A/N: This was originally part of the last chapter but I decided it just went on too long and felt better separating the two to give us a little breather room. We see the first "appearance" of someone we've waited a very, very long time for in this chapter. As always, the biggest thank you to my followers, favorites, and most of all, reviewers!

Chapter Fourteen

Castles and Clothing

Once Hans entered the castle, he couldn't help comparing it with his own home. Contrasting the two, it was easy to feel an instinctual pride in his father's choices of construction. After all, his father's castle was larger, grander, and far more luxurious than Anna's. Such stark differences would be expected since there were so many members to his own royal family and, tragically, so few with Anna's. However, he did have to admit there was a simplistic charm to Arendelle's castle he could not deny, and he appreciated it all the more in the quiet environment so different from the coronation party he'd attended months ago.

"Okay, let's see… if the grand hall is that way… which I know it is… then the kitchen is this way…" After sneaking through the lesser-used servant's entrances, Anna began to wander through the archways, popping around a corner.

"Are you sure you know where you're going?" Hans asked, following hesitantly, a little ways behind her.

"Of course I'm sure! I've lived here all my life, and most of it the gates were closed, so even if I'm going through the servant's entrances, I-" she broke off with a sharp inhale of breath as she rounded a bend in the hallway. She held out a hand behind her to stop Hans and waved frantically with it, turning her body just enough so she could face him. Her expression wide in panic, she mouthed a single word.

"Elsa."

Hans felt the world tighten around him, his heart pounding against his ribs.

Her voice a meager hiss, Anna jerked her head towards a winding staircase a little ways behind them. "Up the stairs, hurry! Don't get seen!" Turning around and bouncing about the corner, face bright with a sudden smile, Anna's voice rang out. "Elsa, Elsa! Come help me pick out the best ribbons for my hair to wear to the gala; I want to plan now!"

Hans had not waited long enough to hear the reply, but he could hear the tone of the familiar clamoring in the distance, and it made him hold his breath. He stumbled to the top of the steps and dodged a servant passing by the stairwell by crouching behind a bureau near the wall. Why are all these servants active today? Why couldn't they be taking a break for lunch?

"What's this on the stairs?" the woman asked, bending down, drawing another servant's attention as she did.

"What is it, Gerda?"

"It looks like…" The woman lifted something from the carpet to her nose and sniffed. "Pie crust? Smells like cherry…"

"Looks like Anna is up to her mischief again!" chuckled the other woman, heading downstairs holding a basket of laundry. "I'll bring some soap and water."

"That girl!" chided Gerda to herself, getting to her feet and following behind the servant. "I keep telling her, if a princess' hunger cannot wait, she would be wise to bring a plate!"

Hans waited until they'd gone and slunk out from his hiding place, feeling sorry for the servants and the trouble he'd caused them. Brushing his feet over the carpet to hide any lingering crumbs and conceal his tracks, he looked to his right, and then to his left. Anna hadn't given him any direction which way to turn at the top of the stairs, and the two women would be returning shortly to clean the carpet. He had no choice but to pick a route.

Left?... no… right. His feet seemed to carry him with illogical calm and awareness, and his eyes were drawn to pictures lining the wall, many beautiful paintings probably portraying Arendelle in better, younger times. He hesitated before the last painting, hanging beside a door near the end of the hallway. It was a serene picture of a young girl with a winding platinum braid over her shoulder holding what seemed to be a doll. He came to a full stop before it and stared deeply at the figure, intrigued in some inexplicable moment of déjà vu. Do my parents own this piece as well?

Then, like a thunderbolt, he realized who it was. Elsa. That's Elsa. And in her arms, that's Anna. He stared at her frozen blue eyes for what seemed a very long time, hearing voices somewhere in the back of his head which didn't make any sense.

Why are you so sad? How come you never want to come out?

He shook his head, feeling a throb of pain from his arm sending him spiraling back into reality. Still he could not stop staring at the girl in the portrait. Something's missing... Shaking his head of the odd sense of familiarity he felt, he drew his thoughts back to the present. Doctor. I have to find the doctor.

He had hardly finished his thought before the door opened, and a man blinked at him, his black hair peppered in grey streaks. Hans stiffened in fear of being found, but his posture relaxed as he saw the item draped around the man's neck- a stethoscope.

#

"So is he okay? Is his liver fractured? How is he?" Anna asked, fingers laced together. Although she was trying her best not to show it, Hans could sense a sincere worry emanating from her, and it touched him.

"Sticky," the doctor replied, flashing the princess a smile as he packed his medical bag and put away instruments. "Smells like cherry, got a few bruises here and there, and a minor cut on the arm. A good, hot bath and a little bandaging and he'll be just fine." He snipped the edge of a strip of gauze and lifted Hans' elbow with one hand, examining the skin and dabbing away at the mix of pie filling and blood to reveal the injury. He lifted the arm higher as he continued to clean the wound and suddenly tilted his head as he wiped the last of the stickiness away, giving a short, affirmative, "Huh."

"What is it?" Anna asked before Hans had the opportunity, still looking concerned. Keeping Hans' arm steady, the doctor gazed at him with a good, long look of contemplation, finally shrugging and lowering his elbow. "Hm? Oh, nothing to worry about, your highness, just interesting to note. Many people carry scars after they've been wounded in one severe way or another, and you have one here, boy, on the underside of your arm."

Hans blinked and lifted his arm to examine the old wound. Sure enough, where the doctor pointed, there was a little, strangely-shaped scar. "You're right."

"Do you remember how you got it?" the doctor asked gently as he wound the bandage.

Hans let his arm sink and shook his head briefly, horrific memories of sheer, cold terror flashing through his mind. "No… no, I don't," he lied.

"That's alright; most people can't remember things that happen before a certain point in their lives, especially if the things happen when they're young. Or you might have just never noticed it before… sometimes all it takes is a specific sight, a smell, even a word, and suddenly the memories return."

"Is it something I should worry about?" Hans inquired, raising an eyebrow, still staring at his arm.

"Oh, no, it's not that the scar is there, it's just that… I could swear it looks familiar. I've been working too hard today, I think." The doctor chuckled and finished tying off the strip of bandage, tying it off at the elbow. "Well, you have a clean bill of health." He bowed his head to Anna, gathering his supplies. "You have a good rest of the day, princess, you and your friend here."

Hans watched the man take his leave and glanced at Anna with a slight smile. "See? I told you… I'm fine… even if I smell like cherry." But beyond the smile on his face, beyond the look of humor in his eyes, he couldn't deny the haunting feeling there was something he'd forgotten… something important… something he should have known.

#

"Now let's see how our little lemon treatment did!" Heins exclaimed, gingerly lifting Anna's dress out of the washtub. "Oooh, look, Helena! The stains are almost all gone! I knew it would work! Here, pass me that brush and let me just scrub the last few remaining bits out of the bottom…"

Helena smiled at his enthusiasm, turning behind her and picking a brush meant for delicate clothing, handing it to him, their hands grazing each other as she did. "Here."

"Thanks!" He took the brush and carefully, tenderly worked the last of the grime from the clothing, lifting the wet material up and giving it a gentle shake to rid it of the majority of water. "There we go… now we just let it dry for a little bit and then all we have to do is fix up a little of the embroidery." He pinned the limp dress up on a line they'd hung near the open window where the breeze could assist with some of the drying.

Helena watched, half-working on her own project, a vest with gold-colored lining which needed to be re-affixed to the shoulders. "You know… his work really is beautiful."

"Hm?" Heins turned, blinking innocently. "Whose?"

"Heins. The way he makes his clothes… designs these beautiful pieces… he sees new ways to make people happy, to bring out the best in them." Her fingers worked as she bobbed the needle in and out of the vest. "I admire that."

"You… you think his work is beautiful?" he asked, the bashful smile spreading on his face, eyes trailing to the ground.

"He's a genius," she responded simply, cutting the thread with her teeth and skillfully tying a knot invisible to the naked eye.

"A genius?" repeated Heins, his face heating as his skin bloomed with a blush. "Well, I don't know about genius."

"Are you alright?" Helena's face suddenly became concerned. "You look red…" She rose from her workbench and approached him.

"I'm f-fine!" he stammered awkwardly, taking a step back. If he hadn't been so flustered, he would have noticed the bar of soap in line with his backpedaling, but as it turned out, he did not notice, and slipped backwards the instant he stepped on it, hands flailing. "Wh-whoah!"

Splash!

Helena instinctively lifted the vest she was working on to shield herself from the water, lowering it and breaking into a bout of laughter at Heins sprawled out in the washtub.

Heins blew a strand of hair out of his face and grunted, trying to lift himself up and out, but only succeeding in spilling a little of the soapy water over the edge.

"No, no! Don't move!" Helena managed over laughter, stumbling over to help him and wiping her eyes of amused tears, holding out a hand and helping to hoist him up. "Well," she began, her mouth quivering with attempts to hold back further laughter, "at least your clothes are clean!"

"Is that so?" Heins asked, a playful smile spreading over his lips. In one fluid moment he bent back and cupped a handful of water, tossing it at Helena, who squealed, holding up her palms in defense and slapping uselessly at the air. Heins broke into his own peal of laughter at the sight. "I'm only trying to help get your clothes clean, Helena! Don't hide!"

"Stop it!" Helena protested, flailing out her hands and laughing.

"I can't! I still see spots!" Heins continued, cupping another handful to toss at her.

Egil opened the backdoor and blinked in stunned shock, gazing at the two workers dripping water. "What… happened… here?"

"N-nothing, Mr. Egil!" Helena managed between undercut giggles, smoothing down her hair. "Sorry, we'll get back to work."

Egil turned his eyes on Anna's clean coronation dress, pursing his lips and finally nodding once. "Looking acceptable, Ms. Helena… maybe we won't have to double the workload after all. The end of the day will tell." Frowning as he looked around the small back room, crowded from all the orders he'd accepted in order to boost his profits, he shook his head. "Clean this place up, Helena… take some pride in your work."

As he took his leave, Helena sighed, her hands on her hips. "He might not have a mastery of tact and grace… but he is right. There is a lot to clean up around here… a lot to do."

Heins bent and began to gather a few things which had fallen from shelves when he'd made his resounding splash, tossing unneeded scraps and rearranging orders until he picked up a folder and slid it open. His lips parted and he stared, bewildered by what he saw: a sketch of a delicate ballgown. "What is this?"

Helena approached and stood on tiptoe to see over his shoulder, gasping herself and reaching out to grab the folder from him. "Give me that!"

"What is it?" Heins repeated, holding it out of her reach, eyes scanning the intricate design work on the dress idea.

"It's nothing, give it!" She stretched as far as she could.

"if it's nothing, why do you want it so much?" Heins asked, raising his arm over his head.

"It's my dress idea, now give it here!" She made a jump over Heins' back, snagging the folder and holding it close.

"You… you designed that?" Heins asked, with a soft intake of breath.

"… I know it's… it's not very good."

"Helena, it's stunning." Heins leaned over her and flipped the folder open once more to point out things, his voice betraying his passion. "The way you incorporate the lace exterior with silk on the inside… you even labeled colors and materials and lengths… this is absolutely beautiful… are you making ideas of what you want to wear to the gala?"

Helena's face, previously absorbed in the drawing, grew serious and she snapped the folder shut, hoarding it away in a drawer as Heins watched. She seated herself before the sewing machine and affixed the needle with thread, taking the vest back in hand to do the more intricate work required, which would be easier with the help of the sewing machine. "I'm not going to the gala."

Heins' face turned horrified. "What… not going? What did you say?"

"I'm not going," she repeated, starting to work her feet and slide the material under the bouncing needle.

Heins extended his hands in distress. "But… but you have to go… why not?"

Helena stopped her work and shot him a firm look. "First of all, I don't have anyone to go with and I'm not going alone. Secondly, I have way too much work to do here for Egil to ever allow me to go, and thirdly, I have nothing to wear even if I did want to go." The sewing machine groaned and she stopped her foot from working, throwing her hands up. "Confound this thing! This man's vest bunches and it gets caught every time!"

"Let me see." Heins approached her from behind and leaned over her back to watch her try again, only to see the same problem occur once more. This time, he wrapped his arms over Helena's shoulders, resting his hands over hers and spreading them just slightly apart, leaning down until his chin was on her shoulder. "Here, let me help."

Helena felt her cheeks warm and prayed he couldn't feel the heat enveloping her face, all thoughts of the sewing machine vanishing in wake of the sensation of his body next to hers.

"We just have to move slower… like you're painting a picture…long, even, careful strokes…" Heins could feel the rise and fall of her breathing, and there was no possible way for him to ignore the smell of her hair as close as he was, the long, tight braid faintly smelling of apricots. "Helena…" he said slowly, his voice soft, and yet so loud in the stillness of the room, "you could go with me."

"You?" Helena moved her head just enough to see him in her peripheral vision, heart pounding thrillingly, paying no attention to her work. "You're asking me right here, right now? You would want to go with me?"

Heins turned his head just enough to see her, their green eyes meeting as he whispered. "I do…"

Snrrrrk!

A terrible grinding noise erupted from the sewing machine and Heins jumped, trying to jerk back, only to pull Helena's arms with him. Horrified, he stared down at his hands to find he'd sown their sleeves together.

"Oh, oh, no, I'm so sorry, Helena, are you okay?" He stood up, yanking the seamstress straight up with him, where she stumbled a little.

"I'm okay!" she managed with a little laugh at him.

Heins could feel how hot his cheeks were burning as he flushed and he was glad she could not see from her position. "Oh, boy… I… um… I'm so sorry, this is awkward, not you're awkward, but, because, I mean, I'll just get some scissors." Dragging Helena with him, he fished out a pair of sewing scissors and carefully snipped through their sleeves, breathing a sigh of relief when they were freed. "I really am sorry about that."

Helena chuckled, brushing her apron a little and examining the cut in her dress sleeves, turning only to find him inches away from her, where her head naturally looked up at him. "It wasn't your fault. I mean, it was, but… that sewing machine just…" she trailed off as she met his eyes. "Does what it wants to."

"Maybe we should let it," Heins murmured, so enamored with her he did not notice when everything else lost importance. She's staring at me… she's so close. Her eyes sparkle. Is this the right moment? Is this when I should… should kiss her? But what if I don't do it right? What if she's not ready? What if she hates me for trying? His thoughts drifted for a moment, trying to remember advice he'd been given in the past by his older brothers. Although Hugo had often teased Heins about his refusal of potential fiancées, it was equally as widely known Hugo had the most experience about women by far among the thirteen princes. He would have known what to do, but as much as Heins wanted to, he couldn't focus on anything but how innocent Helena looked. I'm going to try it. Okay, just do it. Do it now. He leaned forward, hesitated, and leaned again another few inches, head tilting, eyes closing, his lips nearly brushing hers-

"I should get back to work now, before Egil comes back!" Helena blurted, whirling around and hunching her head between her shoulders, trying to command her blush to go away. She sat back down in a hurry, leaving Heins stunned by her sudden departure.

Did I… did I do something wrong? He sat down across from her and began to mend another piece of torn clothing, nursing his emotional wounds at the same time. He spared a few quiet exchanges between her as they worked together and the hours passed, until finally the sun dwindled down into the horizon.

The front bell dinged as Hans and Anna entered the shop, the former holding the door open as the princess entered, all smiles and giggles at something they'd just exchanged. She waved a hand at Egil. "Hi again, I mean, good evening! I'm back for my dress, if you found you were able to fix it! What's the verdict? Tell it to me straight!"

"I'm sure Helena was able to work her magic, your majesty. We always cater to the royal famil's every need." His smile vanishing as he entered the back room, Egil rushed in and nodded his approval at Anna's dress, which had been carefully re-embroidered and now looked as fresh as if it had just been bought. He blinked back surprise, and then jutted his chin out in scrutiny.

"Seems you won't have to stay after hours to catch up tonight, Ms. Helena," he chuffed, briefly glancing over the rest of the room. "Still have plenty of work to do, though, so if I were you, I wouldn't plan on anything anytime soon… not that you have anywhere to go."

Helena bowed her head, eyes boring into her work in front of her.

"Finish up here and we'll close shop for tonight, both of you." Parting the curtains, dress in arm, Egil could be heard preening the princess as he handed over her fixed clothing, and the clink of coins was exchanged between the two.

Heins watched Helena put things away and organize what clothing she would have to work on tomorrow, along with the new orders they were sure to receive over the next two weeks. She finished and smoothed her apron, and it took Heins a moment to realize she was biding her time until the little chime of the front door sounded and his brother's voice speaking with Anna disappeared. When the door swung shut, she faced him with a half-smile. "Well… goodnight, Hamish. We've got a lot of work tomorrow, so get some sleep."

Heins lowered his gaze, guilt stirring his spirit uneasily as the foreign name scorched his ears. I wish I could tell you the truth, Helena… I really do. I just… can't.

"Is everything okay?" She was holding one arm with the opposite hand, looking a little concerned.

"You never answered my question earlier," Heins recovered, tilting his head as he stood up and approached her, taking one of her hands in his, hoping she would not mind, but too embarrassed to ask. He drew his eyes to hers, a shy quirk of his lips slipping into a bashful smile. "Helena… in this room, right here, right now, I officially ask for you to accompany me to the gala… would you accept my humble request?"

Buttons and Bows… he's just like a real prince, like in the stories Mama used to read me by candlelight. She quirked a shoulder, trying not to physically show how much she enjoyed his royal treatment, unable to keep from smiling. "I… I want to say yes, but-"

"But what?" Heins pressed, smile faltering,

"I said I would go if I finished all my work and if I had something to wear… but I don't, and I'll never have time to make anything nice enough with all of this," she gestured to the work still piled around them.

"Well, then… if you had something to wear, and if your work was all done… then would you go the ball with me?" Heins asked, giving her hand a little hopeful squeeze.

Helena flushed and nodded, giving his hand a little stroke in return. "Yes. Then I would go to the ball with you."

"Really?" Heins enthused, giving a little hop and making her jump with him, to which she started to laugh.

"Really! I wouldn't go with anyone but you… but… it doesn't matter." She ducked her head shyly. "I'll never be able to finish all the orders before then." Heins turned her chin back up toward him, thumbing her cheek in small circles, his green eyes sparkling. "Then I guess we've got some work to do, haven't we?"

#

"Hans, she's so beautiful when she smiles; I can't look away! She's so funny, and smart, and so creative, oh, you should see the design she made for this dress, it's even more gorgeous than the ones I make!" Heins enthused as he paced back and forth, hands clasped together.

"Really?" asked Hans with a yawn and an amused smile, removing his shoes and tucking them beneath the bed, slipping under the covers. "Sounds like she's a winner, alright."

"Oh, and I almost forgot to ask, how did things go with the Princess Anna today? Did you talk with her? Was she still angry? What did you do with her? Tell me everything!" Heins opened their lone little window to let some cool night air in the stuffy attic.

"Things went just fine," replied Hans, waving a hand as he sank his head down on the makeshift pillow formed of an unused ream of bright orange silk. His body still ached from the collision with the cart earlier today, and whereas his brother had always thrived on socialization and strict detail, Hans had never asked for anything beyond facts.

"Have you thought about what color you want to coordinate your suit around for the gala yet? You probably have. I was thinking a dark blue and a white for you and a purple and blue with gold for me. Maybe white undershirts for both of us, to set it off, with a little flair built in the chest. For you, a ruffle around the collar area and a large mask to cover your whole face, just in case, since you've been here before. For me, something a bit smaller, just enough to conceal the nose bridge and the forehead." When his brother didn't answer, Heins frowned and glanced back behind him. "Hey! You can't just go to sleep when I'm talking to you, especially about our outfits! This is important!"

"Heins, I love you, but I'm exhausted," answered Hans in a deadpan voice. "I'll tell you all about it in the morning. Get some rest."

Heins waited until he was sure Hans had fallen asleep before gathering some papers at his desk and carrying them downstairs into the eerily-quiet shop below him through the attic hold. He set the papers containing his designs down on the workbench Helena had occupied during the day, mentally preparing himself for a long night. "If you get all the work done…" His gaze moved to the place Helena had squirreled away her design. "And if you have something to wear…"

Heins slid open the folder and took another good, long look at the gown, adding supplies to a list in his head. Smiling contentedly as he replaced the folder into its hiding place, he sank down behind the sewing machine and readied himself for what would be the first of many secretive nights of overtime.

A/N: Trololol Helsa lovers. (Seriously, though? I love you guys no worries it's coming)

Next chapter we'll have a ball, I'm sure.

*Drum rift*