A/N: Hi again, everyone! I'm loving the feedback! It really got me amped to type late into the night. The love is felt! I feel like I should explain a little bit.

First off, I'm glad that people are taking to Gala, the king and queen. It does me something great to know that I'm doing it right.

So, in response to a review that was posted about Hans' choice to have twelve children: there is indeed a legitimate reason behind me putting that thought in his mind. It quite adds to the drama and his development as a person in the fanfiction. Don't stress. :D I got your back.

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

Hans

"Across, underneath, under and…under again…?" King Wiatt mumbles as he struggles to figure out how to fasten the gold bow that's meant to be clipped to the end of my gold-brimmed pale blue epaulet closest to my shoulder. "Wait, did I say 'under' twice?"

"Thrice, King Wiatt," I tell.

"…Oh dear."

Queen Nancy grins as she rolls her eyes at her husband in the doorway of my room. "Move aside, Wiatt. Why don't you go check on Madolen? I can take it from here."

"Nancy!" King Wiatt startles as he wife struts boldly towards us. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough for me to watch you retie this bow three times," she plants a loving kiss on his blonde stubble covered cheek. "Madolen, honey."

"Yes, dear," Wiatt salutes me before he marches towards his daughter wherever she might be.

"Why is it that you don't know how to tie a bow?" Queen Nancy undoes the knot her husband birthed. "I'd assume a young man like you is constantly being dragged to uppity class gatherings."

"Today my perfectionism has its hold on me," I say. "I can't seem to be pleased with any of the results."

"You'll find it's impossible to disagree that anything I make is less than a work of art," asserts Queen Nancy. "Are you nervous?"

I clear my throat. "More than I thought I'd be." I glance down at the queen. "Did my family make the trip?"

"As far as I know, we haven't yet received news of any ships," tells Nancy. "But-"

"Oh my goodness!" I turn to the doorway – the direction of the intercepting voice – and see Agnes, hands cupped over her mouth. "Look at you, Hans!" she stares, bewildered, at the sight of me in a silver double breasted military jacket, studded with bright gold buttons. Pale blue trousers fit around my legs, and shiny black boots ride up to my shins. "Look at him, Lars! Look at you, Hans!" Agnes' ecstatic squeals have never been more missed; I find myself grinning as she continues to chatter to a Lars' I assume is still on his way.

"Your bow it done, Prince Hans," smiles Queen Nancy as she fastens it where it should be. She pats me on the shoulder before fully turning her attention to Agnes.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a gentleman passes by Agnes into my room. "Your Majesty Hans, if you would please have a seat. I'm meant to groom you for the day."

"Of course," I sit at one of the stools provided for me and immediately the gent begins attending to my mane.

"Agnes, you can't just go storming around peoples' castles, love," says Lars, finally appearing at his wife's side. He heaves heavy breaths as he speaks.

"Well, they said that he was in this room," starts Agnes. "I couldn't stand by and be forced to wait for all of us Westegaards to be announced."

"You all came?" I question, eager for an answer.

"Hans, you look brilliant!" Lars' face immediately lights up the sight of me. Agnes punches him in the shoulder. "Ah! Agnes?"

"I told you," beams she. "I'm sorry I hit you, though." Agnes rubs the afflicted area. She turns to Queen Nancy and rushes to her. "How rude of me. You must be the queen of this marvellous kingdom. It's such an honour to be here. Thank you for having us."

"It's quite a pleasure," Queen Nancy laughs as she speaks. "You make it an enjoyable experience."

Lars comes to introduce himself to the queen. "I am Hans' older brother, Lars. This is Agnes, my wife."

"You two make a dynamic pair," grins the queen.

"You can say that again," Lars gives a tired and knowing smile but it isn't the slightest bit untrue.

"Did you bring your entire family?" the queen repeats my question.

"Yes. It wasn't easy," laughs Lars. "It really, wasn't easy. But we managed."

"Well, I hope to make your stay as pleasant as possible," the queen smiles.

…

Madolen

"Look at me." I glance at Hettie as she instructed, she scrutinizes the work of her makeup. "Close your eyes again."

"I'm so excited, Hettie," I start, fiddling with my hands. "I never envisioned myself getting married. I knew it would happen eventually. But I never dreamed of it. You know?"

Hettie has a chuckle in her throat as she steps away to further examine her work. "I know, my dearest. It's been a wild ride, taking care of you, it's hard to believe that today is here."

I smile a closed lip smile. "May I look at my makeup?"

"Very well," says she.

I look into the mirror and jump a little in my seat with glee. "I can't believe I'm looking at me about to get married." I laugh.

"Believe it, chocolate," comes Da's voice as he enters my room. "You look fantastic, Madolen."

I hop out of my seat and run into my father's arms. "I'm so glad you came to see me. I didn't know if you'd be able to."

"I'm always available for my two favourite girls," Da squeezes me tightly. "The wedding should start very soon. How are you feeling?"

I shrug my shoulders although still beaming. "I wish I was three years old again. I can't wait for the time to come, but at the same time, I could wait an eternity."

Da laughs at me loudly. He pulls away from me to stare into my eyes. "You'll always be three years old to me, my chocolate. But I'm afraid the eternity will have to happen in another life, love. But I bet that second life can't even begin to compete with this one." My father kisses my forehead, lingering for a moment in what I'm certain is a state of nostalgia. "I love you so, so, so much, Madolen."

"I love you so, so, so much more, Da," I pull back into my father's embrace. "So much more."

The ringing of a heavy bell cuts me and my dad short of our bonding, announcing to all that the ceremony is about to take place.

"Let's go, chocolate," Da says, as he draws my veil over my head. He takes my hand before he addresses Hettie. "Thank you, Hettie! Madolen looks like magnificent."

I blow a kiss at Hettie. She responds with a playful wink.

Da and I begin our way into the castle, winding about the halls until we reach the large main doors where a carriage awaits with a pair of shimmering stallions.

"Good morning, Your Majesties," greets Jasper dressed smartly in all black and gold before the carriage. He opens the door and offers a polite bow. As we pass by we give our greetings. Jasper shuts the door and hobbles into his seat as the driver. "The groom, his family and most of the town have gone to the cathedral already. Including Gala and the Queen."

"Looks like we're going to be fashionably late," says Wiatt. "Good thing it's kind of our job to be lazy."

"Da!" I laugh. "Any excuse to put your mind at ease."

"A bad excuse is still as good an excuse as a good excuse." I shift to look out of the windows at the emptying streets. Shops are shutting down for the day, kids are being shooed out of the streets and herded to the cathedral, and each man woman or child that sees me throws a smile and a hoot of excitement. "Someday, it's all gonna be yours, Mads." Da's voice fishes me back from my dreaming.

"Especially now that I'm getting married," I huff a laugh, as I wave back at the people. "Sooner or later I'm going to need to put my skills to the test."

"Sooner or later," repeats Dad.

"Hopefully later rather than sooner," I scoot back in to sit closer to my father. "When you're old and wrinkly and telling me the tale of great grandad Rafael for the umpteenth time."

"Madolen, I don't age," scoffs Dad boldly. "The world just moves at a quicker speed than I do… much quicker. It's as if you were at my door after a horrible nightmare plagued your dreams just a day ago."

I smile warmly at my dad, taking his hand in mine. The carriage pulls to a halt and Jasper's voice comes from outside.

"We've arrived, Your Majesties!" he swings the door open and Da hops out, offering me a hand out of the carriage. A crowd of eager and joyful people await us. They cheer loudly, but their voices seem like ambiance as everything weaves into one. In the moment, the already goliath cathedral walls seem so much larger as the roofs disappear into the clouds made golden by the sun's shine. "Good luck and congratulations, Princess Madolen." Jasper offers with a small smile. "I look forward to calling you 'Queen' someday."

"Thank you, Jasper," I beam, feeling tears forming at the earnest belief and praise coming off of Jasper. "I look forward to serving you and all of Casmont ruthlessly."

"Then get in there," he beams.

I give him one last smile before I pick up my skirts and my gold coated slippers clank towards the cathedral in synch with my fathers.

We march up to the doors up a wide path maintained by stern looking guards. Once at the entrance we wait for our cue to make an appearance, arms linked. Da and I stand in silence, not feeling the urge to say much of anything, just to enjoy the final moments we have together while things are still semi-normal. Before we know it, the heavy, old doors of the cathedral are drawn open and a large assembly turns to face me. I take in a long breath, feeling my knees already giving in before they can begin their purpose.

…

Hans

As the doors part, King Wiatt and his daughter begin their walk down the isle. I find it difficult to look anywhere but to Madolen. I can tell she has some nerves as she slowly marches in her silk white dress, free of lace or embellishment or the company of multiple skirts as is usually seen in Europe. No, her dress starts in a straight horizontal line right on her clavicle that goes from one shoulder to the other and covers her arms down to her wrists. The dress loosely hugs her shape down to her ankles, and a slit climbs from the centre of her dress up to her knees. Her hair is twisted into a braid that runs horizontally across the nape of her neck. The one item of tradition on her person is the flower garland crafted of yellow superbells, their leaves left to fly as they wish. Her flower crown sits attached to her veil.

By the time she reaches me, it feels as if no time at all has passed. She stands before me, and in her heeled shoes she stands just shy of a head shorter than me. I take her hands and she seems to only note me now that I'm right in front of her, hand in mine. Her marvel and awe are more than apparent and they easily overpower any anxiety from before. She nips her lower lip in what appears to be a failed attempt at concealing an obvious smile.

"Dearly beloved," begins the reverent in a tale I've heard may a revenant tell eleven times before. "We've gathered today, in this sacred place to witness a union sacred." As he proceeds with his customary speech, I squeeze Madolen's hand in support. At the gesture, she silently meets my eyes and returns the favour, lips pressed in grin.

It's been a long time coming that I finally got my share of time in the sun – after being hidden in the shadows for as long as I have been. At last being in a place worthy of praise and recognition, being someone worth acknowledging - it's as gratifying as I imagined and longed it'd be. I rub my thumb over Madolen's knuckles in my brood.

In no time at all, the ring bearer produces the rings on a white plush cushion and I pluck Madolen's gold ring off its seat, a sparkling peridot on it. She gives me her hand and I lock eyes with her as I home the wedding band. Madolen pauses for just a second to cherish the moment, before picking up my gold ring and delicately donning it on me.

"Repeat after me," comes the officiant's voice. It's funny that all I know this officiant by is his voice, due to my focus on my future wife. "I, Hans Westergaard, take you, Madolen Maude, to be my wife."

"I, Hans Westergaard, take you, Madolen Maude, to be my wife."

The priest continues. "I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."

"I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."

"I will love you and honour you all the days of my life," closes the officiant.

"I will love you and honour you all the days of my life," I repeat. Madolen's smile grows as I finish.

"Princess, Madolen, if you will repeat after me," starts the officiant again. "I, Madolen Maude, take you, Hans Westergaard, to be my husband."

Madolen takes a breath as she begins. "I, Madolen Maude, take you, Hans Westergaard, to be my husband."

The officiant proceeds. "I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."

"I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."

"I will love and honour you all the days of my life," ends the reverent.

"I will love and honour you all the days of my life."

"You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide. Amen." The priest shuts his Bible I draw back Madolen's veil. Her face has been dolled up to match the golden flowers atop her head with hues of gold on her eyelids and a striking red colour to her lips.

"You look really nice," Madolen whispers.

I grin at her. "You look like a queen, Madolen." With that, I cup Madolen's cheek and pull her in for a kiss. She brings her arms around my neck and the crowd cheers in celebration. I smile at Madolen as we pull apart, then I nod to the entrance, suggesting that we take our leave. Madolen takes my hand and we head down the isle as applauds are chucked our way all the way out the door. Once we hit the light outside, the cheering only grows wilder. Madolen and I wave appreciatively. The amount of reception makes it a tough task not to smile after being so accustomed to a cold shoulder. "We're married, Madolen," I smile down at her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"We are," Madolen smiles back at me affectionately.

"Congratulations, Your Majesties!" cheers Jasper as he opens the carriage door.

"Thank you, Jasper," I grin. "It's you and Gala next."

"What he said," Madolen laughs as she steps into the carriage.

"Very funny," Jasper laughs the thought away as he shuts the door behind me. He gets into his seat and shortly after the carriage begins moving.

I wrap an arm around Madolen's shoulders, and she nuzzles next to me. "I saw your parents at the service," she starts. "And I can't say for sure, but I think I saw your brothers and their wives. They were all seated together, and they looked a bit like you, so I gathered… you know."

I kiss the top of Madolen's head. "I know. They all made it. You'll have to meet them at breakfast. I'm sure they'll behave themselves. Regardless, I'll be with you."

…

Madolen

"There she is!" comes the booming voice of a man I don't know. I look up from my plate to see a tall sturdy, dark brown haired man coming to greet me, followed by a red haired young woman I can only assume to be his spouse. He rockets a large hand right at me. "Jurgen Westergaard. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"It's so nice to meet you, Jurgen," I set down my plate on a nearby table. We're gathered in the dining Garden's for breakfast. Several large tables provide parking for the monster of a feast that this is. I'd assumed that the food might be far too much and excessive at first. But now, in the company of the rather tall men and women of the Southern Isles, I'm certain they need the calories.

"This must be your wife."

"Ja, my kone, Britt," says Jurgen.

Britt, offers a bright smile, her freckled face a picture of beauty. "It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," I grin. "I hope you're enjoying your stay thus far?"

"It's almost impossible not to," laughs Jurgen.

"Bror, you've started introductions," comes another Westergaard brother, a small girl in his arms. The golden haired man speaks to what I guess is his golden haired daughter, eyes on me. "Say, 'hej, Princess Madolen' Elin."

"Hej, Princess Madolen," says the toddler child.

"Oh, good girl," says the man. He addresses me now as the little girl buries her face in her father's chest. "I'm Caleb." He offers a polite bow. "This is my datter," he says.

"She's absolutely sweet," I grin. "Have you had the cake, Elin?"

Caleb exchanges words that are too quick for me to catch with his daughter and she lights up as he sets her down. She runs off towards the wedding cake. "

"She's gotten big, bror," says Jurgen to Caleb.

"And heavy," laughs Caleb.

"She's your first born?"

"Ingen, she's the fifth," says Caleb.

"Oh," I remark. "How old is she?"

"Two this year," responds Caleb.

"Two?" I question, in disbelief.

"That's right," Caleb grins.

"Madolen, there you are." Hans comes up from behind me and places a pair of hands on my shoulders. "I see you've met my brothers Jurgen and Caleb. And the lovely Britt."

"I have," I start. "And Caleb's daughter Elin, who's two."

"Ah yes, Elin," Hans says. "I bumped into her. She was on her way to the cake table. Did you all eat?"

"Ja," laughs Jurgen. "After Runo bragged and boasted about the food, we had to."

"You did well for yourself, bror," says Caleb. "Let's hope you keep doing good."

"Don't worry about me," Hans tells. I can't read his expression because he's behind me, but one doesn't need to meet his eyes to tell he's eager to end the conversation. "I'd love to stick around and speak some more, but I have yet to introduce Madolen to everybody else."

"Alright, then, Hans," smiles Caleb. "It was great talking to you, Madolen."

"You'll make a great svigerinde," says Jurgen.

I say my goodbyes as Hans leads me away from the group. "Svigerinde?"

"Sister in law," he tells.

"Oh. And datter is daughter?" I glance up at Hans. "And kone is wife?"

"Ja and ja," Hans nods. "How was the conversation?"

"It was alright. They seemed nice enough," I tell. "But, I mean, most people are very nice the first time that you meet them."

"Well, the people I'm taking you to meet are nice every time you meet them," Hans says.

"Lars, here comes Hans!" comes the voice of a brown eyed blonde haired young woman who has energy to match Gala's. As we approach she wraps me in a loving hug. "You have such a wonderful home. It was a great service. I'm Agnes, Lars' is my husband."

"That's me – the mand," beams a brunette haired man with striking blue eyes. "Welcome to the family."

"And you," I smile back. "Have you met my friend's Gala and Jasper? I feel like you two should have a gathering."

Hans snorts a laugh, catching on quickly to what I'm implying.

…

"I'm going to miss my old room," I say, taking off my flower crown. I catch Hans looking out the large window of our new shared room, eyes transfixed on something I don't know of. He comes to my side after he's had his fill of the view.

"All I'm concerned about right now is the company," says he putting an arm around me waist and kissing my cheek.

I snicker and stroke his hair fondly, "I like what you did with your hair." The slicked back look is good on him.

"Well, then," starts Hans. "I'll do it more often." He smirks as he draws me closer to him.

A/N: There ya go, folks! It was pretty difficult to get all my facts straight in the period of time that I wrote this, but it didn't make it any less fun. As always, please review! Take care 3!