A/N: Do I hear a two for one chapter special for new OCs? – Those of you who guessed a certain someone's appearance may be onto something… Enjoy the next chapter and don't forget to leave a review, reviews are story fuel! : )

-Chapter Seven-

I'm Free

Hans pitched with the rocking of the ship like the cargo among him, shifting on the wooden cot in his cell and glowering at his feet so hard one might have expected them to burst into flame with the intensity of his stare. He was exactly back where he had started upon return to the Southern Isles, stuck in the bowels of a ship with his hands bound without any control of what happened next. The gagging he could have done without, but it didn't bother him near as much as it seemed to affect Heins. Hans had nothing to say to these bloody pirates, and the sooner he and his brother got out of this predicament, the better. He remained still and quiet, mind piecing ideas together in contemplation of their next action... escape.

"Mmmph! Mm-mm-mmphm!"

He turned slightly next door to face his brother through the cell bars, who was acting exactly his opposite. Whereas Hans had put up nearly no fight as he was tossed into his cell, Heins had wiggled like a worried worm who'd spotted a hook. Moaning and emphatically babbling behind his gag, he had been trying desperately to speak ever since they'd been thrown down here, which must have been hours ago.

Hans let his shoulders slump and blinked at the frantic expressions of his older brother, whose eyes were screaming something unheard. You know I can't understand you, Heins.

"Mm-mm! Mm-mm-mmph!"

You can scream and shout all you want, it's all gibberish.

"Mmph Mm-mm!" His brother was beginning to look frustrated with him, of all things.

Hans narrowed his eyes in response. Am I supposed to understand what you're saying under that cloth?

Heins heaved a heady sigh Hans could hear even through the gag, leaning back against the body of the ship with a clear thunk. He perked up as the sound of a door opening nearby made a creak, footsteps coming down the stairs. The image of the pirate called Johan rounded the corner, one arm balancing two faintly glimmering silver trays of food, the other holding a lantern to help light his way in the dim underbelly of the swaying beast. He set the trays of food down on a pile of boxes nearby, the hold crammed with tradeable goods of all kinds. Hans caught a glimpse of wording on the side of one of the crates illuminated with the flash of the lantern, and a crest of black and red, making his blood chill as he read the words.

Weselton Trade Arms

So, they'd ransacked some kind of trade ship and stolen all this merchandise… recently, by the scattered look of things. Likely they'd killed the crew in their wake, too. The same crest was dotted on all the boxes and barrels surrounding the hull. Hans watched Johan's movements carefully, eyes glued to him as he hung the lantern to a hook above, took one tray in hand and turned a key in Hans' cell lock. The pirate's sheer blue eyes stared him down, daring him to try something, but the sword at his side was a silent, powerful persuasion for Hans to keep his ground.

"The Captain sends his regards," he began, setting the tray down next to the prince. A surprisingly full array of colorful fruits and bread greeted Hans' eyes first, silverware beside it. Try as he might to remain firm and unswayed by the spread of food, his eyes were desirably drawn to the enticing sight. The smell of some kind of cooked fish nestled beside the bread wafted into his nose, teasing his stomach and making it groan loudly. Johan moved to Hans' neck and removed the gag from his mouth, letting him free, though the prince did his best not to let it show any relief. "Enjoy it while you can, because it's the last meal you'll have aboard the Rosmaling."

Hans felt his mouth water, starved from lack of substantial food. No. No, don't give in. Be strong. He steeled himself and sneered at Johan, words punctuated with dislike for the man. "Probably poison."

The pirate laughed softly, making Hans bristle. "If we wanted you dead, you wouldn't be here now. Eat."

Hans glowered, not moving from his stiff stance, steeling all of his willpower to ignore the food in front of him, his stomach wrenching in outrage at his defiance, growling louder.

"Are you sure?" Johan's eyes followed the growl, and he seated himself on a crate across from Hans, crossing one leg over the other and picking up a fork. "Then you won't mind if I help myself. Managing a stubborn, uncompromising castaway like you has left me quite famished." Slowly, ever so slowly, he cut into the fish and sliced a bite, bringing it up to his lips.

It never reached his tongue.

Hans leapt for the food like a ravished animal, snatching the tray away from him and ripping a chunk of bread from the slice, chewing only what was absolutely necessary before swallowing it down, nearly choking in his hurry to taste real food again. The fork had clattered on the ground, but Johan did not move to pick it up, his eyes set on the man before him so clearly desperate for nourishment. After finishing all but one bite of the bread, Hans looked back at him, and then to Heins between the spaces of their neighboring cells. He gestured to his sibling, body shaking from exertion. "What about… my brother?"

"His gag is not to be removed." Johan glanced back at the other tray he'd brought. "Not yet."

"According to whose authority?" Hans snapped, his gaze hardening.

"Mine."

Johan turned to face the new voice, deep and laced in a husky undertone, slow thuds giving way to the figure of a man coming into the hold. The light from the lantern swayed with the rocking of the ship, shadows dancing along the man's body as he stepped forward to address Hans. The prince immediately identified this man as the Captain, for two reasons. The first was the way he dressed, a brim feathered hat covering wavy red hair tangling about his earrings and a dark crimson overcoat buttoned up over a cream blouse. A bunched, torn, ruffled burgundy sash was tucked among his waistline, a long sword sheathed at his side in a golden casing. The second reason was the way the man held himself, his stature tall, proud, and unafraid.

He stopped before Hans' cell and stared at the figure inside with a reflective gaze, but his stare did not last long.

"Mm? Mmmm!" Heins was manic at the sight of the Captain, leaning against the bars of the hold as if hoping they would give way.

The Captain turned to Johan with a slight smirk. "You're right, he's a talker."

"I told you he was." Johan's eyes narrowed. "We should dump them both while we can, before they cause more trouble than they've already stirred."

The Captain seemed to think over this for a moment, eyes closed. He nodded vaguely once or twice. "Maybe so. And yet… it could be the chance for an experiment… I haven't played with someone gagged and bound in ages…" He moved for his waistcoat, drawing a dagger from its confines with a clean swish, pointing it deftly at Heins. "I'll wager this ragamuffin has had plenty of time to think over his story. Give me the keys to his cell."

Heins threw the man a dirty look of disapproval, much to Hans' surprise. The man ignored it, putting the keys in the lock and leisurely turning them as he spoke.

"Now, now, I know. You must be worried about your fate. To tell you the truth, I don't believe in such a thing. I believe a man makes his own fate. So I don't blame you for trying to save your skin. You simply said the first thing that popped into your mind. " He pointed his weapon at the prince and swung open the gate to the cell, his steel glinting in the light of the lantern. "Let's try to hear your stories again, and this time, first I want to hear… from you." He pointed his dagger at Hans from the next cell over. "It's simple really, just tell me who you are and how you came to be in the middle of the ocean. Tell me the truth, and I'll leave you both alive. I may even let you join our little crew."

Johan glanced in his direction, his nose wrinkling slightly, gaining his composure again moments afterward.

Hans watched his brother's expression, but he was calmly kneeling on the ground before the Captain, eyes glued to the man's torso with a silent fascination of some sort.

"What if I lie?" Hans wasn't planning on doing anything of the sort, but Heins had already saved his life, and the sight of a dagger only feet from his brother's neck didn't give him any reassurance.

"He dies," the captain shrugged, stalking Heins in a small circle as if he were a predator surrounding a helpless animal. "So tell me… who are you?"

"My name is Hans. I am the thirteenth in line of the Southern Isles. My brother Heins, the eleventh in line, is the one you have at dagger point."

The captain pretended to yawn, waving the dagger lazily. "So I've heard. It's one thing to tell me whatever you think I'll believe, it's another matter entirely to prove your claims."

Hans raised an eyebrow, his tone sharpening. "How do you expect I'm supposed to do that? Why is it so important to prove?"

The pirate quirked his expression in a pucker of thought for a moment. "It has to do with ransom matters, the likes of which you probably won't understand. Going out of our way to the Southern Isles at this point is quite a journey, and I must be sure you are who you say you are before contacting anyone. Come now, the Queen Allowyn must surely be worried for your safety."

Han's expression tensed, his eyes widening as his voice grew softer, bewildered. "How do you know the name of my mother?"

The captain blinked, his expression shifting to his first mate, and Johan grimaced. The two held stares for a moment, eyes holding an entire silent conversation between the two, and finally returned his dagger to Heins, slipping it under the gag, behind the man's neck. "A smart man knows the names of those who would put his business under threat. I grow tired of our game. You have one chance to prove you are who you say you are, and only one. Choose your words wisely and make me believe you." His dagger slit through the cloth cleanly, letting it fall to the ground. Hans might have expected his older brother to say the same thing he'd said on deck, but he did not expect the words that followed.

"… that's my sash."

The captain's dagger fell to the ground with a clatter, and he stared at Heins with awed eyes.

Heins smiled, standing to his feet, reaching out a hand and giving the fabric a gentle stroke. "I made this for you… you kept it this long? And in such good condition, for one of my firsts…"

"Heins…" Hans muttered, getting to his own feet, looking at the two of them with confusion lining his forehead creases. "You… know him?"

"Of course I do!" Hans was even more bewildered when Heins laughed. "Hans…" exclaimed Heins, putting a hand on the captain's shoulder and pointing at his chest, "this is Heinrik… our brother!"

#

"I don't believe it… I can't… h-how is this possible?" Hans sputtered, sitting with Heins, Johan, and Heinrik, all four men freely reclining around a private table in the captain's quarters. Empty plates lay before them, previously piled with food and now bare as the bone china of which they were made.

"Quite honestly, I'm just as stunned to see you as you probably are me, little brother." Heinrik's face was lit with joy, overcome by emotions. "But I am glad to see you. It's been too long… The last time I saw you, Hans, you were so small, only a boy, eight years old! Now look at you!" He clapped his brother on the shoulder, looking him over. "Good God, how you've grown… and you, Heins, you weren't much older than Hans!"

"I know!" Heins exclaimed, brighter than Hans had seen since they'd left Arendelle. "I knew something was different right away when I heard the name of this ship! Did you-"

"Name it after your first line of design clothing? Yes, I did! Rosemaling! Had a nice ring to it, and everyone would have known the name of father's ship if I hadn't renamed it." Heinrik gave his tattered sash a little stroke to show appreciation for the gift given by his little brother.

"That's why the name was familiar…" Hans said in realization, gaze drawn to the empty plate before him. "I knew I recognized the sound of it… but… I don't understand… your ship was said to be raided by pirates… everyone at home thinks you're…"

"My death was exaggerated," Heinrik said with a nonplussed wave.

Hans blinked, staring at his brother, while Heins leaned forward on his elbows. Normally, such an action while having dinner might have made some of his older brothers fuss at him if he were home, but it was ignored among those present. He waved a hand slightly, bidding his brother to continue. "Go on, then! Tell us the story, I'm dying to hear it!"

Heinrik rocked his chair back, crossing his boots on the edge of the table to prop them up, reaching into his coat and removing a small tin, which he popped open to remove a bit of tobacco. He began to chew, pausing long enough to get one good spit before sighing. "If I tell you… you have to promise not to reveal to anyone I'm alive."

The brothers exchanged looks, nodded, and both exclaimed, "Deal!" Hans was too curious not to hear where his brother had been, and Heins loved a good story regardless of who was in it, demanding details as usual.

"Alright… well, you may not remember, since you were only children, but when I left the Isles, I left to… meet my intended. I would be spending the next ten years living in her land and getting to know her before we were wed. The marriage was arranged already, so I didn't have much of a choice in the matter…"

"I think I remember that," remarked Heins softly, hating to interrupt, "she was really young still, right?"

"Right. A child herself, which is why I thought the entire journey was pointless. I was eighteen, when she was only seven… But I was forced to go along with it for the sake of… political correctness…"

Feeling sorry for his brother, and yet somewhat glad he'd never been forced into any marriage without choice, Hans nodded with a twinge of sympathy. "I don't remember much about that day… but I remember you leaving… hearing later you were attacked by pirates."

"Indeed I was, lucky sod that I am!" Heinrik exclaimed, gesturing to Johan, who'd been rather quiet. "And all of the crew, apart from Johan and I, were killed. We two were to be ransomed."

"… Why him?" Hans asked, looking to the man sitting beside his brother.

Heinrik laughed and spat to his side, where the wad of spit landed a shiny gold spittoon, gesturing to his first mate. "Hans, don't you remember my best friend, Johan Jorgen? Jo-Jo?"

"That's Jo-Jo?" Hans repeated, shocked. His eyes widened as he pieced together the memories about the man. He remembered him, yes, but only vaguely. His brother had often had fencing practice with Johan, who seemed to be one of the few to ever beat him continually at the game. The brotherly bond between the two began when Johan's wealthy father made a good living investing in the right market, which meant Johan had been able to attend several royal functions and managed to meet the brothers in the midst of the parties or dedications. His father quickly becoming a close consort of the royal family, Johan grew attached to Heinrik, the boy most like him, and more often than not, kept him out of trouble.

At first it had only been his father spending time with the royal family, which the man had considered a major boost from his previous lot in society, but soon his mother met the Queen and the two women found a similar kindred spirit of kindness in each other, leading into a blossoming friendship. At the time, Hans remembered Johan's mother specializing in the care of injured animals, studying to become a healer. One of the dogs used for hunting had been hurt by way of a rogue buck and she'd been able to nurse the dog back to health. Hans could not remember when, but he recalled Johan's mother, Helen, eventually taking position of the castle doctor.

Unfortunately, the limelight of fortune surrounding Helen's boost in position took hold of the mind of Johan's father, driving him to jealousy, anger, and finally, abuse. The battle of custody waged its war over the household, and soon Johan had taken to living in the castle from time to time, as their home grew less and less livable. What had happened next, Hans did not remember, but he knew Johan had eventually come to live with them, and his mother still doctored to this day. Of course, his lack of specific memories was understandable, as Hans himself had not been included among the activities of the older boys too often, but that had not stopped him from tagging along to watch the two share in occasional adventures, and the face was now all-too-familiar.

The man snapped to face Heinrik, a sneer curling his lip. "Don't call me Jo-Jo."

"Anyway, Jo-Jo and I were supposed to be ransomed, but I challenged the captain to a battle of swords, which I won, thanks to the years of training I had with my first mate. Because of the captain's death, I became the rightful captain, and I've been sailingthe seas ever since with him at my side."

"I said, don't call me Jo-Jo. You know I hate that." His sharp, intensely bright blue eyes narrowed.

"But what I don't understand is what you're doing here," Heinrik said, gaze turning concerned, ignoring his friend's demand. "I thought I'd never see any of my family again, and yet, here you come, popping up out of the middle of the ocean! Should I expect to see Harald or Harken falling from the sky next?"

Hans heaved a sigh as he leaned back in his chair, tired of explaining himself to the world. The only person he wanted to speak to at all was miles away by now, and probably wanted him dead, to boot. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"I will! I will! Pick me! Oh, can I tell them, Hans? Can I?" Heins asked, raising his hand and leaning over to his little brother with a desperate look on his face.

Hans considered this for a moment. When all is said and done, it's not as if it matters if estranged family members thought to be dead know… including those thought of as family, like Johan. "You have an absolute mastery of tact and grace, Heins… go on, then."

Heins shared the sum up of his brother's tale as it was told to him, and Hans only needed to interject sparsely throughout the story to fix the details his brother embellished. When it was finished, both Johan and Heinrik were silently exchanging surprised looks. Johan was the first to speak.

"So you're going back to apologize to this crazy magical woman who can't control herself and just happens to be the newly-appointed Queen of Arendelle? After you tried to kill her? Are you mentally ill?"

"She is not crazy. She is as sane as you or I," Hans replied, expression darkening. "I have my own reasons." He dropped his gaze to the plate in front of him once more, the lanterns casting swinging shadows over the table. "I was…too quick to act when setting sail. I guess we're stuck now… since our ship was destroyed in the storm. I know we… we're not the closest family, Heinrik…and if I had any way to do things on my own, I would, but the fact is… you have a ship, and I don't. Can you help me get to Arendelle?"

The man bit his lip, having listened to his brother's story with silent contemplation. "Hans, I've been a pirate for… for a long time." He waved a hand to emphasize his point. "And I've never had to kill a single soul… but what you did… I…" He got up from the table, turning away and pacing lightly back and forth. "I want to help you make things right, Hans, I do… but I'm a pirate, wanted by many people dead or alive, preferably dead. I can't just sail into any open port and make my presence known."

"… he might be willing to help." Johan said, turning to look at Heinrik. "We're going to be seeing him tomorrow when we make port in Havetby. If nothing else, we can at least ask him. And if he refuses, they'll be safe on land and we can stay on schedule. If we're careful, no one, including the crew members, will have to know, and we can have clean consciences."

"… that 's a great idea, Johan. See, Hans? This is why I love having Jo-Jo around. A captain of a pirate ship isn't complete without a first mate."

"I'm warning you. Stop calling me by that nickname." Johan growled.

"Or what?" retorted Heinrik. "Are you going to mutiny?"

"Or I'll call you by your nickname."

Heinrik shot a glance at his first mate, cleared his throat, and moved to a pile of barrels, crates, and various knick-knacks, beginning to toss them every which way in a search for something, making Johan duck and sidestep to avoid the objects. "So we just need to make you look like able members of our crew until we can meet our point of contact… If you're going to survive where we're going, you're both going to have to dress accordingly. The Havetby bar where we conduct our normal business isn't exactly an open invitation establishment. It's more of a… 'The Snuggly Duckling' type of place."

Hans raised an eyebrow. "… the… Snuggly Duckling?"

"Well, you see, in my travels there was this little orphaned kid that I used to be friends with who was a thief, and we'd occasionally hang out together in the tavern there by that name and… you know what, nevermind, too tangled a story to get into," Heinrik exclaimed as he tossed a golden goblet aside. "I know there's stuff in here somewhere you should be able to use…" He threw some clothing back towards his brothers where it flopped into a pile. "This should work, but I was looking for that other thing… Aha! There it is…"

"There's what?" Hans asked, giving Heins a confused look as his fashion-conscious brother picked up a dark trench coat and examined the look of it.

Heinrik turned around hefting a carpetbag in hand, beautifully decorated and looking as if it had been recently wet, and upon the sides was stitched a faint H. "We came upon some wreckage a few days ago, does this look familiar to you?"

"My baaaag!" Heins shot up from his seat and lunged to his brother, taking him off guard and causing the two to fall back amongst the piles of stuff. "You found it, you found it! Oh, please, oh, please, tell me this is the one with- yes! Yes! My shoes!" Heins dug out a pair of boots from within, closing his eyes and squeezing them to him in a fond hug. He opened his eyes to find Johan and Hans staring at him in shock, and turned to see Heinrik just as shocked, sprawled among his stuff as if he were part of the collection. The captain blew a feather from his hat up from where it wilted down in his face due to the sudden tackle. Heins leaned over and offered his older brother a hand to help him up, flushing. "Sorry… thank you."

"Remind me never to take your shoes…" Heinrik dusted himself off as he got to his feet, removing his hat and exposing his head of wild, wavy hair. "Heins, if I remember right, you had a strange obsession with fashion at a young age… do you still have that creative compulsion?"

Heins' lips spread into a wide grin.

"Good. Because I'm going to need you to put your heart and soul into your disguise from the moment we step out this cabin until I say it's safe."

Hans watched his brother beaming and chattering away to Johan as he examined the pile of clothing on the floor. He picked up a waist coat of his own and turned it around once, noticing some dark stains on it and trying to keep himself from wondering what they were. A smell of sweat and something heavy lingered on the coat, and Hans was so intensely focused on it he didn't notice Heinrik behind him until his brother leaned down into earshot.

"That's an excellent choice, Hans. All those bloodstains really make it authentic. Nobody will pay you any mind."

The color drained a bit from his face.

"I'm only joking! Relax, little brother, that's not blood…" Heinrik chuckled as he moved to help Johan outfit Heins first, mumbling under his breath. "Mostly."

Hans slipped his shoes off, which were more or less falling apart due to water damage, anyway, and began to put together an idea of his own outfit, sighing with distaste. I'm not so sure this is a good idea anymore.

#

The prince flinched as the sound of a brawl in the corner of the bar grew louder, men shouting and bottles crashing, the tender behind the counter rushing to break it up, parading those who were fighting to the door where they were hurled into the streets. He'd never been anywhere near a bar of any sort, as mother considered it "behavior unbefitting for any self-respecting young man". Even father had spoken out against them after Hugo's experience on his twenty-first, leaving the town to view him with a black eye on his birthday. It was fine for the gung-ho Hugo, of course; if nothing else the shiner encircling his eye gave him all the more fuel to brag about what the other guy looked like, but to his recollection, Hans himself had never engaged in a physical brawl he'd won. Most fights had been with his brothers and were either outmatched or outnumbered.

His chair was jostled by a man brushing past, and he darkly glowered at the culprit, only to discover he was twice as big and tall, towering over him. The man sneered in return, carrying two glasses, one in each hand. To him, Hans looked like nothing more than a scrawny pirate with some scruff dotting his chin. "You got something to say?"

"No, that's quite alright," Hans turned his attention back on his own glass, hoping the man would just move on, which he did, after a moment's hesitation, too preoccupied with his drink to pay the matter further interest.

"No, that's quite alright?" Heinrik hissed from across the table, scowling at his brother from across the way. "You can do better than that Hans, we're starting to attract attention!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Hans hissed back, shoulders hunched to help keep their conversation quiet. "He was obviously out of order, but I'm not going to pick a fight with a man twice as big, even if that means he's probably twice as dumb!"

Johan groaned, taking a long swig of his drink. "This is never going to work, Heinrik…"

"Well we don't have much of a choice now, do we, Johan?" his captain snarled, turning to take a drink of his own mug, only to find it empty. "What the…"

"Sorry…" Heins flashed his brother a lopsided grin, four empty glasses in front of him. "I have a thing for a good wine…"

"Heins…" Hans said, raising an eyebrow at the huge empty glasses. "You do know this is not wine, don't you?"

"It isn't?" his brother asked with a little giggle afterward, "oh well, doesn't seem to matter after a while!" He pointed to the mug in front of Hans. "Are you gonna drink that?"

Hans eyed the pale yellow-colored ale with distaste wrinkling his nose. He'd barely been able to taste it without blanching, much less down an entire glass. He slid the glass over to his brother. "Knock yourself out."

Johan hunched his back down close to the table. "Keep your voices low. We're being watched."

"By who?" Hans asked, keeping his calm and retaining his gaze straight-ahead.

"The bartender. Every time I bring someone new in, he gets suspicious," Heinrik grumbled.

"Well it doesn't help that you didn't pay him last time we were here," Johan retorted with a snort.

"I was in a hurry to get out! The place was swarming with guards." He turned his gaze on Hans, who was folding his napkin into a neat crease beside his plate, giving him a swift kick under the table. "Do something manly; this is a bar, for God's sake!"

"Like what?" Hans seethed, bending down to rub his throbbing ankle where his brother's foot had connected.

"I don't know, order a drink, curse about a woman, pick your nose and eat it, anything!" Heinrik replied, half of his attention resting on the bartender behind the counter, whose gaze had now centered on the little group.

"Pick my nose?" Hans retorted, face aghast. "And eat it? That's disgusting!"

"Oh, come on, it's not like you haven't done it before. All men do it," Heinrik whispered. "Now shove your finger in there or I'll do it for you!"

Hans groaned, but slowly slid his hand up to cup his chin and settled his pinky finger against his nostril, doing his best not to focus on his actions. It was at this moment the doors to the bar swung open, footsteps grew closer, and he heard a soft voice with a familiar ring.

"…Heinrik?"

Hans turned to see a very young man with the tiniest sliver of sideburns growing, his light blue eyes wide. Hans released an exhale as he got to his feet. "Harry…"

#

It took some doing, but the group of five managed to keep attention off of them and resumed their reunion quietly.

"Harry… Harry, you've been gone all this time… and you never bothered to tell anyone how you're doing?" Hans asked, anger and hurt battling for precedence. I can't believe this, two lost brothers in one day! This is crazy! "Why?"

"I can't tell anyone anything, Hans… we… everything would be destroyed, all we've worked so hard for…" Harry, who had always been quiet, clingy to his family, and sensitive, looked as if he were about to cry.

"What are you talking about?" Hans asked emphatically, looking to his brother for an explanation.

"I… I can't believe you told him about who you are, about our meeting! Why would you do that?" Harry chastised as he looked at Heinrik.

"I had to. He's our brother, and you know the old pact father taught us… the… oh, how did it go? A prince is compassionate… sympathetic… something about sacrifice. I couldn't just throw them overboard, Harry… I may be a pirate, but… I am still a prince."

Shrinking back with a faint nod, Harry agreed.

"And hey, guess what? I brought you a parrot this time!"

"You know I don't like dealing in live animals, Heinrik…" Harry lamented, giving a sigh.

"Please, Harry! I am begging you, take it." Heinrik reached into his pocket and unfolded a letter, pointing down at the words and squinting. He was silent for a moment before groaning and reaching again into his coat to withdraw a thin pair of reading glasses, placing them on his nose, which was a complete distraction from his captain look. "Look here, I've got the list of what we managed to plunder from the Weselton vessel."

Johan watched the look of disgust on Heinrik's face as he was forced to place the glasses on his nose, concealing a short chuckle. Ever since Heinrik had been prescribed glasses by Doctor Helen, the two had constantly ruffled each other's feathers.

"Shut up, Jo-Jo."

Johan's eyes flared. "You shut up… Heinie."

Heinrik shot Johan a sharp glare intense enough to burn through him, but the only burning occurring was the burning of his own ears.

Heins burst into a laugh, spitting out a spray of his latest glass of ale, causing the table to recoil. "Heinie! He called you Heinie!" He clapped Harry on the shoulder, laughing deflating into giggles as delayed recognition caused his glazed eyes to widen. "Hans! Hans! Look! It's Harry!"

"Yes, I know that, Heins…" Hans said softly, expression still confused. "This… negotiation between you two is all well and good, but I don't understand something. Why are the two of you talking about bringing each other things and… someone please explain to me what's going on."

Harry brought a hand up to his soft curls of red, twisting a finger around one shyly. "Well… I suppose it's best to tell it now… Heinrik is a pirate, but… well… he's a good pirate."

"What's that mean?" Hans asked.

"Do you remember that story Mother read us when we were little sometimes? The Tales of Robin Hood and His Merry Men?" Harry suggested, gaze turned down as if he were embarrassed to mention it.

"Yes…" Hans said, nodding. Harry and he were the closest in age between the brothers, and for a little while, they'd roomed together. Most all the brothers had their own room growing up, especially the younger ones, but Hans blurrily recalled an incident occurring at a very young age leaving him frail and sick for a while, which confined to his room for months. Sympathetic with Hans' boredom and need for social interaction, his mother had arranged for Harry to be moved into the same room to keep him company and they'd spent their days playing together and their nights enjoying bedtime stories read by their mother.

"Well, that's what Heinrik is, a pirate Robin Hood! He steals and robs ships of countries which charge too much or mean to backstab one another or blackmail good people, and then he gives what he takes to me! Since he's a pirate, he can't sell anything himself or near any port without danger, so I became a merchant to form a partnership with him! I take the supplies he gives to me and I sell them at proper, affordable prices to the people who really need them!" He beamed. "Isn't that great?"

Hans looked from Harry to Heinrik in contemplation. The plan was actually rather ingenious, and he was in awe of how long they must have been performing these interludes with one another. "Is that what you meant to do when you left home?"

"No," Harry replied, sounding a little more animated now after being so excited to share his plan. "The reason I left at first… well… it's because… I was going to be married, to a girl I didn't even know… the same girl Heinrik had been engaged to… I wrote her a letter to try to get out of it, but when she didn't respond, I got scared I would be forced into it, and… and I left… and when I ran into Heinrik and we both came up with this solution, we were happy to do it! We help the countries who need the supplies but can't afford the damages of the trade economy."

"…Oh." Hans said, unsure of what else he could manage. "Well, I suppose I can't blame you for leaving, after all, at least you had the sense to let mother and father know where you were going."

"I still visit from time to time when I think father would benefit from what I have in stock, but you'd never know it was me. It turns out that once you grow facial hair and dress like a common man, that's what everyone thinks you are!" Harry exclaimed, turning his attention to Heinrik, "Weselton has been selling goods at major upscale price to everyone lately, including the Southern Isles, ever since the strange events surrounding Arendelle's coronation business," he explained, looking over the letter himself describing the ship's contents. "I've heard Arendelle, in return, has been having difficulty keeping their economy stable, so that's what I'm focusing our efforts on for the next few weeks."

"Difficulty?" Hans asked as Heinrik nodded, furrowing his eyebrows at Harry. "How so?"

"The main trade partner of Arendelle is Weselton, and since Arendelle is refusing business with them, they're short on a lot of goods unless they come from further lands, and the longer shipments take to arrive, the more chance they'll be hijacked, or lost, or who knows what else."

"But when I visited Arendelle, I was in charge of their goods for a little while," Hans remarked, cupping his chin with a fist. "And from what I remember, the kingdom looked pretty well off in regards to the state of their economy."

"Normally, I think they'd be able to make it through a scrape like this with reserve from the royal treasury, based on what I've seen," replied Harry, gaze downcast, "but a huge chunk of their trade is the ice business, and they've had to struggle during the summer and fall season when it's harder to get to the elevation needed for harvesting. They're just barely able to travel where ice is readily available. It's not as if they have thirteen sons to help support their kingdom, Hans. They only have two daughters, and only one of them is just barely entering a position of authority. Without the king and queen… they've been running off the treasury for three years, and now they're really hurting financially."

Hans was quiet for a moment, piecing together what he wanted to say before he said it. "So let me see if I have this all correct… Heinrik steals from ships, and he gives the merchandise to you. You then sell it to those who need it to keep the economy balanced, for countries who are struggling. You're going to focus the next few hits for Arendelle next in hopes of boosting their trade enough to get them through the last of the fall season until the ice trade can support them in winter, is that about right? Does that mean you're planning on going to Arendelle next to sell what Heinrik's delivered?"

"Right," Harry said, nodding. "You've got it."

Hans steeled himself, took hold of the barely-touched glass of ale in front of Harry, and swallowed a quick gulp. The bitter flavor was only a foretaste of things to come. I don't want to do this, but I have to. If I ever want to be able to forgive myself and forget the past, I have to. He set the mug down with a clink and met Harry's gaze. "Take me with you."

#

A/N: Brothers in order of birth (and current age) from oldest to youngest (including those we have not seen yet) Harvard (36), Hubert (35) , Helm (34), Heinrik (33), Harken (32), Hugo (30), Horatio (29), Harald (28), Henning/Hedvil (Twins, 27), Heins (25), Harry (23), and Hans (22, turning 23 soon).

Fun fact 1: Johan is the equivalent of John in English. I know I didn't go into all of Johan's past/what happened to his father, but I'm more than happy to talk about any of my OCs if anyone craves more information about them.

Fun fact 2: If you guys have not seen the deleted scene from Frozen called "dressing room" you should look it up. Princess Orion's Dress, all my lol.