May 10th, 1809

Kesselburg, the Southern Isles

Eric stood in wonder as yet another one of his men went down to the ferocious French soldier he had derisively mocked a minute ago. He still looked the part of the rat, but was yet different. Before he was the little mouse, helpless before the cat or boot. Now he was the large rat, with large sharp teeth and a vicious and feral demeanor. Especially so now that he was covered with the blood of several men.

He cursed the lack of ammunition as the obvious solution would to be to shoot the man. Now however they were only a handful of shots between them all, and they would need those to overcome the Frenchmen on the other side. And yet his men stood petrified of only one man, a hardly imposing one at that.

He looked at them, and noticed how they stood in terror, shaking and trembling and hoping they would not be the next to fight the vicious little rat. He could not ask these men to go forward again, not until he entered the fray.

He readied his saber before pushing past his terrified men, who all took a breath of relief as they didn't have to fight the French rat any more. Eric himself was still confident in his own heroism, as such not fearing the young French soldier in front of him. He drew close, pausing for a moment as he tightened his grip on his sword as well as taking a breath.

With a burst he put to use the decades of sword and fencing training he had under his belt. While he had never killed a human being, he still was leagues beyond many of his men in the fencing department. As such the young soldier's frantic blocking attempts and counter-strikes were too easy to dispel. To his credit though, he could see why the Frenchman had dispatched so many of his countrymen. What he lacked in skill he made up for in vicious tenacity and adrenal energy.

But energy will carry only so far. After a desperate jab, Eric got an opening and brought the sword down on his enemy's left arm. As he recoiled in pain he left his left leg exposed, leading Eric to slash it as well. Remy collapsed to one knee, dropping his musket and clutching his nearly severed arm in anguish. Eric moved in, ready for the killing blow.

But while fencing prepares one excellently by teaching one all the skill he needs with a rapier, it does not prepare one for the hardest part of all- the taking of life. Eric stood into the young man's eyes, seeing just how desperate they were to live. Covered in wounds and appearing quite helpless, Eric couldn't quite bring himself to finish him off. No, he'd spare this one. That was the heroic thing to do.

But just as he was to motion his men forward, one of the wounded Frenchmen latched onto his leg and savagely sank his teeth into it, drawing blood. It was Emile, the brother of the man he was currently fighting. Had he known that the two were brothers, let alone their names, he might have admired such willingness to save his brother in hindsight. But as he had incisor-like teeth tearing into his leg, he could only scream in agony before instinctively attempting to kick him off. As he attempted to do so he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to the "helpless" soldier who now clutched his detached bayonet in one hand.

Eric was off balance and unable to realistically bring the sword to bear onto the young man before him, and was only capable of staring him in the eye, mentally begging for life as he had been willing to give moments prior.

"Please…"

But Remy was a cornered rat. And rats don't do the heroic thing.

…

The Sappers swung axes and picks as the infantry helped by moving dislodged rubble. The hallway collapsed mere minutes earlier, trapping their countrymen on the other side. They moved as fast as they could, but they knew that in all seriousness, those on the other side were already dead.

As such a few of the Frenchmen readied their muskets bracing as the last large piece of debris was moved. As it was roughly ripped out, a massive storm of dust and particles fell on them blinding them. A few cursed as now any enemy counterattack would now have the advantage.

Surprisingly though there was no frantic shouts in Danish or enemy soldiers pushing through the hole. As the dust settled, the French soldiers could not believe their eyes.

A lone French soldier knelt among a number of dead Islanders, grasping what appeared to be an impaled enemy officer, his hand still clutching the bayonet that did the deed. He sustained a number of injuries and looked liable to fall over at any second and likely would if he did not have the corpse holding him up. With both the blood of his enemies and his own covering him, it seemed as if the man was moments away from death as he gasped for air due to exhaustion and wounds.

Yet two Southern Isle Marines, likely out of ammunition stood terrified of the near-death Frenchman as if he was a demon. The officer in command judged their expressions and made the call to take them prisoner. He shouted in their native tongue to surrender, causing them to jump and throw their weapons down.

As he led his men into the breach and then directed them forward, he sidestepped out of the way as they conducted mop-up and took prisoners. He knelt besides the young soldier, placing a hand on his shoulder as he looked at the body he was grasping.

It was the enemy king.

"Mon Dieu!"

…

June 2nd, 1809

Kesselburg docks, the Southern Isles

Remy winced as they changed the bandages on his wound, attempting to not hiss as the still incredibly sore wound was grabbed as they took the bandage off. It was painful, but Remy was thankful. It had turned out that their commanding officer was the son of a high ranking staff officer in Paris. As he was wounded in the final charge, it was Remy's determined defense that saved his life. As such the young man found himself and his brother (who he insisted be cared for as well) treated by a personal surgeon and both would soon be decorated and promoted.

Neither's wound's had really recovered, which suited both just fine. Their Battalion had set sail two days ago, to sail down the Rhine and link up with the Grande Armée for a push into Austria. Honestly both brothers just wanted to go home to their farm and live in peace. But both suspected that as soon as they were fit they'd ship off for a distant battlefield to secure France's borders.

The new bandage was just being put on when an Officer with more rank and medals than he had ever seen walked into the tent, causing every man inside to leap to their feet. He was a large portly man, yet possessing a kind, joyful face. He immediately ordered at ease, before introducing himself.

"My name is General Auguste Gusteau, Quartermaster General of the Home Army." He began, before grasping Remy's shoulders. "And you, you are the wonderful man who saved my son's life!"

He stepped back clasping his hands.

"Thankfully he has now gotten his determination to see battle out of the way and has finally taken a desk job. That he's made it back to Paris in one piece makes me eternally grateful. Now, I may not be as powerful as Napoleon, but I can always make a recommendation or two."

"That would certainly be appreciated, sir."

"Where do you boys want to go? The Imperial Guard? Perhaps officer commissions, raise you from the ranks?"

"To be honest sir, me and my brother just want to go home."

The General's face changed, as he faced a whole new situation. His brow slumped for a minute, before his whole face lit up with an idea.

"I cannot get you discharged, but if I remember, you live in a village close to Paris, correct?"

"Yes Sir."

"Well, I need a new cook at headquarters, as well as an assistant. It isn't easy work, but it'll keep you out of the fighting and close enough that I'm sure periodic passes home can be made."

Remy looked at the general in confusion, before adding. "Sir, I'm not an experienced cook. I have no training!"

The General smiled. "Don't worry soldier. As I have always said, anyone can cook!"

…

July 5th, 1809

Grimstad, Arendelle

Ariel had dreaded this moment since she had to flee into exile, even more so since she was now alone. Melody had gone off with Frederick when he childishly ran off to fight in the war against Napoleon. While she hated the French Imperialists, she had felt the pain of being a widow and begged him to stay for Melody's sake. But he was an insecure man that had to "prove" his worth.

And so Ariel was on the bed having just gone into labor, with only strangers. The midwives did their best to comfort her through the last few hours, but Ariel wanted her daughter and husband. Especially regarding the circumstances.

The first days after the Battle of Kesselburg where the longest of Ariel's life, as she was terrified of having lost her unborn child. So when the doctor finally heard a heartbeat, a crushing weight had been lifted, but not dispelled. A phantom lingered over the rest of the pregnancy, as the doctor did not know if the baby would survive delivery as he was unaware of the extent of the injuries sustained.

The fact that she could even get a doctor and midwives was a miracle in of itself. Arendelle itself was technically neutral, but was known to be somewhat under France's control as the King's son, Prince Agdar was being held hostage by the French to ensure that Arendelle would stay out of the war. So if the King found out she was here, she would be turned over to the French and made a hostage or a puppet.

However the Baron of Grimstad was a decent fellow with a decent amount of pull and was generally free to do as he wished in his Barony. That and he adored his two daughters, Idun and Primrose. Both had begged their father to intervene when they found that Ariel was in need of their assistance. For that she was forever grateful.

As she experienced her third contraction in a ten minute period, she knew from her experience with Melody that the active phase of pregnancy had begun.

…

Hours later she delivered the final push, exhausted from the painful process of labor. As it had with Melody the delivery was one of the most consuming processes she had ever experienced. Every bit of her being was being poured into the process of bringing this child into the world. The pain involved was terrible, but yet different as she knew that it was all towards bringing a new life into the world. However there was an underlining fear. She was terrified of anything happening to the child due to the wound she received at Kesselburg.

So when she finally made the final push and felt the baby come out, only to be greeted with silence, it was crushing. Ariel felt like her heart stopped as she held her breath and listened and hoped to hear the cry of a healthy baby. It was only less than a minute, but to a mother it might as well have been a year.

Finally she heard a faint crying as the midwives smiled and began to prepare the baby to be wrapped up and delivered to the mother. After cutting the umbilical cord and wiping off most of blood and other fluids, they wrapped up the baby and handed it over to the Queen.

"Congratulations, your Highness. It is a girl."

Ariel looked at the newborn, falling in love with her instantly. Yet she continued to cry as she inspected her little girl, instead of being comforted by her mother's embrace. Something was wrong. From the waist up she was a normal baby girl, of healthy weight with a little tuft of rust brown hair on her scalp. However it was the start of her legs that broke her heart. Both legs were mangled as shards of the musket ball that hit her broke the infant's legs and due to the lead in the ball cause stunted growth. Ariel was not a doctor, but she doubted that the baby would ever walk.

But she still loved her unconditionally, as she should as a mother. She rocked the newborn and gradually, the baby girl finally stopped crying and fussing, and fell asleep. A midwife approached as the others prepare to receive and dispose of the afterbirth.

"Your Highness, If I may be so bold, what do you intend to name the child?"

Without hesitation, Ariel answered. "Erika. Her name is Erika."

…

September 2nd, 1840

Forladtnr docks, Kurzheim, the Southern Isles.

Ariel stood on the docks, watching the sailors prepare for the journey home only drove home the defeat she suffered at the hands of her grandson the day prior. By all accounts what happened was impossible, as the necklace should have worked.

She clutched the necklace remembering how she got it, all those years ago. Shortly after Erika was born, Ariel received the news that her father had died and that the Kingdom had gone to Attina. However, the sisters had decided that Triton's trident was too powerful a relic, as usurpers seizing the relic had nearly succeeded twice now in seizing the Kingdom as a whole. As such, the trident was melted down and divided amongst them into new relics of power, each containing a fraction of the trident's power.

Each of the relics had the general powers the trident possessed, however each one contained a specialized power. Ariel's necklace was the Amulet of Queens, and its focus was the powers of the voice. With it one could more easily inspire, command, intimidate, and persuade people. On the whole she used it for good and to rebuild the Southern Isles even after she lost the Crown to Frederick and Melody. However she had also used to intimidate various people she did not care for, including her Son in law and Grandsons. As such she kept a firm grip on them and never feared them doing anything seriously terrible… until now.

Nothing held them back now, as she could no longer passively control the people of the Southern Isles. She fully admitted that the Southern Isles was never perfect, but at least before she was keeping the nobility just and the law fair. Now… she shuddered at the thought that now all the Hans's of the world where now free to do evil uncontrolled.

The Kingdom would dissolve into chaos without the necklace's power!

As the porters loaded Ariel's luggage onto the ship a cocky, smiling Hans arrived. Slipping off his horse, he proceeded to slowly walk down the dock with his hands clasped behind his back. Ariel scoffed at the young man's arrogance.

Clearly he's here to mock and scorn me…

"Grandmother!" Hans began, with obvious but delightful sarcasm, at least to him. "I of course assume you had a wonderful visit?"

"I have no time or patience for your mockery, Hans." Ariel said in a tired manner with her eyes cast down in defeat.

"But Grandmother, you haven't received my parting gift!"

Ariel turned about as she saw Hans signal some porters to load some crates with the rest of the luggage. To her consternation and anger she saw what was inside. Smoked and Salted Flounder. It was fairly common knowledge that Ariel did not enjoy seafood, but it was taboo to present the Queen Dowager with Flounder fish or Crab as her friends as a mermaid included both a crab as well as a fish named Flounder.

Now obviously no-one knew why except her, but it was still a well-known taboo to serve either. Hans knew this taboo even if he didn't remember the no seafood aspect. He was mocking her as best as he could.

She balled her fists in anger and began to approach her tormentor, full of fury. For his part the much more confident Hans stood his ground, no longer terrified of his Grandmother, even though there was a nagging bit of fear conditioned into him after fearing this woman for his entire life. But he ignored the fear. He doubted he'd see her for a long time and was determined to get one last verbal blow in to make up for decades of passive aggressive verbal abuse.

For Ariel there was much higher stakes. Today might be the deliberate insult of Flounder, tomorrow might be something as terrible as Arendelle. It was as if the order she had built was crumbling around her, as if the whole world was crashing down. She tried to think back to the way she had used the necklace in the past, and how it felt to use it, in one desperate attempt to pacify Hans. As she attempted to fall back on a power that no longer existed, Hans decided to rub the salt into the wound before leaving.

"Well, farewell Grandmother. I do hope the flounder is… agreeable with you."

At that moment, something struck Ariel. She unclenched her fists and assumed a calm, terrible expression of apathetic terror.

"Agreeable?" She began before her voiced itself changed to one of terrible beauty and greatness. "Your petty insults do you no favors."

She closed within inches of his face and Hans suddenly found himself on the defense. He did not budge and inch and used every bit of military bearing and discipline to steady himself, but while his physical posture remained unchanged, mentally he was pissing himself as he swore the Queen Dowager's voice become twisted and deep as she continued.

"You worm! Your sad attempts at insult show only how pathetic you and your kin are! I am the Queen Dowager, and you have no power over me!" Sensing her grandson's defeat she turned and quickly boarded the ship. She felt rejuvenated that she was able to use the magic to subdue her grandson, despite a slight nagging feeling in her stomach. Though she channeled her thoughts of the Amulet's powers, when she used the magic itself it felt… different.

As she pondered the meaning of this, a sailor paused as he passed by, before addressing the former Queen. "You Highness, are you feeling well? Your skin, it looks… sickly."

She stood up at once, heading to her personal berth to inspect herself in the mirror. To her shock she found the sailor's words were true. Her skin had turned a very faint shade of lavender. It began to return to normal almost at once, but Ariel was shaken to the core.

She only knew one person with skin like that.

…

September 3rd, 1840

Kesselburg, the Southern Isles

Across the archipelago the weather remained the same, dark and cloudy, as the woman sat in her chair. She had spent most of the morning reading and still held a book in her hands as she paused to look out the window. She sighed at the cloudy weather, knowing that autumn and then winter would follow. It was now getting too cold to swim, which would mean months before the weather would be warm enough again.

She glanced at clock, figuring that it was about time to prepare to see the King. She removed the fur blanket from her legs, once again reminding her why she loved swimming so much. Her legs were mangled, as they had been since birth. Her left foot was barely strong and whole enough to support her body, but her right leg was shattered in the womb and had never grown properly. It was full sized, but it was twisted and bent in a way that it shouldn't, and she couldn't feel anything beneath the knee.

As she prepared to move herself to the bed, the young maid assigned to her knocked and entered. Always desperate to please, the young woman had not spent enough time in the palace to learn that her Mistress preferred to do things on her own.

"Princess Erika, can I be of assistance?"

"No, Margarethe. I'm fine." She strained to say as she lifted herself from the chair. "If I have need of you, I will inform you. You are dismissed." As she began to slip on stockings, she thought about the joys of swimming. It was only natural that despite her state she should still be a good swimmer. It was after all, in her blood.

Like her older sister Melody, she had been informed that she was a mermaid by her mother, the Queen Dowager. However she found that her crippled left foot translated to a crippled fin when transformed. Not that she let it bother her anyways. She was an incredible swimmer in her human form, as the legs that could never run had no problems propelling her through the water.

She finished dressing and clasped her crutches, one of her own inventions. Instead of under armed crutches that dated back to the ancients, she had devised a set of crutches that rested under the upper forearms. They were much more comfortable and less likely to cause loss of feeling in the arm. Using her left leg she pushed herself up onto the weight bearing of the crutches, before setting out. As she approached the door, she called out for the maid.

"Open the door please."

On cue, the maid pulled the door, bowing as a force of habit. Erika smiled, before gesturing her to stand straight.

"Come on Margarethe, we've been over this. If I can't do it, you don't do it."

"My apologies, miss." Erika smiled at the thought that some things were taking hold. She didn't like any of the titles such as highness, grace, or majesty, so she insisted she be addressed as miss. Being fairly critical of the monarchist system, she was not one to place herself above others, especially with her condition.

"Thank you for your assistance this morning. By the way, how is your mother doing?"

"She's doing better, miss. The medicine has been a godsend."

"Well, about that." She produced a slip, with her signature and a note. "Take this to the Royal doctor, and get some more."

"Thank you, miss."

"Think nothing of it. A troubled maid is of no use to me." Erika attempted to pass off her generosity as pragmatism due to modesty, but was self-conscious that she was little good at it. She had a reputation as a generous woman in regards to medicine, dating back to a childhood where she would secretly experiment with her many medicines by testing which ones helped her condition and to which degree they helped. She then kept the bare minimums for herself while passing off the rest to the sick staff members of the palace.

That childish curiosity grew as she got older, and it wasn't long before the Princess began to push for a higher education. It wasn't easy, as even a Princess fell under the universities entry ban against women, at least until her Brother in Law threatened to send in the army. She was less than a year away from being her country's first female doctor, and thanks to her persistence, a handful of others had been permitted to follow in her footsteps.

Her brother in law himself was nonchalant on his assistance. He claimed that a royal doctor of the blood was worth infuriating the universities, even though she suspected that he would do anything to support his family. Even though they were only related by marriage, Frederick had nothing but good will towards her, perhaps due to his own experiences in losing his hand.

She made her way through the halls, and before long Frederick had joined her. He slowed his pace considerably, allowing her to move as she was comfortable with. When both had settled on a pace, he began to talk.

"Glad to see you could make it, Erika."

"We live in the same building, Frederick. So what's causing a ruckus that for some reason none of your other advisors can be trusted?"

"It's not a lack of trust, it's a matter of expertise. The only other man in the palace that's qualified is the Royal Doctor, and he earned his degree in the previous century. This, whatever it is, is new."

"Please, do go on." She said stoically, containing her excitement. Erika would drop anything to get a good look at a medical breakthrough. This wasn't work. This would be a treat.

"You see, there's been an incident outside of Kurzheim…"

…

Bit of Notes

Well, that's the last of the flashbacks for a while. You may see one or two every once in a while, but it will mostly be present day events revolving around Hans and Company. I enjoyed doing these, but they did have to be longer by nature due to the flashback section and current event section, so hopefully this means quicker update times. Here's hoping next update comes fairly quick.

-Dragunov

Glossary:

Mon Dieu!- My God!