A/N: Yeah. Hard-core disney fans might recognize the many references in this chapter. Thanks to all my new followers/favs and especially reviews, I love you guys. Reviews make me so excited to continue; each one is fuel to my inspiration. Have a long chapter.

-Chapter Thirteen-

Something Even Crazier

When Hans awoke the next day, his brother was nowhere to be found, and the daylight had already begun to stream through the windowpane, casting square glimmers on the attic floor. He threw the covers off his body and stumbled to his feet, out of sorts as he tried to recall what had happened last. He remembered listening to his brother tell a story, the story about a girl he'd met at work, and something about his boots, and the store owner… and whatever he'd said afterward was lost to Hans. He brushed a hand over his hair to smooth down the broken strands, straightening his clothing and venturing out the way he'd been shown in, only to find the new day had begun without him.

People were already flooding the streets, and everyone seemed more animated than usual. He glanced sidelong as he turned the corner to find a line of people waiting for something. Following the line, he tracked it to the front door of the shop, catching tiny pieces of gossip as people passed by and the procession of townspeople trickled in and out of the doors. The first snatches of news he gained from a group of women who spoke so loud it was impossible not to hear them.

"I can't believe we're really having a gala!"

"And in only two weeks!" added a blonde.

"I hope my dress will be done in time!"

"Did you see that gown with the long sleeves? It would look beautiful on you! You should order it in pink!"

"No, blue," enthused her other friend.

"Pink!"

"Blue!"

Shifting his attention, Hans heard chatter from a group of men following closely behind with armfuls of parcels, who weren't quite as enthusiastic.

"I haven't seen her since the night it all started, have any of you? I was in the courtyard, just lifting a glass to toast to her coronation and all of a sudden she's turning everything into that frozen wasteland."

"She's supposed to be at the ball. If you play your cards right, maybe you'll be able to fool your way into the castle to see her after the main pomp and circumstance greeting she'll give."

"Hey, you just remember to keep your eyes on Hilda, and not on the Queen. If she finds out your little crush after spending her life savings on that dress she's going to kill you-"

The voices faded away as the men rounded a corner, and Hans made his way to the front of the line, squeezing past the people at the head.

"Hey! You can't just cut in front of me like that," the girl scolded.

"I'm not buying anything, just need to speak to someone," Hans defended, staring at the scene before him with surprise. An older, oily-looking man behind the counter was speaking to two people, scribbling something in a large book with a pencil and nodding as the list of tailoring, alterations, and custom orders grew. One of the customers placed a suit jacket on the countertop before him and the man behind the counter shouted for someone named Helena. A woman rushed into the room through a curtain in the back, looking more scatterbrained than a mouse trapped in a maze with a cat closing distance. Following just behind her, draped with hangers carrying various pieces of clothing much like a living, moving, overwhelmed mannequin, was Heins.

"He… hey, you!" Hans called to his brother, lifting a hand, taking chase. His brother did not seem as quick to respond without the use of his name, so Hans cleared his throat and spoke louder out of the corner of his mouth, "Oh, dear God, the boots in the window have a scuff!"

"What?" His brother screeched to a halt and tossed his head to the side to get rid of a tie hanging in his face, eyes wide in panic, brightening considerably at the sight of his brother, but still obviously horrified. "Where? Where's the scuff?"

"Relax, there's no scuff," Hans said, holding out his hands to soothe his brother. "I just wanted your attention."

"Can't you think of another way to do it next time? You almost gave me a heart attack. It's enough that I have to look at them every day now but I can't buy them." He grew lax again as a smile breeched his face, melting away his fear. "I guess I should say good morning, but it's almost afternoon, sleepyhead! You certainly rested well, didn't you?"

Satisfied with catching his brother's attention, Hans gestured to the people behind him with a jerk of his thumb. "What's going on here? What's with all the people?"

"Can't you guess?" Heins asked, expression barely able to hold back excitement pooling behind his eyes. "They're all here for new gowns, suits, and all the trimmings that follow! We're going to be having a winter gala masquerade extravaganza!" He put a hand to the side of his mouth to whisper, "I added that last part on myself!"

"You mean Elsa approved it?"

"Apparently so!" Heins exclaimed as a pair of pants was thrown over his face by Helena.

"Less talk, more hemming!" she stressed, removing some of the hangers on the prince's arm to put them in alphabetical order according to the last name on the tag.

"Pfft!" Heins tossed one pant leg out of his face and gestured to his brother. "Helena, this is my brother, Ha- erm… um… Hor… Har… erm, I mean-!"

"That's quite a name," Helena remarked, hanging up the last of the outfits she'd gathered without a glance in their direction.

"Helena, grab these new orders and take them to the back!" Egil snapped, hefting a new armful clothing, mostly composed of a large orange gown, one almost big enough for two people to fit into, which reminded Heins far too much of someone he'd left back in the Southern Isles.

"Yes, sir!" she complied, accepting the clothing and thrusting by Hans with inconsequential brusqueness.

As she disappeared behind the curtain in the back, Hans frowned. "Erm, I mean? That's the best you can come up with?"

"Well, I'm sorry!" his brother lamented, repositioning the clothing still hanging off of him. "Harry, Horatio, Helm, and Harvard were already taken, and those were all I could think of at the moment! At least it's better than Hamish, which is all I could think of for mine! Why can't we just… tell people who we are? Would it really be so bad? I could finally lay claim to my rightful boots." A wistful look entered his brother's eye as he gazed back at the front window.

"No, under no circumstances can we reveal who we are, at least not until after the ball when I can confront Elsa. I only wish… I knew what to say to her."

"Well… you could always start with 'I'm sorry'. That usually works." Heins glanced back at the sound of the curtain sliding open and Helena's strained face appeared around the corner.

"I need you over here, Hamish! If you want to earn that freeloader brother of yours any share in your living space, you'd better get back here now!"

Hans' eyes snapped to his brother. "Freeloader?" he questioned, crossing his arms.

"I had to make up something about where we came from… she was asking questions about us." Heins backed away towards the back room with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry!"

A hand reached out and snatched him behind the material of the curtain, and he emerged a moment later free of clothing draped over him. "Mr. Egil!" he called, approaching the front counter where the man was scribbling down figures. "We can't hold any more outfits! We're booked up until at least tomorrow!"

Satisfied with the profit margin as he finished writing his daily figures in his record books with a flourishing final dot, Egil held up his hands. "You all heard the boy! No more orders will be taken until tomorrow!"

A chorus of little wails of anguish from many of the younger girls sounded among the cluster of disappointed townspeople, who began to disperse.

Egil had just approached the front door to switch his "open" sign to "closed" when the commotion outside grew louder and the door swung in again, but this time with a familiar strawberry blonde entering, kicking the door closed behind her.

Anna entered the store, lugging a dress over one shoulder, her face red and hair mussed, put up in a half-bun. "Hi, there! You're not closed, are you? Sorry I probably look craaazyyy right now but I was in too much of a hurry to worry about my hair!"

Egil just blinked, recognizing the princess, but stunned by her carefree mannerism. "I… we're always open to the royal family."

"Oh, thank goodness! Because let me tell you, trying to sneak this out without Elsa seeing was harder than trying to get her permission for the ball!"

"Princess Anna!" Heins bounded over to the girl. "You found the store!"

"Of course," she exclaimed breathlessly, hefting her dress down on the counter. A gown made to help its wearer appear weightless and the practice of grace as simple as breathing, the material should have rippled out along the wood. At one time, it must have been stunning, the bottom half a softer shade of green, the seams a dark green, and the bodice black, all containing painstakingly-delicate embroidery in Rosemaling style. "I just had to bring my Heins here for fixing! I heard it was the only place in town who could get it done exactly the way he does, and after the coronation, boy, it could use it!" She craned her neck to the side with an exaggerated wink.

Heins' face fell as he stepped forward and looked over it, lifting the material carefully with one hand and stroking it with the other, stains splattered over the bottom lace stitched along the edges of the gown, tears prevalent. The textures of the gown, once smooth as hot butter, now were hard and crusted, stiff as stone. "What did you do to the poor thing? It looks like you used it to tromp through snow, and then you went swimming in freezing cold water! Silk and icy temperatures- it's a huge no-no!"

Anna laughed half-heartedly. "Yeah, I know. It's… pretty bad. I was… kinda hoping… maybe you could fix it? I promise I'll take better care of it, but I understand… if, you know, you don't want to help me…" Her gaze drew down towards the ground, where she scuffed one foot against the floor.

"Of course I will!" Heins exclaimed, taking the stiff dress under his arm. "Fixing clothes is what I do! It's what I live for, to help unfortunate disasters like this one… those poor owners with no other place to turn to… with Helena's help, I'm sure we'll have it fixed for you in no time! To start, we'll have to get the material back to its original consistency. We want it to look fuller!" He paused, as if double-thinking his words. "Well, not fuller, but you know, more big? No, that's not right either. Oh, I know! Poofy!"

"I love poofy dresses!" Anna squealed.

"Perfect," Helena spoke for the first time in a deadpan grumble, taking the dress from Heins' arm, tossing her braid over her shoulder and heading towards the back, mumbling loudly. "Have the royal family add another thing to our list, because we're not already busy enough."

"Helena!" snapped Mr. Egil, but the girl had already disappeared in the back. He bowed low before Anna. "I apologize, but my assistant seems to be a little overwhelmed at the moment. We will have your gown ready for pickup as soon as possible, your highness."

"Great…" Anna stared in the direction of the back where Helena had disappeared, her face sullen. "I guess I'll go and meander around town until around sunset… I have a few things to settle for the party. I'll come back to see if the gown is… what did Elsa say? …salvageable."

Heins leaned over to his brother's ear and gave him a nudge, whispering. "Go with her."

"What?" Hans asked, blinking, bending in close to his brother.

"Go with her, Hans. It's a good chance to talk out your differences, to show her how much you've changed, what saying sorry means to you. Go tour the lighthouses, dance around town, ask to see the royal stables since I know you love horses, do anything, as long as you're spending time with her."

Hans agreed on many points his brother made, but his well of small talk with Anna had run dry the moment he'd confessed to his… ambitions? Yes, that was the right word, ambitions to being king. "She hates me, Heins. I have no idea what I should say to her beyond what I've already said."

"Say whatever you want to say. It doesn't have to be well-thought out. You're not making a speech, you're being yourself." He motioned his brother to go with a wave of his hand. "Besides, you can't just sit around here all day and help me; it takes you half an hour to get a needle threaded."

With a sinking feeling sitting like lead in the pit of his stomach, Hans reluctantly agreed. "Alright. I'll go with her." You've already apologized, what more is there to say? His mind argued as he stepped up to Anna. "Your highness." He swept a hand out to the side as he bowed. "May I accompany you?" If nothing else, it would provide distraction for me, he reasoned with the knowledge his thoughts were turning more and more often to unpleasant memories lately.

"Huh?" Anna, still staring at the spot where Helena had disappeared, waved a nonplussed hand. "I guess so?"

"Thank you." He looked back at his brother. "I'll be back later, good luck on your first day."

#

Heins flashed a smile as his brother followed behind the princess, the two of them walking out, Egil shutting the door after her, switching his sign to "closed". His hazel eyes slid towards the back and he passed by Heins at a quick stride, who knew enough to follow after the store owner, standing aside as they both entered the little back room.

"Helena!" The curtain flew open with a raw screech of metal rungs against metal bar, the woman bent over a pair of trousers she'd handed earlier to Heins.

"Yes, Mr. Egil?" she asked, purposely absorbed in her work, her fingers nimbly pinning along the hem of the pants.

"You will look at me when I speak to you, girl."

Her green eyes flashed up to meet his, shining bright with defiance. "Yes, sir?"

Egil's lip curled and he slammed a hand down on her workspace, making Heins jump behind him. "I don't care what kind of past business you have with the royal family. I will not have you embarrass me like that in front of anyone. Is. That. Clear? Unless, of course, you'd rather me add in the store's lost wages to your outstanding interest."

Helena's lip quivered, her eyes dampening, but she jutted her chin out boldly and swallowed, maintaining eye contact. "Fine."

"You will work on the princess' gown before any other order, am I clear? I want it in pristine condition by the time she returns today, or we may have to double your workload in order to catch up."

"But that's impossible!" she cried, distress lining her features, hands outstretched helplessly.

"So are you," Egil retorted, turning his back.

"But have you seen it? No one can fully fix that! Especially not by tonight!"

"That's not my problem." Egil let the curtain swish closed behind him.

For a moment, all was quiet in the room, Helena tossing the pants away with a frustrated cry and sinking against the chair behind the sewing machine, holding her arms, squeezing tightly.

"… are you okay?"

She looked up at Heins, still standing in the room, his gaze set so wholly on her it was as if she were the only person left in the world. "What do you want?" she asked, sitting up, slipping the pants back in front of her and returning to her pinning, her eyes only half-focused on her work.

Heins walked closer to her, hand resting on the bridge of a chair across the way, watching her work, eyes soft as he observed. "He's not very kind to you."

Helena scoffed, carefully holding some extra pins between her lips as she worked. "So what? Why should he be? It doesn't matter."

"… you weren't very kind, either."

"What?" she retorted, looking up at him, a pin falling from her mouth as she did in her surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your reaction to the princess. Why were you so rude to her?" Heins took a shirt which needed mending and sat across from Helena, preparing a needle after carefully choosing his thread, his voice gentle and soothing, but genuinely confused.

"I just... think it's wrong of her to suddenly barge in and assume we'll take care of her every need," Helena said quietly, examining her work. "Just because she's royalty."

"But that's not what she meant to convey," Heins said, just as quietly, tying off a knot and examining his work, the seam barely visible, the rip fixed. "She even asked if we were still open. She didn't expect any special treatment."

Helena rolled her eyes, clearing her throat once. "Good work on that patch job."

"Thank you." Heins draped the shirt gently on the table behind him, fetching Anna's dress, shaking it lightly out to get a better look and bringing it into the light, watching Helena's reactions. "We should get to work on this if we want to have it done by tonight."

"I already told Egil; It's impossible."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that… it just needs a little work is all," Heins said with a half-smile.

Helena pursed her lips and gave him a look.

"Okay, a lot of work," Heins enthused, laying the dress over a bare spot of the workspace. "We should start with these stains, and trying to get the material back to its original feel. A good soak in the washtub with hot water and a dash of soap should help. Maybe some lemon juice, too."

"You do know what you're doing," Helena commented, her hands sliding away. "But I'm still not working on it."

"Why not?" Heins asked, lips parting and then tilting downwards in dejection. "If we don't get it done by tonight, Egil said he'd double your workload. We can't let that happen. You're already stressed; making you work harder will only make you exhausted."

"I would rather be exhausted than touch her dress."

Hein's brow furrowed a little. "… what did she do to you?"

Helena ignored him, starting to work her foot at the pedal of the sewing machine to feed the pants through for stitching. "Nothing."

"She did something."

"Let it go," she murmured.

Heins had set Anna's dress aside, closer to Helena, his focus entirely set on the distress of the woman before him. The look of pain building behind her deep green eyes set his sympathetic heart into agony. "Helena, please…you can trust me."

Her foot worked harder as memories flashed through her mind, a twelve-year old girl watching her parents pack bags of their only possessions.

"But I don't understand, Papa! Why do we have to go? Just talk to them! Tell them not to send us away! We live here! They can't do this to you, to Mama! You have to tell them to let us stay! Tell them!"

The tears of the past burned anew in her sight, blurring her vision too much for her to see her work. She gripped the material of the pants harder as the sewing machine suddenly emitted a groan and stopped in place, the thread caught in the fabric, twisting into knots. She blinked, sending a spatter of wetness to the pant leg, lifting her foot from the pedal and prying the material free. Using a needle to pick at the knotted thread as the words came, her voice began raspy, building until it was a cry.

"Do you want to know the truth? The truth is: the royals don't care. They don't care about anyone but themselves! They're selfish, callous, cold people! That's why I won't touch her dress! Because she doesn't deserve to wear it!"

Heins hesitated only a moment, reaching up to undo his small ascot tucked under his collar, handing it to her. "Don't cry, Helena… please don't cry."

She accepted it and dabbed as the hot tears slipped out along her cheeks. She felt his arm slip around her shoulders and turned to look at him, the eyes completely free of judgment, completely free of anything but simple, pure, understanding. Her whole face began to feel warm, her eyes dropping from his. She gave her cheeks one last sweep with his offering before returning it to him with a quiet "thank you."

Heins stuffed the cloth in a pocket, squeezing her shoulder. "Now, tell me what's wrong… tell me everything."

Helena let her hands rest in her lap, staring at them for a moment. "I know… I know I shouldn't be angry… not at her. It's not her fault, what happened… it's her parents."

"The king and queen of Arendelle?"

Helena nodded once, taking a deep breath, the words spilling out of her a little at a time. "Ever since I can remember… my family lived in the castle. My mother was a seamstress. She made clothing for the royal family, all the way back when the princess was just a baby. My father worked as one of the king's guards… I used to think he was one of the best soldiers you've ever seen."

Heins nodded as he listened, mouth puckering into a tiny frown. "Go on."

"I think my parents were good friends with the king and queen… or at least on good terms. We never caused any trouble. My parents worked so hard… so hard for them."

"What happened?" Heins asked.

"One day… I woke up to find my mother packing our things. I asked her why we were leaving, but she couldn't give me an answer… because she didn't have one herself. We were led from the castle like a group of strangers."

"The king didn't say anything about why?" Heins' forehead creased in concern.

"He never even tried. It wasn't just us; half of the entire staff was reduced, let go for no reason. We were told by Kai, one of the servants closest to the royal family, it was because the king and queen no longer required our services. Do you know what that feels like, to work for someone who you think is your friend, who you think you're really close to, only to have them suddenly shut you out for no reason?"

"… I might."

Her lip began to quiver again but she cleared her throat and kept speaking regardless. "That winter, only weeks afterwards, my mother became sick. We were forced to spend anything we had saved to get her medicine, but her sickness persisted, and the money didn't last. My father worked double, sometimes triple shifts wherever people could use him, no matter what the pay, no matter how demeaning or disgusting the job. I used to think he looked so proud when he worked at the castle… so loyal to the king. Then I'd see him come home night after night covered in dirt and muck, falling asleep at dinner… sometimes, after working so late… staring hopelessly into space and not talking... it was like… like he'd just gone away…" She took another breath and continued, "Whenever he wasn't working any job he could find, my father was determined to find out why we were dismissed… and do you know why?"

"To get your job back?"

"No. It was because he saw the way it affected other people who were let go; he saw friends of ours lose their hope, saw them stumble through the day. He did it for them. He tried writing letters, but they were returned unopened… he went to the locked gates every day. He stood there and knocked, and shouted, and pleaded, but… they never answered. They never answered him."

He stared at her, teeth showing as his lips parted, his expression crumpled.

"My father thought he'd failed those people. He thought he'd failed us. Until then, he'd always been able to control himself… until then… he'd never touched alcohol."

Heins exhaled a soft gasp. "Oh, no…"

"The first night he chose to give in, he ended up at the castle drunk. Raving at the king, he threw the bottle at the gates. I had to watch my father get dragged away by people he used to call his friends."

"Helena… I'm so sorry."

"After that… word got around town. My father lost his job, and he couldn't find any more work, no matter where he went. People just wouldn't hire him, for fear of somehow sharing his bad reputation. He had to listen to my mother get worse, night after night sitting by her bed and hearing that awful cough, watching her life slip through his fingers no matter how tightly he squeezed her hand. I had to see his depression spiral down, until he was… barely my father anymore. He couldn't… couldn't bear to see my mother like that… to be unable to help her. He began to visit the taverns at night, and... we resorted to begging."

Heins nodded as he listened, his tone hesitant to ask for more of the story. "What happened?"

"I managed to earn a little money by begging, and my father took it… took it to the tavern. I followed him, because… even if he didn't act like my father anymore… he was… and even then, when I watched him drink, helped him through the countless aches of the mornings after, the nights of pain he caused me as I watched him destroy himself… I loved him. I guess… it might have been for the better, since the tavern keeper noticed I was as regular a visitor as my father, and put me to work cleaning up inside his place."

Heins thought on his experiences in taverns, trying to remember what he'd been like at twelve years old, and how he would have reacted under her situation. "Oh, Helena… a bar is no place for you…"

"I was only twelve… how could I have understood when an inebriated man offered me money in exchange for "my services", what he meant by it? By the time he grabbed my arm, it was too late."

"God in heaven…" Heins leaned forward, instinctively resting his hands over hers without even realizing he was doing so.

"I think he would have done something terrible… if my father hadn't… I'd never seen him like that since mother became sick…" She closed her eyes for a brief moment. "So strong, so fearless… standing up for me despite all odds. Like a hero…" She glanced down, noticing Heins' hands for the first time, and then looking up at his face. "Like my Papa."

Heins nodded compassionately, face deepened in concern.

"He was just so unprepared… stupid… if he'd only thought and seen the knife… if he hadn't been so quick to jump in to save me… if I hadn't…"

Heins threaded his fingers through the gaps of Helena's hand, holding it firmly, his voice a whisper. "I'm so sorry, Helena…"

"I cried for help… but all they did was take the man who did it until soldiers could arrive… no one helped my father up… no one tried to stop the bleeding or help me move him. They just sat there. Just sat there and watched. Like it was some kind of entertainment for them." She took a shuddery breath, wiping at her eyes with a hand to clear her vision again. "I buried my father alone, in the woods. It took me two days to dig the grave, because I couldn't even pay the undertaker. I marked it with a wooden cross made by two sticks, because I couldn't have them make a proper headstone."

Heins began to speak, but she continued, and he remained quiet.

"After my father died… I had to get money somehow. My mother was still so sick, and she barely interacted with me apart from my feeding her. The only good thing about it was that she hardly noticed my father wasn't around, so she never had to grieve for him like I did. The only thing that made me get out of bed in the morning was that I had to in order to make enough money to keep my mother alive. I would beg, borrow, even steal if I had to, but I was never going back to the tavern again... never. As it happens… Egil offered me an advance in money, if I came to work for him until I'd paid off what he gave me. It seemed too good to be true."

"Did you manage to pay for your mother's medicine?" Heins asked hopefully.

Helena tossed her head away from him, causing her long braid to trail over her shoulder, her eyes blinking back tears as she stared at the walls. "My mother died that summer. Do you know what the doctor said to me? He said, 'You should have bought your mother this medicine right away. She may have lived.'"

Heins bowed his head in thought, his hand still holding Helena's, her words holding a firm command of silence over the room for a while. Finally, he broke it. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know."

"But it still hurts, doesn't it? It hurts like… you'll never be able to forgive yourself..."

She blinked and nodded once, slowly. "Yes."

"… and what of Egil?" Heins asked, fitting the pieces of the puzzle together one at a time.

"You know what they say about things that sound too good to be true… what do children know of loans…?" Scoffing through her nose with a half-hearted chuckle of sarcasm, her voice grew softer. "What do children know of interest…"

"You mean… he's still claiming you owe him money? After all these years?"

"I've been working for Egil ever since that first moment I said yes to his offer, and I don't think I'll ever pay him enough to be truly free…" Helena looked down at their hands held together. "So now you know… I've never told anyone what happened before… not like this. I don't know why I'm telling you. I may not hate the princess herself… but I know I hate her parents. My mother and father worked for the royal family all their lives, and they treated them like garbage, throwing them out without a care in the world... they destroyed my family… they hurt me more than anyone ever has."

Heins, quiet for a moment, encircled her hands with his own fully, drawing her attention to his soft gaze, the green eyes meeting one another. "Helena… I'm so sorry about what happened to you… and I don't know why they did what they did… but I have to believe that there must have been a reason that they kept hidden from everyone… not all royal people are cold… I don't know why all these horrible things happened in your past... I don't know a lot of things… but I do know one thing I can promise you…"

"What?" she asked, her heart beating like a drum in her ears.

He leaned forward over the table between them, his sincerity clear. "I would never, ever, hurt you."

#

Hans was struggling. He had been walking alongside Anna in silence for the last half an hour with hardly a word exchanged between them. Determined to break the silence, he dredged up the only thing he could think to speak of, glancing at the thoughtful girl beside him. "So…" Should I be calling her princess? Or Anna? I'm going to vote for the former, considering our convoluted past. "So, princess. Are you excited for the gala?"

Anna's eyes were locked on the sky above her, her expression thoughtful as she walked. "Why do you think that girl in the shop seemed so angry with me?"

"… I'm not sure," Hans replied, stunned by the change of subject. He hadn't really noticed any sign of the girl -what was her name, Helena, that's right… being angry, but he was too relieved to be talked to by Anna to admit it, so he sufficed to say, "you didn't do anything to her that I saw."

"I know, right? I just delivered my dress, and I even asked whether they were closed or not. But the thing is the owner guy said they're open all the time. Why would she be so mad at me? Is it because the dress is so dirty? Maybe she has a thing about dirt!"

"Maybe," Hans said with a slight smile, trying to reassure her. She obviously wasn't happy with people feeling sad or angry, and it reminded him of Heins. "I'm sure it's just because they're busy right now with the gala coming up. Lots of people will want to get clothes made especially for it."

"Yeah… I guess so," Anna said, dropping her gaze, one hand loosely resting on her other arm.

The look of hurt expressed on her features was killing him. "Princess…" Hans began, biting his tongue as he became bolder, "Anna."

She turned to look at him then, blinking with those big blue eyes, wide with surprise.

"… you didn't do anything to her. Don't let it bother you… sorrow doesn't suit you."

She blinked at him a few times, finally giving him an odd look. "You really are a basket case, Hans. When we first met, I thought you were the nicest, kindest, well, all-around-greatest prince from the Southern Isles I'd ever met! Granted, you were the first prince I'd ever met, but that's beside the point!"

Hans crossed his arms, but nodded patiently as he listened.

"The night of the coronation, I was even more sure you were amazing. You were always there to catch me, and I'd never had so much fun with anyone before… you danced so light on your feet."

Hans smiled at the compliment, letting the praise soak in deeply. It was true, he'd been taught dancing like his other brothers, but he'd always possessed certain finesse when it came to being agile. "Yes… we danced for a long time, didn't we?"

"Sorry I hit you in the face when we were talking afterwards."

He emitted a low chuckle. "You were just excited."

Anna exhaled a breath resembling relief, and her expression slackened into dispirit. "Then you had to go and turn all kingdom-crazy… okay, can I just… ask you something?" Anna sputtered, interlacing her fingers out in front of her as she did.

"Anything," Hans replied, his attention fully set on her.

"Why? Why did you suddenly become… a villain? Why did you want to kill me, to kill Elsa? What did we ever do to you? Was it really just because you wanted to be king? You could have saved me if you'd tried… you could have been king, Hans… if that's what you really wanted… maybe you never loved me… but I… I think I loved you once. Why did you have to turn out to be… a monster?"

"Anna…"

The use of her name again, but in a softer tone, drew her gaze to face him.

"You didn't do anything to me. Not you, not Elsa. Maybe I did want to be king. It looks like greed, doesn't it, with all I said to you? 'As thirteenth in line, in my own kingdom, I didn't stand a chance, I knew I'd have to marry into the throne somewh'-"

"Don't."

He looked at her and shut his mouth firmly.

Her face was crumpled in pain of memories."Please, don't."

Hans closed his eyes for a brief second, and trained his gaze in front of him. "I don't know what I can do to make up for my actions… I can't even explain them to myself…" He stared ahead as if he were seeing something in the distance Anna could not. "Heaven knows I tried."

Anna followed his gaze questionably, her face puckered in thought.

"There is something I know…when I had that opportunity to kiss you… I lied to you… and I knew I lied."

"What do you mean?" Anna asked, quirking an eyebrow in half suspicion and half curiosity.

"… You have many, many people out there who love you."

She tucked both hands in front of her, cupping them wordlessly as she walked beside him for a few moments of contemplation. "Did you ever feel anything for me, Hans? Tell me the truth."

"I had more fun with you, Anna, than I've had with a girl in years. I really think you have a fantastic personality and are everything a princess should aspire to be."

"Do you really mean that?" she asked, half of her mouth turning into a smile.

"Of course I do. The dancing, the joking and the laughing and the just… being able to be myself, it was more than I ever expected to find coming to the affair. I'd never be able to get away with sliding around on the floors with my socks on at home…"

"Oh!" Anna brought a hand to her mouth with a slight gasp. "I never asked… how… how did being home go for you? I mean… how did… your family take it?"

"I like to think it went over as well as it could have. My parents…" Stripped me of my title. Made me go on this whole quest in the first place. But… they didn't, did they? I did it on my own. I wanted to come here. I wanted to apologize… but is it enough? They tried to confine me to the Isles. I wonder… I wonder how father and mother are… if they're worried. "They were hurt."

Anna looked like she wanted to sympathize, but managed to swallow it down with a glance in the other direction, pretending to analyze the four-way intersection as they came to a stop. "Yeah, I don't think Elsa would take it well if she found out I'd planned a murder. Not that I'm planning to or anything! What about your brothers?"

Hans couldn't answer this so easily, as his brothers had reacted… with varied opinions. He shrugged. There was no need to explain to Anna the details, or what he'd done that night in his picture gallery, or how deeply he'd been hurt himself by the look in his father's eyes. His head slightly bowed, he mumbled. "They were hurt, too."

"Hans, I-"

Before she could finish what she wanted to say, a scream sounded down the street, and shouts carried from person to person.

"Look out! Runaway carriage! Somebody stop it!"

Hans, standing on an incline with Anna, put a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun and squinted. In the distance, approaching the two of them quickly, he could see the aforementioned carriage, careening down the road pulled by a panicky horse.

"Anders!"

Hans' head whipped around to see a mother standing behind him, screaming as her son took chase to a pig which had wandered out of its pen. "Anders, get out of the street!"

"Norm!" the little boy cried, dashing forward and lunging for the pig. "Norm, come back!" He snagged the pig's leg and it squealed as he wrestled it into a wriggling pile under his arms.

Hans had only seconds to think, but strategy was a strongpoint of his. He pushed Anna aside and clambered on top of a stack of shipping crates nearby to gain enough height to make the jump. He didn't doubt that his plan would work, but he questioned whether he could calm the horse in time to stop the cart. If he couldn't stop the horse, he'd have to settle for the next best option: changing its direction.

The eccentric equine flew up the incline, heading straight for the child, who was gripping his pig, frozen in place. Hans crouched, readying himself, watched as the horse grew nearer, and, pushing off the crates, made a flying leap.

Whump!

Hans landed strewn sideways on the horse's back, hoisting himself up and grabbing the reins of the steed, yanking them tightly to the right and leaning his body hard against the horse's flank. The horse turned just enough to avoid the child, changing its direction towards a pie display. Whinnying in panic as Hans pulled back on the reins, the horse screeched to a stop, throwing its rider with a resounding crash into the cart of baked goods.

After the first wave of adrenaline passed, Hans grunted, trying to sit up, aching in several places from his collision and sticky with pie filling spattering his outfit and his body. He sat for a moment, dazed, trying to assess if he had any broken bones or immediate injuries. A pair of slender hands took his and hoisted. He gazed into Anna's eyes, which were wide with amazement and worry. "Is the boy okay?" he grunted, his first thought on the child, trying to look back.

"He's okay," Anna assured, following his line of sight to see the mother giving both her son and the pig he held a relieved hug and then an angry shake. Her loud scolding was making bystanders wince in response.

Hans next turned his attention on the horse, running his hands over its body briefly to make sure it wasn't hurt, and finally giving it a satisfied pat of appreciation on the nose. Thank you for being willing to turn. Hans had always loved horses, especially his own, and he'd always had a way of silent communication with them. The horse leaned over and brushed his cheek with its nose, giving it a lick a moment later, drawn to the sweet filling spattering the prince's face. "Okay, okay…" He pushed it gently back, rubbing along its forehead, sliding his hand to its neck where he gave it another few pats as a couple of men came jogging up to him, panting hard.

"We'll take him back to his owner; thank goodness you were able to stop him! He could have killed someone!" one of the men gasped out between puffs.

Hans handed over the reins with a smile of thanks and a nod. "Make sure you take it easy with him; he might be a little nervous after what just happened."

The people who owned the pie cart were the last he approached, easily identified by the man with the aghast expression on his face. "All our work…" he muttered in dismay.

"I'm sorry!" Anna enthused, going to Hans' side, causing him to stare at her in awe as she defended him. "He was only trying to save the little boy! I'll help you bake more!"

"No! No, no, that's alright," said the man, shaking his head, holding out a hand.

"Are you sure?" Anna asked, biting a lip.

"Quite sure!" the man enthused, pausing and pointing at Hans, who was wondering whether Anna and the man had some kind of baking disaster history together. "But you might want to get your wound looked at, boy. You've got a cut on your arm. I'm afraid the town doctor isn't in right now, said something about going to get something tailored for the gala," he murmured vaguely.

"Oh my gosh!" Anna cried, lifting Hans' arm where blood dripped down his elbow. "Oh, my gosh! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Hans said with a soft laugh, ignoring the sting as he bent the elbow and straightened it back, also musing over whether Anna had as bad a history with baking as he did. "It's nothing, really, I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" She winced as she saw another drip of blood fall to the ground. "Ohhhh what am I gonna do?" She bit her lip and began to pace. "You're hurt, and you're covered in cherry pie filling so you could be bleeding somewhere else but we just don't know it, and I can't bring you back to your brother like this-"

"Anna."

She blinked and stopped talking as she faced him.

"Don't worry about my brother. Heins has seen me in a much worse state than this… believe me." He slid his tongue over his lip and swallowed the sticky filling. "Besides, I was getting a little hungry."

"Okay, but I want to take you to the castle doctor since the village one is out, just to be sure. You could have internal bleeding or a-a fractured liver or who knows what!"

Hans stiffened at the mention of the castle. Elsa. He couldn't run into her like this; he couldn't bear to be seen like this, not when he'd worked so hard to make things easy for the apology to come. "Anna, I already told you-"

"Let me rephrase it for you." Anna crossed her arms and frowned, pointing back at the castle. "We are going to see the doctor." She whirled and pointed at him, her finger only inches from his face. "And you are going to come with me quietly and obediently, is that clear?"

Hans blinked a few times, his gaze shifting from her finger to her face, her mouth set in a stubborn frown. He knew Anna was a pushy person when it came to things which were important to her, but he'd never experienced her fierceness firsthand, and it stunned him.

"Look," she said, letting her hand fall to her side. "I know Elsa is at the castle, but she's busy with meetings and she'll never even know we were there. I just want to make sure you're okay. It's… it's important to me… after what you did for that little boy."

Hans examined her face for a moment, and, realizing she wasn't going to give up, heaved a sigh. "Alright… but… can we leave after I get cleaned up?"

Anna took him by his injured elbow, pulling a little to get him to follow her, causing him to cry out with a loud "ow!". "Oh! Sorry!" she exclaimed, dropping it. "I'm sorry… um… no, no, we should leave now, because the sooner we find out if you have any bad injuries, the sooner we can heal them."

A/N: Soon my friends. Very soon.

#swinenoshame #Heilena #snowqueencometh