We do not own 'Frozen' or any of its characters.

"Frozen Again: 'Love Never Ends"

Act IX

Chapter 22

"Here on the Land and Sea"

Approximately thirteen hundred nautical miles south, to the kingdom of Sintra's vacation Palace on the sea…

Here the cold breakers of the North Sea merge into the warmer waves of the Atlantic as the HmNos Gler sails peacefully into the coastal port of Estorilo, Portugal, almost one full day ahead of time.

On the sun drenched beach regions of Algarve, along the Portuguese Riviera, was the fairytale land of Sintra. Its beachfront town of Azenhas do Mar could brag of being the most picturesque port vista in all of Portugal, just a few miles north of its capitol Lisbon.

There was an otherworldly aura about the portside village where sailors and seamen rested betwixt the Mediterranean, the African continent, and this strategic location of the Portuguese coast. Amid the mild and moderate South Atlantic Ocean, palm trees dotted the landscape beneath the Sintra Palace that was at sea level with its vibrant township below.

The breathtaking Romanticism palace's incredible curved glass window architecture was melded into the decorative tapestries, mythological statues, and vivid colored terraces all housed eclectically under rounded dome roofs.

Fireworks spark the skies of the oceanic summer Portuguese Palace on the shoreline where legend alleged a crowd of mermaids were said to often dwell and play, years long past ago.

From fathoms below, every now and then, some residents of the sea would still skulk in coves nearby with forbidden curiosity at the strange creatures with two legs who upright strolled on the beaches nearby, baking in the hot sun.

Nautical experience in encountering the underwater inhabitants had solicitous Kommander Westergaard ordering his steamship to all but switch off its noisy and dangerous steam-motivated propellers as the ship entered these merfolk laden legendary waters.

Every good sailor worth his sea salt knew of chagrined King Triton's Atlantica kingdom beneath the waves, somewhere deep below this picturesque seaside town. Prince Hans, for one, was not going to endanger any of the Sea King's citizens whose curiosity may have them bobbing to the surface in these waters.

Particularly not during this New Year's Eve celebration of the human kingdom at the edge of the seacoast. That would certainly incur Triton's wrath, as the irate Mer-king had prohibited his people to intermingle with these 'dangerous upworlders'.

No, the steamship Gler had, under its savvy Vise Admiral's direction – following, perhaps, the shadowy underwater current of a vigilant elemental guardian's silent vigilance beneath the ocean tides at Elsa's unspoken plea - successfully bided the travel time well on the trip thus far, and had made good swift route down the wide-open North Sea.

So now the ship could afford to cut its engines and slowly traverse these perhaps mermaid filled waters by the pull of the tide alone at a certain wet and wild Water Spirit's command.

The quiet, engine ceased Gler was serenely and ever so slowly being pulled in by the tow of the moon's tide coming into southern Portugal's scenic warm shores.

"How lovely a view this must be for the Royal family to be so close to the glimmering seashore! What could be more enchanting than watching together this magnificent display of fireworks and lightshow that they have put on, Hans?" Queen Elsa remarks as she mutely glides into the wheelhouse where her stoic Prince was responsibly at the helm steering.

Conscientious Kommander Westergaard had relieved his faithful coxswain to allow young Helmsman Jan to go up to the top deck with the other sailors and passengers to watch the fireworks show at this incoming Portuguese shoreline.

Hans had personally requested Jan to be not only on this ship's roster, but raise the teenage boy to the rank of First Lieutenant as well, for his above and beyond heroism to stand by his Captain and ship during the sea monster pirate's rampage on the deadly Moskenstraumen, just these six months ago.

Responsible Hans now felt it his duty and privilege to personally plot the course of his vessel as captains of old crossing the sea would, before steamship innovation came along. By sail and tide alone the lifelong seamen would guide their ships safely into the Iberian Peninsula shore through the dark night.

"Not as luminously lovely a view as I am partaking right now from my station at the wheel." The Danish Prince smoothly flirts his answer, finding it much more difficult to tear his eyes away from Elsa than lift them to the exciting bursts of light and colorful display of the pleasant kingdom boisterously celebrating the New Year.

After all, what better vision than the platinum Ice Queen's eyes sparkling back at him in the dimly moonlit wheelhouse to greet his eyes, with just the two of them alone at last in this late pre-midnight hour?

"Flatterer." Elsa blushes placidly as her dainty ice heels click up to her fiancé at the helm of the ship, as she comfortably rests her secretly pleased head to his strong chest.

"Thanks for permitting me to see the fireworks out there, Kommander. It's really a ballyhoo of a show close-up! Her Majesty and yourself, Vise Admiral, must see them at the top deck! Shall I take over your set due course…Sir?" First Lieutenant Jans' youthful voice reenters the wheelhouse from where he ducked his head down through the port window. The guileless sailor gulps to see the royal couple so close up and intimate as he interrupted their tender love scene. Nonetheless, Jans' eager eyes were proud of his Vise Admiral's relationship with their Queen, even enough to sacrifice some off-time for his respected leader.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Perhaps a stroll to the ship's forecastle to check on things is preferable. Would you care for a bird's eye view of the fireworks show, my lady?" Commander Westergaard gives Lieutenant Jan a grateful nod as the young man had intuitively followed his Queen into the wheelhouse. He had gained such personal respect for Hans he would gladly take his place at the helm again and free his generous superior officer for some midnight romance with his betrothed.

After giving his matchmaking helmsman a quick smile and salute, Prince Hans gentlemanly offers Queen Elsa his arm with the invitation.

Into the radiant darkness, Hans leads his lady out onto the Gler's top deck. There, more than a few of the passengers and a healthy amount of the crew as well, even the steamship coalers who were no longer needed as the engines had been quietly switched off, were watching the fireworks as the ship pulls slowly into the port with the tides.

BA-BOOM! BA-BOOMM!

"Oh, Hans! Lieutenant Jan was right! This is a 'ballyhoo' of a greeting for us from the Portuguese royal family!" As Gale whips her braid down from the constricting bun the Queen of Arendelle had been regally donning, Elsa lets her normally timid, rigid self go in an arm-opened wide spin up deck. She was determined to 'embrace every moment', just as she promised Anna and her Mama back home she would and enjoy the sights and sounds of each of the foreign ports she visited.

BOOM! BA-BOOM!

"I don't wish to burst your adorably cute bubble, particularly when using crass colloquialisms, min kæreste, but I believe it is a customary New Year's celebration here in Sintra to display fireworks of this magnitude, whether or not your exalted and honored Majesty was in attendance on this most serendipitous night." Hans chuckles, delighting in his lady's light mood and similarly sparkling radiance as he grasps her graceful hand to join in a flawlessly impromptu landau move onto the deck.

"Whee!" "Wow!" "Oh my! So bright!"

As squeals of delight and clapping from princesses Sofia Amber, Cleo and Hildegard ring across the deck that Hans and Elsa were deftly crossing, the Danish Prince smirks at his ownstruck silent mate.

Elsa was gazing up at this New Year's Eve lightshow with such childlike innocence and fascination in her eyes that he felt thoroughly charmed.

The globetrotting sailor had seen many fireworks displays in foreign places in his time at sea, but this one was the most special of all, undoubtedly because he recognized he was in love this time, and his angel was here at his side now too.

Hans had effortlessly led Elsa up the circular forecastle that looked so much more regal with Arendelle's gold crocus emblems ornately decorating the ship as per its Vise Admiral's personal design for the regal Queen to travel upon.

B-BOOM!

"—Which doesn't diminish my enjoyment of them one bit, welcoming in this New Year on the arm of my impertinent Vise Admiral." With a wink down to the inconspicuous Fire Spirit salamander lapping up snowflakes in her icy wake, right on cue comes a large, red fireworks burst, as Elsa playfully pops a chilled finger to Hans's pointy nose. She was in a good mood tonight, set even lighter when her Vise Admiral had so easily and gently lifted his slender ice angel up to the highest perch of the Gler's restored forecastle.

"Touché, my dove." Hans shares her amiable chuckle with a wiggle to his chilled celestial nose as Elsa fondly touches her gorgeous fox's red sideburns.

BA-BOOM!

In the hushed, excited environment of viewing those thrilling fireworks up close under the dark night sky, Elsa stands up on her tippy-toes and sweetly lands an apologetic peck upon Hans' nose to melt away her punishing ice touch from before.

BA-BA-BOOM!

In the noisily illuminated, colorful light conflagration, Elsa licks her lips. She never felt more free and open to express her joy and affection for her young man than in this enticing new year which was opening for them full of romance and light, side by side together.

Her enticed Dane - whose eyes were glued to Elsa the whole time - couldn't help but notice her licking her lips. He rewards her with some spicy fireworks of his own, when Hans abruptly grasps Elsa and pulls her in for a deep kiss on the forecastle.

As the midnight chimes, everyone else was looking at the amazing fireworks finale's innumerable sparkles that were ringing in the New Year too much to notice the body heat rising above on the ship's forecastle.

Only Bruni was witness to glow a deep shade of fandango in Hans and Elsa's undeniable lovelight that Gale was fanning the passionate flames thereof to match the brilliant fireworks.

BOOM! BA-BA-BOOM! BOOM! BA-BOOM! BA- BA-BA-BOOM!

"Ahoy, Captain! They sent a lead boat to bring us to shore! Coming up yonder! We require your official bearings!" As the last church bell dongs, the amused older first mate of the Gler yells up through the din of the smoky air and gunpowder scent of the final fireworks at Councilor Kai's apparent prodding.

"Of course you do… Councilor." Hans sourly murmurs under his breath as Elsa smiles to try to regain hers he had so adeptly stolen. The lovers glance down to see the overweight Arendelle Royal advisor had been the culpable party to prematurely interrupt the passionate New Year's kiss between the Prince of the Southern Isles and his Queen of Arendelle.

"Happy New Year's, min hviddue (my dove). May your reign be as blessed and prosperous as your life be happy and complete in this most promising new year. Take care up here, my Queen, while I see to my duties down below." Gathering his frayed nerves in a heartfelt, gentle salutation to Elsa, whilst trying to not show his riled wrath down at Kai, Hans gentlemanly takes a graceful step back from the forecastle with a flourished, formal bow, followed by a sigh.

"Happy New Year's, min älskare." Elsa whispers back at her attractive man's departing wink as Hans' attention is stolen away from his beauteous lady to attend to his ship's dock navigation.

The Arendelle Minister knew full well that Helmsman Jan and First Mate Hoffsen could have easily accomplished that task without their brilliant Kommander's supervision at this very moment.

"Alas, the good Councilor certainly has impeccable timing on how to break up revelry. Believe me, I have understood this firsthand for thirty years, Prince Hans. So do not take it personally." Chancellor Esteban almost snidely mentions to Hans on the side of the deck where his demure wife had been collected by her older brother to join the Queen, should Her Majesty tumble down the forecastle stairs.

The Avaloran had more than his fair share of Kai's snobbish 'suggestions' to last him a lifetime.

But Chancellor Esteban was resigned at the intrusions on romantic moments on this journey, for the tall dark man pledged to be patient with his bride's brethren's stuffy antics. After all, it would be just for a little while before he and his Johanne were home free—and Esteban had learned a bit about patience.

While her capable commanding fiancé attends to the logistics of their visit to this lovely kingdom overlooking the sea, as the din of fireworks and carousing wears down, celebrating the New Year's arrival, Elsa was sure she heard another sound.

The plaintive strains of a sad flute whispers tenderly across the sea from the moonlit balcony above, catching Elsa's squinted eye attention. But there was a different sweet music in vocalizing echoes of those melancholy notes that left the Ice Queen curious, as Bruni cocks his little purple head in like inquisitiveness on her shoulder.

It was faint and oh-so-soft and rather melodic. As she focused upon it in place of the booms of gunpowder and mirth onboard ship, Elsa's thirteen years of piano lessons told her she was hearing the musical scales of someone's voice singing from down in the ocean below.

And it was apparently responding in harmony to the sweet melody of the timorous flute yet playing an etude from the palace balcony above, like two souls reaching out to be one.

Could it be? A smiling Elsa peers over the sparkling waves of water beneath the thankfully turned off engines of the Gler with inquisitive eyes as the small Fire Spirit on her shoulder was closed-eye swaying his tail back and forth in rhythm with it.

Listening intently, Elsa was almost certain she could make out the fate gleam of a tiny little mermaid singing a song of yearning emanating from just below.

The child soprano longed to be part of this world beyond the rocky skags protruding from the midst of the vast sea whose tides were pulling them into the Portuguese shore.

The Arendelle Queen's keen ears prick up and eyes clear to see that the source of that same innocent melody the sea seemed to be mimicking came from a tender heartfelt flute being played by a small boy perched on the high balcony above.


"Mamãe! Have you ever seen fireworks brighter before!? Let me go to the gunboat down there! Maybe there's enough left on the ship to set off one more big one, like Papai always did for me…" His flute music coming to a crescendo, the small, dark-haired lad now boldly stands with excitement on the balcony edge of the royal family vacation Palace as he chokes up at the fond memory.

Little Prince Eric of Pena had been perched to play his music all night on the beloved flute his late father had given and trained him to play in celebration of a happier New Year's Eve.

In his exuberance over the reminiscent New Year's and ship-launching lightshow, the child, who had not found much to smile about of late, was dangerously traipsing as he performed on his flute – exceptionally, too, for a small boy of five years of age – across the stone balcony railing before the terrified eyes of Queen Maria, his mother.

"Eric, my baby! You come down from there, right now! Oh, why did I let those gentlemen put you up there to get a better view of the fireworks?! Oh, Grimsby! Please get him down from there immediately! Someone! Por favor! (please)!" Longing for the use of her legs again, the soft-spoken, corpulent, parapalegic since her illness Queen of Pena looks up from her portable throne, startled to see her one and only son so precariously balanced.

The handicapped Queen, immobile in her specially made Farffler wheelchair, complete with elaborate arm-rests and leg-rests, had been mingling with her many guests gathered on the stories high open-air veranda overlooking the sea from her scenic Pena da Palacio at Sintra.

The queenly mother, even though she was poorly, loved her boy and wanted to do this fireworks show for her forlorn child to urge him to come out of his cheerless, sad shell.

But she did not notice her cherished son, who had been quietly playing his solemn flute all evening, as always preoccupied these two years since his father's passing, until this moment he started doing childish stunts.

Good mother Queen Maria had tried long and hard to raise the boy who would someday inherit her kingdom.

Perhaps someday soon, from the way the Queen of Pena was feeling of late. The weak woman feared she would leave the child parentless after barely surviving the recent yellow fever epidemic that struck down a great number in this section of southern Europe.

Eric's father had been killed at the sea battle during the recent wars just prior to that epidemic, and the worried Queen of Portugal was not about to lose her son to the unforgiving ocean as well.

"But Mamãe! I can see Papai's special fireworks gunboat from here! He loved it so much! I want to sail on it and be a real seaman too, like Papai—ohh! Ohh!" Little Prince Eric was a handful for his growingly weaker mother to juggle her royal duties and raising him as a single parent now as well.

As much as possible, the Queen of Portugal had tried to leave her sprawling, twelve-hundred room, palatial Mafra Palace back near Lisbon city to spend time here at their more romantic designed seaside retreat that there one and only precious little boy adored. But it was harder now that her husband was no longer present and able to help rear the precocious child she could no longe physically keep up with.

The bright five-year-old secretly wanted to be part of the vast sea that his beloved father was so much a part of. Prince Eric played of his longing with his beloved flute just like his Papai would, overlooking the wondrous ocean from this very balcony of their fairytale castle on blissful nights gone by, dreaming of the aquatic mystery below.

Problem was, young Eric had not yet mastered swimming yet.

Since his heroic father's tragic drowning death, his weak, anxious mother would not allow her son to go anywhere near the beach without an escort, and kept him away from going to the sea much anymore at all.

That's where her husband's cherished friend, Sir Grimsby of Devonshire, had kindly stepped in to help her overfilled hands.

But even the faithful old friend could do nothing now but watch in horror beside the anxious mother as the treasured boy who would be King slipped from his mesmerized perch.

"Wahhh!" With a heart-stopping scream, the plucky young Prince plummetted from the balcony of the Palace as his petrified mother gasps in immovable horror to watch her child fall from the high balcony towards the damning rocky shoal below.

Everyone on the opposing balcony rushes over to stare in shock the inevitable doom of the small child who was next in line to rule this kingdom, lest that promising future be smashed to the unforgiving craggly rocks midst the crashing waves below them…

SZZSSZZTT!

But daring Prince Hans doesn't have to say a word, nor give a signal to know that his extremely talented Ice Queen would have his back as their hearts and minds were so linked as one with each another, they worked in sync.

With her mid-air ice slide, quick thinking Elsa had the accident's interception covered. With Gale's gust slowing gravity's clutches, the Ice Queen's masterful ice catches the small child's precise descent at just the correct, harmless angle that Prince Eric slides safely downward and away from the jagged rocks below.

Now as for my part… Are you with me, boys?

In a few seconds' flash, Kommander Westergaard had yanked off his Navy blue jacket and thrown it at Elsa's feet on the circular forecastle crow's nest that he and she were once more sharing the spectacular view of fireworks from.

Down to his bare arms and tight inner shirt that showed off his tight pecs as he raised his arms high, the Gler's fearless captain launches himself physically over the side of the highest point of his ship's forecastle, in a breathtaking, expert dive into the cool night waters.

His quick mind that utilized all at his disposal had asked the Spirits he always felt the presence of nearby his Elsa to assist this rescue. Heading towards the glow of the Fire Spirit's spotlight, the Water Spirit recognized Hans' valiant effort to cause the waves to propel him swiftly forward. Just as, in his peripheral vision mid-swimming stride, the Prince of the Southern Isles gratefully noted the Earth Spirit had joined the Wind Spirit in removing just enough jagged rock crags, pulling them in from the cliff ledges the child would have struck on his initial plunge over the side.

"Eric!" Exhausted Queen Maria's motherly cries for her only son could be heard ringing across the skyline.

The entire audience gathered on the Palace balcony breaks out in relieved applause and cheers, still in quantitative shock to witness the amazing Ice Queen's magical slide preempt the boy from cracking his head open on the rocky shoals beneath.

"Oh no! Eric! Meu tesouro! Peringo! (My treasure! Danger!)!" Only for their hopes to be dashed when the small child attempts to show off by standing on the slippery ice slide upon his unsure feet.

"Look, Mamãe! I'm flying over the sea to Papai's boat! Whee! Ohh-ohh!" The little five-year-old slips and sputters from the ice platform until the off-balanced child tumbles over into the steps of the dark churning waters.

"My baby! My baby can't swim!" Stately Queen Maria loses all her composure as the plump mother with trembling eyes turns to her husband's dearest friend, Sir Grimsby of Devonshire.

"Please! Help him!" Feeling trapped in her paralyzed state, Queen Maria lets out the frantic plea to save her child's life as she clutches the older gentleman's skinny arm.

But she need not have worried long, for the elemental supported Ice Queen and her valiant Knight - who had seen far worse scrapes than this - were on the job.

"ERIC!"

Wee Eric's dark head bobs up and down beneath the surf in a heart stopping second. Until Prince Hans' strong arms emerge from his diving below, holding the small child up on his broad shoulders that stood upon Nokk's boosting watery ones under the surface.

Hans glances around, sure he was being observed by inquisitive eyes somewhere, after his wild underwater swim search had brought the boy safely up to the swirling ocean surface in true lifeguard rescue style.

And not just from the relieved crowd clutching their pearls on the balcony above.

Young Eric, more in shock than fear, sputters up what little water he took in by the time Hans lifted the child up to the lifeboat. Faithful guardian Grimsby had raced out to swiftly order down the lifeboat from a nearby barge in order to intercept the little prince and his brave rescuer.

"Your little prince is quite all right, your Majesty! Just a little salty sea water never hurt any good mariner. Right, Sailor?" Though drenched wet from head to toe himself in the nightly 59°F early January weather, Prince Hans had the forbearance to call up to the alarmed, stout Queen and emphasize the well-being of her son.

The shivering young boy stands up in the lifeboat on his wobbly little legs to salute up bravely to his worried mother on the balcony.

"If it isn't my favorite young Prince of Southern Isles come to the rescue! This is the young lad from Denmark I have told you about, Eric! You can count on him in a pinch, boy. Prince Hans is a fearless good lad who will see things right." Peering down from the barge, Grimsby rubs his aching eyes which were gratified to recognize the one and only of his beloved Queen Louise's brood of sons who didn't look down upon their mother's eternally devoted, former suitor.

Queen Louise's youngest child in fact, was quite different from the rest of the spoiled rotten other haughty older brothers who took after their cold-hearted father King Christian's snobbery. They each in turn had snubbed the visiting British Viceroy whenever he came to pay his respects to his lost love's family in an ambassadorial capacity.

But little Hans definitely took after his lovely Scottish mother, though the pitiable, ill treated outcast child never met her.

"The little boy, just about my age, who could scale a high tower sixty foot tall in the dark of night and not be scared at all?" Previously sullen Prince Eric pipes up with hushed eagerness and now keen eyes drinking in his contemporary hero 'Prince Hans of the Southern Isles' in the flesh.

Though weak and tired, Eric was thrilled to meet the real live grown up version of the young Prince old Grimsby proudly spoke of in bedtime stories when trying to break the Portuguese Crown Prince's fear of heights and the dark combined.

"The very same. I always knew you would make a fine seaman, Prince Hans. I have been following your recent exploits on the ocean and back home in Egeskov with great interest, my boy. It is good to see you again looking so fine, standing on your own ship proudly with your betrothed lady at your side." Grimsby smoothes back his graying brown hair and his signature ponytail with a genuine smile and nod to Hans as the British servant meets the lifeboat at the Palace docks.

"It is good to see you again as well, Viscount. I have never forgotten your words, nor kindness in giving me this silver pen you gifted all those years ago. It has since elevated me from many a scrape, proving to be more 'mighty than the sword' indeed at times, just as you said." Never one to disregard a kindness - particularly when so few were awarded him in his outcast youth - after a hearty handshake, Hans produces that special, aforementioned nib pen. It was ever present in his chest pocket as he exhibits it with a flowing riposte fencing maneuver like a true storybook adventurer hero that impressed young Prince Eric to no end.

"Oh, yes, Eric. You may take well to learn as much as you can from this gallant young gentleman about royal duty and the finer arts of fencing, horse riding and swordsmanship. I have heard he has become quite renowned for all these achievements in upper class circles." If Grimsby had a son, he would have wanted him to turn out like Hans had.

The older man had watched the development of the small red-headed boy from afar, for his beloved Louise's sake, for many years, making sure the boy never came to physical harm in that cruel kingdom of his birth. Now, Sir Grimsby couldn't be any gladder to see poor, downtrodden young Hans Westergaard both settled and about to be married by all accounts, after many political ups and downs he'd followed closely reports of, to this powerful beauty of an exotic-eyed Norwegian Queen.

"But you have distressed your poor mother greatly, Eric, not to mention upset your distinguished visitors with your recklessness, boy. As future King of this great nation, you must take more care. You seem to delight in taxing my aging heart so." Grimsby berates the child with a look to the visiting dignitaries who had followed him down to the Pena beachfront to rubberneck the rescue.

Many helpful hands had accompanied to assist the female monarch of Portugal's panicked insistence to be carried down her Palace steps and outdoors to the waterfront pier to be with her problematic child.

Following her with her wheelchair were several young royal visitors from around the continent who had been gathered here in Portugal at Princess Valentina's invitation to join her Royal yacht to attend her grand wedding in Paraiso.

"Oh, Eric! Praise God you are safe! You will be the death of your poor Mamae! 'Glória ao Pai, ao Filho e ao Espírito Santo, assim como era no princípio, agora e sempre, e pelos séculos dos séculos, Amém.' (Glory to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, just as it was in the beginning, now and forever and throughout the centuries, Amen.')." The Queen's voluminous eyes were on the verge of tears for her clumsy little child as she collects her naughty boy into a tearful hug onto her wheelchair lap. With pure joy and a reverential prayer on her lips, she ignores the salty wetness that was seeping right through her fancy evening wear, so glad she was to have her child safe.

"I thank you from the bottom my heart for that selfless rescue, Queen Elsa. You and your gallant young officer. We are forever in both your debts. I have heard of your impressive magic, your Majesty, and how you use it for good. My entire kingdom stands in amazed awe of you and bless your gifted talents." Queen Maria lifts her worn eyes to bow her head to the younger Queen in homage respect.

Councillor Kai and Chancellor Esteban had escorted the pale blonde young ruler between them on the Gler's royal away craft. When they arrived on shore, Queen Maria recognized the Queen of Norway immediately. The older, decidedly more well-endowed monarch grants slender sylphlike Elsa a deferential nod and hand offered to squeeze over her miraculously saved little boy's head.

"Vise Admiral Westergaard and I were only too glad to help guide him safely to the shore of your beautiful country, your Royal Majesty. I bring you the friendship of the kingdom of Arendelle I am representing on our behalf of my people." Elsa says in her regal queenly manner the practiced speech to all leaders of countries she was to visit.

"So young. So pretty. May you never know what it is to be a monarch and a mother alone." Queen Maria remarks to her transparent blue-eyed counterpart, holding out a trembling hand to trace the lines of Elsa's flawless face, yet unblemished by age and worry.

"I don't have any children of my own, Your Majesty. But I do realize how frightening such a terrifying accident would be for any caring mother. I felt it my duty, as your nation's ally and friend, to do all in my power to avert such a ghastly occurrence." Elsa compassionately extends herself to place a hand of understanding on the shaking Portuguese mother's plump shoulder.

The woman's stressed out, worn eyes showed the care and distress of sorrowful years beyond her time, for Queen Maria was still a moderately young woman, only a few years older than Elsa.

The dark-haired Portuguese ruler looks into the clear blue orbs of her Norwegian royal equal with a grateful smile as they walked and wheeled together, side by side.

"Then I pray God will grant you to know that joyful pain called 'motherhood' for yourself someday, Queen Elsa. And may that offspring be always blessed, by having your valiant, and may I say, exceedingly handsome, Danish Prince at your side. In this life full of hardships – and, I am assured by my faith of a next one in store for all we believers— having the right man ever constant to your heart makes all the difference, you will see." With tears in her eyes, Queen Maria whispers this wisdom in Elsa's ear with a nostalgic tone that spoke of her precious faith and love for her deceased mate's dedicated constancy.

That alone had kept her going somehow to raise their only child in his formative years even through her great grief that had worn down Maria's once robust, physical form.

"I thank you for your kind words of advice, Queen Maria." Elsa's pale cheeks blush a lovely shade of magenta as the insightful, thoughtful Queen of Portugal gave Elsa and her pretty boy Kommander a conjunctive look.

She did not have to converse with them long to sense the bond glowing between the pair who worked so cohesively hand in hand without uttering a word.

"Mamãe? Where's my flute? Oh, no! I lost Papai's flute!" The smiling little Prince turns to a panic when he suddenly remembers his beloved musical wind instrument. Prince Eric had been playing his flute through his distress for its sentimental value and was devastated for it to be lost and washed away by the sea.

Like his Daddy.

Distraught Eric was about to jump down and turn back to find it, when Elsa kneels down in the path and speaks up with a kindly smile.

"Your flute is safe, right here, little Prince. You must've dropped it when you slipped and fell, and it bobbed back up to the surface of the water to be found on those sea boulders adjacent to the Gler. It was as if some guardian nymph beneath the waves caught it for you before it sank too deep, so I could use my ice to fetch it for you, dear." Passing the silvery flute to alarmed little Eric, Elsa was certainly glad now that her keen cryokinetic senses had procured the small cylindrical object on the way here in the boat.

She had seen Eric's flute had clattered from her rescuing ice slide earlier, along with the little boy who slipped off it for Hans to save, and Elsa, keeping an eye out for it, was almost certain there was an ethereal hand who returned it from the depths of the sea.

"Thank you, magical lady." Blushing at Elsa, Prince Eric gratefully accepts the coolly preserved wind instrument that belonged to Eric's late, departed father.

With a rare grin to his mother in joy, Eric hugs the beloved flute to his cheek before giving a contented blow of its scale keys to make some well timbral-balanced flute music in the Queen of Arendelle's honor as the group enters Sintra Palace's seaside entrance.

"That's wonderful, my baby boy. Now you go right up and let Carlotta get you changed and dried off, Eric, before you catch a cold on this balmy New Year!" With a motherly kiss to his forehead, Queen Maria claps her commanding hands together. Her nodded smile instructed her clumsy child, swaddled in towels and blankets by a mass of servants and well-wishers, to march upstairs and leave the party with the their dark-haired young housekeeper.

"Now don't you worry, Dona Maria. I'll have our Eric all dry and warm and cozy in his jammies in a winky! Come along, Eric!" Carlotta, the plump-cheeked young woman with a kerchief tied around her bun of black hair happily scoops up the waterlogged little five-year-old Prince in her wide apron for her Queen.

"Goodnight, Queen Elsa. Goodnight Vise Admiral." Eric politely says with an impolite yawn all assembled could forgive.

"Perhaps you had better do the same for your chivalrous young man, Queen Elsa. I would not want him to catch pneumonia for the New Year on our account." Queen Maria says to Elsa, with a regarding eye on Prince Hans, who was trying not to shiver as he followed the ladies' lead up the backshore to the coach that would take them back to the palace.

"There is a perfectly spacious suite of rooms that we've set aside for your visit, with a romantic view of the seaside. I remember how my King and I enjoyed it quite well whenever we came here for the summers..." The Portuguese Queen's smile goes all dreamy nostalgic, with sentimentality crossing her worn brow.

"Feel free for your entire party to retire to the rooms we've designated for tonight to relax and dry off in warmer clothes, in your own time. We will arrange for a more formal, introductory meeting in the morning, Your Majesty. You all must please excuse me, but it has been an extremely tiring, long evening."

As the Queen slowly passes by, Hans bows respectfully to the large bosomed Portuguese female monarch. That's when Hans noticed that many of her female guests were sniggering at him.

Multiple pairs of feminine dark eyes were dancing upon him now in the full candled chandelier light within the palace, making modest Hans blush a deeper shade of red than his hair.

The Danish Prince then suddenly realizes that for propriety as well as appearance's sake, he should not look ridiculous before such a regal monarch nor the mixed company of her peerage. Hans perceived that his drenched clothing was dripping wet and clinging scandalously to his jacketless lean form as they had led he, Elsa, Kai and Esteban into the Palace entrance behind towel wrapped Eric.

The self-conscious young man was just about to excuse himself from dripping further water upon the crowded Sintra Palace's palatial front foyer, when a familiar voice interrupts.

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

"My, my, my. Look with the fishes dragged in. That was quite a heroic display we saw outside the palace window on this New Year's Eve. Far better than the fireworks, I daresay. Well, a little bit more showy, anyway. Wouldn't you say, Alonsy?" Princess Valentina of Paraiso saunters down the lavish staircase and into the entrance foyer, waltzing around the Portuguese summer Palace like she owned the place.

"You can say that again, Val." Prince Alonso answers his own ostentatious fiancée irreverently where he was mildly tipsy from many midnight toasts. With his loose brown hair framed around his smirking face, Alonso was stylishly wearing his black and gold trimmed Argentine get-up, one unsteady step behind Valentina's treacherously big pink frock's flounce.

"You know I hate it when you call me that, Alonso. It sounds so vulgar. So crass." Turning her pert nose up, Valentina complains of the pet nickname her fiancé had dreamed up on the trip here.

"I know." Alonso breathes in Valentina's hair with a spicy kiss, in fitting vulgar manner, to the nape of the dark skinned Brazilian beauty's bare neck. Then he dances by, giving a competitive leer to Hans that spoke volumes of a dare rising again between the two virile young men.

"What has come over you, my handsome Prince? Too much New Year's wine and champagne? See, how incorrigible Alonso can become when we're alone? It is a good thing that we're soon to be wed. I doubt the poor boy could stand much more than a month of lonely nights absent from me now that he has something to look forward to." Verbally saying one thing, while physically doing another, Valentina detaches herself from 'poor boy' Alonso's advances.

And that inconsequential action spoke volumes of trouble in paradise to keen Prince Hans and Chancellor Esteban, who exchange a raised brow look.

"Hello, Elsa. My dear aunt has the right idea about getting your pretty boy Prince dry before he irrevocably stains Sintra Palace's polished teak wood floors with all that nasty seawater." The Paraiso Princess looks down her nose at the mess Hans inadvertently was causing.

"My own pitiable male creature simply can't wait for our incomparable Valentine wedding in Paraiso! It'll be just a little more time, my sweet, I promise!" Valentina throws back her massive ebony curls piled into a long ponytail sprouting from a diamante tiara atop her flamboyant head with a flippant laugh at her soon-to-be mate.

"Does yours have that same puppy dog look of yearning written all over his face as mine does every night before we bid each other adieu?" Princess Valentina confides in a giggle to Elsa's ear as she attaches herself to the Arendelle Queen's arm as a bosom friend would.

"Heh he heh." Elegant Elsa nervously chuckles back at her piquant South American friends in their outlandish display of public affection and satirical conflict. It was almost like watching a challenging rumba instead of the steady waltz of true lovers that the sheltered Queen of Arendelle believed in.

Rather than this cat and mouse dance, love should be more trusting and tender, in true understanding, which the northern beauty preferred with her young Prince.

"By the way, nice hardware on your fella." Having had a few too many inebriating champagne glasses herself, Princess Valentina gives Elsa a pinched arm as her catty eyes watch how embarrassed Hans, with Esteban's help, covers up in a towel which Kai had procured.

The solidly crimson red-eared prince had dried off enough to no longer drip water across the steps of the lovely ocean view Palace.

But Valentina and Alonso certainly made an entertaining pair.

"How's the old ball and chain treating you, ol' man? Suppose that's something to look forward to in elderly years." Flippant Prince Alonso tosses the casual remark over his shoulder, trying to make pleasant conversation with Chancellor Esteban.

He waves a hand for Hans to follow him up the wide steps of this avant-garde architecturally Romantic/Gothic/Eastern style Palace of his Brazilian bride-to-be's relatives in the Portuguese Motherland.

"You will find out those joys yourself soon enough, Alonso. That is, if you keep your cards close to the vest better." The tanned Chancellor retorts, sensing a touch of division between the newly affianced South American Crown Royal descendents.

"Ha! I don't play cards." Alonso rejoinders saucily, rebelliously rejecting the advice of this salt and pepper grey haired older friend of his father.

"Obviously not." Esteban shrugs with a roll of his eyes. The Duke of Avalor was hoping for the best for his friend's disrespectful son, but expecting the worst by the end of this journey with the explosive pair.

They were already practically at one another's throats in the two short weeks' time since their engagement.

He wouldn't believe that the careless, self absorbed, ne'er-do-well young Prince of Córdoba, nor the explosively vain and egocentric Princess of Paraiso could make it down the aisle in a viable go at the tough haul called 'marriage'.

Not until sensible Esteban saw it with his own now experienced eyes.

"You have a 'Bueno noches', too, you sourpuss old man. Come with me, Westergaard. You can borrow my night robe until your trunk of clothes arrives from the ship. We're about the same measurements from that outfits switch waltz we did in your frozen north, as I recall. I did look dashing as the Black Knight, if I do say so myself. Of course, Elsa only consented to you after she had that thrilling dance with me." Alonso shrugs and dances with an invisible partner before giving a beckoned hand to the redheaded Prince.

The Argentinean recalls having been co-opted into duping the King of Arendelle concerning this Dane during that costume Masquerade Ball a few weeks back for his friend Queen Elsa's sake.

"Counselor Kai and I will oversee the logistics end for the Gler and its sailors, Vise Admiral, with Viscount Grimsby later. Please see that you dry yourself and settle into this lovely castle for the night, so we may be ready to set sail the next day's afternoon." With a wink to his wife, who follows the accosted Arendelle Queen up the steps, Esteban was accustomed to running interference and overseeing such types of visits for his dear cousin Elena whenever she traveled.

The wily older gentleman waylays his brother-in-law from following Prince Hans up the steps to instead join in those auspicious duties he was offered to settle in the drenched hero's absence.

"Yes, ahem. Rest assured that you may leave those arrangements to us, Prince Hans. Have a good night, your Majesty." Kai's mouth suppresses a yawn and gives a warning glare to address the Danish Prince by name.

Hans – who was looking rather dashing, already stripped jacketless, wet and tight toned muscles on display evocatively in the thankfully warm 70° weather of this seaside Portuguese location – felt quite vulnerable and foolish as he nods to both the gentleman.

"Good night." Stately Elsa, after finishing shaking hands with several noteworthy dignitaries at the palace Valentina insisted she meet, bids her stuffy regent guardian 'good night' for the evening as her Brazilian girlfriend hustles her to the steps to coylycatch up to their men.

Elsa's blue eyes sparkle as the platinum blonde then follows the sleek backside of her wet, slicked back hair, tight angles fiancé being ushered by Alonso up the stairs from the sprawling Sintra Palace entrance Hall to the window filled guest bedroom suites upstairs.

"Ah-choo!" Hans suddenly sneezes, causing Elsa and Valentina to giggle when the towel wrapped around his thin, six pack abs waist drops on the steps at their feet.

"Are you ladies enjoying the inspection tour thus far?" Alonso rudely adjoins to the pair of beauties at their rear, sensing two pairs of feminine eyes only a few steps behind glued upon Hans' tight, plastered wet backside.

Although unsettled by the brash Argentinean's accusing question, the Ice Queen quickly comes to her handsome man's aid with a frosty wind replacing the towel returned to be cryokinetically tied again around his slim waist.

Hans was still appreciative although her ice magic caused tiny ice crystals to be embedded in the towel's fibers, causing it to be much chillier than it was before.

"Much obliged, min skat!" The slicked back redheaded man squeaks out in a high pitch voice at the cold seeping in.

"You're welcome, my dearest one." Elsa sparkles at Hans' playful way of calling her his 'darling' as they stop and stare longingly at one another at the landing of the top steps. "Happy New Year, Vise Admiral." Elsa wishes she could say more, but the gawking, present company disturbed her.

"Happy New Year, min hviddue (my dove)." Hans whispers sentimentally, trying not to let his drenched body's teeth-chattering spoil the romantic moment. Hans was about to move in for a good night kiss, when the towel affixed around his waist begins to slip again from his rising body heat melting the frozen knot to loosen.

"Come on, Romeo! You can see each other tomorrow, for Heaven's sake! If you don't die of pneumonia first. See you in your dreams, Val." The bombastic, self assured Prince winks and points a trigger finger at his own disgruntled fiancée before literally dragging Hans down the hall to his room.

"Elsa dear! You simply must see the portion of my trousseau that I've gathered so far on my continental tour! Tia (Aunt) Maria has been a gem, bequeathing me most of her more colorful articles of clothing, considering that she'll stubbornly only wear black now. Imagine that? Such a shame. Poor dear still is grieving after two years at the loss of her dear husband. But black is such a dirty looking, depressing color I will NEVER wear for anyone." Vain Princess Valentina comments to Elsa as the two walk side-by-side down the Sintra Palace hall second floor towards her room in the opposite direction.

"Are husbands really so precious a commodity to grow that sentimental about, to wear horrible black every day for two solid years?" Selfish Valentina shows her petty, youthful naïveté in the deeper relationship a good marriage commanded.

Elsa almost says something but decides not to, not wishing to spoil her relationship with the impetuous Brazilian Princess so early on. Not when they had a long journey ahead of them on board ship together to cohabitate.

A good hour later…

By the time Elsa could tear herself away from an over-talkative, excitable Valentina's constant chattering, the Norwegian Queen felt quite exhausted. The Princess of Paraiso had volubly shown off in her songful boasts the plentiful new wardrobe that she had picked up on her vacation through the European continent, with more than a few wedding ceremony plans tossed in.

Dutiful Johanne had been patiently waiting outside the Brazilian Princess' door for her own lady to emerge. The tall thin servant, who had dozed off herself, jumps to her feet to help stabilize a thoroughly tired Elsa on her shoulder and escort her to a good night's sleep in her rounded room full of scenic glass windows.


Up with the crowing cock, a well rested Prince Hans' purpose-driven sea legs were itching to go for an early-morning stretch on this breathtaking spread of beach. They take him to the base of the many breakwater rock formations sheltering hidden dune coves at seaside Sintra Palace.

Breathing deeply the good salty air, Hans strolls back from making a quick stop to check on his ship. He had come to clear his head that was still spinning after being unable to avoid being bombarded by fellow early riser Princess Valentina's long-winded, inexhaustible list of boasting of her family's top-of-the-line transatlantic yacht, not to mention all the 'last minute necessities' required to be loaded onto it to her over-worked manservant Manuel.

Apparently, Valentina was fond of her 'finest ship of the fleet' being 'incomparable' and 'extraordinary' in modern advancement for the top-of-the-line, Royal Portuguese built ocean liner.

I suppose it started with Eve. But I never imagined any of the more tender of God's creations called 'woman' could speak so long and strident and domineering without taking a breath.

As for me, I still prefer the quiet, demure type—with ravishing beauty—to augment my life rather than the pushy, flamboyant variety to dictate it.

Better you than me, Alonso.

Hans lets out an inward chuckle at his mental joke at the expense of his former rival's inevitable fate envisioned.

As his long legs traversed the beachfront, purposeful Prince Hans moves towards the beachfront stairway that led back up to the Portuguese Summer Palace.

He had an interesting small parcel safely tucked under his arm that he had picked up especially early this morning in the local village.

SNIFFLE SNIFFLE SNIFFLE.

That's when Hans' keen ears pick up the almost muted sound of weeping.

Tears of a small child were disturbingly emanating from around the beach berms close by, obscured in the rock formation dunes over the rise.

Just who I was going to see…

"Hey, what's this? Did you accidentally get sand in your eyes, Sailor?" Hans prods the sniveling young boy gently, remembering what it was like to be a tender little fellow who felt so downcast that there was nothing in his power he could do but cry every now and then.

No one else was yet aware that little Prince Eric was missing from the Palace. Unbeknownst to anyone, the wily five-year-old had carefully timed to sneak out early every morning at daybreak since he arrived so he could gaze out to the ocean that his father loved.

That's why he begged his mother to come here, so he would be in and out of his room and from under tutor/ guardian Grimsby's snobbish nose before the older man knew it.

"No."

At least the child was honest, not even trying to make excuses as Hans probably would have at that certain age rather than look weak or foolish before an adult.

"That's good. Nothing worse than a bit of sand in your eye." Pretending he didn't suspect, intelligent Hans says evenly, not wanting to distress the young boy further with shame as Eric scoots further back against the obscuring boulder he had been crying against.

"You know what? I was just on my way back from inspecting my ship to make sure that it's shipshape and ready to leave tomorrow afternoon, when I found myself in a sudden conundrum." The charming Danish Prince plies his tact to his best advantage.

"Co…non...huh?" The big word slipped over the young man's head, but the rest of Hans' speech had him instantly intrigued.

"I am facing the difficult problem of needing to ask a favor of someone responsible and trustworthy, who is still going to be on land here a mite longer, as I am duty bound to leave on my ship on the morrow." Gazing across the sea to where the Gler was docked, Hans conjectures to the dark-haired young boy who had been hugging his knees, hiding his face from Hans where he was squatting.

"Me? sniffle Responsible? snuffle Trustworthy?" The child whispers up incredulously to the older man with the kind green eyes suddenly engaging him. Eric tries to wipe off and swallow his tears unnoticeably.

"Yes. When I was a boy about your age, I often imagined what it would be like to join the Navy and be a great soldier and sailor like all the ancestors in paintings hanging on the walls of my Castle home in Denmark. My father and grandfather and all twelve of my older brothers were already rear admirals, captains, lieutenants, ensigns and midshipmen — sailors of all name and rank – before I was even born. So, of course I wanted to be just like them and proudly serve on board ship with the wind in my face in the salty sea air in my nostrils every morning like a proper sailor should." As Prince Hans begins softly weaving his tale of the past, Prince Eric sits up and moves from the craggly rock's shadows to hear him better.

Sniffle.

"You…sniffle sniffle…you had twelve big brothers…snuffle…when you were little?" Once again, the charmer's winsome attitude and entreated choice of words brings the distressed child out of his secret hiding place and draws Eric to meet Hans' eyes with curiosity.

"Yes. I'm the baby of the family. And growing up the unwanted baby who caused my Mother to pass in childbirth of me, they all treated me terribly. But I suppose I can owe to their collective cruelty that I learned to be tough and self-sufficient at an early age. Mind you, that didn't mean I didn't feel sad inside for myself and cried sometimes. Human tears are a God-gifted release mechanism which no man should be ridiculed for the genuine emotion to be so moved — whether he's young or old. But my love of the sea was so great that none of their mockery or cruel teasing or trying to dissuade me from a life at sea could take it away. Problem was, all my youthful plans of becoming a sailor and running away the sea to join the Navy to prove them all wrong would never have worked." Hans had settled down to the sand of the backshore to an ingratiating Indian style cross-legged seat beside little Eric to be more at the boy's level.

"Why not?" By now, Eric was engrossed in this eloquent speaker's evocative storytelling enough to ask.

"Because I could not swim." Comes the succinct punch line that left the dark haired child speechless.

"I was so ashamed and embarrassed to be called 'stupid' or 'backward', coming from a proud naval family of strong nautical seamen, to not be able to swim by the age of five, that I never dared to ask any of my older brothers to teach me. Long story short, not a one of them ever offered to teach me to swim, though they were all world-class swimmers. But they made me learn pretty quickly on my own when a few of my more malevolent, teenaged brethren found out that I was to afraid to go in the water. In fact, one day they ganged up to throw me in the moat at Egeskov Castle. And boy, did I find out how deep and cold and murky it was." It almost pained Hans to recall this part of his childhood, but he felt it would serve as a suitable life lesson to this troubled young man now.

"Because of that terrible event, but for the grace of God, and a devoted little foal named Sitron, who dragged me out after I had, just a few days before, begged for him to be spared from the glue factory knackerman, I learned to swim. After that, I was determined to never be so bullied or humiliated again. It was through much self practice over a year's time, combined with determination, as a small boy I went out every morning to swim with my faithful horse Sitron – my only childhood friend – close by my side to encourage, and yes, sometimes pull me out when I got in too deep. Because he was fearless, I felt I could be, too. And I was never afraid again." The Danish Prince who knew a thing or two about growing up lonely, compassionately shares his painful past with this young boy who loved the sea as much as he did, and had lost a beloved parent at an early age, too.

"But you couldn't have been scared to swim! You're such a great swimmer now, Vise Admiral! Maybe the best that I ever seen, next to my Papai." Eric's tears were all but washed away in his youthful acquiescence to openly speak to this disarming stranger as he jumps to his feet at the honest, stunning revelation.

Five-year-old Prince Eric's big blue eyes go sad when he spoke of his father. It had touched Hans last night when the small child had been reaching out for memories of his dear daddy on the ship that he loved and lost just before he fell.

Hans could sense that in the precious short time Eric and his 'Papai' spent together in this world, Eric was proud of his seafaring father more than life itself.

And it was shame to him now that he couldn't live up to his father's naval legacy, starting with his inability to even swim. Chiefly because his number one hero didn't get the chance to come home two summers ago and teach his dear little boy to be the best swimmer and sailor of all, like King Fernando promised he would upon his return.

There were tears in Eric's blue eyes now, his little fists shaking. His whole small body trembled as he became lost in this thought of his dear father who never came home again, and would never be able to teach him to swim.

So perhaps that was precisely why nobody could, despite kindhearted old Grimsby employing many instructors who were unsuccessful in coaxing the frightened young Prince to even come near to stepping into the water.

"Why?! Why can't I swim, Prince Hans?! How am I ever going to watch over my mother and take my father's place as a fearless naval officer and leader of this big kingdom if I'm too chicken to even swim like every other boy my age already can?!" How can I be as brave a sailor as you?! Why did Papai leave me behind? I want to be with him!" Eric's pent-up words overflow with the tears as he felt he could open up to this young navy man who had a story similar to the Portuguese Prince's in his youth.

"Well, Sailor, I don't have all the answers. Only God does. But maybe I know of another little orphan the Lord put here at this moment in time, on this earth, just for you. Someone who needs you desperately to take him into your home and into your heart, so he can be there for you always, like my Sitron has been my strength in hard, frightening times for me." At those inexplicable words the heartbroken little boy could not comprehend, Hans opens up the rope tied cloth bag that was loosely wrapped full of poked out holes the Danish Prince had inexplicably been carrying onto the beach.

Its strange, canvas obscured form begins to wiggle on the Navy man's lap before Eric's guarded eyes, as he shudders back before peering apprehensively in.

Within a few seconds, out of the unsealed bag pops in and out a funny little gray and white hairy blob that sent the terrified child leaping back behind the rocks, having no idea what that weird animated mass of fur could be.

Not until something big and pink and wet slurps straight across the curious little boy's great shocked face peeking in from inside the half-opened satchel.

The stunned child opens his eyes to be looking at some unknown shivering creature's big, soft and warm, black leathery nose and big, wet, pink tongue that was protruding from its open mouth.

That's when the small little furry puppy dog vigorously leaps out from the cloth bag Hans now fully unties to reveal his flurrious happy tail a-waggling.

"A puppy!" Eric squeals as he drops to his knees and the boisterous little ball of energy English sheepdog puppy was all over him, knocking him down and licking his face over and over in the most forthcoming, friendly manner of dog instantly bonding with human that Hans had ever seen.

"In your lovely little township, on the way to meet my sailors' lodging, I was passing by a music shop. I heard some exquisite music being played that I, a music aficionado, could not help myself from stopping to listen. That's when I encountered this little fellow, sitting on top of the piano forte, raptly listening to a young girl playing the flute. I inquired, and the little girl said that he did not belong to her, nor the owners of the music store. He was only taken in for the winter months after both of the pup's parents were killed in a house fire of a relation of the local music shop owner." The Prince of the Southern Isles stoops down to scratch behind the ears of the grateful puppy.

"But his lady wife thought the furry creature was too disruptive and distracting for the paying students of their music school lessons. Especially since the friendly little thing would slobber all over the sheet music and ruin the ink so it was indistinguishable to the players, not to mention not yet being house-broken trained. Poor whelp was about to be left out into the streets all by himself, with no one wanting to claim this wee newborn pup, when I foolishly interceded and said I'd take him. I didn't realize until I was halfway back to the palace, that my occupation as ship's Kommander of the Gler on this long voyage would limit my consideration to responsibly raising a pet on board." Hans was a natural thespian, knowing how to play the heartstrings of his audience.

But what child wouldn't fall for such a sweet-faced, affable, fluffy pooch?

"This adorable little sheepdog apparently loves to be petted and listen to music just like you can play, Eric. So I thought to myself, perhaps this orphaned pup would be welcomed here. Do you think you can give him a good home in your palace? I warn you, this happy type of puppy doesn't require only a minimal amount of space, nor love and attention…" Hans baits the child with the pet raising challenge.

"Yes! Oh, yes yes yes! I will give him the maximum of attention deserves! That's it! 'Max'! I think I'll name him Max! Because he shares his love to the Max!" His sorrow all but forgotten, Eric names his newly acquired pet – no, friend – as Prince Hans had described, who would be there through it all for him.

Up and down the beachfront, an exuberant Eric forgets his fear of the ocean and runs knee deep into the early morning roaring tide shoals to keep up with boundless energy 'Max', who fearlessly dived right into the sea. Eric was laughing and playing his trusty flute to the joy of his playful new puppy who happily thrived from this young boy's love and attention.

"Along with my best buddy Sitron, after all that practice, I was able to achieve a high level of skilled swimming because I knew he had my back as I stayed focused on the one special dream that the kept me going, until I thoroughly conquered that natural fear of drowning with an indomitable spirit." The Danish Prince sits longlegs stretched out beside the young boy on the beachfront, as Eric and his new puppy were taking a breather from rolling in the sand and splashing at the beach scarp wrestling together.

"What was your special dream to make you have a domino spirit, Hans?" No longer shy as he addressed the older man by first name while dropping to the sand after a long romp of playing with Max, inquisitive Eric's curiosity was piqued even if he totally mangled the big word to fit more into a boy's world of toys and games.

Either way worked for Hans in this next tutorial which was more of a dreamy soliloquy for the lovestruck man reveling in this quiet hour of life's contemplation on this warm beach's rolling in high tides.

"'Indomitable' – which simply means you don't give up until you reach your goal. My special dream which drew me to grow up to be the best man I could be - better than good – was this inner yearning to excel in every subject I could get my hands on, with my hope that someday I would meet someone who would believe in me. A beautiful blonde little girl about my age who would be so sweet, she would and care for me and all that I accomplished to make her proud. So much so, that I would never be lonely or sad again. Yes, for her I taught myself to unwaveringly surpass at many things – fencing, horsemanship, firearms, becoming an expert swimmer, all with the prospective desire to someday impress that girl of my dreams. No matter how sad I was, I knew I would become a fulfilled man when her eyes, as vast and beautiful and deep as the ocean waves, would dazzle back at me. Then she would give me a lifetime of affectionate encouragement and genuine fondness, which I had never felt from anyone before. And as you can see, I have found my special lady, because I never gave up." After distractedly drawing Elsa's lovely silhouette in the sand as he spoke, the Prince of Southern Isles directs Eric's gaze upwards to that sparkle from the palace above.

There, the Queen of Arendelle, as if right on cue, had just emerged from her great room balcony of the Palace's scenic, balmy Portuguese morning.

Hearing some lovely flute playing that had awoken her at this early pre-7AM morn, it wasn't long before the Ice Queen's groggy eyes had alighted upon her handsome fiancé conversing with the more diminutive prince of this kingdom.

As Gale enticed her to the balcony, a yawning Elsa didn't need to wipe the sleep from her eyes for long, for what her Hans was up to next would do that job for her.


Noticing his shy lover was keenly watching in his peripheral vision at a glance upwards in the palace's general direction Prince Hans turns to his little friends. With a cocky smile at the pair of boy and dog, Hans provocatively, brilliant strategist he was, begins to strip down from his outside jacket to his stunning open-neck inner shirt physique.

Elsa blushes when she sees this and was just about to retreat inside her guest bedroom's glass door patio, despite the wind spirit's breezy tugs to remain, when she was sure she heard a sound more discordant than Eric's pleasant flute melody.

"Squawk! Squawk- squawk- squawky squawk!"A noisy throated, googly eyed and gangly winged large bird with grungy big white and grey feather wings haphazardly glides across the early morning skyline right past Elsa's otherwise preoccupied face.

"Da, da, dee, da, dee, da, ooh, dee, dee, whoa-ohh! What'd'ya looky at what a bright, shiny morsel we've got here this fine morning!" The big seagull lands on the windowsill and cocks his head, startling Elsa to yank her wrap on over her nightgown and pull her head back in the room when the bird seemed to look into her eyes and address her particularly.

Elsa strains her senses to focus at the persistent orangy beaked creature who seemed strangely, vaguely familiar to her. And all at once the Queen of the Northern Winter – perhaps with a little nudge of her brother-in-law's Spirit Wind Whisperer residual abilities through the link 5th Spirit Elsa left open in her mind to monitor Anna – could translate bird-ese to her language, recognizing Scuttle the seagull as a friend.

"Scuttle? Is that you?" Elsa asks tentatively, taking a step forward as her elemental Spirit of Harmony eyes were opened for the first time to the amazing world of nature and actually speaking to animals that Anna, through Kristoff, had been introduced to.

"Yep, m'lady! It is I, Scuttle, your friendly scavenger seagull, at your service! How's Anna? How's Kristly? How's tricks, Esla? No, that's not it! Hmm…Asle? Eva? Well, are there more pegleg pirate baddies up northern ways for good ole Scuttle here to conquer for you, Sallé? Anyhoos, what brings such a pretty lassie to our neighborhood neck of the ocean today?" The birdbrain gull's lisp-y mouth fires off so much prattle that Elsa – who was a newbie to this mental translation business – felt slightly overwhelmed.

"Ohh, my head. I think I must sit down." Despite her own deeper sense of the four elements of Nature, Elsa draws a deep breath trying to keep up with this dizzy new turn of her spirit's enlightenment. Unconsciously her ice magic automatically conjures up a frozen crystalline stool beneath her near the window for her to seat herself.

Sure, she could communicate with Bruni and Nokk. But the elemental spirits of fire and water were not exactly animals, only the representatives of their elements taken on animal-like forms.

"By all means, Lacey! I mean Bella? Idina? I'm getting close, aren't I?" Poor bad memory Scuttle's feathers were ruffled as the beautiful Ice Queen in her frosty lavender negligee had the dippy bird quite perplexed as to her proper name recall.

"Her name is Queen Elsa, Sir, and you will kindly address her title as such befitting her Majesty's royal status. 'Queen Elsa of Arendelle and the Northern Winter'. Then, we would appreciate it if you moved on from annoying us in our window immediately, voyeur bird. The Queen must have time to wash and be dressed for breakfast in peace without feathered intrusion." Officious Eliana the snowwoman wakes up on the bossy side of the drawer, having been trained in how to deal with meddling male interlopers who bothered the Queen on this trip by Councillor Kai, under her father King Agnarr's order.

And that included Avian male gatecrashers, too, as a charging across the room, waving branch armed with hairbrush Eliana – who heard Scuttle's prattle too, for no linguistic barrier stood between the magical snow creation of the 5th Spirit either - shoos a flabbergasted Scuttle out the open palace bedroom window.

"Voyeur? I have been called many a name by beachcombers, little snowperson, but that is the fanciest sounding one ever. No idea what it means, but I like it. Voyeur. It has a nice French ring to it, don't you agree, Elsa? I thank you kindly, little Snowlady. I s'pose I may be thinking of moseying on to the continent myself. So, this sleek voyeur will wish you tchau (bye) for now, Queen Elsa of Arendelle and the Northern Winter." Scuttle was too daft to realize Eliana had besmirched him with the name, as he happily waves to Elsa goodbye, thinking he had been complimented.

"Whoa! What a headwind!" The bird complains as his wings were pulled to and fro suddenly as if by an invisible, elemental force.

"Thank you, Gale. Please wait, Scuttle!" Elsa, getting a handle on this strange morning visitation as the pirit of the wind made sure Scuttle remained hovering around the windowpane, rushes to her nightstand. After a quick scribble with her fountain pen added, she seals in a readied envelope the past few of her nightly letters to her little sister.

"Dear friend Scuttle. As I – and my wind guardian here - are on a westward voyage by ship to South America with several friends to attend their royal wedding there, and you are traveling north, may I entreat you to fly a little bit more to deliver this letter to my sister, Anna? The regular mail may take weeks to arrive, and I want to relieve her anxiety as quickly as I can. I believe, at your incredibly swift rate of wing speed, you may make that hope possible for me? If it's not too much trouble, or out of your way, sir?" Elsa bats her long lashes at the young seagull, whose jaw drops at the pretty request.

"Why, say no more about trouble, your Majesty. 'Troubleshooter' is my middle name! You may entrust your vital correspondence to your precious baby sibling to me. I'll get it there ASAP – which means 'Altitude Swift Air Packet'- by the way- with my reconnaissance team of loyal seagulls, in no time! Or my name isn't 'Sir Scuttle Troubleshooter Voyeur Extraordinaire!'" And with that proud mantra, a squawking loudly Scuttle takes off at his top speed of over 95 kilometers per hour to tag team the delivery north of the letters.

"Thank you, Sir Scuttle! And goodbye!" Elsa calls out the window to the departing seagull with a wave, though she felt rather foolish as Prince Hans crooks his neck to look up to see who his fiancée was speaking to.

"Never 'Goodbye', Sweetie! It's always: 'Til we meet again!'" Scuttle salutes the young Queen with his grey-tipped wings. "Once I pass this packet to my men, I'll catch up to your ship periodically for more of your missives to be sent via ASAP! Not to mention get a glance of those luscious gams again! Whew-whee! Well worth the extra wing flaps!" The dizzy seagull yells back, causing Elsa to modestly smile down to her curious prince, who wondered of her quirky, yet breathtaking smile out the window down at him.

I'll have to ask my Queen what her peculiar tête-à-tête with that bumbling seagull was about later.


"So, Sailor. With your new loyal pal's strength that will never leave your side, you think you're ready for me to start to train you in that first lesson of swimming?" A breath-regulated Hans asks, massaging his sideburns as he had been encouragingly invigorated by Elsa's elegant sight.

Muscle flexed Hans had partaken of a stimulating morning jog along the sun warmed beachfront spent trying to keep up with the young Prince and his new puppy kicking up sand.

"Ye…esss…Vise Admiral." After the healthy pre-swim calisthenics, the ebony haired child with his energetic puppy Max stops near the shoreline by Hans to catch his breath, not to mention his nerve.

"We're good friends now and fellow princes, aren't we? You may call me just 'Hans', Eric. Believe me when I tell you, I was frightened as any boy at first to be daring and brave enough to face the ocean water – which is much warmer than that of a still water moat in Denmark. I'm sure you will get the hang of it, Eric, and keep coming back for more." Hans says, still feeling that insatiable call in his blood exquisitely as he watches Eric tentatively approach the marine waters.

"Looks like fearless Max is already raring to go." Hans' long chin gestures to where the furry little puppy was happily sloshing in the waters, eager to do his first doggie paddle, for God made animals too smart to limit themselves with needless fear.

"You think I can ever I do the doggie paddle like Max can? Wow! Look at him go!" Eric excitedly watches his small puppy, who had never been in any body of water, never mind the vast ocean before, bravely dive right in and start paddling his wee little furry legs like second nature.

"Of course you can! Considering the fine whether and favorable morning tide, there would not be a better opportunity for this 'great swimmer' to convey what humble experience he has of the enjoyable sport. When you taste the salty sea air and feel the bracing wind in your face while you're swimming, Eric, it will never be that same for you again. The song of the seas is in your veins, and you'll fall in love with its beauty over and over, if you keep that dream in your heart, I promise you." Hans says, doing his best to entice the small child to be his best.

But the boy wasn't the only one listening to Hans Westergaard's heartfelt words of wonder that expressed his deep love of the sea, as a pair of aqueous equine eyes quietly glistens at the intriguing human from waves none too afar.

As for little Prince Eric, he gulps, sticking his one big toe in the warm sea waters.

"Just let go of the fear. Like Max here. If you never fail to love him, he'll never fail to stand – or swim – beside you." Hans gently asks, seeing glimmers of that light of hope and curiosity in Eric's clear blue eyes looking at Max which was imperative to learning anything worthwhile.

"Let's get started, Sailor! Before we delve into the doggie paddle that Max wants to teach you, I think we should start with the basics of 'sculling' and then the 'mermaid kick' and elementary backstroke's simple synchronous movement of propulsion after that. I can easily teach such a smart boy those three-step simple maneuvers in one morning that will make you as proficient as swimmer as I in no time. All you have to do is always breathe evenly – which should be easy for you already as an accomplished flutist – and just remember to stay calm. You never need to panic knowing that with your arms stretched out, your body is designed to float upon water. Those simple basics will keep you buoyant, just like Max there. See how he's doing such a good job, without me even to bother him with lessons!" Hans informatively, yet encouragingly, conveys to the child.

With the invitation for both to peel out shirtless and down to their underclothes at the sand dunes before moving back to the water, Hans slips off his already unbuttoned and loosed shirt, gracefully stripping down to his bare chest. He was scandalously not wearing the knit undershirt the trendsetting Dane had already discarded in this warmer weather, nor the caleçons cotton long drawers of most men's Victorian winter wear.

Instead, the modern Prince opted to reveal his swimming kacchera (short trunks, tied at the waist with drawstring) that the long-legged seaman had gained from his time in India. That was all free spirited Hans sported beneath his pants in the winter months, to be ever ready for just such an unexpected swimming occasion.

"I don't know if I'll ever learn to swim as well as you, Hans. I'm not even sure if that special little girl in my dreams with the flowing long hair is real…" Down to his long john underclothes as he reveals his secret dream that he never told anyone to this receptive stranger, Eric pauses before entering the water with a timorous dip of his little big toe in the refreshingly waters' shoreline edge.

"She will be, Eric, as long as you dare to dream of her without fear. Anything wonderful is possible under God's heaven in this beautiful land and sea of yours."

Diving in like a sleek fish, Hans displays several different strokes to Eric. Along with controlled breathing techniques and reading of the directional currents every good sailor should know, over the next hour, Prince Hans gives pertinent, yet kindly and patient instructions on how to swim to the child.

"Right, Max?"

The excitable little puppy Max dives right in and floats next to Hans, wanting so desperately to be part of the fun.

"Do you think you can accomplish this basic swimming technique, too, Eric? Just spread your arms out and let yourself go to feel the inner peace and calmness of the slow clouds rolling overhead. Imagine you're one of them. It is perfectly safe, as you can see, and fun too, especially with Max right here to help keep you buoyant. Like a furry life preserver." Hans was an extremely engaging teacher as well as an eloquent public speaker. The redhead was serenely floating on his back on the low tide mark to disarm the frightened child just beyond the beach scarp.

"Floating on your back is fun? I just have to imagine that I'm a slow-moving cloud up there? Okay… I'll try it." Eric rubs his eyes with a look of renewed commitment to attempt the skill that had been so difficult and eluding him between Grimsby's frustrated tutoring, his queenly single Mama's illness, and his sadness at losing his father to the sea.

But still, he desperately wanted to do this.

The younger Prince felt such respect and friendship for the amiable visitor who did not talk down to him and his silly questions. Nor did Prince Hans show any sign of impatience or frustration with the self-conscious five-year-old's attempts at the water sport he longed to learn in the sea's early morning tides.

"I'm doing it, aren't I? I'm sculling!" Eric proudly announces after several minutes of practice sculling and floating where the little boy had to hold on tight to confident little Max only a few times.

"Excellent. Now we're ready for the mermaid kick. Just turn slowly onto your stomach and hold tight to my arms here while we practice this essential swimming technique. Yes, Max, you keep watch of your boy behind me." Hans patiently instructs the happy doggie who slobbers first on Eric's sputtering face that was trying to keep above the water surface and then Hans', who chuckles at the comedically splashing up and down creature who took Eric's mind away from his natural fright.

The child, becoming accustomed on how to hold his head above water, grips Hans' strong, sinewy arms for support, was ready to try the double leg 'mermaid' kick the Danish Prince offered next teaching.

"This is called the mermaid kick?" Eric says with a quirky smile as he clamps his legs together as Hans instructed and flaps them both synchronized in the water like one great big fin. "Are mermaids real, Prince Hans?" The child recalls in a whisper his Papai's earliest bedtime stories of the legendary 'merfolk' in this part of the world and their enchanted kingdom below the waves that his staid tutor Sir Grimsby assured Eric were just fictional figments of his imagination.

"As real as my fairytale Snow Queen, I daresay, Eric." Two pairs of hopeful eyes travel from across the water in search of the fabled merfolk and back up to the balcony ledge of Sintra Palace high above them. There, Hans was sure he saw that special sparkle of iridescence still twinkling in the early morning sunlight that could only belong to his magical Queen of the Ice.

"And now, you're doing so well, Sailor, I think you are ready for the doggie paddle! Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do!" Inspired to sing in his gorgeous tenor, Hans relates the swimming action rhythm to the musical scales Eric already was adept at playing. Soon, spirited Max inspires Eric to bravely take on the doggie paddle.

The little boy holds onto the good-natured little dog who did not leave his side even when it seemed a wobbly Eric was a handful for the smaller puppy to handle.

But little Max put the word 'dog' in 'dogged' when it came to pure determination. So after a waterlogged hour of his fearless furry motivation and Hans' gentle instruction, before long, Prince Eric was a natural to be soon swimming on his own.

The boy, looking up to Heaven's endless blue with joy as he was expertly sculling the waves with no assistance, just needed some healthy inspiration to let go of the fear.

And not just of swimming.

"That's right, Eric. Just close your eyes and let it go. Trust those who have gone on before are watching over you." Hans' gentle tenor narrates the little boy's actions as Eric excels at several different strokes after some deep breath exercises the Danish Prince had taught him.

The dark-haired Portuguese heir to the throne does as instructive Prince Hans trained him to, referring to memories of Eric's beloved deceased naval father in the bright sunshine in the light of day's caring and inseparable warmth, kissing his face.

And that last push gives Eric all the strength of purpose to fearlessly succeed from henceforth.

This three-part lesson would buoy the good prince the rest of the days his life, rather than sinking in the wallowing sadness of the hidden dark of fear with his intuition that he soon would lose his dear mother, too.

Being a child born in sorrow raised without the love of a mother, ignored by his father who wanted nothing to do with him, and bullied by his siblings, Hans Westergaard himself understood the boy's deep loneliness and loss that stemmed from his fear of the sea.

So the intelligent prince also recognized how vital it was to harness that fear to bring Prince Eric meaning to his young life which was so important to his future happiness. He watches with great male pride how Eric and his dog were playing fetch and racing out in the sun like a little boy his age should, carefree and sure.

"I'd like to meet Sitron sometime, Prince Hans." Eric, growing more and more secure of himself in the water, strikes up the notion to meet the horse who gave his mentor Prince Hans confidence when he was a little boy as well.

"He'd like that. We'll visit again soon, I promise. Perhaps Queen Elsa and I can stop by on our honeymoon tour, soon." Performing some concluding expert backstrokes as he languorously gazed up, Hans muses with the little dreamy hope himself for his happy future with the gorgeous Ice Queen who was currently within Sintra Palace.


"My Hans is good with children. Far better than I…" Basking her face in the sun as Anna daily prescribed, Elsa dreamily murmurs to herself as she leaned her elbows on the windowsill of her royal high tower guest bedroom.

She had been watching her gorgeous Prince of the Southern Isles for the past half hour or so playing with the little boy and a fluffy puppy taking swimming lessons in the growingly hot morning sun.

"There you are, Elsa! But you're not even dressed yet?! I thought we had an early breakfast planned before our outing, Majesty, to discuss my last minute shopping day here on the continent for a few more old world knickknacks my replete trousseau demands. You absolutely promised last night to accompany me with your exquisite taste in this quaint little village where Tia Maria assures me I will find that special little old world item for the wedding." Princess Valentina's loud sing-songy voice boisterously interrupts Elsa's quiet introspective interlude.

"Let's see, I'm still stuck on that silly 'something borrowed, something blue' line! Now, you swore to let me borrow one of your oh so chic ice magic snowflake brooches that will keep me cool at the wedding ceremony for the 'borrowed' bit. Of course, the weather forecast in Paraiso for our middle of February date says it will be excessively hot this year! All my friends have donated piles of blue sapphires and gemstones for that prejudiced against pink 'something blue' line; Alonso has bought me so many new trinkets between here and there that I feel quite spoiled – silly doting boy. So that takes care of the 'new' item." Here the ostentatious Princess takes a breather to fluff her bangs with a brand-new pair of spotless white gloves she shows off to an impressed Eliana, embedded with pearls all over their fancy venise lace wrists.

"But I do so terribly at owning a 'something old'! You see, I personally change my entire wardrobe motif every season, don't you? What a useless phrase of poetry! I find it a very gauche faux pas to hang onto any old, tattered, worn down accessory requiring polishing after more than a few outings of constant visits." Valentina pauses for the first time in her long tirade to notice that her solo audience's attention was rather distracted by the singular vista far down on the beachfront.

"Now that's something more than a little bit worth hanging onto. Shame on you, Miss Elsa. Here you make us all think you are a sweet, innocent, modest Queen. I can't blame you though, for being late now for our early outing, you peeping little vixen. R-rrr! That's enough bare skin to get both our engines started this morning for our last minute jaunt. But I'm sure we'll be seeing a bit more of that when we get to Brazil, where the beaches are bigger, the weather is finer and sun is brighter in Paraiso!" Princess Valentina pronounces musically in a song and swaying skirt dance.

Her signature showtime tune in perfect time and rhythm echoes from the Sintra Palace balcony as she spins Elsa around and around until the Arendelle Queen was dizzily exploding a few harmless shards of ice from her magical hands.


Prince Hans, just stepping out from the ocean onto the beach shore, was all wet and dripping in the dazzling sun. The titian-haired Dane shakes his head like soggy retriever and looks up with a shielded hand to see what all the excitement was about.

Hans flushes as beet red as his hair when he sees Elsa was no longer alone peering over the edge at his bare skin immodesty.

"Race you to get dressed, Sailor!" The easily embarrassed Prince of the Southern Isles awkwardly covers his lightly hirsute chest with a sinewy arm as he dashes across the beach scarp to grab up his clothes without showing too much of his skin before the other curious, peeping Princess.

Unnerved Hans swiftly wrings out his and little Prince Eric's wet swimming clothes that the happy, laughing boy flings off as he changes into his shirt jacket and trousers that they had hung dry and folded neatly behind the sheltered dunes.

No longer ashamed of himself, no longer holding in the fear, Prince Eric had learned important lessons about swimming and life as well that sympathetic Prince Hans had imparted to him.

Just let go of the fear and the ocean will be your friend. Hans gazes over the early morning sea foam, almost certain there were multiple eyes in and of the water looking back at them. Not to mention that unnerving watery spirit staring right through him, as if in assessment.

"Eric!? Could it be, child?! Have finally you finally learned to swim?! We've been at it for years, boy! This is extraordinary!" Faithful friend of the family, Viceroy Grimsby had been frantically searching for his young charge all morning and had just now been informed by Queen Elsa and Queen Maria's Princess niece, Valentina, that Eric had been out here all morning under Vise Admiral Westergaard's instructive care.

"How can I ever thank you, Prince Hans? I should have figured that if anyone could bring this boy out of his shell, it would be you." Grimsby places a proud hand on Hans' shoulder, now thankfully again dressed in his proud Sjoforsvaret uniform, wishing the Danish young man was his son once again.

"You already have, with a little kindness from long ago that went a long way for a struggling young boy's mind in a beleaguered state of fear and uncertainty, Sir Grimsby." As he finishes dusting himself off to be presentable on the beachfront dunes, Hans produces that silver nib pen from his pocket that the older gentleman had gifted him. A reminded Grimsby shares a chuckle as the silvery pen sparkles in the sunlight that the once forlorn youngest Danish Prince never forgot the kindness thereof.

"I could not be more pleased that your unpleasant predicament from then as a child, which should have warped many a weaker mind to be bitter and turn to cruelty as an adult, has altered to a happy ending for yourself, my fine boy." Grimsby warmly pats Hans' chest. "And may I personally say, that I know your mother would have been so happy of the good man you have become, Prince Hans."

"Thank you, Sir. I only wish my mother could have attended my upcoming wedding to God's most beautiful pure creature who has granted me both her unimaginable forgiveness and her incredible love. Plus the chance for that happy ending you speak of, Sir Grimsby." Hans had often imagined how fond his mother would have been of his demure Elsa as he gazes over the sea that seemed to be particularly gleaming with a special sparkle.

"Well, if the Queen can spare me, I wouldn't mind being there for you to stand in your dear Mama's place, Hans." Grimsby lays a sentimental hand over his heart, smiling with a stiff upper British lip at the tall and mature, winsome young man who so much resembled and reminded Grimsby of the Scottish beauty he loved and lost once upon a time long ago.

"I couldn't think of anyone I'd want to be there more, old friend. After all, you were the first person to ever give me hope and show tenderness that made me believe there was something other than coldness and cruelty in this world. Thank you, Grimsby, from the bottom of my heart." Prince Hans unexpectedly embraces curt Grimsby, who first stiffens then uncharacteristically finds himself hugging the Danish Prince back. The older man who could never love another after Louise, imagines once more that this lovely child could have been his. And now, in these later years, in some way he felt he was.

"Oh, yes, certainly, my boy." Grimsby's British accent chokes up as Hans holds him tightly, knowing how much this meant to his mother's former suitor.

Little Eric races past the pair with the small little gray and white fluff ball of a puppy named Max, waving and laughing happily as he had not done for the past two years since his dear Papai passed.

Eric's vibrancy had now returned to him, finally feeling triumphant that he learned to swim, with the knowledge that his Dad was looking down and proud that his son would be a great seaman someday, too.

"And please, I will sleep better knowing you're keeping watch over Eric and little Max and that he will be safe now, no matter what, because you are at his side, Grimsby. Just as you watched for me from afar, Sir. It took me a while to realize it—that I was not alone." Hans says, quietly sharing a nod of understanding in concern to this young Prince who impressed both of them with his tenderness of heart for all creatures of the land and sea.

Just then, unnoticed by all on the beachfront, a small flash of aquamarine tail fins splashes up to the surface in the distance, as if the owner thereof had been here all the while watching them learn and play all morning.

Hans and Grimsby share a smile to watch Eric and his new puppy, Max, scamper across the beach with no fear of the sea that they splashed into every now and then to play with a little red crab they had found washed up to the shore.

The smiling Danish Prince seemed to have thoroughly enjoyed teaching this young boy the joy and freedom of swimming which would liberate from his held inside grief.

Suddenly as the happy sands beneath him quiver, accompanied by a bright fiery warmth reflecting nature's elements drawing near, the cool sea breeze kisses his sideburns cheek in greeting. As he looks around, Hans thought he heard the whinny of a wild horse's deep water throat signaling its approval from somewhere across the sea. The Prince of the Southern Isles' pleased attention then spins to where he felt the presence of another favorable spirit of nature approaching him from the land in all her blinding as the sun light.

Hans' beautiful, wondrous bringer of his heart's harmony.

Glowing Elsa, in quiet reflection herself, was marveling at how benevolent and kind her future husband could be, to spend his precious off time hours on land between shipboard duties, solving the problems of a child whom he had only met last night.

"Wow! That's a deep sea crab, Max! Don't scare him! Just look, okay? Isn't he wonderful? My Papai told me that this type of red sea crab can be very, very smart and very, very old." Eric informs his new best friend Max. The ecstatic pup was excitedly hopping up and down and all around the small frightened little crustacean, blocking it from escaping back to sea.

"What on earth are you doing so near the water with that sandy doggie, Eric?" Queen Maria, even in her weak health, had somehow managed to rush out of her Palace and down the winding steps to the beach front where the grieving Captain's widow had not stepped foot on the sand for two years.

But once the servants had assured her that Grimsby had found her missing son, she could not refrain.

The red Caribbean crab puts away his claws and uses the opportunity of the boy and furry monster dog's distraction to make a racing beeline for the ocean.

"Ohh, he got away." Eric's cute mouth puckers a frown before totally reversing into a big grin up at his pleased as punch mother. "Prince Hans found me this homeless puppy to take care of, Mamae. We named him 'Max.' Please can I keep him?" Prince Eric picks up the small sand covered sheepdog – whose forehead fur was already long enough to cover his two dots for eyes.

Max characteristically slurps the shocked mother's face as Eric holds him high to her leaning down face.

SLLUURRPPP!

"Oh dear!" The older Queen cries out in taken aback distress.

"Ewgh! Disgusting!" Princess Valentina shrieks out, imagining that terrible fate befalling herself at the tongue of that filthy little canine. She make such a fuss that enthusiastic Max could not help but dash up and put his dirty doggie paws on Valentina's spotless golden sandals.

"May we never have a filthy, dirty creature like that in our Palace home, Alonso. Clean my shoes for me, if you please." The bossy Princess of Paraiso looks down disdainfully at her doggy drool and sand covered stylish sandal footwear with the order to her fiancé when Prince Alonso arrives on the beach soon thereafter with Valentina's personal manservant.

As Alonso looks at his bride-to-be incredulously, Manuel was instantly kneeling at his mistress' feet with a disdainful look up at the fly-by-night Argentinian Crown Prince whom Manuel well considered not good enough to wipe her feet.

"Fine. I obviously prefer birds." Alonso rolls his eyes at his finicky birdbrain fiancée's unreasonable demand.

"Friendly, isn't he?" Elsa tries to diffuse the tense aura. More a cat person herself, she still found the little pooch adorable as she comments positively. She meets Hans' eyes, for she had a feeling he had been the purveyor of the joyful pet for the lonely boy to return his delight in living.

"Well, if Max, as you call him, makes you smile again, Eric, I'm a happy mother." Queen Maria, at first shocked by the verve of the over friendly puppy, relents to her son's request.

For his cheerful smile warmed her weak heart no end.

"Did you just compare my intelligence to that of a bird, Alonso of Cordoba?" Valentina takes a purposeful step back from her fiancé in a quarrelsome mood, obviously being flustered and overdressed in the hot sun.

"Would I ever do that to you, Val?" Prince Alonso saucily simpers, much to his detriment. He may have been reformed by kindness in certain malleable ways, but a vain leopard doesn't automatically change all his spots. Alonso was not always the most congenial, nor obliging betrothed partner.

"How many times have I told you not call me that!? Ooh! Why are men so-so-so—!?" Valentina was so steamed and high-strung at the scene she was at a loss for words.

Hans and Elsa together were trying to stifle chuckles at the comedically explosive argument between the Brazilian Princess and her Argentinean Prince.

Until Valentina drags Elsa into it for some feminine rallying.

"'What' is it that I'm thinking of, Elsa?! I'm so angry I can't think of the proper term!" The dark tanned young woman tears off her pure white lace gloves in irritation.

"Frustrating?" Elsa bites her lower lip right after supplying the negative turn to the entire male race that she didn't believe herself from where she was adoringly hanging on her young man's steady arm.

"Agreed! We are going to town, NOW! Elsa! OOH! GOODBYE!" Slamming her foot down hard she splashes more sand on Manuel in an attempt to soil an evasive Alonso. Princess Valentina screams out an earsplitting shrill shriek directed at her fiancé before storming off the beach in an uproar to the Palace with faithful Manuel right on her heels.

"So, Eric! Let's see how fast your new puppy can run!" Trying to look unaffected, Alonso blows off some steam of his own in his need for speed.

The Prince of Cordoba decidedly was not looking forward to being a henpecked husband to his quarrelsome fiancée.

"An apparently a well-matched couple, your Majesty." Grimsby comments with a shrug as he sets out a beach chair and umbrella the servants provide for Queen Maria to sit and watch her boy play and show off his proud new swimming skills.

"This looks like the beginning of a very interesting voyage, min kaereste." Hans strides up to his own stunned silent fiancée to whisper into Elsa's ear in amusement at the argumentative couple they were traveling to the other side of the world to see be wed.

It did not bode well for the start of their long journey across the sea to distant South America, but Hans was sure he would find a way to cherish every minute of his precious alone time with his darling Ice Queen while they were yet in courtship.

He kisses Elsa's cool cheek 'good morning' before the nervously chuckling young Norwegian queen follows her irate, frilly pink dressed companion to Sintra town. The Princesses of Enchancia and friends were waiting at the palace entrance to join Valentina's shopping excursion while Queen Miranda and King Roland with Kai and Esteban were to meet with the Queen of Pena later in the afternoon.

Though her day here in Sintra was full of girlish whimsy and shopping, all the while Elsa's mind could still envision her gorgeous bare-chested Prince striding on the beach and swimming in this beautiful land and its magical sea


'Under the Sea' Greetings Frozen friends!

The Gler's made a stop in scenic, sunny Portugal to meet up with our soon-to-be-wed, explosive South American couple of royals! (Wheesh! I hope Valentina and Alonso can keep their betrothal intact by the end of this long journey west! ; Maybe our sagacious Prince of the Southern Isles will have to work some reconciliation magic on the argumentative two at sea!)

Speaking of the clever fellow, wasn't our kind and dashing Vice Admiral a stunning swimming instructor and advice mentor for sad, young Prince Eric? Elsa certainly thought so! SIGH, Hans is dreamy shirtless) Yes, Prince Eric, Grimsby, Carlotta, Max, Scuttle, and even Sebastian made appearances in this visit to the breathtaking shores of Sintra, where the kingdom of Atlantica lies somewhere below the waves!

Little Mermaid Ariel (age 4), whom we encountered in previous chapters, had a mild cameo spying on the human boy and his new fuzzy sheepdoggie! Hans sure knows how to play a vital role in future fairytale friends' lives!

I hope you enjoyed this last stop visit to the European continent before we set sail for Brazil and a wedding hopefully still on schedule there!

God bless you!

Love, ^-^ Haruka

p.s. Sure, Gale, Bruni and Jordskjelvet like Hans, but did you all notice a certain pair of 'aqueous equine eyes' also assessing our noble Prince in this chapter? Was that approval Nokk was exhibiting to the 5th Spirit's chosen mate? Whinny! Whinny! (Elsa too is probably whinnying and rearing to see her handsome man all bare-chested wet and fresh from that invigorating swim in this enchanted place where crabs sing 'Here on the Land and Sea'! :) See you soon!