied, his pride making his cheeks ruddy and conceding to his brother's defeat for the first time in years.

#

Elsa went through the rest of the day relatively quiet. The time shared with Heinrik and Hans at Helena's gravestone made her reflective. She conjured a few flowers made of ice which would last a while and water the flowers already there when finally subdued by the heat of the day. I'm looking after Julia, don't worry. She restlessly stirred her food during dinner, mixing and mashing the potatoes among the peas in the first course, but eating very little. Her participation in the conversation of the princes was limited to short, concise replies as the second course arrived. She was grateful to leave the majority of talking to Lily and Heinrik as her spoon stirred her soup continuously, creating a current, sweeping the speckles of pepper along with it. Helena would have wanted me to. The metal made a clinking, tinkling noise against the fine china. She needs me. Her spoon came to a stop, and the steam was briefly disturbed by a sudden chill. I have to see her again.

"Your majesty?" asked a servant, a prodding question. It was one among many times someone had asked Elsa something repeatedly today.

"Yes?"

"Are you finished?" she repeated, and Elsa waved to let her know she could take the soup away, and with it, her appetite.

It wasn't until later that evening, when everyone was asleep, that Elsa acted upon her urges, and snuck away from her husband, tying a white robe around herself. She kept silence close, no more than a ghost as she made her way to the baby's room, her footsteps soundless on the endless carpet, her hands grasping the neckline of the fabric close to her. Only when she placed a hand on the doorknob did she hear a voice from within, as hollow and withered as she felt. She froze instinctively, but the protective pull did not let her do anything but listen.

"How is it fair? How can you look so much like her?"

Elsa carefully edged the door open and looked inside. Heins was bent over his daughter's crib, holding a candle aloft and watching her sleep. He's here. You should go. He's her father. These inner protests did nothing to dissuade the stronger part of her.

"She wanted a life of happiness for you… but how can I make you happy when all I feel is sorrow? I don't know what to do… what do I do?" He leaned forward, hesitating to touch her. As he leaned, his momentum moved the crib and its occupant, and the baby inside began to stir. Elsa's heart leapt to Julia, but her feet stayed glued in place. "I'm not ready to be your father… not yet," he murmured, backing away from her as her gurgles turned into mewling. "But I'll figure something out. I promise you, I'll find some way to be like I used to be, to be happy… and then I'll make you happy, too."

The baby's eyes opened, revealing a flash of mossy green, eyes that bored into him, despite never focusing on him entirely. Heins blew out the candle in his hand, but his footsteps told Elsa he was coming towards the door, and breathing in a way that sounded like crying. She dashed around the nearest corner, waiting until she saw the figure disappear, and then, unable to hold back any longer, answered the infant's calls with warm hands and open arms.

#

Heins wandered the lonely corridors, feeling more a specter haunting his old home than someone who lived there. He needed sleep. He hadn't had a pleasant sleep in weeks. The doctor had prescribed something to put in a drink, so he decided to go to the kitchen to get some water or milk or whatever drink his family had stored away and easily accessible. He found someone else instead.

"What are you doing awake?" he asked Heinrik, though he suspected he already knew the answer. His heart longed secretly for company, for signs of his old life. "Can't sleep on land still?"

"There's something about being sea that brings me calm," Heinrik replied, crunching through a cookie and rummaging into the tin for another, his boots crossed and resting on the counter, his back against the wall. "When I'm on land for too long, it still sways, but it feels unnatural… foreign. What about you," he asked, offering the tin, his voice soft, "trouble sleeping too?"

"Yes," he admitted, taking the tin and digging out one of the less desirable cookies which had broken in half, nibbling it as he returned it.

"You want to talk about it?"

It wasn't the first time someone had asked him this over the first few weeks. At first he hadn't wanted to talk, not wanted to see anyone. Now as he grew more isolated, he realized how much he missed himself. "What should I say?"

"Whatever you want," Heinrik replied, crunching into another cookie, crumbs falling in a small avalanche to his shirt. "By the way, who decided raisins belong in cookies? It's cruel, that's what it is, chocolate looks too similar."

"Is that why the bottom is littered in them?" Heins replied, forcing himself to go on. "I keep having dreams about her. I'm afraid to close my eyes, because I know I'll relive it like a never-ending nightmare. She's always there, even when I'm awake."

"I don't doubt people are giving you advice without you asking," Heinrik said, studying his brother, thinking.

"Yes! People keep saying I need time, that I'm not acting like myself, that I have to let it go… I hear it so much, it's driving me crazy."

Heinrik's mouth sank into an expression of sympathy. "I can understand that." He set the cookie tin aside and shifted off the counter, heading to his bag, which Harald had brought into the castle. He dug inside, lifting out a rolled piece of parchment coordinates and a bottle of wine, which he set on the counter behind him. "I know they're in here somewhere." The flame of the lamplight glinted off the green glass of the bottle and made the liquid inside look dark as ink. "Here they are." He fished out several letters and saw Heins was distracted, his gaze distant, focused on the bottle. "Hey, these might help."

"What are they?" Heins asked, his attention returning to his brother and accepting the papers.

"Letters, from people who want to talk to the legendary Heins, the only real designer of dresses and suits alike. Whenever I go somewhere, I spread news of you, and these are all requests. Maybe it will help you get back into your love of designing… rediscover what made you happy before Helena came into your life… you can still be happy now. It doesn't have to have died with her…" He took the glass bottle and popped the cork, taking a quick swig. "Why don't you take a look, and I'll see if I can't find us some cookies without the little dried traitors stuck in 'em, aye?"

"Alright," Heins agreed, revolving one envelope over and over in hand, breaking the seal as his brother left the room, fishing out the note and scanning it.

I love the dress you designed ten years ago, for my ball I held welcoming some foreign traders. I wondered if you could design another for me, in pink, with a lavender trim. I suggest using gold lace, but you're certainly the expert and I will defer to your judgement. Please consider my request as I will pay any sum. Details on where to expect payment or return correspondence can be found within.

He stopped reading and sighed through his nose, enfolding his fist around the paper and squeezing. Making clothes… yes, it had been a passion. But he didn't feel inspired… he didn't see color and possibility anymore. There was no way to bring that back! And now he was a stranger to his own daughter. He thudded his head on the wall and used an arm to fling away the letters and utensils scattered on the counter, immediately regretting it as things spilled and clattered to the ground. He bent to pick them up, his arm half-full of kitchen assortments, when he heard a dripping noise. Before him was the envelope, empty now, and a small circle of red growing ever-wider. He took the envelope in hand and set everything on the counter in a pile, reaching for the overturned bottle of wine which tipped in the ruckus.

He shook it, watching the contents slosh from side to side, rocking like a gentle wave. There's not much left. A familiar scent of pleasant aged wine sang to him from beyond the glass. Helena… He looked up, as if hoping he would hear something from above. Would you hate me… if I… He dropped his gaze and set it on the counter, his grip tight on the neck. I've tried everything… and you're gone now… you're gone.

Heinrik came back in a few minutes later to find Heins stacking the letters in a neat pile, and though he wasn't smiling, there was a certain… lightness to his features, a hope. "I'm sorry, brother, but I spilled your bottle. I'm sure mother and father have more. I'll take a look at these requests… maybe your idea will work, after all."

Heinrik shrugged and shook the empty bottle. "It was cheap. Mom and Dad have the good stuff, anyway." He was too pleased with his results with his brother to be cross. "Hey, where are you going?"

"To get to work," Heins replied, waving lightly as he started climbing the stairs. "I have a lot of catching up to do."

"Oh, alright, then. Goodnight!" Heinrik exclaimed as his brother left. On his way to the wine cupboard to fetch a replacement, he stepped on something that made a crumpling sound. He bent down, picking it up and removing it from his boot. It was a white envelope, and if he looked at it in the right light, he could see a small blot of red.

Sorry for the late update! Let's see what happens next chapter… please leave me a review if you enjoyed and we'll see you next time!