A/N: At this point I suggest you might want to take a look back at earlier chapters. You might see a lot of things you never noticed before connecting. Story's tumblr is located at sakumefrozenheartsdottumblrdotcom!

Chapter Eighteen

Cut Through The Heart

Hans shivered in his sleep as the rough stones of the damp dungeon clutched him in their icy grip. The nightmares came again that night, silent in the darkness, but deadly as they banished all other dreams in their wake. Battling nightmares was not a new experience for Hans, but never before had they come with such voracity, with such bitingly clear images. The words were as sharp and clear as the day it happened, and he helplessly watched in horror as the tragic past unfolded before his eyes.

#

The breeze brushing over his auburn hair felt strikingly crisp and Hans could see his breath as he exhaled into the early afternoon air. It prompted him to pretend he was a dragon, and then that he was old enough to smoke as his father sometimes did in the study. Only the eldest two of the brothers were allowed to share in their father's stash of imported tobacco, but the youngest often talked about when they would be allowed to do so. Hans inhaled a breath, puffing out little cheerful chuffs of air as he made his way to the stables to see Sitron. He was glad he was at least allowed to go to the stables without a nanny or brother to accompany him, because even if his parents said it was for his own safety, it was annoying to have someone babying him.

He turned the corner of the stable to see two of his older brothers, Hugo and Harken, clustered around Harald, who was just outside the of the corral fence. Squinting his eyes to see in the bright sunlight that was heralding the coming of spring, he noticed that Harald was trying to coax Sitron over closer to the fence with a crisp red apple. Holding out the treat, he was clicking his tongue and talking soothingly, while the yearling snorted and shook his mane indecisively.

"Come on… come on, you stupid horse. Are you blind as well as dumb? Can't you see the apple? Just a little closer…."

Sitron eyed the gathering of boys suspiciously, and stubbornly kept his distance, stamping and pawing the ground. It was obvious he wanted the ripe, red fruit, but apparently didn't trust the trio, having experienced teasing from them before.

"Hey!" Hans yelled as he started to run. "Leave my horse alone!"

Turning in surprise at his voice, the brothers jeered at him and let the rocks they were hiding under their jackets fly. As they were still poor aims, only the one pitched by Harken hit Sitron smartly on the flank, causing him to rear and whinny in pain. Laughing and congratulating Harken with a pat on the back, the boys turned and ran away, Harald lobbing one extra rock at Hans for good measure, managing to peg him a glancing blow on the arm. Hans cried out in frustration and pain, and ran up to the fence rubbing his arm and wiping a few tears of anger from his stinging eyes.

Already aware of the fact he would never catch up to his older brothers, he climbed through the gap in the fence boards, and talking softly to Sitron, managed to calm him. "How bad did they hurt you? Let me see," he soothed, examining his horse's hindquarters to be sure there was no cut. Turning, Sitron nipped at Han's arm, snorting. "I'm fine," Hans said, giving him an extra pat on the back. "It doesn't hurt anymore. He's a bad throw, anyway."

After stroking Sitron quietly for a while, his attention was drawn to the outside meadow where a few small spring flowers were bravely poking their heads through the melting patches of snow. The five-year-old went over to the gate and was standing on tiptoes trying to reach and unfasten the latch when he heard someone behind him clear his throat loudly.

Hans tried to give the stablemaster his best sorrowful puppy-dog eyes, leaning against Sitron's pen longingly. "Can't I just lead him out by myself just once? I won't tell anybody you said yes, I promise."

"I'm sorry, Prince Hans, but I can't allow you to do that alone," the man said, avoiding the child's sorrowful gaze with a determined grunt as he shoveled out the stable. The outwardly gruff stablemaster favored some of the king's sons more than others, but Hans secretly held a special place in his heart all alone. The boy was fond of horses, especially his own. There had been more than one opportunity where he'd offered to help the stablemaster in coaxing the proud, beautiful Fjord yearling to be saddled and led about the corral in preparation for his eventual carrying of his young master. Even so, the man was not willing to risk the injury of the youngest prince. "If you can get one of your brothers to go with you, that's a different story."

Hans sighed and kicked his feet through a nearby dandelion with a frown, his yearling nickering playfully as he leaned over the top of the fence. The horse nipped at Hans' hair as if trying to comfort him. "They never want to play with me. They said I'm a pest. They don't like me."

Surprisingly, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and a golden feminine laugh tickled his ear. "Of course they like you, Hans. It's just that they're older than you and have their own interests and activities that you can't keep up with yet. But don't worry, I have some free time this afternoon, and I would love to spend it with you. It's such a beautiful day – I'll take Kumquat and you can lead Sitron, alright? We'll get the cook to pack us a picnic lunch and we can go down to the rocks by the lake and eat and watch the birds that are returning. Maybe we can even find enough flowers poking up to pick a bouquet for Mama. How does that sound?"

Hans whirled and enveloped his sister Kris in a big hug. "Okay!" He wondered vaguely if any of his brothers would be jealous, and the thought made him smile even wider. "You always spend time with me, Kris!"

She laughed again. "I only have one youngest brother. I've got to be with you while I can. I'll meet you here in an hour, okay?"

Hans was back at the stable within half an hour waiting impatiently for his sister to show. Time seemed to move more slowly the closer it got to the appointed meeting between the siblings, and Hans tried to keep his mind off it. He quickly grew tired of playing little games of pretend, making shadow puppets, and talking to Sitron about what he planned for the picnic. The hour came and went, and, irritated by the wait, he searched out the stablemaster to get answers.

"Have you seen my sister?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe with exaggerated exhaustion.

"Not since about an hour ago when she came to visit Kumquat and spoke to you, young prince," replied the man, mustache twitching.

Pouting, Hans decided he would have to fetch his sister himself and sternly remind her, as his mother often did him, that it was important to keep your promises. He was just rounding the corner when he bumped into someone who sent him flying back in a heap.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, are you hurt?" A tall stranger bent over him and lifted Hans back to his feet, brushing away strands of hay from his clothing and smiling with teeth which were far too bright.

Hans was stunned by the presence of the man, his young face unfamiliar to the boy. He shook his head, though he was slightly irritated from the run-in with the stranger. "No… I'm okay," he grumbled.

"Are you sure?" prompted the man, looking concerned. Hans just nodded sourly. "Thank goodness," said the stranger, brushing his quaffed, wavy, golden brown hair back, a strong scent of cologne wafting into Hans' nose. "Say… you look like a knowledgeable young lad… do you know your way around here?"

"I live here," said Hans flatly, still sizing up the man in his mind. By the look of the jeweled pin and rich colors he wore, he was some kind of royalty, but Hans had no idea what he was doing in the stables.

"You wouldn't happen to know of the whereabouts of Princess Hannah, would you?" asked the man, briefly gazing around the stables, poking his nose into the corral and sighing shortly as he did with disappointment laden in the exhale.

"Who?" asked Hans, wrinkling his nose.

"I'm looking for Princess Hannah Kristina Westergard," he elaborated, a look of exhaustion lining his face. "You'd think someone would know her whereabouts, but she always seems to slip away from my grasp before I can find her."

Hans blinked rapidly, looking over the man in a new light. No one ever called Kris by her first name and kept their nose intact. A flare of protection welled within him and he regarded the stranger with an odd look, jutting his chin out and crossing his arms over his chest. "What do you want with my sister?"

"Oh! You're one of the famed thirteen princes. The youngest, I'd wager," the man chuckled, dimples bright as he bent down to Hans' level. He reached out a hand and patted his head, which Hans only found annoying, and lifted a hand to cup one side of his mouth as if they were sharing a secret, "you would think she would be interested in spending time with her betrothed. Between you and I, I think she's avoiding me." Hans opened his mouth to agree with the man, but he rose to his feet before the boy had a chance. "Oh well… as they say, the hunt must go on. I always make my catch in the end," he remarked, flashing the boy a wink.

Hans stood dumbfounded for a moment, trying to reason out why his sister would ever want to spend time with someone who didn't even know her proper name, especially when the two of them had such exciting plans about a picnic already put into place. He decided if he were to gather answers, he would have to ask the source, and rounded the corner with a bound, heading for the castle.

Being the youngest was often both a gift and a curse. In a way, it was a gift as it allowed him to go places without being noticed as much as his brothers. He passed by several people in the outer courtyard without opposition, but as he entered the main hall of the castle, he screeched to a halt. Harald, clutching something behind his back, was sneaking towards the front doors, freezing in place as he noticed Hans and straightening, jutting his chin out towards his younger sibling. Hans recognized the box Harald clutched as a box of his father's cigars, something almost all of the brothers were forbidden to touch.

"Well, well, well… look who it is," Harald drawled, grinning. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"None of your business," snapped Hans back, glancing around to see if his big brother had any backup. He didn't see anyone else. "What are you doing with Daddy's box?"

Harald frowned darkly. "If you tell anybody, I'm gonna-"

"I won't tell if you tell me something," Hans quickly said, mind still too burdened with his sister to worry about tattling on his brother.

Harald was struck dumb for a moment, and recovered with a mild frown of suspicion. "Tell you what?"

"What's 'trothed mean?" Hans asked, thinking back on the conversation he'd had with the stranger.

"What?" grumbled Harald, too keen on making sure no one was coming to be interested in interpreting his younger brother's speech. "What are you talking about?"

"A man in the stables said Kris wanted to spend time with her 'trothed. What's a 'trothed?" Hans pushed, face lined in confusion.

"A betrothed is… you know, someone who's intended… affianced," Harald mocked, purposely choosing his words carefully to keep his little brother confused.

Hans pouted and shot his brother a glare, finally asking. "But what does it mean?"

"It means," enthused Harald, "that Kris is getting married. It means she's going away with that prince of Weselton or Weaseltown or whatever it is and she's never coming back."

"Wh… what?" Hans stammered, backing away in astonishment, his eyes widening in horror. "What do you mean she's never coming back? Kris wouldn't leave like that!" His stomach began to hurt, and he shook his head wildly. "You're lying! You always lie!"

"You mean you didn't even know?" Harald mock gasped, moving over to his little brother's side. "I guess that means she didn't care enough to tell you. The same thing is going to happen to all of us someday. Even you'll be betrothed. Mother and Father are probably already working out the details."

"No, I won't! I'm never leaving, and neither is she! She wouldn't do that! She wouldn't!" Tears had now sprung into the five-year-old's eyes, which only served to make Harald grin devilishly.

"If you don't believe me, go and ask her yourself," remarked the brother with a sneer. He brushed past Hans and sauntered to the front door, shoving the box of tobacco under his shirt. "Remember, you better not snitch, or I'll make you wish you were leaving home."

"I won't…" Hans whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

Harald glanced back as he opened the front door, smirking. "Oh, poor Hans…" he murmured, his voice sickeningly sweet, "If only there were someone out there who loved you." He was halfway out the door as he added, "Obviously she doesn't, if she's leaving."

Thud.

The doors shut, and Hans ran.

He began frantically scrambling up the stairways leading to his sister's room, tears streaking his cheeks. As he approached her door, he edged around the corner, catching a glimpse of his older brother Heinrik standing inside with his sister, who was ruffling her hair, holding it in different styles and finally looking in a mirror with a great sigh, collapsing on her bureau.

No one seemed to notice as Hans slipped behind the curtains hanging beside the door, hiding where he could listen.

"I'm so nervous! He wasn't supposed to be here until tomorrow, and he suddenly shows up like this? How do I look? Is there any hope for me at all?" she questioned, glancing behind her at her older brother.

Heinrik pursed his lips for a moment, cocking his head to the side, and shaking it. "Men want girls with good taste," he started, counting off his fingers, his eyes sparkling playfully, "calm, obedient, with good breeding and a tiny waist." He cracked a smile. "So, no. Absolutely not. You're a total loss. Your chances of impressing Mr. Weaseltown are abysmal."

"Weselton, Heinie," Kris teased, wagging a finger at him. She looked into the mirror again, and her expression slackened. "It's this humidity. It makes my hair so I can't do a thing with it."

Heinrik chuckled. "Maybe you should have Heins come in to do the fashion coordinating. Even now, he seems enraptured with it. He made me my own sash the other day, and made me promise I'd wear it all the time." Leaning over his exasperated sister, he shrugged. "My own professional opinion would be- just cover it up!" Snagging a lacy red scarf from the top of the bureau, he draped it over her head, hiding her face and hair. "There! Now you're perfect!"Giving a chuff of exasperation, his sister pulled off the scarf and draped it becomingly over her shoulders. "Oh, I love it even more," Heinrik enthused.

Kris laughed and gave him a half-hearted punch in the shoulder. "Thanks for trying to cheer me up," she said, "but… seriously… do you think he'll like me?"

Heinrik leaned over and gave her reflection a good, long stare. "That depends."

"On what?" she asked, looking at him.

"On whether you're this scruffy, rugged, but devilishly handsome man in the mirror there," he began, jutting his chin up and flashing himself a grin, "or," he continued, putting his hands on her shoulders, "my beautiful, smart, sensational sister."

"You're sweet." She straightened with a sudden look of excitement. "I almost forgot; I have something for you!"

"For me?" asked Heinrik, smiling. "Is it a pony?"

"You already have one of those," she chuckled, opening up the drawer to her bureau and pulling out a book, handing it to him.

"A book?" he asked, turning it over in his hand.

"I've heard it's popular, but also very… unscrupulous," she whispered behind a hand. "Far-off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise… don't let Mother catch you. Read the inside."

Heinrik raised his eyebrows and shot her a brief glower.

"Oh, go on. They make you look distinguished," she encouraged.

Sighing, he reached into the folds of his clothing and took out a thin-rimmed pair of glasses, placing them on his nose before holding the book out. "The Tales of Flynnigan Rider," he announced, opening the cover and continuing with the little hand-written inscription on the title page. "To my little brother, Heinrik, who's never afraid to set his own course and explore new worlds, going where no man has gone before." He chuckled and shut it. "You know if Mother catches me reading this, she's going to be beside herself." He held the book away with an exaggerated gesture, tuning his voice to a falsetto, "This is not proper material for a prince to be reading! Royalty comes with both privilege and responsibility! You were born with great expectations!"

"Very nice impression," giggled Kris.

"I've had a lot of practice," joked Heinrik. He looked at his only sister for a quiet moment, eyes dancing back and forth from the book she'd given him to her face. Then, quietly, he spoke up. "Why are you doing it, Kris? Why are you going through with it?"

"Because Mother and Father have planned it… they would have researched what kind of man he is. Because it's vitally important to seal the trade alliances between the Southern Isles and other lands… and because it's like you said a moment ago…" she trailed off.

"Like I said?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

"Royalty means both privilege and responsibility. Our people depend on us to do what's best for them, not just for ourselves. That's why I'm doing it. Because it's the right thing to do," she finished, staring at her hands folded in her lap. Then with a sigh, she returned her attentions back to her untamable hair.

He turned to leave his sister to her efforts, feeling completely inept when it came to judging women's hairstyles. A timid voice stopped him as she spoke up. "Have you seen him yet? I mean, do you know what he looks like? Do you know anything about him?"

"No," began Heinrik, watching her expression waver, "but let's go find out together." He grinned at her teasingly, "if he's too old or too ugly for you, maybe us brothers can find a way to make him disappear."

"That's a great idea!" exclaimed Hans, suddenly jumping out from the curtain. "Make him go away! I saw him! He is old and ugly, at least twenty-five! He doesn't even know your real name! He wants to take you away! We won't let him; we love you!"

Kris stood and gestured to Heinrik to slip out into the hallway, leaving them alone. Sharing a nod, he obeyed her wishes, resting a hand briefly on Hans' shoulder as he passed. Kris carefully knelt before Hans and simply held him for a full minute. Pushing back, she stared into his eyes that were brimming with tears. "Oh, Hans," she said brokenly, "this is going to be hardest for you, because you're too young to understand. When destiny calls you, you have to be strong… I might not be here with you, but you have to keep on. I have to go… I don't have a choice... I'll miss you so much." She swallowed hard, and her voice sounded choked as she continued, her resolve wanting so desperately to fail her, "but I'll be back often to visit, I promise! And my heart will always be here with you… with you, and Mom, and Dad, and Heinrik, and Heins, and Harry, and… everyone..."

Seeing the distress still shadowing his face, she stood and quickly walked over to her dresser, opening the top drawer. "I've been making something special for you. It'll mean even more now that I'm leaving. It's something you can hold and hug whenever you miss me, and know I'll be thinking of you, too. When you hold him, remember how I sang to you…" her voice began with a hum, soft words murmuring pieces of his favorite lullaby. "You'll be in my heart, now and forevermore… yes, you'll be here in my heart always…"

Reluctantly, Hans dragged his eyes from her face to the object she was holding out. He caught his breath, realizing it was a stuffed toy, a perfect replica of his horse, Sitron. The soft cloth and yarn used for the mane and tail depicted his coloration exactly. He could almost hear the toy nickering softly. He reached out to take it and stood looking at it dumbly. Suddenly, he realized the kind gesture didn't change anything.

She was still leaving him. Alone. Being in her heart was a poor substitute for being in her arms.

The jeering words of Harald floated to his consciousness. Oh Hans… if only there were someone out there who loved you. Grief squeezed his heart and without warning, the tears overflowed. Angrily, he threw the horse at her feet. Clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles grew white, he yelled, "You're lying! You don't have to go! You just want to! You don't love me!" Turning on heel, he started to run out the door.

Hearing her call after him, he flung a parting cry of agony over his shoulder. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you forever!" He shot past his older brother in the hallway, ignoring all cries of his name, his legs frantically scrambling to speed out the front doors of the castle.

Heinrik grabbed his sister's arm as she took chase, his expression relaying his confusion.

Kris shook her head, pulling free. "Just let me catch up with him; I'll talk to him!"

With the aid of the head start, Hans made it down the main stairwell, almost falling on his way down, glancing behind him through blurred vision to see if his sister was still in pursuit. He was out the gates, almost free of his family's courtyard, when a harsh whinny brought his attention snapping back to the present. The horse, a Fjord like his own, was ebony in color, strapped with a fancy saddle and decorated scabbard hanging alongside it. The jeweled handle of a sword was sticking out with an embossed "W".

"Whoah, whoah!" The prince Hans had met earlier took hold of his spooked horse's reins, calming him, one hand shooting out to snag Hans' arm. "Slow down, there, lad. What's the hurry? You almost ran right under my horse's hooves! Watch where you are going, okay?"

Hans flailed in the man's grip, pulling wildly. "You let me go! Let me go!"

"Hans!" his sister cried, emerging from the castle into the courtyard, scanning in all directions for a glimpse of him.

The man settled his eyes on his bride-to-be for the first time and gasped, forgetting all about Hans. He dropped both Hans' arm and the horse's reins, his attention fully focused on the strawberry blonde beauty before him. He approached and bowed deeply before her, sweeping off his hat in a grand gesture. "Would it possibly be my great pleasure to be meeting the Princess Hannah Kristina Westergard?" he queried elegantly. She stopped short and stared at him, flustered, and then nodded dumbly, unable to find her tongue. "I am most pleased to finally meet you, your majesty. I have been looking forward to this moment for a very long time. I am your most humble servant, Prince Albrekt Lysander of Weselton. However, I beseech you to just call me… Al. Considering our special circumstances, I do hope a bit of informality could be excused."

Looking completely flustered, Kris stammered an inaudible response. The few moments of distraction gave Hans the time he needed to escape from the castle courtyard and head across the fields towards trees and tall brush where he could hide. He ran towards the large pond which was a favorite place for the brothers to swim and fish in the summer, but was always frozen solid in the winter. As he got closer to the pond, which was surrounded by reeds and brush, he began slowing down, gasping and panting for breath in the cold air. Pausing to rest, all he could hear at first was his own breathing and a few birds chirping in the trees. Then he noted the thin, faint laughter of his brothers coming from somewhere just beyond the other side of the pond. He saw faint wisps of cigar smoke rising from behind a scrub brush and knew they were trying out their father's cigars in their favorite hiding place, the hollow of a huge willow tree on the other side of the pond. Then he heard another sound that made him hold his breath and listen, the galloping hooves of a horse. Glancing behind him briefly, he got a glimpse of Prince Albrekt's mount quickly bearing down on him.

Gathering his courage, Hans decided his brothers' hiding place would offer more cover. They may hate him, but he had no time to second-guess himself. He leaped out onto the slippery ice and began to shuffle his feet forward in a skating motion. He heard someone leap from the horse and a frantic female voice calling his name. Placing his hands over his ears, Hans focused his efforts on going faster to escape her sight and get to a safe hiding place. He thought he was going to make it across without being seen when his world literally fell apart around him.

The first five seconds were like a terrible surprise he never could have predicted. First there was an unsteady crackling noise beneath his feet, then shards of ice flying out at both sides, and finally the unexpected drop away from solid ground, the surface below him disappearing.

Cold. Everything was so cold. His chest seemed to tighten around his lungs, the ribs crushing his organs and causing his screams to turn into hoarse shrieks. He flailed for something to grab onto, hands splashing against the surface uselessly, body bobbing up and down as he gasped desperately for air. His heart worked overtime, his veins constricting in the freezing temperatures and shutting off blood flow to his limbs within the first fifteen seconds.

"Mama! Mam-" his cries for his mother, more instinct than reason, were suffocated with a swallow of the icy water, burning his throat as he choked on it, sputtering for breath. Thirty seconds, and his limbs were useless. Steadily losing his ability to breach the water for air, Hans felt agonizing pressure of his body crying out for oxygen, panic shocking his system, leaving him helpless to prevent his drowning.

He opened his eyes and saw wavering movement above him. A red scarf floated on the water's surface, and he heard a garbled female voice crying. "Grab it! Hans! Reach! Reach for it!" In his mind, Hans stretched towards the scarf, but he found his arms had become helpless to move. The scarf disappeared, and he saw the thin, silver blade of a sword cut through the water close to his body.

The words came again, faintly. "Hans! Reach! Grab it!" His body had become completely disobedient and refused to move at his command. The blade withdrew, and thrust again. He felt a sudden, sharp pain under his arm and noted with confused interest that the water around him was turning red.

The red faded slowly into blackness. Vaguely, Hans heard another sharp crack and a sudden splash above him. He sensed movement beside him in the water as his senses continued to fade. Suddenly, he was above the surface again, his pained cries rising anew as sharp, distressed, weakened wails. His palms slapped wetly against the thin ice, his breath coming in half-choked sobs. "Ma-ma!" he gulped out between cries, which were little more than thin pants in the wind.

There was a thrust, a rough shove, and he was lying on his back, his body numb from head to toe, the only noise in his ears the weak thump of his frozen heart.

Almost in a trance, Hans lay on his back as his perceptions wavered in and out. It could have been seconds or an eternity, but as his eyes flickered open, he was suddenly aware of the brightness all around him. The white glare of the sun was reflecting off the frozen surface of the pond and he saw shadows seeming to run by out of the corner of his eye. His vision focused on a sodden streak of red extending off the ice into the ripples of the water. His weakened mind pondered the familiarity of the object, but he couldn't place it. He was suddenly aware of the stillness in the air although echoes of a familiar voice screaming for help still seemed to ring in his memory. As the screams faded, he seemed to hear the voice choke out a final phrase. Always in my heart… And then silence except for the gentle rippling of the water. It was so hard to breathe; his exhausted eyes finally lost the battle to stay open as he sank into an enveloping blackness.

#

Hans' eyes flew open as he heard himself hoarsely crying his sister's name. He was still so cold… Gradually, as the nightmare receded, he became aware of the hard wooden bench he was lying on and the unfeeling stone walls surrounding him. He remembered he was a prisoner in Elsa's dungeon, but somehow it seemed as if he were home. He realized then, with a sinking heart, he had been held captive in a prison of secrets his entire life.

#

In the frantic commotion, Helena hurriedly fled the castle in a daze, finding herself an hour later still wandering the dark and deserted streets with no specific direction or purpose. How had this amazing night turned completely inside out to become so confusing and frightening? What had happened, anyway? She had been floating along in a fairy tale, swept across dance floors drowning in the attentions she had been receiving, wondering if this dream could actually be coming true. Was Hamish really in love with her, and could this end in happily ever after? This… extravaganza was her first chance to get out and experience fun in…forever, and there was music and lights and dancing, and she felt so very fetchingly draped in a beautiful gown, and she was even going so far as to wonder if she had finally met the one. It seemed like all her life, door after door had been slammed in her face and future, and she had been fool enough to believe she had finally found one open.

She shook her head in frustration as she stared at the stars and blinked back tears. How could she have been so stupid? It had all been an illusion, no, a blatant lie. Hamish wasn't even Hamish! He was Heins! He was a prince, a celebrity, the fashion guru the whole known world seemed to panting after. He was truly a genius! What laughs he must have gotten, playing with her heart. He was pretending to be penniless, pretending to be impressed with her poor designs and work, and pretending…everything! Fresh sobs rose up and choked her, and for a while she gave in to expressing her grief.

Then, somewhere among the heartache, a new emotion swelled up and swallowed all the others – raw, unadulterated anger. How dare he! Where did he get off leading her on and playing with her affections? She gritted her teeth as she now remembered him totally disregarding her memories about her father and her revulsion toward alcohol, drinking glass after glass of wine and boasting about his knowledge of alcoholic beverages. He had turned a deaf ear to all her hints that he was drinking too much, and look where it had gotten him! Plus he was pretending to be infatuated, no… smitten, no… she finally admitted to herself, in love with her. Giving her false hope… she had begun to dream, and…she admitted it silently again, had begun to fall head over heels in love with him in return. She had made the biggest mistake of her life, and she would never make it again.

She had convinced herself he was different than other men she'd known, that he was kind, and considerate, and real…but she had learned a hard lesson, one she plannd to never, ever forget. He totally, completely deserved being dragged off to the dungeon! She could not suppress a shudder, however, as she remembered his stricken face as he struggled to keep eye contact with her. She quickly squelched imaginations of what his future would be when Queen Elsa decided the punishment he and his brother would receive. The dungeon might become his permanent residence from now on! The only thing she knew for certain was she wouldn't wish that fate on her worst enemy. Although, at this point, she wasn't sure she could think of anyone else more qualified for that title.

Suddenly sagging with fatigue, she looked around and realized she had unconsciously wandered back to the tailor shop where she lived and worked. Dreading the impending inquisition she expected to encounter from Mr. Egil, she steeled herself with a sigh and opened the front door. As the bell on the doorframe jingled, he emerged from the back where a candle was burning, and she could see through the gap in the curtains he had been working on his financial records again, files of papers strewn over his desk. He studied her swollen eyelids and the streaks of tears on her face. He said nothing, but the satisfied smirk he wore when first he entered the room faded, and he tilted his head to the side, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"It was…an experience I'll never forget," she said, unable to disguise an edge of bitterness in her voice. "But, I'm exhausted and if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. I'll be up early to work in the morning." She couldn't help one parting shot over her shoulder as she headed in the direction of her small room. "By the way, it wasn't Hamish you've been employing during the past few weeks, and he won't be returning to work tomorrow. Believe it or not, he fooled us both. He was really the famous Heins."

She expected his reaction to be shock, disbelief, arguments, or questions. She stopped dead in her tracks as his quiet response registered. "I know."

She whirled to face him in exasperation. "Wh…what? How did you find out? How long have you known? Why didn't you tell me?" The last question was almost a wail.

He shrugged indifferently. "Sorry to disappoint you. I just found out today. He told me and cut me the best deal I've ever made. Selling the original Heins gown he designed for the queen to Princess Anna has made me more money than I've ever dreamed possible from one garment."

He chuckled greedily and then heaved an expressive sigh. "I was pretty sure he wouldn't come back…oh the profit I could have made when people found out the truth!" He stood silently, rubbing two coins between his fingers. Then he abruptly broke the silence. "However, at least you've returned unscathed to work. By the way, before you retire for the night, we have a little matter of business to attend to. You need to sign a new contract that will include your room rent to be deducted from your wages, and of course, adjustments for your food and all materials I supply for you. You can't get something for nothing, you know."

He laid down the coins and ducked down behind the front counter, picking out a pen and holding it out to her. "Out of the goodness of my heart, I have included a very modest raise to your hourly wages… since you've been here so many years now, and I must admit, your work is, at least acceptable. You have some potential talent that could be developed if it were ever possible to get you more training. Naturally, if we did find opportunity to get you some advanced education in dress design and sewing technique, I would be more than happy to lend you the finances at a competitive rate of interest. That is, as long as you were able to continue to be available to work the hours that I needed you, and if you were willing to commit to a reasonable term of employment at my shop as payback. I have looked out for your future, as you know, and will continue to provide for your career development in comparable fashion. After all, I do have a vested interest in you, and have come to think of you like my own daughter. You needn't worry yourself over the minor details…just sign at the bottom." His smile spread convincingly as he wiggled the pen over a neatly detailed piece of paper.

Helena stood and stared at him with her mouth open, unable to make any sense of what he was saying. "Why do I need a new contract? It will still be years before I finish paying off the debt I owe according to my current contract."

He sighed as if she were really as dense as he always made her feel, speaking slowly and deliberately as though to a child. "I already told you…Heins made me a deal. In exchange for the dress he designed for the queen. Your debt is paid off. You are starting new. You owe me nothing at present, but we need to sign a contract for you to continue to work here."

The incomprehensible words echoed in her mind again and again. Heins…deal…your debt is paid…starting new. With a jolt, she suddenly realized what he had done for her, and what she had been given. She was free. She did have an open door. Her future stretched before her, and it no longer consisted of year after year of working for a selfish boss who controlled all her waking moments. The first piece of paper that chained her to his every whim had three amazing words penned beside her signature in Egil's neat writing…paid in full.

The stress of the last couple of hours suddenly erupted as she exploded into hysterical giggles and shook her head wordlessly. She managed to say, "You have got to be kidding," as she backed away from him as if she were avoiding a dangerous animal.

A sudden glint of fear appeared in his eyes as he realized his employee was no longer the desperate, naïve girl he had originally acquired, and his future profit was heading towards the door. "Now, now, let's not be hasty, my dear. I'm prepared to be more than fair, as always. I am happy to go over all the details with you if you wish, and explain everything thoroughly. You won't get a better offer than this anywhere else! After all, where else would you go?"

His last words were drowned out by the slam of the front door as Helena fled. He pressed his lips together in frustration, and then cheered himself up with a comment. "Don't worry, she'll be back. She didn't even take her belongings, and hunger will bring her cowering at my feet in a day or two. She'll be eager to sign this contract then. I may even make a few changes in the fine print to teach her a life lesson…don't put off until later what should be done right away." With a self-satisfied chuckle, he locked the door of the shop and extinguished the candle.

Helena found herself wandering dazed through the dark and cold city streets once more. She felt more confused than ever as her anger battled with immense gratitude. Why had he done that for her? Heins may have lied to her, but he had always treated her with the utmost kindness and sensitivity. He had never proudly flaunted his skills and knowledge, but had complimented her work so many times, and treated her as an equal. His eager zest for life had brought many moments of laughter into her days.

He had spent countless late hours in the shop filling orders and making her own gown so she would be able to go to the ball with him. The way he had looked into her eyes, as if she were alone in the world with him, and his gentle touch had thrilled her. Now he had given her the greatest gift she could imagine; he had given her life back. She could go anywhere, do anything, be anyone. She could seek whatever she wanted. But what were her ambitions, and where would she go? With a sinking heart, she knew what she wanted.

She wanted her dreams to be reality. She wanted Hamish, and Hamish was a fantasy. Heins the prince was real, yes, but she didn't know if she could trust him. Were they truly the same person? How could she believe in him after his lies? She closed her eyes as she reached the corner of a deserted alley near the shop, and found herself swept away again in the memory of the gentle and shy kiss they had shared. However, her quiet moment of reverie shattered as she suddenly felt herself roughly grabbed around the waist and a firm masculine hand clamped over her mouth. Desperate, she tried to bite the fingers, but they only tightened around her nose and chin.

As her lips pressed painfully into her teeth and she struggled to breathe through the unyielding fingers, she was dragged deeper into the darkness of the alley away from any hope of discovery by a chance passerby. The smell of a sweaty body overcame her senses as a harshly whispered warning to be still and quit struggling made her heart pound in frantic rhythm. In the darkness, she saw another shadowy figure glance around the alley corner to make sure no one had witnessed the struggle. His voice grated, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, but you have something I want."

Heins, where are you now? The thought rose in the back of her mind, clouding before fear and lack of oxygen made her sag limp and helpless in the grip of her captor.

A/N: Dun. Dun. DUNNNN. Wow. What a roller coaster of emotion. Don't forget to spare me a review of what you enjoyed!