Angel in the Snow, Demon in the Shadows 7: Little Tiny

(A/N: And I'm back with another. Haven't written this story all the way through, so I'm kind of hoping I haven't trapped myself for later, but really wanted to start posting again. Some familiar faces return here. This chapter is based on Hans Christian Andersen and Charles Dickens' first meeting, as well as mentioning one of Andersen's love interests, Louise Collin. Unsure whether she was the sister of Edvard Collin in real life or not, but eh. Also, the timelines for the two little boys you'll read about later in this chapter are a bit messed up, Andersen would have been way older by the time his path could have crossed with either of them, but still. To be fair the timeline for Harald is a bit messed up too. He was way younger than Andersen. We're talking likely about 35 years. As always, enjoy.)

A Party in England

Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining,

This icy force both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining.

So cut through the heart cold and clear, strike for love and strike for fear,

See the beauty sharp and shear, split the ice apart, and break the frozen heart!

Hup ho, watch your step, let it go. Hup ho, watch your step, let it go.

Quickly Hans an Elsa made their way through the crowds, hurrying to catch a train. Well, Hans was catching it. Elsa was just there to see him off. "How did I get so late?!" Hans demanded, checking his pocket watch again in disbelief.

"I believe that was my fault," Elsa replied, smirking slyly.

"It was, wasn't it?" Hans replied, smirking himself. He remembered very well just why that was.

"Do you regret it? "she questioned with a faux pout.

"What are you kidding me?" Hans asked. He was going to remember that good morning for a long time to come. The train whistle blew loudly. "Oh dammit!" he exclaimed, pouring on the speak. "Make way, move it!" he shouted, roughly pushing through the crowds as Elsa, laughing, followed.

Beautiful, powerful, dangerous, cold, ice has a magic can't be controlled,

Stronger than one, stronger than ten, stronger than a hundred men, hey!

Born of cold and winter air and mountain rain combining,

This icy force both foul and fair has a frozen heart worth mining.

Cut through the heart old and clear, strike for love and strike for fear,

There's beauty and there's danger here, split the ice apart, beware the frozen heart.

The train was about to pull away when they got there. Hans cursed under his breath. "Prince Hans, language. You're a king consort now," she teased.

He smiled. "That I am," the prince replied, racing onto the platform and towards the train.

"Did you remember everything?" Elsa asked.

"God I hope so," Hans replied. But hey, it wasn't like they were poor. If he'd missed anything, he could buy it.

"Your manuscripts and journal?" she pressed

"First things I packed, along with my weapons, writing stuff, and notes. Only things I can't buy. Well, the manuscripts, journals, and notes, at least," he answered.

"Be careful," she worriedly said as he got onto the train just as it was starting off. She walked alongside it, handing him his bag.

"I always am. Don't worry, I can keep a low profile," he said, taking it as she began to jog alongside.

"What, no kiss?" she asked as the train neared the end of the platform.

He bent down quickly, catching her lips. They reached the end of the platform, the train breaking their kiss for them. "I love you!" he called to her.

"I love you too!" she called.

"I'll write when I get there!" he said.

"You'd better!" she replied. "Goodbye!"

"Farewell, my lady love!" he called back.

"Show off!" she shouted. As he blew her a kiss, she giggled gently and waved one last time with a grin. He entered the box, and she watched until the train was out of sight. Elsa sighed, ruefully shaking her head with a wistful smile. She hated when he left. Usually because when he left it was to take to the seas and either deal with pirates or play bodyguard for a merchant vessel. The thing was, the ocean was so unpredictable that a pleasure trip in a harbor could become the last one you ever took just like that. At least he wasn't going on a very dangerous ocean voyage this time. When he'd told her that he was to go to England, she had made him promise to take the train through Germany so that the trip by water would be minimal. Why was he going to England? He'd been invited to a party hosted by the Countess of Blessington, that was why. It was quite the social conquest, Elsa had to admit. The woman's gatherings were considered pretty high-prestige. She tended to invite intellectuals to her parties, where they could all meet. She'd apparently read some of Hans Christian Andersen's works and had determined his presence at her gathering was a must. As long as the Countess didn't want her husband for any other reason, it was all good.

Elsa's smile fell. She would miss him… And worry about the trouble he might get into out there. He wasn't exactly universally loved. She often heard even some of her own people murmur against him. That he'd taken on less than popular responsibilities—i.e. playing judge for the cases she didn't have the stomach to handle, among other less-than-popular tasks such as calling for taxes and strategizing for potential battles—didn't help his case much either. She shook her head hopelessly. His biggest peeve about her, as she'd come to learn in the short time they'd been married, was that she was too soft and lenient with her subjects, an enabler more than anything. They'd gotten into arguments about it more than once before she'd finally relented and let him take over judging crimes where the punishments were… not exactly something she relished. But he'd made a point, she had to admit. The people had been acting out against one another more and more roughly, as of late. When she'd handed the duties of judgement over to Hans, crime had dropped by more than half. The man did what he said, she'd give him that. And he wasn't afraid to heavy-hand those who got disrespectful towards the crown, though at times even the term 'disrespectful' was understating it.

She sighed. Sometimes she thought he was a little too harsh. That was her biggest peeve with him. He was hard on her subjects, very, very hard on them, but her enabling and his enforcing kind of balanced one another out, and fortunately, he seemed to listen to her more often than not. After all, ultimately, she was the reigning monarch. She turned to walk back to her palace and tend to her Kingdom. He would be gone a couple of weeks probably, she knew. England wasn't exactly close. According to the invitation the Countess had sent, her latest gathering would be focused on guests who were authors and artists and musicians, or something like that. She should have paid more attention. He'd been so very enthusiastic about it. She'd just had… other things on her mind. Namely a very negative experience with some maids who had decided to gossip about her and her husband. The gossip had been less than kind to him, and less than fair. She still seethed to remember it. She'd had half a mind to fire them all. She probably should have, but she didn't. It would have invited questions from her husband she didn't ever want to answer, though maybe she was disillusioning herself in believing Hans didn't hear and know. Hans was a heck of a spy. With his ear to the ground and a way about him that made you let down your guard, information was sure to find its way to him that wasn't meant to. She frowned as she remembered what the maids had said…

"So, what do you think of the Queen's consort, girls?" one asked.

"He's the traitor prince from the Southern Isles. I don't trust him. In fact, I wonder at the reason Queen Elsa chose him," another answered.

"Maybe she likes bad boys," a third said.

"The queen is more practical than that. Maybe it's something more sinister," a fourth stated.

"What do you mean?" the second asked.

"I heard tale that the young man took hold of her and forced himself on her. That he threatened her into a marriage by telling her that her sister would be next if she refused to take him as her husband," the fourth answered.

"How awful!" the third girl exclaimed. "Does he abuse her, do you think? Strike her? Beat her?"

"If he does, she hides the bruises and scratches better than most anyone," the first said.

"Queen Elsa is no foolish woman who would willingly choose a man that hits her," the second stated. "He must have forced himself on her. Why else would she have given herself to that loathsome monster?"

"Maybe because she wanted to?!" Kristoff had suddenly shot from down the hall; and if he hadn't done so right at that moment, she would have. She was glad he'd been listening too. "You really think the queen, with all her power, would have just let him take her without fighting back? Are you nuts?"

"Doesn't he have powers that check hers?" the first questioned. The Queen had learned from the mistake of hiding her own powers and had made sure they'd all known right away that her husband had certain abilities too.

"He would have been impaled long before he got a chance to use them," Kristoff said in outrage. "The king-consort did not rape the queen, and he does not beat her. How dare you spread stuff like that around? Show the poor guy a little respect! He's done nothing but treat you all well since he's been here. Heck, he's even advocated for you all! He isn't the monster you think he is. I mean, maybe once he was, but not anymore!"

"Monsters don't change!" the fourth maid argued.

"Yes, they do. I witnessed it. I've witnessed it for more than him too! Now why don't you stick to your jobs and stop talking about Hans?" Kristoff demanded. Angered and offended by his interruption of their gossip, the maids sneered disgustedly at him and moved away while Elsa smirked in satisfaction, inwardly applauding her brother-in-law.

Elsa shook her head. She needed to stop stewing on this. Today it was all about her and Anna, and she wanted to enjoy their sister bonding time without ruining it by running mental scenarios where she really talked some sense into those maids. Smiling, she focused on the trip back home.

Frozen

Anna and Elsa sat together curled up in the garden sipping the tea Abigail had taught to Elsa on the Southern Isles. It had quickly become one of their favorites. "Here's hoping he has fun there," Anna said when Elsa finished telling her about the party.

"Are you kidding? The man will be in his element," Elsa replied.

"Not worried about him having a little fling with a pretty author or artist or musician or exotic dancer?" Anna teased.

Elsa smirked into her cup, giving no answer. She knew full well her husband had eyes only for her. Anyone who could see knew it. Well, there was that time a belly dancer had come through. Inwardly she frowned at that memory. Of course, every man's eye had been on the woman. Most had been ogling, but Hans had been remarkably restrained. He actually had seemed to prefer the art of the dance to the sight of the scantily clad woman, so she'd forgiven him fairly quickly for that one. Kristoff had gotten an earful from Anna, though. Poor man. Elsa put the tea down again. "So… how goes the attempted pregnancy?"

Anna's smile fell. "Not great. Despite how long me and Kristoff have been trying, I still haven't gotten pregnant yet!" she said.

"Long? Anna, it's only been half a year," Elsa replied. Actually, it had probably been a little more, but still!

"I know," Anna said, frustratedly playing with her braids. "It's just… I really want this, Elsa!"

"I know, sis," Elsa replied, gently taking her sibling's hands in hers with a smile. "It'll only be a matter of time, don't worry. If you really want something so badly, it's bound to happen."

"Yeah. I hope so," Anna said, smiling weakly. She lit up a little more. "So, what about you? What are your prospects for starting a family?"

Elsa immediately blushed, flustered at the question. "Wh-what? Me? N-no, no, I haven't even been thinking about it! Hans and I haven't discussed the matter at all. I mean, it seems a bit tasteless for us to do something like that so soon after the deaths of so many of his brothers' wives and children, doesn't it?"

"Ooh, yeah. Now that you put it like that," Anna replied, cringing. "I feel so bad for them." Elsa nodded ruefully. There was a moment of solemnity between them, but in a little while they were back to laughing and talking again.

Frozen

The trip was long and tedious, days on a train, hours or maybe a day or so—he'd fallen asleep so wasn't sure—at sea, then hours more on another train, but finally said train pulled up to the final station. Hans, grimacing, all too eagerly moved the snoring man he'd been sitting next to off his shoulder, dryly asking himself why he hadn't sprung for a box car that wasn't coach. Quickly he disembarked. "Hans!" a voice called. He looked over and hardly had time to register who it was before someone tackled him, enveloping him a tight hug and kissing his cheek.

"Harald, can't breathe!" Hans gasped out. Wow the kid had a grip. Harald laughed, drawing back and grinning at his friend.

"I'm sorry, Hans. I just… I'm still trying to register you're really here!" Harald replied. His expression became solemn and pained. "When we heard about Cumberland…"

"Let's… not talk about that. Please," Hans said.

"I know. I'm sorry. I can't even imagine what happened to you there. I don't think I want to," Harald replied.

"No. You don't," Hans answered, quickly closing off from the topic. Hmm, he hadn't spoken to his friends since letting them know he was still alive, free again, and engaged to Elsa, he noted to himself. He cringed slightly guiltily. He'd seen them at the wedding, but he hadn't had a chance to find them which had been a bit of a disappointment, but he kind of hadn't really been thinking about disappointments right then. He'd been too busy trying to process that it was real and not some dream. That aside, he really needed to improve his correspondence, he decided. He could only imagine what they were going through those two years he'd been a prisoner. "So how have you been?"

"Still caught in that love triangle," Harald ruefully replied, shaking his head. "They're both such great girls! Having to pick? Enough said."

"Marry them both," another voice deadpanned. They turned and Hans smirked.

"Duke Alexander," he greeted.

"You know you're allowed to call me Carl, right?" Carl Alexander questioned.

"Doesn't sound noble enough," Hans replied.

"You suck up," Carl replied, smirking. He looked his friend up and down and a more solemn and serious look came into his eyes. Suddenly he hugged him closely. Hans blinked, surprised—Carl wasn't generally one for physical expressions of affection—then returned the hug. Duke Alexander drew back. "I'm so sorry… About Cumberland and its ruler. Just… I'm glad you seem to be alright and coping."

"Yeah…" Hans answered quietly. He'd still give up his life in a heartbeat if it meant Aaron and his father lived again, though. Dammit, he couldn't start thinking about that boy now. The last thing he wanted to do was have an emotional meltdown in front of his friends in public. He'd worked to block it off. He didn't need it all dragged back up again… But Aaron… He swallowed, closing his eyes and willing back the feeling of pain. He opened them again, putting on a smile. He should focus on enjoying the company of his friends right now. It would make it easier.

Carl turned around, frowning. "Edvard, hurry up!"

"You could help me with the bags you know, Carl!" Edvard called angrily, shuffling out of the crowd and plopping them down. Carl rolled his eyes.

"Lost a bet, Edvard?" Hans asked.

"Let's not talk about it," Edvard deadpanned. Hans chuckled. Edvard smiled at him then became serious again. "For a while I never thought I'd hear your voice or your laugh again," he said, hugging the prince with an arm and resting his head against his shoulder.

"Can we please drop the topic of Cumberland? Please?" Hans begged. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm touched you were all so concerned, just… Just things and events happened there I can't face right now. Or preferably ever."

"We know, Hans," Harald said, lightly squeezing his friend's shoulder. "You're here to have fun, not have bad memories dragged up. You'll love it! There are so many big names gathered there. I'm sure you'll recognize a good deal of them."

"I've heard Charles Dickens will be in attendance," Edvard said.

"What? No way! Dickens? I love his work!" Hans exclaimed, lighting up gleefully.

"Really Hans, don't start fawning like a fanboy now," Carl teased. "I happen to know he's quite a fan of yours as well, so hopefully you two will be on relatively equal footing if you meet, instead of falling all over one another."

"Are you serious? He knows my work?" Hans asked.

"You'll find all this out on your own. I'm not spoiling everything for you," Carl replied.

"You take delight in tormenting me, don't you?" Hans asked, frowning at him.

"It's so much better to find it out for yourself, Hans!" Edvard said. "Then you won't weird the poor man out by knowing things about him that he probably can't even remember letting slip. Anyway, you'll be sharing a room with Harald. He insisted. Carl and I are sharing the one next to you."

"Behave you two," Carl said.

"Don't even go there," Hans deadpanned, frowning at him unimpressed. Harald smirked mischievously. "Will you be dancing at all, Harald?" the prince asked his friend.

"Actually, yes," Harald replied. "A ballet is happening in town that I'm part of."

"No doubt you're the hero of the story?" Edvard asked.

"Who else?" Harald boasted.

"You've gotten cockier, boy," Carl noted. "And more narcissistic." Of course, if anyone had a right to be, it was probably him. Anyone with eyes to see had to admit the boy was nothing short of beautiful, in a rugged way. Left plain handsome in the dust probably around puberty.

"If you have the talent to flaunt and all that," Harald replied proudly. "Now, let's get to the hotel, shall we?"

"Let's," Edvard agreed.

Frozen

The four men stood in the crowd, looking over all the faces eagerly. Sure enough, Hans recognized a good number of them. "It's Lord Alfred Tennyson," Hans noted. "He's my brother's friend, Lars's. Well, acquaintance at least. And is that Edgar Allen Poe? I actually took inspiration from his works when styling and formatting The Shadow. The man is a morbid sap, if there was ever one."

"There are quite a few children here," Carl noted.

"No doubt brought here by their parents to try and meet their favorite authors," Edvard answered. "Unfortunately, none of them know for certain what you look like, Hans. Otherwise, you'd be getting swarmed. You're certainly one to draw peoples' eyes."

"Flirting or flattery, Edvard?" Hans replied with a teasing smirk.

Edvard started, flushing. "Flattery!" he exclaimed, shocked at the question. Had it really come across like that? He went over the remark again. Wow, it had. Oops. Hans laughed.

"You know, some people are spreading rumors that your story The Snowman was written to spite Edvard for not returning your love for him," Harald teased.

"Wait, what?" Hans asked. "How even?!" He rifled through his manuscripts and pulled out The Snowman, looking it over. "There's nothing in here that implies anything like that!

"Here, here!" Edvard agreed, put out by this news.

"Actually, if you assume the Snowman is Edvard…" Carl began.

"It was meant to be based on Olaf!" Hans insisted. "The little guy wanted me to write a story about him, so I did!"

"I'm just saying, Hans," Carl replied. "If people assume the snowman is symbolic of Edvard, then odds are you're symbolic of the dog and the stove is symbolic of the woman Edvard would choose over you.

Hans frowned, skimming the story. "Oh, I see it now," he remarked. Wow, it could be taken as a slight. If you read a whole lot into it, that was.

"Huh. Look at that," Edvard replied. "Well, you wanted me to keep the letter."

"Why not? Let them believe what they will about me," Hans said, shrugging. He wasn't going to get overly offended about it. A little peeved, maybe, but he'd known full well stuff like this would start to spread after he'd told Edvard to keep the letter. His popularity was on the rise, so it wasn't surprising he was suddenly under more public scrutiny.

Frozen

"Excuse me," a voice said.

Hans turned curiously and saw two boys standing there, looking up at him in wonder. "Oh. Hello there, little ones," he greeted, kneeling down to their height. "Is there something you want?"

"Are you Hans Christian Andersen?" the older boy, the one who had spoken, asked. The other was sucking his thumb, looking curious.

"I am," Hans replied, tilting his head curiously.

"Really? Wow! I love your stories! So does my friend. His name is Arthur Tolkien," the boy said, pointing at the littler boy.

"I like the story The Elfin Mound," the smaller boy said. "I love elves. I write stories about elves too!"

"Do you now? I'd very much like to see them," Hans said. The little boy's eyes bugged almost comically wide.

"I'll get them! Stay here," the boy insisted, hurrying off.

Hans chuckled amusedly. He turned back to the older boy. "And you are…?"

"Robert, sir. Robert Louis Stevenson," the boy answered.

"Oh? Oh! Oh wow, I haven't seen you since you were a tiny thing," Hans said, lighting up a bit. "I remember you took quite a shine to my older brother Jürgen."

"I like pirates!" Robert declared.

Hans started, frowning. "How did you know he was a pirate? We didn't even know," he said.

Robert shrugged. "I don't know. He saw a story I wrote about pirates and corrected some things about them. Then he told me that if I was writing stories about pirates, maybe it was better to exaggerate some things to make them seem better than what they really were. He says everybody likes ideas of hidden things, so maybe I should have something hidden, like a treasure, and a way to find it too," the child answered.

"That would be an interesting thing indeed," Hans answered. "I wish you luck with your stories. One day you might grow up to be a wonderful writer indeed." Just then little Arthur returned and held his story up to Hans, body shaking in excitement and nervousness. Hans took the papers and read them over. He started. "Oh wow. Arthur, these are amazing! I think I much prefer your take on the elves to mine." Given what he now had seen of elves, namely the elven king and his entourage, the child's rendition of them was probably more accurate too. "Did you know I met an elf once?"

Arthur's mouth dropped in awe. "That's silly! Elves don't exist," Robert said.

"Yes they do!" Arthur insisted. "They visit me sometimes, and when I'm big and have a son, I'm going to tell him all about them and tell him some stories and maybe he'll write about them even better than me!"

"They definitely exist," Hans said. "I talked to one. He and his army helped fight off an enemy of ours. He was very noble. He never told me a name. I only ever heard him addressed as Elfin King."

"I think Elven is the better word," Arthur stubbornly grumbled.

"You know what? I think it would make much more sense too," Hans replied. "Keep writing, little ones, both of you. I think you two have a lot of talent. One day you might be better than me."

"No," Arthur said, smiling.

"Your stories are the best! So are Charles Dickens' stories," Robert agreed, nodding seriously.

"I'm happy you think so," Hans replied, smiling at them. He personally didn't think they were all that good, or worth all the praise they seemed to be garnishing, but who was he to argue them? "Run along you two. Your parents must be getting worried. Robert, if you would like to ask Jürgen questions about pirates I'll see to it he writes you. And Arthur, if you have any questions about elves, be sure to ask me. Like I said, I've met them. My family has crossed paths with fae many times in the past."

"Yes sir," they both said together before scrambling off.

Hans chuckled amusedly and stood up, shaking his head. "You really have a way with children, Hans Christian Andersen," Harald said, smirking.

"I really don't," Hans replied.

"Are you kidding? They're drawn to you like moths to flame," Carl said, taking note of all the other children and their parents starting to notice the author prince.

"I wouldn't go that far," Hans answered. He didn't get much more talking in, though. Soon enough he was caught up in answering questions from children and parents alike who had found him.

Frozen

Eventually the crowds thinned out again and Hans could get some room to breathe. He'd lost Carl, Edvard, and Harald in the crowd, but they'd probably find him soon enough. He drew a relieved breath, glad to be away from the onslaught that had suddenly fallen on him. "Hans Christian Andersen, I presume? Very few other authors I've heard of could draw a crowd of children and adults alike of that size," a voice said.

Hans started, looking over. His eyes widened in disbelief and he straightened up. "Charles Dickens?!" he exclaimed in shock.

"You know of me?" Dickens questioned, perking up slightly.

"Of course I do! You're a literary genius, and if critics haven't recognized that yet, they will. Do you have any idea how much inspiration I take from you?" Hans replied, beaming excitedly.

"Really? Because I happen to be taking inspiration from you too. Quite a bit of it," Charles stated, grinning and lighting up brightly as they walked out to the veranda to get some fresh air. To be noticed and spoken to in such a way by the man he had such admiration for was nothing short of amazing. To know Hans Christian Andersen was as much a fan of his as he was of him? That just was the icing on the cake.

"Me? Are you kidding? I'm not that good," Hans replied.

"You're out of your head, man! You're every bit that good," Charles answered, grinning widely. "Have you read your own stories? All the ways they can be interpreted, all you put into them and express… Even adults fawn over them!"

"I'm sure a good number of adults fawn over yours too," Hans answered. Especially given Dickens seemed to lean towards an older audience.

"True," Charles admitted. "Your short stories and fairy tales are the best I've read since the brothers Grimm!"

"Wow, really? Being compared to them isn't something I ever expected," Hans answered.

"I only wish you would write more novels," Dickens admitted. "I would devour them happily." He'd devoured the ones the man had written, for sure, as few as they were.

"Thank you," Hans said, grinning. "I'm just worried a lot of the essence I capture in my short stories would be lost in a novel or novella, though I'm working on a novella called The Ice Maiden."

"I can't presume to know, of course, but I hardly think you'd lose too much of the essence you capture in your stories at all," Charles said.

"For now, I think I'll leave the novels to you," Hans replied. "I never get tired of them. You're probably the greatest novelist of our time."

"You've written plays too, haven't you? And poems, and travelogues. You're quite the prolific writer," Charles said.

"You can get a story from anything you touch," Hans replied, winking.

"If that isn't a policy for a writer to live by, I don't know what is," Dickens replied.

"I try," Hans answered, grinning.

"We should get together sometime, I think, and bounce ideas off one another," Dickens stated.

"I'd like that very much," Hans replied.

"You can meet my wife and daughter as well. Although I can't guarantee they'll be as big of fans of yours," Charles said.

"Dare I ask?" Hans asked.

"Uh, no. No, you dare not," Dickens answered, smirking.

"Can't wait," Hans replied, returning the smirk and rolling his eyes. He looked over and spotted Alfred approaching them. So, he'd spotted him after all. Alfred was closer to his age than Lars's, but he'd never really connected to him as well as Mael had. "Have you met Lord Tennyson?" Hans questioned.

"Not for long," Charles answered. "I more saw him, really. He's… a little out of my class. Nobility, aristocracy. A joke."

Hans inwardly cringed. Apparently, Dickens was no fan of royalty. Not that he could blame the guy. It was probably best he kept his mouth shut about being a prince. Here was hoping Alfred kept his mouth shut about it too. "Hans Wester…" Alfred began.

"Andersen," Hans cut off. "Yes. I'm Hans Andersen. You know who I am, Alfred."

"Barely," Alfred replied. Hans frowned at the subtle dig as to how little anyone knew of the youngest princes and how they were basically nothings. However, Alfred was a good sort and seemed to catch on to the fact Hans didn't want to be known as royalty. No wonder, Alfred inwardly noted. If Hans had taken a liking to Dickens, he'd hardly want to put a possible friendship with the man at risk by admitting he was royalty.

"Charles Dickens, this is Lord Alfred Tennyson. He's a friend of someone close to me," Hans said.

"A cousin?" Dickens asked. As far as anyone knew, Hans Andersen was an only child.

"We'll go with that," Alfred answered. "A pleasure, Mr. Dickens."

"Not so much for me," Charles bluntly answered.

"You're a rude little fellow, aren't you?" Alfred said.

"Forgive me, Lord Tennyson. I just… am not exactly a fan of royalty. I don't trust them. At all. However, I have to admit your poems are some of the most beautiful I've ever had the pleasure of reading. The Lady of Shallot is just… I'm awed at it," Dickens said.

"Thank you," Alfred replied, smiling. "It was a favorite of mine."

"No wonder," Dickens replied. He turned back to Hans. "Mr. Andersen, if you'd be so kind as to exchange your information with me? I'd love to keep in touch with you."

"I would be every bit as honored, Mr. Dickens," Hans answered, starting to scribble down his mailing address. Well, Kristoff's. He'd sort that out with the Ice Harvester later. What? He couldn't very well say he lived in a castle now, could he? He handed the paper over and Charles gave his own.

"Should fortune smile on us, perhaps we'll meet again before this party is over," Dickens said.

"May fortune be kind, then," Hans replied. Charles smiled, bowed to Hans and Tennyson, then left.

Frozen

Alfred watched after Dickens then turned to Hans dubiously. "Really?" he asked.

"What?" Hans asked, frowning.

Alfred sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wonder about you," he said.

"What?" Hans repeated.

"You do know true friendship is when someone accepts another for who they are, right? You're really so afraid of Charles shutting you out when he learns you're a prince, that you're going to spin one of your infamous webs of deceit again?" Alfred asked.

"Only until I'm on firmer ground with him," Hans answered. "It's not like I can keep the fact I'm a prince secret forever. In case the worst happens, though, I'd like to milk this for all its worth if nothing else. Anyway, how have you been?"

"Fine. How's Lars?" Alfred asked.

"Mael's been… better," Hans answered.

"His powers?" Alfred asked, frowning worriedly.

"Not so much those as… Well, maybe. Not the dark ones, but the whole seer spiel? He's taken to peering into those visions more often lately. I'm a little worried about him," Hans said.

"At least that aspect of his power can only mentally devastate him instead of physically," Alfred said. "Although, I suppose emotional anguish is worse than physical tends to be. But this way you know he won't suddenly snap and lose himself."

"True," Hans admitted.

"So, you're married to the Queen of Arendelle. Such amazing fortune you've found," Alfred remarked. "I've heard she's beautiful. And wonderful. And kind. And your tether to humanity."

"Her being what holds me to humanity doesn't mean I love her any less," Hans answered. "This isn't some obsession, Alfred, or some necessity."

"I never said it was, Hans," Alfred answered with a sigh. "But if you're getting so defensive about something like that, maybe she is too much a necessity right now."

"Read some of your poems then come back and lecture me. I loved The Lady of Shalott, but really? The woman pining away in unrequited love for Lancelot and dooming herself to death just because she absolutely had to look out the window after him? See a man once, fall for him, and doom yourself. Death by curse, what a way to prove your love for a guy you haven't even spoken to," Hans bit.

"I have to confess, you have a point," Alfred admitted. "But deciding to send a letter to him to come visit her then get to talking over tea and crumpets or whatever else, just doesn't have the same poetic ring to it, somehow. It's all well and good for a storywriter to have her confess about the curse and have the knight ride off to find a way to break it so he can be with his love, but not for a poet."

"You realize I've written a good few poems myself, right?" Hans asked.

"I'm not criticizing your poems, Hans. Wow you're a defensive little thing," Alfred replied. "I actually really like them. You're just playing dumb and you know it."

Hans sighed. "Alright, I get what you mean. 'She left the web, she left the loom, to write a letter and avoid her doom' definitely wouldn't warrant as powerful an outcome as 'The mirror cracked from side to side, The curse has come upon me, cried the Lady of Shalott'," he admitted. "I suppose Elaine can be forgiven. She didn't know that death would be the outcome if she looked after Lancelot and towards Camelot."

"Precisely. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to slip in that reference to your brother and his abilities if I'd gone that route. There's storytelling and then there's poem writing," Alfred said. "I'm sure, though, that you could make quite a tale out of Elaine of Shalott sending for Lancelot and having him ride out to try and find a way to break the curse. With your talent, you could probably make it sound amazingly beautiful too, if you turned the poem into a story. Actual legend aside."

"Afraid I couldn't hope to do your poem justice, Lord Tennyson," Hans said.

Alfred smiled, pleased by the flattery. "It's good to see you well, Prince Hans. I'm sure you'll enjoy every minute of this gathering. The Countess will probably drag the party on for a week. Good to see you and Dickens hitting it off. Best not tell your wife about this wild week of togetherness, though," he teased.

"Why does everybody assume I'm…?" Hans began. He trailed off. "Never mind. Stupid question." He'd kind of set up 'his' backstory so that it would come across that way and leave people questioning for a good long time.

"You brought it on yourself," Alfred said.

"No regrets," Hans answered, shrugging it off.

Alfred smiled, nodding. "I'll perhaps see you later, your majesty. By the way, your attention to the power of women in your stories? It's quite brilliant. Ahead of our time. Be careful with things that are ahead of their time."

"I will, and have been," Hans answered, bowing to Tennyson. The nobleman bowed back before leaving.

Frozen

"Hans!" a voice called. Edvard. Hans was starting to remember why he hated these things. You never got a moment to yourself. Not that he begrudged Edvard for coming to find him. It was just he was getting a little sick of the crowds here and the constant interruptions. Hans turned curiously and started. With Edvard was a young woman who looked like she was his sister. "I never introduced you to my sister," Edvard said. Nailed it, Hans inwardly cheered to himself. "Louise, this is Hans Christian Andersen. Well, his real name is Hans Christian Westergaard, but eh. He's the youngest prince of the Southern Isles."

"That a prince could write stories as in depth and beautiful and all-inclusive as yours, your highness, is nothing short of amazing," she said, curtsying to him.

"Thank you, Miss Collin," Hans answered, bowing with a smile as Harald and Carl found them and approached.

"You are a remarkable man," she said.

Hans kept the smile on, though the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. As if he hadn't had enough problems with the Ice Maiden, he inwardly noted to himself. Now this woman was flirting with him? Did no one respect the sanctity of marriage, anymore? Disgusting. Not her! She wasn't disgusting. The fact no one seemed to honor the fact he was off the market was disgusting. 'Hey, you're gorgeous. Can't really blame them,' Anna would tease, which was kind of a point. As far as a good many women were concerned, he was quite the prize indeed. He should really advertise the fact Kelin-Sel and Iscawin were still free. Then maybe all these girls who were showing interest in him would go for one of the other two. After all, they were closer to the throne of the Southern Isles anyway. Not to say all women, and men for that matter, were after money or power! Just… a lot more of them than he'd initially believed. Money, power, and looks. Which was also disgusting, but then he couldn't really talk. Elsa was all of that, after all. Thing was he hadn't married her for her looks or riches or power. It hadn't hurt, but he hadn't married her for those things.

"Thank you, my lady," he replied, bowing to her. "My wife tends to tell me as much time and time again." And by time and time again, he meant whenever she caught him slipping into a depressive funk or began to suspect he was avoiding her out of shame or something. He caught Edvard cringe slightly and bit his tongue. Elsa was still a sore spot between them. He'd intended to avoid much mention of her in Edvard's presence. He gave his friend and apologetic look before turning back to the woman, smiling.

"Ah, your wife," Louise said, sounding less than impressed. She put on a smile again, though. "I suppose there's little use in attempting to seduce you, then?"

"Louise!" Edvard exclaimed in horror.

"Oh hush you," Louise replied, smirking playfully at her brother.

"No use whatsoever," Hans replied.

"Unfortunate for you that I like challenges," she answered.

"Unfortunate for you that no such challenge as this has ever succeeded on me before," Hans answered.

"Surely there's a first time," she said.

"Try if you must, but you won't win," he answered, smirking. The girl was entertaining, he'd give her that. He definitely could see her brother in her. Which would only make this about a thousand times more awkward if he actually did start to get intrigued. Ending up interested in a female Edvard would be quite the topic over dinner for sure. "Now if you'll excuse me, my lady, I see two more of my friends over there I need to speak to. It's about time we all headed back to our hotel. It's getting late and the crowds are dying down here."

"I agree," Edvard said, frowning at his sister with a less than impressed look.

"Oh don't give me that," Louise said to her brother, frowning back.

"Really, Louise, show some decorum," he said.

"Bite me Edvard," she replied, fanning herself and walking away while swaying her hips quite markedly. Hans rolled his eyes with a smile. He didn't give her the satisfaction of even attempting to watch her go, turning instead to go straight to Harald and Carl, Edvard at his side.

"Sorry for my sister," he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's okay," Hans replied. "I've handled situations like that before." And worse ones. Like with the Ice Maiden going under the name 'Greta'.

"That's a relief," Edvard replied as they joined up with Carl and Harald.

Frozen

So sooner had they gotten to the hotel when a courier approached them. "Hans Andersen?" the man asked.

"Yes?" Hans asked, raising an eyebrow.

"This letter came for you," the courier stated, handing an unmarked letter over. "It was specified on the front that it was to be given to you immediately, though there was no name on it."

Hans took it. "Thank you," he said. He didn't even need to look to know who it had come from. Probably his brothers, and it sounded like something was going down. He sighed in annoyance as the courier left, opening the envelope. "What now?" he asked slightly agitatedly. He pulled out the note and read it through. Annoyance became a more serious and guarded expression soon enough. He was oddly quiet as he read.

"Hans?" Harald soon asked after he was fairly sure the other had read the letter over more than once.

"Hmm? Oh, sorry. Just a message from my brothers. Apparently, the pirate Xe is becoming a lingering threat and is pressing harder than usual against our shores. It isn't an immediate danger, they just saw it fit to warn me in case it becomes one and they need me," Hans said. "I don't like how close he's drifting to both Arendelle's shores and the Southern Isles, apparently he doesn't learn, but it's not overly concerning just yet," he said.

"Good. Then you can forget about the pirate and we can go up to my room and Edvard's for a night cap," Carl said. "Put it out of your mind, your highness. You're here for leisure, not to deal with the concerns of yours and Elsa's kingdom and your brothers'."

"Yeah, you're right. Let's go," Hans relented, smiling and tucking the letter away.

"Good man," Edvard said, clapping his shoulder with a grin.