A/N: Hi, guys! Here's chapter 7, fresh from the oven. I'm not going to say a heck of a lot, other than read, enjoy, and review. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.
Hans
I've been up since an hour ago, staring at the ceiling, unable to capture sleep. Madolen's nestled into my side not making a sound, aside from the bouts of shivers on her person. Each time I cover her up, she kicks the comforters off.
"J'ai froid," murmurs she.
"Do you want the covers, Madolen?" I prop myself up to recover the blankets.
"Quoi?" she continues, obviously sleep talking.
I drape the plush comforters over Madolen before I end up on my side, cradling Madolen who buries herself further into my chest. "Better?" I stroke Madolen's shoulder.
"Quoi?" she repeats faintly.
I grin at my spouse's spewing. All is calm for a while before Madolen kicks the comforters off of herself again. After repeating the act of covering Madolen up a number of times, the light of the morning begins to wash in through a crack in the cobalt curtains. I creep out of bed and make my way over to the bathroom. I run the bath and stretch out all my limbs, releasing a loud yawn. I return to the room to find Madolen undisturbed and I climb into bed behind her. "Good morning, Madolen." She shifts at the feeling of kisses on her cheek, temple and forehead. "Madolen," I whisper into her ear. "Wake up, kone."
"Mmm," Madolen rolls onto her back, eyes pressing shut tighter as she continues her groaning. Her features soften as I rub my thumb across her cheek. She opens her eyes and smiles at me. "Hej, mand." I grin at her change of lingo and we stare warmly at one another before Madolen takes my hand and examines it. She grins at me, curious to see my reaction before turning back to my hand. "How interesting..."
"I'm all around spectacular," I start, leaning my head to the side and offering a small shrug of knowing.
"But what are you looking for on my hand?"
"I've never seen your hands before," smiles she, speaking her next words slowly. "You're always wearing gloves – hiding these stars on your hands. And the rest of you at that."
I grin at her fondness of the slightest detail about me. Like the freckles that faintly paint me from my fingertips to my core. "...I ran a bath. We should get ready for today."
"Okay," Madolen slowly sits up, pouting at me. "If you insist."
"Come, it should be ready," I take Madolen's hand and patiently wait for her to shimmy out of the large bed, endowed with dark blue clothes to match the window covers. "I'm afraid the agenda today is very busy."
Madolen gets to her feet with my assistance and follows me into the dark blue marble covered bathroom. "What do we have to do?"
"My family will be here until dinner."
"It's only proper of us to be good hosts till then."
"Exactly," I tell. "Then, we have the everyday nitty gritty."
...
Madolen
"The harvest in the Southern Isles isn't what we thought it'd be," says Jurgen, after swallowing a chunk of steak. "Granted, it's enough to sustain us and give to Casmont where we can. But it isn't to our expectations."
"Ja, I thought we'd struggle with most of our crops during March," Hans adds beside me. "The livestock were alright when I left. Alright and very pregnant."
"They still are," King Berde says. "It'll be a few more months, but no one will starve."
I glance around at the plates of our guests – they're teeming with food. The idea of starvation seems more probable. I look to my side at Hans' dish and surprise sinks in as I realize for the first time how much my husband truly eats.
"Enough business," says Ma, cutting through the chatter of industry as she raises her wine glass. "Here's to a union between Casmont and the Southern Isles and less blabber about the troubles to come." We all raise our glasses, laughing at my mother's words.
"Hear, hear!" I giggle.
After everyone has a drink of wine, Agnes speaks up.
"I was going to ask when the storm might be," starts Agnes. "But seeing as the queen has ruled against such chatter. I'll ask this: when is a little Westergaard coming?" Agnes smiles brightly with her eyes at Hans before they bounce at me. She rests her chin in her open palm, her elbow planted into the table as she awaits a response. Hans' family copies Agnes' interest and waits with just as much curiosity.
Hans and I share a thoughtful look before returning to the table where the crowd of twenty plus people suddenly seems much larger. "We've spoken, um, about children," I start.
"We hope to start as soon as possible, but the first priority is the storm – which, for your knowledge, Agnes, will hit sometime this week." Hans finishes, coming to my rescue. He covers my hand with his on the table top. "We'll let you know if the plans change."
"Well, please do keep us notified. I, for one, would love to see a baby," says Da cheerily. "Which features will prevail? Which characteristics would triumph? You all have very pronounced, strong, Scandinavian features." Da continues.
"Ja!" laughs Franz, emerald eyes alight. "Imagine the born. Maybe he'll have bror's red hair."
"Or the Westergaard freckles," says Queen Sorina, she stares at her husband's freckle flushed face.
"He'd have the curliest hair," adds Caleb.
"What if it's a girl?" I question as I begin to cut into my lamb.
"Well, who's to say that we can't have both?" Hans shrugs as he pours a second helping onto his plate.
"Mmm, I agree," says Jurgen, nodding. "The more the better."
"How much more?" I quiz. "Too much of a good thing is still a bad thing, right?" I look to my husband as polite laughter emanates from the opposite side of the dinner table, where the Westergaard clan reigns, even spilling over onto my side of the table in their many numbers.
"Not when it comes to security," says Runo. "When we all die someday, a born will succeed us. What if he dies before his time?"
"It's best to have other children involved," Rudi tells, nodding.
"Does 'other' have a number attached to it?" I press. "How many children do you all have? Agnes?"
"Lars and I have five little ones," she smiles at her silent husband who returns the grin. "We may have another later this year."
"Caleb has seven," says Jurgen. "And Brit and I are hoping for our sixth."
"I have eight little monsters myself," Franz chuckles.
My parents and I meet eyes at the descriptions that go on before us. "It's clear that you all strongly believe in strength in numbers." Da smiles. "If it were family against family, you'd have the upper hand."
There's a rumble of laughter that fills the room.
"So, how many children do you all expect from Hans and I?" I seize the opportunity to get a 'lay of the land' so to speak. "I want to try to meet the expectations."
"We're on different pages in this regard," Hans says. "Madolen is more inclined to have less children."
"I'm willing to have four kids," I tell. "it's not a fixed number, but I hope it's a good number."
"I think we'd all love to have as many little kids from the two of you as we can," Queen Sorina says.
"I'm waiting on pins and needles," Agnes beams brightly.
"So Madolen's compromise of four children is sufficient? " Ma questions. Even without looking, can tell that my mother and father sense the tension between Hans and I on this topic, as much as we try to be kind about it.
"Ja, that's a good amount," Caleb says nodding.
"Just so long as we have definite assurance that there's someone of blood to take over when we're all gone," says Lars. "You have that end covered, don't you, Franz?"
Laughter explodes on both sides of the table, and we contentedly eat until the night draws on.
...
"Well, that was an interesting dinner," I sit at the vanity table as I undo the day's braid. I mumble my next words. "Very educational."
Hans comes up and kisses my temple. "What did you learn?"
"Just a lot about your family in general," I say. "Well, I should say our family."
"I'd say there was a bit of confusion," Hans heads to the cupboard and pulls out his bedtime clothes. "On your part more than anyone else."
I sigh, realising where Hans is going with this. I glance at him though the mirror. "I just wanted to see what the cause for so many kids is."
"Did you find out?" our eyes meet through the glass.
"Oui, I think," I spin in my chair to face my husband who's now seated on the edge of the bed, slipping off his boots. "Hans, children aren't assets. They're people." I say gently. Hans shoots up a brow in interest as I proceed lightly. "I'm happy to have kids but, the amount you want is a big responsibility. And it doesn't look like anyone but your dad has that many."
"So if I wanted eight children you'd be more willing?"
"See, that's just it," I add. "You don't want twelve kids. I don't even think you want eight kids."
"How is it you know what I want?" Hans sits up and unbuttons his shirt.
"Hans, I don't know what you want," I say. "I want you to tell me."
"I think I have," says he. I sigh through my nose, ready to drop the topic as I whirl back into the vanity table. "What happened to our agreement?"
I kick off my shoes under the table. "What agreement?"
"The one where we decided to have one born first, then worry about adding more."
"It's still there," I fumble with the clasp on my necklace and Hans comes up behind me and offers his assistance. I say a word of thanks as he goes on.
"So why'd you have to ask my family what they wanted from us?" he says.
"I didn't think that'd be a problem," I say.
Hans drops the pearl necklace in my hand and takes that very hand to remove the bracelet that rests on it. "Of course. It's not as if they don't think poorly of me or anything. It's not as if I that'll add any more expectations onto my plate."
"Hans, we'll do this as a unit," I say. "Whatever burdens you, burdens me. We can handle anything together."
"Just not twelve children."
"Hans, I get that you're upset," I say. "But you're not even considering my side of any of this. I didn't grow up with siblings. I don't have any experience raising a child. You had Lars and Agnes to give you pointers with their babies at least, but not me. And have you seen the size of your family's babies? Have you seen the size of me?" Hans places my bracelet in my palm. "You're acting like this baby thing is a deal breaker. What if I can't even have kids?"
"Let's hope you can, Madolen," Hans says. "Regardless of the number, children are very important to me."
I shake my head, finding that it's pointless to say more. "You're not listening."
"I listened to you moan about how miserable it'll be for you to bear children."
"Because it'll be miserable," I emphasise. "Yet I still want to do it. But not more than I have to, and I'm not having a dozen children if I don't have to."
"If it needs to be a must for you to do it, consider it a must."
I stand abruptly and look up at my husband – he betrays no signs of backing down. "Here's what I must do, mon amour, I must ask you to not follow me when I leave. I'd like to be alone." Without saying anything else, I march hotly down the hall to the kitchen.
"Impossible, I swear," I grumble as I raid the cupboard and drawers for ingredients. I tuck a bag of sugar under my arm, followed by a stick of butter and a bag of flour. I smack them onto the island counter in the vast room and produce a large bowl for mixing. "Eggs. I need eggs," I try to occupy my mind with something other than Hans for the time being. I plant the eggs on the counter and angrily crack the eggs into the bowl. I hear the flutter of wings before my pale yellow Fabrice comes fluttering into the kitchen from an open window. He plants himself of my shoulder and begins to snuggle against me. "Oh, bonjour, Fabrice. I've missed you." I nuzzle against my pretty thing, the anger washing away from me as my movements slow. "Do you want to help me bake a cake?" Fabrice gives a befuddled look. "Believe me, sucré, I don't know what I'm doing either. But it makes sense, right?" I offer a nervous smile that fakes confidence as I proceed. "Speaking of sweet things, we need some sugar." I peck Fabrice on the cheek and he chirps. "Look at you, blushing." I poke fun at his red cheeks. I search the kitchen, unable to find the measuring cups. "I suppose we'll have to guess."
I add a pinch of salt to the mix. "Fabrice, do you think I'm being unfair to Hans by refusing to mother so many kids?" Fabrice give an interested look. "I compromise a lot, but I think this is too big a compromise. Maybe he should relent. I want to be a mother, but having me is what put my mother in the grave to start with. Having so many enfants, it scares me." I stroke Fabrice as time wears on. After a few errors with my first and second batch, I attempt again to bake this cake. "Third time's the charm, Fabrice."
Hans
"Do you want help with that?" I step into the kitchen. Madolen frowns as she begins mixing something in a bowl.
"…I asked you not to follow me."
"I don't want us to sleep upset at each other," I put a hand on Madolen's shoulder and squeeze, turning her to face me. "I didn't mean what I said about you needing to have kids."
"You sounded pretty certain," she looks anywhere but to me.
I lift Madolen's face so that we meet eyes. "I was just angry. I'm sorry. I just don't understand why it's so hard for you to-"
"Obey?"
"Ingen," I sigh. "No. I just want us to agree. That's all."
"…Yeah...Come help me bake this cake," Madolen says, a small smile spreading against her efforts. "I don't know what I'm doing, fair warning."
"Leave it to me," I draw the bowl closer to myself and begin mixing the wet ingredients. "Another bowl, please." Madolen retrieves a bowl and places it next to me. "Dry ingredients in here, Madolen."
"Are we gonna mix them together?"
"Ja, min elskede," I crack the eggs into the bowl.
"Min elskede?" Fabrice and Madolen share a confused look.
"It means 'my love'," I give Madolen a suave look and she bashfully turns her attention to the task at hand.
Madolen clears her throat and begins mixing the dry ingredients. "So, if we're gonna mix them, why separate them in the beginning?"
"So they can be thoroughly mixed I suppose."
"Well, that makes sense," Madolen goes about her job. "You didn't speak a lot of Danish before your family got here."
"Call it influence," I take over Madolen's bowl and combine the content. "You're of French-Austrian decent. You speak a good amount of French, especially in your sleep."
"I sleep talk?"
"All night," I laugh. "And you snore, love, very loudly."
"I do not," Madolen giggles.
"It doesn't change how I feel or anything, but it still happens," I tease.
Madolen shakes her head, "I don't know what you're talking about." She looks at me strongly, but jest is in her features. "If anything, you snore." She wipes her hands with a moist cloth. "But, if I'm being honest, I like it a lot. It's very therapeutic."
"You don't say." I glance down at my wife, surprised and flattered that she enjoys my snoring. "I'm just kidding though, Madolen, you don't snore," I tell. "You're a very silent sleeper – save for the occasional sleep talking."
"What was I talking about?"
"I don't know. You were speaking French," I chuckle. "Do you speak German?"
"Ja Ich sprechen," Madolen grins up at me. "E Português."
"Say something to me in Portuguese."
"Like what?" Madolen pinches some sugar onto her tongue and offers some to Fabrice.
"Like anything," I bump my hips into her as she's about to sprinkle more sugar into her mouth, causing her to spill her treat. Fabrice fluffs his feathers in surprise.
"You did that on purpose," she snorts a laugh.
"That didn't sound like Portuguese to me," I smirk.
"Eu gosto bolo de chocolate," she says. "É chocolate, meu homem?"
"I heard 'chocolate'," I grin. "Given the fact that we're baking, I'm guessing you're talking about chocolate cake."
"Oui, you got the jist of it," Madolen says. She gets a dish to bake the cake in.
"I'd say I nailed it," I put the cake in the large oven and dust my hands.
Madolen sits on the counter and thinks over something before she speaks up. "Hans..." she looks down at her lap, seeming unsure of whether or not to proceed. I come up to her and take one of her hands. "I want us to agree also." Madolen looks up to meet my serious eyes; I offer a squeeze of her hands to encourage her to go on. "I think we both agree that we can't be happy if we ignore our problems."
"Ja," say I, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles. "I still think we should wait until we have a baby first before we worry too much, Madolen."
"Me too," she says. "I want that too. I just wanted to know." Madolen smiles faintly. "You never told me why you want twelve kids and not thirteen. That's how many of you there are."
"Maybe I'm a superstitious man," I squeeze Madolen just above her knee, causing her to jump and giggle at the tickling. She tries to push me away but I persists in my pursuit. "Uh, uh, uh, I just started, Madolen," I laugh.
"Hans, stop!" she squeals, still cackling. All the commotion causes Fabrice to flutter away.
"I orden, i orden. I'll stop that," I pause, my kone bites on her lower lip, a smile on them, as she waits for my next move. I give a sly look. "But I won't stop this!" I attack her rib cage, and she guffaws as she tries to scramble away. I nab her wrists and press her down onto the counter. "How am I supposed to tickle you now?" I grin, our faces close.
"You're not supposed to," Madolen huffs, the aftermath of giggles not lost in her. "You we're supposed to answer my question."
"Oh, right," say I. "In all honesty... for the most part, my twelve brothers were well taken care of. Maybe it's the age difference, but they didn't really suffer as I did growing up. Although I know that I could never be my father, part of me thinks that he didn't care for me because I was one too many. I don't want a Hans Jr that'll struggle like me because of me." I shrug. "But that's probably me over thinking it."
"I'm glad you told me," Madolen smiles affectionately. "You're... you're not over thinking anything. But if you ever feel like you are, I'm here. I'll always be."
"Ja, me too." I smile back at her.
Madolen sighs through the nose. "What a way to start our first day as a married couple."
"Well, we may not have started the day right, but we can still end on a high note."
"What about the cake?" Madolen beams.
"We'll come back and check on it later," I draw Madolen up and cradle her in my arms as I march up the stairs.
A/N: There it is, chapter 7! I'm sorry that it took until the end of this week, but I just made it. So the tale starts to live up to its descriptions in the chapter to come. There will be angst, and there will be hurt, and there will be comfort, but there will also be heart warmers. Do leave a review if you're a reader and do have a lovely day!