A/N: Boy, this chapter turned out to be looong. A huge thank you goes out to all the favorites/follows, and of course, reviews from people! It's the best feeling in the world to know you guys like the story. This chapter marks a heralding for longest chapter yet; hang onto your hats! ~
-Chapter Eight-
Worth Mining
Before agreeing immediately to take both Hans and Heins with him on his trip to Arendelle, Harry had questions and concerns of his own. Heins had to explain the truth about the underlying reasons for his brother's expedition again, amidst a few hiccups and some considerably slurred storytelling. Hans had preemptively been annoyed to have yet another sibling hear his misdeeds, but the news of the strange wintery story was fresh and interesting to Harry. When it came down to the end of the tale (aside from Hans interrupting to conceal the fact he was punched by a girl), Harry did not seem to outwardly judge Hans as much as the prince might have feared. However, he did not agree to take Hans with him. He simply commented on the lateness of the day and that he would give the matter thought overnight.
Although Hans wanted to leave right away, he begrudgingly agreed to wait until sunrise. Harry booked a single room with his brothers with a nearby inn. It made sense for Hans to wait until daybreak, for three good reasons. First of all, Heinrik's crew were currently set to work unloading the goods from the pirate ship to Harry's much smaller and compact merchant vessel, and they would not finish until morning. None of the men seemed to care where the goods were going as long as they were paid well, and although Heinrik may have been fierce and stern as a commander, he was always fair with his treatment of his crew, hence his loyalty was continually returned.
Secondly, and more importantly, thanks to some of Harry's supplies and with his little extra payment to the inn, Hans had been able to procure both a razor blade for shaving and the pleasure of a warm bath, neither of which he planned to pass up.
"Just because you look like a pirate, doesn't mean you have to smell like one. At least, not anymore," Heinrik teased with a poke to his younger brother's ribs. This caused a sibling tousle to break out which Harry and Johan teamed together to break up. Regardless of his brother's fun, Hans was forced to agree with him and was more than happy to rest his aching body into the steaming water of the tub. He'd never imagined soaking in warm water could feel so good; his legs stretching out fully beneath the surface of the suds. He remained in the bath without a thought to occupy his mind, neck craned back against the rim and arms propped along the sides, a blissful smile on his face, until there was pounding on the door a little while later.
"Hans! Are you turning into a woman in there? Hurry up and get out! Heins needs the same treatment or neither of you is sleeping in our room!"
Grumbling a grumpy reply to his brother, Hans emerged from the water feeling fresh and new, and smelling faintly of some spice relative to cinammon. He took the clothes Harry had supplied, simple in fashion, but better than his pirate garb, and got dressed. His fingers were pruny and his hair limp, but he felt marvelous. He could not say the same for his brother, who, as Hans opened the door, made a straight dash for the bathroom, passing up the tub completely. Unfortunately, the last reason for their delay was Heins. The enjoyment from the abundance of alcohol running through his system earlier had burned out shortly after they'd left the tavern, leaving him much too sickly to set sail immediately. Typically, after a bath, a shave, and the return of some of his possessions, Hans would have seen the best of the cheerful, clean, youthful face of his brother, but not tonight.
The room came with two beds, two thin sheets, and two supporting thick blankets to accompany them. One of the beds was immediately given up to Harry because he'd paid for the room and such gestures seemed only fair in recompense, while the other went to the unhealthy Heins, who collapsed upon it with a groan.
Heinrik snatched the two thicker blankets in hand, glancing at Hans and tossing him one, which the prince fumbled to catch. "Here, you get one, little brother. You've been through enough the past few days. Not to mention, you're going to go apologize to the ice queen herself after trying to murder her. You deserve a good night's sleep."
"Thanks?" Hans managed as he shook the blanket out, half-smiling. He hadn't expected to be given the blanket without a fight, but to see a little kindness without having to manipulate it as he typically did was nice.
"Ohhh no!" Johan started, reaching for the blanket Heinrik still held. "No, no, no! Just because you're the captain on ship doesn't mean I'm going to let you get everything to yourself!"
"Okay, okay, Jo-Jo!" Heinrik grinned, holding the blanket out of the grasping Johan's reach, "relax! We'll play for it!"
"Play?" Johan questioned, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Every time I've ever played with you, I'm the one who gets the brunt of trouble! I'm the one who gets blamed!"
Heinrik beamed, flashing his off-white teeth. "Johan, Johan! Where's your sense of adventure?"
"It's called being sensible. Maybe you should try it sometime," Johan replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, now, what fun would that be?" Heinrik toyed with the blanket a little, lips puckered in thought. "Oh, I've got it! I've got it! I know how we'll decide who gets the blanket. We'll play a game of wits. Are you ready?"
Johan's gaze sharpened, blue eyes stuck on Heinrik, a flicker of enjoyment and confidence behind the smug expression. He usually bested his captain at any physical or mental game. "Ready."
Heinrik held the blanket high, speaking as fast as he could. "Loser says what!"
Johan blinked, stunned by the jumble of words. "…what?"
"Hah! You lose!" Heinrik toted the blanket towards a corner of the room and hummed a jaunty tune as he began to unfold it, smoothing the corners.
"Hey! Wait a minute, you can't do that!" Johan snapped, stomping over to exchange colorful words with his captain.
Hans watched the two interact with fascination, his mind tuning out what they said in exchange for watching their gestures and body language. If he thought back, he could compare them directly with their younger selves and replace his brother with the image he remembered. Not much had changed over the years.
Well, apart from the pirate bit. That was new.
Even with the aid of the blanket, Hans had not really expected to get any sleep with five men sharing the same room, but surprisingly, almost everyone seemed to sleep soundly. Heinrik had always been a heavy sleeper, and Johan followed suit, but Harry had always been easy to awaken. Perhaps it was the fact he was in one of the two comfortable beds, but the other occupant of the bed was not faring so well. As the evening dragged on, so Heins dragged himself up several times that Hans knew of during the dark to use the facilities of the inn, looking increasingly miserable upon each trudge back to bed.
The first time Heins returned from being sick and woke his brother with the noise, Hans turned over in his makeshift bed of cloth, pulled the blanket closer, and closed his eyes to go back to sleep. The next time Hans awoke, he awoke of his own accord with a gasp. His blanket damp in sweat, to say nothing for his clothes. He panted as he recovered from the grasp of the nightmare, a terrible reliving of both old and new events combined into one horrific blur. Words and still images flashed in the back of his mind as he tried to block them out, his body trembling uncontrollably beneath the cover of his blanket.
Your sister? She returned from the mountain weak and cold! She said that you froze her heart!
I hate you! I hate you! I hate you forever!
I tried to save her, but it was too late!
Hans closed his eyes, clasping his hands and squeezing tightly. His lips silently mouthed the mantra. Control yourself. You are a prince. A prince is stable… a prince is firm… a prince is strong. A prince I am, a prince I will be. A prince I am, a prince I will be. Get it together. Come on, come on...
He pulled the blanket tighter over himself, but the dampness just made it uncomfortable, and he knew it would be impossible to fall asleep again. Trying desperately to think of anything but memories, he lay there, frustrated and irritable, with his eyes open, adjusting his senses to the dark and the music of the night beyond their cracked window.
It was in this state he heard a muffled, soft sound, like the sound of someone mewling. A moment of studying the environment revealed it to be coming from Heins, who was lying with his side facing away from Hans. Hans got on his hands and knees, crawling carefully to his brother's side to avoid the creaking of any floorboards. "Heins?" he whispered.
It was a moment and a belabored sniff before his brother replied. "Yes?"
I have a big day tomorrow, probably one of the biggest of my life, and I'm trying to sleep. He pooled his patience. "Why are you crying?"
"I'm not." There was another pause, and then a whimper. "My stomach hurts."
"Is that all?" Hans asked, careful to keep his tone muted to keep from sounding too annoyed. "You were the one who drank six full glasses of ale; it's no wonder you feel sick."
"I know," Heins whispered back. "But I didn't think about that at the time."
"Then you should stop simpering and try to go back to sleep. We'll need to be rested for tomorrow."
Heins' voice quivered. "I can't sleep…"
Hans groaned. At this rate, he'd never get to rest again. He hissed under his breath. "So what will make you sleep? What would… what would mother do if she were here to help you sleep?"
"If mother were here?" repeated Heins, curling a little more into a ball and pulling the sheets up a bit closer to his shoulders. "She'd rub my back… maybe sing to me a little or talk until I fell asleep."
Hans hesitated. Mother had always been there to take care of him when he'd been feeling poorly. Flashes of her bringing him chocolate cake after his reunion made him warm towards his brother's pitiful state. He inwardly sighed. "… Well, I won't sing for you. But… if you move over and promise not to throw up on me, I'll rub your back… and I'll talk to you until you fall back asleep."
"You will?"
"It's what brothers do. Now, schooch over more towards the wall."
"Okay." Heins obeyed and Hans crept into the bed beside his brother, careful to keep the squeaking of the bedsprings at a minimum.
No one seemed to stir, so Hans reclined next to his brother's back, placing a hand on the flat of his backbone, covered by the thin material of the blouse serving as a nightshirt, and gently moving it up and down. He didn't need to speak loudly, since the bed was clearly meant for one person and Heins was close enough to him so the hair of his ponytail tickled Hans' nose. "How's that?"
"Feels good," replied Heins in a faint voice, his arms curled close against him and his head buried in them so he almost appeared to making a den of sorts for himself.
"Heins… can I ask you something?" Hans started, his stroking so repetitive he didn't need to focus on it to know he was doing it.
"Anything," replied his brother, in a tone with a gentle lilt to it, his voice more breath than word.
"Why did you almost sacrifice yourself for me in the storm?"
There was another pause long enough for Hans to wonder if his brother had drifted off unintentionally, but after a slight shift, he finally responded with the simplest answer. "That's easy. Because I love you."
Hans didn't reply, the answer striking a chord deep in the empty places of his heart. More like his father when it came to expressing himself, Hans had always been withdrawn more than some of his brothers, but the tragedy occurring in his life when he'd been just a child seemed to accelerate it a thousandfold, and he'd been shutting most people out ever since.
Heins rolled over halfway, carefully, to lie on his stomach, turning his face to see his brother, resting on the single pillow they were sharing. "Hans? ... I'm scared."
"Scared of what?" asked Hans, still focusing on gently stroking his brother's back in steady circles.
"I've never been this far away from home before… I told you I was excited about going somewhere new… but I'm… frightened, too…"
"You don't have to be."
Rolling over completely, Heins met his younger brother's gaze, the forest green eyes open and warm in the glow of the moonlight coming through the window just above the bed, another period of silence lingering between them before he spoke in a hushed exhale. "… neither do you."
"I'm not afraid of her." The Queen was a force to be reckoned with, of course, as he'd seen inside her palace. Her mastery over ice made his meager human skills, whatever they were, laughable. But Hans had seen Anna's dedication to her sister, and he'd seen the way Elsa's soul shattered as he'd spoken to her that last time. She was not evil, and she was not a monster. If anyone was a monster for making her believe lies… it was him. Flashes of his last encounter with her played before his eyes.
Your sister is dead! Because of you…
"I'm not talking about the Queen, Hans… you talk in your sleep."
He met his brother's gaze with a sense of dread building in his gut, the sense he would be forced to think, or God help him, talk about something he had no desire of ever remembering again. A chill ran through Hans' body, making him shiver involuntarily, his hand slipping away from his brother's back, his arms ensnaring each other, crossing over his chest where he squeezed his arms, clenching his muscles tightly, eyes darting reclusively away from his brother. "I don't want to talk about that."
The mutual silence between them seemed to last forever before Heins broke it.
"You never wanted to."
"I told you once, Heins… I don't want to talk about it. I'm not going to tell you again."
Building aggression flickering beneath the defensive tenor of his brother's voice, Heins dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry."
Hans shifted his body to face away from his brother, his muscles still tense, knees tucking up towards his gut in a fetal position. He was too tired to move now. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore what had just been said. Don't think on it. Don't think, don't think.
"Hans?" his brother's voice whispered, a still, small voice in the emptiness of the inn room.
Keep it together. He released a small exhale, keeping his composure. "Yes?"
"I don't care what they say. I just want you to know… you're a real prince to me. And I know you'll do what's right, no matter what happens. Even if we have to stay in Arendelle all winter, I'll be there with you no matter how long it takes… and if you don't want to talk… you don't have to." His brother finished with a yawn and slight shuffling. "Well… goodnight."
Hans rubbed his arms to rid himself of the goosebumps prickling his skin, long-ago memories screaming for precedence in his mind, silent to the rest of the world. "Don't tell anyone else, Heins… "
"Don't tell them what?"
"I love you, too." Hans closed his eyes, hearing a vague murmur of happiness coming from his brother before he drifted off to sleep.
#
Hans awoke with his brother half-sprawled over his body in undignified fashion, the dawn only just rising over the crack of the window. He gave Heins a slight push away, and it was enough to make his brother roll over so Hans could wiggle out from underneath him. Hans got to his feet, freed from his brother's weight, running a hand over his hair a few times to help smooth it down and scratching at his supple, smooth chin, stroking his sideburns appreciatively. He'd done a good job, and surprisingly after last night's events, he felt good, for the first time in a while.
He glanced towards Heinrik, who was sleeping soundly as he had last night, but both Johan and Harry were missing. Hans tried to smooth out his clothing best as he could before exiting the room, leaving his two remaining brothers to sleep while he took a quick look around for the two missing party members. It didn't take long for him to stumble upon his brother Harry seated among the sparse people in the dining foyer of the inn.
Harry noticed Hans coming down the stairwell and waved a hand in the air, chewing whatever he'd been eating and swallowing, waving his napkin. "Hans! Over here!" Hans approached and sat across from his brother, who pushed his plate towards him, a cheerful smile on his face. "Want some breakfast?"
"Um… yes, thanks." Hans accepted a bite of the remaining scrambled eggs, chewing and swallowing. "Where's Johan?"
"He went to make sure the crew is all done unloading, so we can set sail soon." Harry twiddled his thumbs, shyly keeping his eye contact anywhere but on his brother. "Listen, Hans… I've thought about your story last night… why you mean to return to Arendelle."
"Yes?" pressed Hans, finishing the steaming pile of eggs remaining on the plate before making eye contact with his brother.
"And… and I want you to know I'd be more than happy to take you."
"Really?" Hans swallowed his last bite with puzzled suspicion washing over his features. "Why?"
A blush rose in Harry's cheeks as he brought a finger up to curl around one of his locks of red hair. "Well… to be quite honest… I heard you last night. What you said to Heins. And after that, I couldn't possibly say no. You only want to do what's right. I don't see why I should stand in your way. We'll leave as soon as Johan comes back to give us the go ahead."
He heard me. He heard me. "What did you hear?" Hans asked, setting the fork down casually, trying not to let his discomfort show. Did he hear everything?
"Nothing special, because you were talking so softly. Just… that you said you loved him. And it made me remember… what things used to be like between us."
Hans picked up his brother's glass of water and lifted it to his lips, taking a slow drink to avoid speaking. He finally offered a vague smile to Harry and set the glass down. "I haven't forgotten."
The door to the front door swung open loudly with a bang, making Harry jump. "What, you're having breakfast and you haven't saved me any?" Johan boomed, approaching the table. "I'm crushed."
Harry chuckled. "Don't act sore, Johan. You were gone long before any of us were awake. How's unpacking going?"
"All finished on our end; your ship's ready to go." Johan looked to Hans briefly, then back to Harry. "Have you figured out a plan for the two stowaways yet?"
"I think so, yes."
"Stowaways?" Hans repeated, giving his brother an uncertain look.
"Well, since everything with the new queen has happened-"
A powerful spike of irritation welled within Hans. "Elsa." Why couldn't anyone refer to her by name? Was she only a title to them?
Harry blinked, stunned by Hans' interruption. "Yes, the Queen Elsa… since everything has happened, Arendelle customs has been especially strict on who they trade with. I'm fairly confident they'll let me pass without trouble since I've been there before, but you and Heins… I don't think they'll be near as welcoming if they see you again."
Hans dropped his gaze to the empty plate in front of him. He hadn't taken time to consider how much people might despise his return or how he was to get to Elsa after he arrived. He'd only been focused on the goal, not the means, and so far he'd only succeeded thanks to an unbelievable lucky streak. "What's your idea?"
"I have some empty barrels on board my ship. I think they're large enough so you and Heins can fit inside them. I'll smuggle you in that way; I know the man in charge of customs personally, and he won't bother checking my merchandise thoroughly since I'm a familiar face."
"… you know, that actually might work," Hans replied with a slow nod as he thought it over in his own mind.
"I'm glad you agree, now come on, you two, we have to get back to our ships before someone gets too nosy and our crew start to return," Johan said, heading upstairs to wake the two late sleepers of their party and congregate at the docks.
#
Johan boarded the Rosemaling with only a brief goodbye and good luck wish for the princes, watching from the gangplank as Heinrik faced his three brothers and they tried to say farewell.
Heins had already delivered a rib-crushing hug to his older brother earlier, so he just flashed a smile, his voice as unsteady as his body as he rocked back and forth on his heels. "I'll miss you…"
Heinrik half-smiled. "You'll be just fine. Harry will take good care of you and see you to Arendelle safely." He patted his brother on the shoulder, giving him a little push in the direction of Harry's ship, which bobbed gently in the current. "Go on, now. Go."
When Heins didn't move from the spot, Heinrik turned to face Hans, who looked so much older than he remembered. He wasn't even making eye contact, but instead staring at the ground. What are you thinking about, little brother? How did you come to this choice, to a point where you felt you had no other way? A rare bout of guilt began to stir within Heinrik as he jerked his head in the direction of the ship. "Go on, then, both of you. Good luck. Remember, you can't speak a word about me, or Harry."
"But..." Heins started, looking from Harry to Heinrik, "but this was so… so fun… seeing both of you again… after we all thought you were gone forever…"
"It was," Heinrik emphasized, his tone flat, jerking his head again towards Harry's ship to encourage their departure.
"I wish it could be like this all the time," Heins said, stubbornly standing still.
"Me, too." Harry spoke faintly, eyes downcast, fixed on the pier.
Heinrik turned to face his brother with a stunned look, lips parting and mouth hanging slightly agape, opening and closing as if he wanted to say something, but it would not come. He inhaled, closing his eyes, and reopened them, frowning as he exhaled. "Harry, you know it can't."
"Why not?" pressed Heins.
"It just can't." Heinrik lifted both hands outward in a stopping motion, taking a step back.
"But we were so close when we were little, Heinrik, I remember," Heins said, taking an additional step towards his brother and reaching a hand out. "We can be like that again."
"No, Heins!" Heinrik snapped, knocking his brother's hand back and shaking his head. "No. We can't. Goodbye." Whirling on foot, he began to retreat up the gangplank of his ship.
"Wait!"
The voice of Hans caused Heinrik to stop halfway up, turning over his shoulder, then completely, to face the youngest of the princes.
"Heinrik… " Hans had never been good at speeches, but he had to say something, so he spoke his mind freely, eyes glued on his brother. "Whatever you're afraid of… you know we'd never let it happen to you. You don't have to walk away from us." He looked to Harry. "Neither of you do. You've both helped me… and I would help you. So… at least… at least think about it… please."
Heinrik turned around, climbed the last few steps up the gangplank, and faced the little gaggle of royalty on the pier, bowing his head in respectful tradition of his lineage. "… I will."
#
No more words were exchanged between the siblings apart from Heins shouting goodbyes as they left the docks, Heinrik left awaiting the rest of his crew with Johan beside him, both men leaning over the side of the ship's deck. Johan watched his friend in silence for some time before he finally spoke, long after the goodbyes were ended.
"… it wouldn't hurt you to let our family know we're alive."
"I thought you didn't want to go back." Heinrik said, turning to face Johan.
"I don't… but you do."
"What?" scoffed Heinrik, tossing his head in the opposite direction. "Don't be ridiculous."
"I saw your face when you recognized your brothers, Heinrik. I've never seen you so happy in years. You can be a pirate anytime, but family… all I'm saying is- think about it."
Heinrik straightened when he saw members of his crew returning from their shore leave, turning his back on Johan, shoulders slouching as if burdened by invisible weight. "Alright. I'll think about it. Thanks…" He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. "Jo-Jo."
#
Hans found himself distracted, which was never a good thing. Distractions had cost him many things in the past, from something as petty as losing his dessert to an older brother, to something monumental like his mistakes in Arendelle. He'd never expected to see Heinrik or Harry again, yet meeting each of them had stirred memories he'd long ago shut into the past. But he couldn't be in a bad mood, either, because after questioning the length of the journey with his brother, Harry had replied with a laugh Arendelle was no longer than two day's journey and they would be there before the next morning.
Heins had resumed his talkative self and the three of them were settling to a dinner under the stars, ship on course, when he brought up a subject Hans had been waiting for. "Harry, why did you and Heinrik stay away for so long? Surely you aren't worried you'll still be forced to marry, are you? I've had dozens of princesses seeking my hand but I've never been forced to choose any of them."
Harry was open as a book, his eyes apologetic. "I don't really know why I've stayed away so long… I guess time got away from me. Out here… away from everything, you don't realize how long it's been… and… I wanted to be there for Heinrik. You should have seen him when we first met. He looked terrible; he was always moody and brooding about something or other. When I started our partnership and asked him if we could work together, that's when things started to change. I think… I think he wants to come back... he just… has things he doesn't know how to handle after so long away…"
"Like what?" Hans asked.
"Like… his relationship with Helm. You know, Henrik always wanted to be in charge of father's navy. It's what he trained for all his life. But… when he was almost forced to wed… that duty passed to Helm. And I think Henrik never really knew how to handle the disappointment, how to face his brothers again with all the anger built up over the years."
"I never knew." Hans frowned. "That's not like father… If he knew Henrik wanted to be in charge of the navy, why would he suddenly choose the arranged marriage for him and pass the job on to Helm?"
"I've wondered that myself," Harry remarked, "but I was too young to think on it back then. I didn't even know about the disagreement, like you. I've tried to get Heinrik to at least contact mother and father, but he's so incredibly stubborn."
"Stubbornness runs in our family," Heins piqued, tapping his cheek with a finger, leaning his chin upon his elbow, which rested on his knee. "Which is why we're perfect for each other!"
"Let's hope that stubbornness is enough to get you in to see the Queen Elsa, because I hear rumors she's not seeing many people unless they have royal business vital to the country." Harry paused, and then looking up at Hans' dejected face, added with a smile, "But if anyone can do it, you can, Hans. Mother always said you were a prince charming."
Hans shrugged the compliment off with a rise and fall of his shoulders, walking to the bow of the ship for some exercise. "I made the mistake of not planning ahead when I started this endeavor. I'm not going to make that mistake again. If I'm going to see Elsa, I'm going to need a plan."
"Do you have one?"
"Not yet." Hans' gaze had centered on a distant land slowly growing larger and appearing all too familiar. The mountain range hid the peaceful town in its grasp, which looked so small in contrast to the giant towers of rock behind it. It was night now, so only lamp lights became visible the closer they sailed, dim twinkling colors of yellow and orange amidst the low shelves of the fjord and the crags beyond it. "There it is," he remarked flatly, wondering why the three simple words seemed to echo in the silence like a door slamming shut in his face.
#
"So remember, you have to stay down until I give the okay," Harry soothed as he helped Hans and Heins into their respective hiding places.
Hans hunkered down inside the barrel much like his brother beside him, nose wrinkling distastefully.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked with a tilt of his head, concerned.
"… what did you have in here before it was emptied?"
"Pickles, why?"
"That's what I thought you'd say," remarked Hans with a sigh, resolving to ignore the lingering smell. "I'm ready, seal me up." The lid of the barrel slid over top, shutting out the hushed dawning of the new day's light. It was not long afterward Hans felt the movement of the ship slow, and heard his brother's voice talking to someone who sounded far-away. It wasn't until the conversation became more heated, voices louder, that Hans became concerned. Pressing his ear against a small crack in the barrel, he could hear snatches of the conversation.
"-Where is Lars? He handles all of my goods reports. He'll tell you I'm a regular trader here." That was Harry, for sure.
"Lars is currently giving the queen reports on the stock of our goods. I'll handle your inspection. Just pull your vessel into port on the right, open any closed crates or barrels, and I will be with you as soon as possible."
Harry's voice became softer and lighter, with an obvious nervous note added Hans could hear even from within the barrel. "Right away!" The ship moved again, but not far, and several new voices came into range with footsteps thumping about the boat.
Hans was taken off-guard when his world flipped on its side and began to roll around in circles. He braced himself as best as he could against the sides of the wood, feeling ill by the time he was righted once more. There was a pause for a few moments, and then the top of the lip popped off, sliding away a few inches, his brother's voice floating through the opening. "Hans? Plans have changed; both of you have to be ready to run on my mark." There was another popping sound, presumably the top of Heins' barrel, and Harry whispered, urgency laced in his tone. "I'll be in touch with you; good luck!"
"Hey! What are you doing over there? I told you to leave the goods where I can see them! Wait, you can't just unpack things without my permit!"
"Run!" There was a crashing sound and several grunts, cursing mingled in between as voices asked if someone was alright.
Hans tipped his barrel over and emerged from his hiding place, glancing only a moment long enough to see his brother, the trade master, and a few other men tangled in a mess of broken wood and ropes. He leaned over to help Heins to his feet, and the two of them broke into a sprint towards the inner alleys of the town, away from port.
"Hey! Hey, wait! You there! After those men!"
Hans' heart pounded in his chest, his eyes darting along the side streets, flashes of buildings going by in his eye, his mind trying to link them to something he recognized. The process proved harder than he thought, because although he'd been here, he hadn't spent extended time in the side streets, so nothing looked familiar. People were beginning to emerge from their houses or open their businesses, and two men running at full speed caught immediate attention.
"Stop those men!" The shouts were echoing through the streets as quickly as the men could run, passing from one shocked face to another.
Hans dodged one of the few people who reacted quickly enough to try and grab him, his body quickly draining of stamina as he endlessly pushed onward. By the sound of Heins' winded panting, he could only assume his brother felt the same. What do I do, what do I do? He repeated the phrase over and over again in his mind, hoping the more he repeated it the more pressed his mind would be to find an answer. "Down here!" he gasped as he made a sharp turn into a narrow alleyway just large enough for two people to fit, his brother following behind. The middle of the alleyway was closed off into a dead end, with a once-white wooden fence rising to block the way to the other side. It was too high for him to climb without a boost, but there were a few empty crates nearby stacked on top of one another. If he could get a good running start, then maybe…
He pushed himself to his limit of speed, leaping off the ground to make contact with the first crate, then another stacked a bit taller, and finally the top of the fence, grabbing it with his arms and grunting as he hoisted himself over it. He immediately turned and held a hand out for Heins, who followed his brother's example, his legs disappearing over the other side just as their pursuers caught up with them.
"They climbed over the fence! Quick, to the other side!"
As he emerged from the alley, Hans mentally measured the distance between himself and the men. By the looks of the street length, he guessed the men wouldn't catch up with them for at least four or five minutes, which was enough time to figure out somewhere to hide. The only question was, where? He took his brother by the arm and guided him towards the side streets, trying to blend in as he searched for a good spot of inconspicuous morning routine. There were some women opening a flower booth, but they were very young and already looked wary of the strange men materializing from the alleyway. They wouldn't do. There was a man who looked to be a baker opening a shop, but he seemed preoccupied and Hans would not have time to explain himself.
"Hans!" his brother wheezed between pants for air, waving an arm to get his attention.
"Not now, Heins, we have to find somewhere to hide!" Hans brusquely brushed his brother's interjection aside.
"But Hans!"
"I said, not now!" he grunted amidst gasping of his own.
Heins took hold of his brother's head and roughly turned it so he was forced to look in the same direction- at a group of men who were talking amongst each other, shaking hands and introducing themselves. They were gathering in a large wagon, each one of them bundled up from head to toe in thick, heavy clothing with hats and scarves hiding most of their facial features. Hans' eyes flickered to a pile of the clothing on the back of the wagon. The two brothers exchanged sly looks with one another and nodded with silent understanding.
If there was one thing every brother of the Southern Isles knew how to do well, it was to play off their own strengths. Hans, who had always been good at making people believe what he wanted them to believe, began by picking out the man he thought looked the kindest and least suspicious. He'd typically shown skill judging people's character based on outward appearances, as rude as that sounded. His hands were now clad in a warm, woolen gloves, his face shielded with a scarf, a similarly thick hat covering his hair, leaving only his eyes and a glimpse of his sideburns to be seen. Heins had a similar outfit on, tucking his ponytail underneath the collar of his clothing and wrapping a scarf loosely around himself, wearing a coat too big for him to make him look burly.
Their salvation had arrived just in time, as the men chasing them rounded the corner, splitting up and going in several different directions. "They couldn't have gone far!"
When they began to get closer, Hans felt a twinge of nervousness prick his stomach. It wasn't until the man coming their way stopped in his tracks and stared that the prince approached the heavily-clothed man he'd picked out among the group and clapped him on the shoulder, mock panting between his words, his forehead still beaded in sweat and red from his efforts of running moments ago. "Are- we-too late?"
The man's brown eyes stared at the unfamiliar face, a hand going to stroke his neatly trimmed beard, which gave him a slight resemblance to Hans' father. "Don't think I've seen you around these parts before, son. Where are you coming from?"
Hans' mind wracked for something to say which made sense. Heins came to his rescue, his features crumpling in crushed disappointment. "We can't be too late! He told us to be on time and we did our best, we just don't know the lay of the land yet!"
"He?" the man questioned. Amusement at Heins' flustered expressions flickered behind his smile, deflating whatever suspicion had been rising before now.
"Yes, sir!" Heins fluently threw his hands into the air as he explained, speaking a gestured language to go along with his broken, but more or less factual, history. "We were told Arendelle has been having trouble with economy so we've come by way of our brother's ship from Havetby to work! We've only just come in on the boat, please don't make us go now!"
How do you manage to tell so much of the truth without giving us away? Hans nodded eagerly as the man looked to him for confirmation.
"Well, if you boys are looking to get started on today's work load, we could use the extra pairs of hands. Come on in and let's get going!" Heins climbed into the wagon, helping his brother up as their pursuers began to trickle back into the square to make a report of empty findings. The reins on the wagon were lightly slapped by the driver, and the wagon load of eight, including the two princes, took off, pulled by a pair of two massive work horses.
Escape from the port master, check. Hans glanced at the men around him, his eyes studying their clothing and their expressions. They looked worn, several with dark circles under their eyes. Next item… find out what we've gotten ourselves into.
"So, how many harvests have you young men done in the past? Two? Three?" Hans must have given the impression of a new worker in the field, because the man across from him laughed at his blank expression. "Not much, I guess. That's alright, we'll teach you what you need to know. Pay's not much, but it's enough to put food on the table, and it keeps you strong breathing the crisp mountain air."
Hans hadn't noticed before, but now he took note they were leaving the borders of the town, the wagon climbing up the side of a hill, bumping along the way. He paused, forehead crinkling as he began to reason. "What… exactly are we harvesting, again?"
This time the driver's laugh was so loud it echoed through the woods around them. "We have a joker in our midst! It'll be nice to have someone who can entertain while we break the ice shelf."
Hans felt cold as the blood drained from his face.
#
No.
No.
No.
I can't do this.
I can't do this.
He squeezed his brother's hand tightly, hunkering next to him, his breath coming in short puffs of vapor. The journey had taken a few hours, and Hans had tried desperately during it to think of an excuse, any excuse, to keep them from going along with the men, but no matter what he thought of, it didn't make enough sense to explain a sudden departure. Their climb sent them higher and higher into the mountains surrounding Arendelle, until the soil began to be dotted in tiny bits of frost, and then, snow. It started in sparse patches, and by the time it had turned into a thin blanket along the ground, the kingdom of Arendelle looked very far away indeed.
Because it was only the middle of October now, they'd had to travel higher into the neighboring mountains to reach the ice platforms, and the time had flown by, leaving the sun high in the sky, painting the world in a brilliant white sheen. Finally, the driver pulled the horses to a stop, getting out himself and walking around to the back to lower the back of the wagon hitch, letting the others out one by one.
Hans hopped out of the hull of the wagon, his feet crunching on the snow beneath him, eyes darting to his brother, and then to the trail of wagon tracks leading back to the town. Even buried beneath the scarf wrapped around his head, his breath came in short pants, the oxygen thinner with the rise in elevation. He was handed a long saw, with a strange handle extending far more than a normal saw, which he'd handled at a younger age once or twice before under supervision of his father performing manual labor in lieu of other punishments.
"Alright, you three," the driver pointed to three men holding saws, including Hans, "get out there on the left and start getting the heart of the ice split. We'll follow on your right heel with the picking."
Though the other two seemed to know exactly what the man meant, his words were gibberish to Hans, who was staring, withholding breath as he watched them sling something over their shoulders and step comfortably out onto the ice covering the large pond, saws at their side.
"What's going on? Is there a problem?" The head of the harvest rounded the corner of the wagon after getting the horses settled, slinging a similar long metal tool over his back and giving the immobile Hans a questioning eyebrow.
"No! No problem!" Heins interceded, taking Hans by the shoulder and relieving him of his saw. "It's just… my brother is new to this and he hasn't had the experience I have. Let me go instead of him; he'll watch so we don't lose time and join in when he's ready."
"Oh, alright, then. Stay here, son, and watch how it's done. Do some scooping to clear the way for the ice blocks while you wait and keep your blood pumping." He handed Hans a long shovel. The man then walked out to join his fellow workers on the ice as casually as if he'd walked on ice his whole life, beginning to hum something under his breath.
"Heins!" The brother was pulled back by Hans grasping his arm, a vulnerable, wounded expression lining his face with worry, his voice quiet, smothered in sorrowful shadow. "Don't…"
Heins smiled and took hold of Hans' arm, lowering it back to his brother's side gently. "Don't worry about me. It's only sawing. How hard could it be? You just sit here… I promise, we'll be done before we know it and on our way to the castle. We may even get some pay out of it, and if we pool the resources, we can look for a place to stay while we're here."
Hans watched his brother go, able to track him the whole time despite the fact the men wore very similar outfits. Heins was thinner than the others, and he did not wear whatever the long tool was the others donned. Bending over, unable to keep an eye on his work even for a moment, Hans scraped the shovel against the ice, his heels firmly planted on the snowy ground. The harsh scraping sound provided a steady background rhythm as the ice harvesters began to sing.
Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining…
Heins blinked and broke into a large grin, plunging his saw against the ice to try and follow their rhythm, thrilled with the prospect of musical manual labor.
This icy force both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining…
Hans had stopped trying to plow altogether, his stare fixed on Heins, who looked to be having too much fun.
So cut through the heart, cold and clear, strike for love and strike for fear, see the beauty sharp and sheer, split the ice apart and break the frozen heart…
"Move it back, men! Hup! Watch your step! Change the line! Let it go!" The barking orders of the man in charge echoed clearly in the still clearing, and the harvesters switched their line from horizontal to vertical cleanly. Each one of them chimed in as if they knew the song by heart.
Beautiful!
Powerful!
Dangerous!
It became apparent as each spoke their own description the job was coming to Heins, but when it finally came time for him to speak up, he faltered, his voice coming out as a hesitant question more than a shout.
Cold?
Hans let his shoulders sag as he gave Heins a level stare across the way. Cold? Really, Heins? That's the best you can come up with? Despite his falter, the men continued on with their song.
Ice has a magic can't be controlled, stronger than one, stronger than ten, stronger than a hundred men!
Grunts were heard as the men replaced the saws in their hands with the long metal tongs, prying between the cut of the ice. Heins followed direction a little ways away to start the next cut, his feet making skidding sounds on the frosted icy surface. He tapped the ice with the saw, the men busy wrangling and pushing the long slabs of ice where they could use the gaff to get them above water level.
Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining…
Hans had watched his brother get further and further away from the group of men, his heart pounding the whole time.
Don't. Heins, go back. Go back.
The words began to swell inside his chest, and he reached up to pull down the scarf covering his mouth so he could effectively release them in a shout.
This icy heart both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining…
"Heins!" he shouted, his voice cracking in the frigid air. "Heins!"
So cut through the heart, cold and clear, strike for love and strike for fear, there's beauty and there's danger here, split the ice apart…
The other men faced Hans, pausing their work as Heins gave his brother a pleasant wave, lifting the saw high above him and plunging it down.
Beware the frozen heart…
Hans screamed as the saw made contact. He watched as beautiful, jagged splinters erupted and spread through the ice in all directions. In his mind, he was racing towards his brother, but his lead feet seemed frozen to the ground. The sound of cracking was accompanied by a sudden splash and a quick yelp from his brother that cut off suddenly.
Heins was gone.
#
A/N: … please don't kill me.