A/N: So not a lot from me today, just ye olde disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Hans

"Hi, Madolen," I quietly step into the princess' dim, vast room where she wakes from another episode of naps. She groans about her lush comforters as she twists her body around in a series of stretches. I set down a tray of tea on her bedside table. "I know you're likely sick of it, but I thought you might need some more tea." I head to the windows and draw open the heavy yellow curtains in her room, blasting the area with light from the high up sun.

"Hans," she smiles at me softly, eyes shielded behind her eyelids from the afternoon sun. Her voice is hallow and rings with nasal effects. It's not difficult to see that she's sick from our rain dancing a few days ago. "I haven't seen you in days." She throws her arms over her head and clasps her fingers together, stretching as far as she can before relaxing her arms where they lay.

"I know," I sit on the edge of the bed and scoot closer to her small frame. "I'm sorry. I've been quite busy. Your parents and I have managed to put that rain three days ago to good use."

"Not even crowned yet but you're already doing so much for Casmont," Madolen beams, her chest rising with a large breath. Her legs shift under the covers and she taps my lower back with her feet. Physical touch is obviously one of the ways in which she expresses her love. "We're indebted to you, Hans."

"Don't mention it," I pull my arm back to gently squeeze her foot that's on my back. "I've missed you." I use my free arm to stroke her forehead. "Madolen, you're on fire. You've got the hottest fever."

"Yes, and you might catch it too," she removes my hand that sits on her forehead and puts it back in my lap. "You should probably go."

"Don't worry," I start, rubbing my hand over her knuckles, "I have an immunity to this kind of thing."

"You do not," Madolen grins at me.

"Oh I do," I nod. "Growing up in a castle of twenty-seven plus people, we're all sharing germs and getting sick. I've been sick enough times to be practically unscathed."

"Well, maybe your immunity will pass onto our kids," Madolen wears a weary smile on her face, but as soon as those words leave her, she turns embarrassed. "That was a bit much, wasn't it? I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. I want children, and… I'm glad you brought it up," I look down at Madolen's hand for a moment, pressing my thumb harder to her knuckles before meeting her gaze. "I grew up with a large family. I'd like any kids we have to be surrounded by siblings."

Madolen nervously simpers, eyes full of question. "Does a certain number come to mind?"

"Perhaps I should hear from you first," I offer.

Madolen clears her throat, "Uh, well, I've never really thought about marriage, much less kids," she runs a free hand past her forehead. "But I think at most I'd stretch to four kids."

"Well, Madolen," I begin, "that's a third of what I want."

"I… thought as much," Madolen gives a let-down smile. "Hans, I don't know if I can do what you're asking me to do."

"Madolen, it's not a stretch from the average woman today," I tell. "The least amount of kids per house I've noted is six to eight."

"Six to eight?" repeats Madolen. "Hans, that's a big responsibility – lives that we're liable for."

"Anything an average person can do, we can do one hundred times better," I assure.

"…What would we even do with twelve kids?" Madolen frowns. "Hans, this is serious. We're going to be so busy and not just with the kids. What if we overestimate our abilities and a few kids get neglected and lost in such a number?"

I break away from Madolen's gaze, sighing audibly through my nose. I give Madolen's hand a final squeeze before reaching for the tray I brought in earlier. "Your tea's chilling."

"…Hans, I'm sorry," Madolen sits up and touches my arm. "I didn't mean to upset you by saying that. I take it back."

"It's alright, Madolen," I say, eager to curb the topic. "But you should drink this to ease your symptoms."

Madolen eyes me worriedly before sitting back against her pillows to have her tea. I set the tray over her lap and pour the yellow liquid into a cup. "Surely there's some compromise, Hans," Madolen rubs her arm. "I don't want you to be unhappy because of this."

"Let's wait until our first baby," I say. "We'll have a better idea of what we both want then."

"Yeah. That's a good idea." Madolen extends an encouraging smile. "How was your day? Busy?"

"Very busy," I start. "Busy as it was, there's something I have for you."

Madolen looks around, scanning me for anything strange. "What is it?"

"Finish your tea and I'll show you," I smile.

"I bet I'll guess what it is before then," she jeers, sticking out a tongue.

"Time's ticking for your claim, Madolen," I grin.

…

Madolen

"Is it an activity?"

I trust Hans to guide me along the castle corridors, blind as his large hands cup my eyes like a blindfold. "Of sorts." Hans' voice rumbles through his chest against my back as he speaks. "Keep your eyes shut," he says, removing one hand from my eyes to open a door. We step out into a warm light, the sound of nature prominent in my ears. I hesitate against the change of environment. "Onwards, Madolen."

"Okay, slowly," I reach my arms out in front of me.

Hans presses forward, his body pushing me ahead, "We'll never get anywhere going slow." A tone of jest is strong in his voice.

"Chocolate, you're finally here," comes the familiar voice of my father.

"Da? You're in on this too?"

"I'm always centre stage when trouble's brewing," Dad chuckles.

"Alright, Madolen, you can look," Hans peels his hands away from my face and rests them on my wide shoulders.

We're in an empty area of the Gardens, where grass rolls along the expanse in a trimmed manor. Overhead, the branches of a lone elderly tree stretch meters high, growing out of every side of the tree, its roots stationed in the middle of the area. Dad stands in front of the tree before me thick bundled rope in hand.

"What's all this?" I cock a brow at my dad. He surrenders no answer. "Hmm," I crane my neck back and glance at Hans for a clue.

"We're setting up a hammock," Hans responds, a gentle squeeze on my shoulders. "We thought we might as well take advantage of all the sunshine before the storm steals it away." Hans squeezes my shoulders once more before heading off to Da to help him hang up the hammock.

"Well, how do I help?" I edge closer to the pair.

"We need you to tell us if the hammock is suspended in a level line," says Da. He gathers the knotted and weaved rope together and hands one end to Hans. "Take this to the opposite branch." Hans does as told and holds up the knotted rope where it might go once hung.

"Is this good, Madolen?"

I pinch my eyes and nip my lip, trying to accurately judge the structure of the hammock. "Da, I think you're an inch or two higher than Hans."

"Which is it? An inch or two?" questions Dad.

"Better make it two," I say. "Yeah, two is accurate. What now? Hammer and nails?"

"That's right, Mads," starts Da. "Put three or four nails in into the bark between the gaps in the net."

I head up to the end of the tree where Da is and find a hammer and a bunch of nails on the ground. "So which is it, Da?" I grin slyly at my father, "Three nails or four?" I begin hammering a nail into the bark of the branch.

Father sticks out his tongue at me. "Better make it five. You are getting heavier each day with that big brain of yours."

"Oh, Da, you're such a child," I laugh. "But then again, I guess we're all children inside."

"Not me," states Da. "I'm child inside and out. A terrible trait for a king."

"That's why you have Ma as a queen," I finish hammering the final nail.

"No, sweets, that's why she has me as a king," Da winks at me, dusting off his hands. "Speaking of sweets, why don't I get us something cold and sweet to drink?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," I smile.

"Well, get to work then, Mads," Da nods to Hans. "Earn your keep." With that, he strides into the castle and I make my way over to Hans.

"First trousers now a hammer and nails," starts Hans as I approach. "I hope you don't sprout facial hair." He teases.

"No need," I place the nail against the wood and look up at Hans. "You've enough whiskers for the both of us." As I hammer the nail I miss the mark and whack Hans' thumb instead.

"Ah!" he winces, he doesn't move, however.

"I'm sorry!"

"Mmhhmm," Hans nods. "Ahh." He draws out a long sigh.

I wait a moment before I proceed hammering. "I'm almost done." I deliver the final blow to the final hammer and Hans examines his wound. "Lemme see."

"Oh, I'm fine," Hans says.

"Come now, Hans, let me see what damage I've done," I insist. "I promise I won't do any more."

Hans extends his hand out to me, his thumb red. I cautiously take it in hand and blow cool air over it. "No, all you do is make things better." He says lowly, eyeing me penetratingly.

I put a kiss on Hans' thumb and smile warily at him. "You… you think so?"

"Why else would I say it?"

"Maybe you're a liar," I shrug.

"It's more likely that you're a good girl, Madolen. Woman, I mean."

"Thank you, Hans," I give a smile with pressed lips, meeting Hans' eyes. We lock eyes for a long while before I clear my throat. "Here, um, here's your thumb." I push Hans' hand against his chest.

"Look at that," Hans flexes his hand, "good as new."

"Did I ever tell you kids the tale of my great grandad's wrist?" comes my dad's energetic voice from the castle. He strides into the garden with a picture of lemonade and glasses.

"Oh, Da, not this again," despite my moans, a smile lingers on my face.

…

Hans

"There he was, arm restrained to a post, gaged and bombarded by the smell of liquid fear in the small confines of the slaves quarters down below the ship. One by one, the noblemen and royalty of small kingdoms were fished up from their spots to be slaughtered. Great grandad Rafael struggled against the impenetrable chains, hacking at them with his dagger but they wouldn't budge. He knew what he had to do. Great grandad Rafael laid in wait for a scurvy squirrel to come collect him, a clever plan crafted by a foxy man in mind," King Wiatt goes about retelling the tail of his great grandad with great skill before us. Madolen and I sit on the newly set up hammock while he flashily continues into the peach evening sky. "'King Rafael! Get yer arse above, ye fresh watered, toe sucking land lubber'," King Wiatt squints an eye, as he mimics the pirate's voice. "'It be yer turn to meet yer maker'." Wiatt slices an arm through the air, eyes now wide open. "'Come over here and make me! I am born of Casmont, a place of purpose, unlike you! An old tattered goat with nothing but the grave for him!' Rebuked the rebellious king of Casmont, only twenty at the time. The pirate didn't take a liking to the attitude great grandad Rafael was offering, so he unsheathed his cutlass with threat." Wiatt pinches his one eye shut again, 'unsheathing a cutlass'. "'If ya speak to me with a tongue like that again, I'll slice it clean outta yer mouth!'" Wiatt changes his voice again. "Great grandad Rafael had the one winged filthy fly right where he wanted him!"

I glance over at Madolen who watches her dad in a manner of both admiration and a tinge of denial that he's telling such an age old tale again. A smile forces its way on her face, despite all of that.

"Madolen, say it with me! You know the words!" caws King Wiatt, a toddler like enthusiasm glowing about him.

"Don't dare tamper with my tongue, plagued pestilence, lest you disease me with all manners of death!" Madolen and King Wiatt tell together. "This tongue and the rest of me stand and boast of Casmont – land of purpose!"

King Wiatt swings his arm down, miming a devastating blow. "With a mighty swipe of the pirate's sword, King Rafael dives his body out of the way, allowing the cutlass to chop his hand clean off – right at the wrist. With tears in his eyes, King Rafael raised his boot to the pirate's ugly filth born face and yanked the cutlass from his hand. He sliced right across the mindless mule's throat and fought his way out of bondage with one hand – his weakest hand. He lead the army of slaves to a revolution that won them their liberty and they threw the pirates overboard. The horde of refugees were offered a place in Casmont and a great celebration was held in gratitude of Rafael's life."

"This is just one way in which my dad explains the love that the people of Casmont have for their royals," Madolen whispers in my ear.

"And that, Hans Westegaard, is just one tale to express how greatly the people of Casmont adore their royals," says Wiatt, seemingly unaware that his daughter already spilled the beans. "And we mustn't let their love and loyalty be misplaced. That isn't to say that we shouldn't ever err, all they ask of us is that we do our best always." Wiatt is overcome with a mixture of emotions that seem to flush in from nowhere.

"Oh, Da," Madolen rises to pull her father into a warm and caring hold. "I know how much this all means to you." She leans her head against his chest as she tightens her hold on him. "I'll do all I can for Casmont."

"I never doubted that you would, chocolate," King Wiatt wraps parental arms around his daughter. "You'll exceed your own expectations, Madolen." He pulls Madolen almost arms-length away to look into her eyes. "It's not an easy task to rule a kingdom. Sometimes you'll have to make hard choices, that'll disappoint more people that it'll satisfy. But that doesn't mean it was the wrong choice. It may sound like a paradox, Mads, to consider that people yet also decide against them. But do what you think is right and you're sure to succeed. This kingdom will love you no matter what."

"I don't plan on failing, Da," Madolen smiles. "Don't worry."

King Wiatt beams at his daughter before clearing his throat. "Ahem, well, I think I should take my leave," he says, giving Madolen a final squeeze. "Goodnight, Prince Hans," he addresses me politely, I acknowledge him with a smile and a nod before he turns back to his daughter. "Goodnight, chocolate." He presses a kiss to her forehead before heading back into the castle.

Madolen smiles after him for a moment before she slowly makes her way back over to me. She sits down next to me.

"He really loves you," I put an arm around Madolen's shoulders.

"I really love him more," she smiles whimsically, staring at the door where she last saw her father, before looking up at me. "I think he's starting to love you too."

"I wouldn't know," I shift my weight on the wide hammock so that I'm lying down on my back. I tuck my hands behind my head in an effort to relax.

Madolen comes to join beside me, lying on her side eyes beaming at me. "It'd be sort of… poetic justice if we marry. You'd get a family, though not large, full of love to give. You'd… you'd get a happily ever after."

I silently mull over Madolen's words, my gaze transfixed on the pioneering stars of the mango coloured night. "Hmm," I consider. "…And what of your happily ever after?"

Madolen looks down at her hands that sit sandwiched between the side of my ribcage and her chest. "Casmont will survive and I'll have a husband like you. I'm not at all quick to trust, and although I have some reservations, I realize that you're only a man. You're only human. And as far as humans go, you're not so bad." She looks back up at me with a grin though modest, earnest.

I return her gaze, confused at the amount of identification I find in this young lady. Madolen's beam fades into a softer look, a thoughtful search of me before she quickly draws her face into her shoulder in a fit of coughs. I sit up and pull off one of my favoured jackets, "Here, Madolen. Keep warm," I wrap the white jacket around her. "This is considered a mild day in the Southern Isles."

"Really? It's so cold," Madolen marvels, eyes wide.

"Feel this," I take Madolen's hand and place it on my forehead.

"You're sweating," she cogitates. "You aren't kidding." I shake my head before guiding Madolen back down onto the hammock. "Can you teach me how to say something in your mother tongue?"

I give Madolen a surprised look. "I can. Something simple."

"Yeah, I can handle it," she snickers. "How do I say 'hello'?"

"Hej," I reply.

"How do I say 'what's your name'?" Madolen sits up, crossing her legs.

"Hvad hedder du."

"Hej, hvad hedder du?" Madolen repeats.

"Jeg hedder Hans," I tell.

"Jeg hedder Madolen," Madolen catches on quickly.

"You're a fast learner," I grin.

"It's easy when I enjoy what I'm doing," Madolen smiles. "You have to teach me some more."

"It'd be a waste," I start. "You'd only have me and my family to speak to."

"Well, speaking to a household full of so many brothers and their wives and kids – twenty-seven plus people you said. Doesn't seem like a waste to me." Madolen smirks down at me and I return the gesture.

Just then, Gala comes into the Gardens. "Evening your Majesties. Dinner's ready." She smiles.

"Ah, supper, my favourite time of day," Madolen beams. "Wait for us, Gala." Madolen throws a leg over me, foot dangling above the grass in an effort to find it. She plants an arm on the end of the hammock where her foot still seeks the ground, now hovering above me on all fours – save for her one leg.

"Careful, Madolen, you might tip us," I warn, placing my hands like brackets around Madolen's arms in preparation for the likely outcome.

"It's okay, I've got this," she laughs. "Just… a little… farther. Ah!" Madolen's weight falls heavy on one the descending side of her and the hammock turns over, spitting us right out. I shift so that my arm hits the ground before Madolen does, causing me to land on the cool grass on my side, with my free arm holding Madolen to me. Madolen looks around herself, surprised that she didn't land on the floor. "You caught me."

I smirk at Madolen. "You weren't joking about not being physically apt."

"Heh, yeah. Sorry, I'm… I didn't mean to drop us," Madolen stammers. "I should've listened."

"Relax, Madolen. It didn't turn out all bad," I give a good natured chuckle.

Madolen only now seems to register that her arms snaked themselves around me.

"Ahem, your Majesties," Gala's voice rings. "Dinner?"

"Gala!" Madolen peels herself away from me, straightening herself up as she stands. She offers me a hand. "How long have you been standing there?"

I stand and put an arm to Madolen's upper back, guiding her towards the castle.

"You said to wait for you, wait for you I did," Gala smiles cheekily at her friend. As we pass by Gala she throws a wordy glance at Madolen.

"Shush! Shush!" Madolen bashfully says, thoroughly embarrassed. The sound of Gala's snorts of laughter follow us down the hall to supper.

Alrighty. Sorry I'm late. It'll probably happen more. I know the grander scheme of the fanfic, not really the details, so that's what's delaying me. But fret not, I shall device a plan. Until next you read, take care!