Arrangement - Part 2
Hans descended the gangway with a firm, determined step. Here, as at home, he was greeted by a small circle of family. The royal family and one maid stood on the pier. The Duke, adorned with medals glittering in the sun, looked quite gloomy. As did the Duchess, for that matter. Her gaze expressed anxiety, apprehension. When she looked up at the guest, she took a deep breath and exchanged glances with the girl at her rightâher eldest niece. Her father said Elsa was his age, but she looked older than her years. Her heavy gaze was hard to bear. It didn't pierce; on the contrary, it chilled his soul to the deepest recesses.The prince even shuddered at the unpleasant sensation of goosebumps. And yet the day had been warm and sunny; the clouds had wept themselves out overnight and given way to the sun.
The most pleasant and ordinary of all, despite seeming otherworldly among all these gloomy people, was the red-haired princess standing next to her uncle. She was smiling. He hadn't seen anyone smile so brightly for a long while. Even his mother, while preparing her son for the journey and extolling the joys of marriage, smiled sadly, uneasily, simply so as not to spoil Hans's mood. But this girl smiled sincerely, kindly, so joyfully. Of course, not for him; a girl wouldn't smile at a stranger. She had no reason to be happy about his arrival. But that didn't matter. It was still nice to see positive people. She was the only one on this pier whose mood matched the weather.
It was a shame this pretty girl wasn't his bride. The prince liked her; she was bright and pretty. Her sister was the complete opposite. Cold, even harsh, like a bitter winter. His parents, it seemed, tried to make him feel at home in his new family. Which was to say, badly.
"Welcome, Your Highness," the Duke said, breaking the silence.
"Thank you, Your Grace," the Prince bowed his head before him.
Then the young man kissed the hands of the Duchess and the red-haired princess. She smiled even wider. As if she rarely saw other people or the weather outside a window, she looked around, taking in Hans as well. She studied him with a curious gaze, from top to bottom, from right to left, over and over again â as if memorizing every detail of the surrounding landscape. Did she expect to be locked in the castle again? What was going on there?
The last person he approached was his fiancée. But she didn't look upset or offended by his actions. She didn't care. Or rather, she felt calmer because of it. She had bought herself time. What she had done in those thirty seconds was unclear, but even from her changed expression, it was clear: she needed those seconds. Elsa relaxed. The wrinkle on her forehead smoothed out. Her previously clenched fists uncurled and she extended her right hand for a kiss.
The prince took the princess's hand in his and raised it to his lips. Even through the glove, her skin was as cold as her gaze. Her Highness held herself truly regal: haughty and distant. Unlike her sister, who nearly sparkled from the kiss, Elsa didn't even manage a polite smile. Her haughty gaze merely slid appraisingly over her guest, as if determining whether he truly belonged to the royal family, how to address him, and what honors to bestow upon him. Judging by the fact that she responded, albeit with a nod, Hans had managed to make the right impression on this proud, impenetrable princess.
The maid approached for the luggage, but the prince immediately stopped her. "You," he shouted to the cabin boy scrubbing the deck. "Carry the suitcases."
The Duke and Duchess exchanged glances but said nothing. The sailor descended and began to carry out his orders. The sea wolf was delighted with the honor. On the return journey, he would be a star. No one would even think of interrupting his tale of the mysterious Arendelle castle, which had been off-limits for years. And while he was out exploring the city, his older comrades could take advantage of the port's amenities. Not all of them, of course, but that wasn't necessaryâthere was plenty of food and drink in the hold.
They rode in silence the entire journey to the castle. It seemed like a few blocks, barely enough time to talk even on foot, but here they were in a carriage. It took them longer to get settled. Servants, of course, weren't allowed seats. The Duchess and her nieces occupied one sofa, while the men sat on the opposite one. His Lordship was in the center, opposite his wife, and Hans was at the window opposite the bride. She kept her gaze fixed on the landscape beyond the glass, and he on her. Her expression seemed to soften, to become kinder. Apparently, something outside pleased her. The Prince tried to figure out what it was. Nothing unusual was happening outside. People were going about their business, children were chasing a puppy. No one looked up from their work to catch a glimpse of the royal carriage. Unsurprisingly, the carriage was inconspicuous, opulent, but not royal. Why all these secrets and codes?
Arendelle Castle exceeded all expectations. Luxurious, spacious, with wooden floors and silk-lined walls hung with paintings by renowned artists. This kingdom and its ruling family were simply fabulously wealthy. Without waiting for the servants, they proceeded upstairs. The entire royal family escorted the prince to his new room, where the chamberlain was already waiting. An older man with a kindly smile and a simple face was counting the hangers in the closet when they entered.
"We would be honored if you would join us for dinner," the Duchess invited.
"With pleasure, Your Highness," he was left with the servant.
"My name is Gunther, Your Highness, and I am pleased to serve you." He instantly appeared behind his master and helped him remove his outerwear.
So far, so good. Worse than his best-case scenario, but better than the worst. A golden mean. Hans wasn't tired from the journey. He never tired of the sea. How could anyone get tired of it? It rocks him, just as it once did in the cradle. It rustles so soothingly, like a tranquil forest. It carries him to unknown distances, to new horizons, to a better future. On the contrary, he had rested, unburdened himself, and was now ready to tire of social life again. Yes, right: balls, receptions, politics â that was what tired him. And no journey, especially not by water, can compare to the stress that always accompanies palace life. As a child, especially when he found himself overshadowed by his brothers, Hans dreamed not of being a prince, but of being the only son of some provincial fisherman or boatman.
The valet hovered around the prince, constantly asking if he wanted anything, if he needed anything done. It was irritating. It seemed the man missed his job. Guests must be very rare here, if servants have to be shooed away rather than summoned. Another servant in a more modest uniform saved the man from shouting and reprimanding. He reported that a sailor had arrived with the guest's luggage and that he needed to go down and fetch it. The local hosts, however, were not very hospitable. The boy was lugging suitcases because they hadn't provided a porter of the right stature, and they wouldn't even let him cross the threshold of the castle.
What secrets did these doors guard? This evening, the prince would be one step closer to answering the question that interested the rulers of all the surrounding states. The young man didn't linger long in bed; he was itching to do something, to go somewhere, to learn more about his new home.
"Gunter!" the servant rose from his chair in an instant and found himself at the bedside. "Show me the palace."
"Yes, sir. Which would you like to start with: the gallery, with its beautiful view of the fjord, or the garden, Princess Anne's favorite place?"
The prince made his choice, and the servant led him to admire the bay. The gallery connected the western and southern wings of the castle. The windows overlooked the mountains and the waterfall, separated from the city by the fjord. There was almost nothing here, no observation equipment, no weapons. This spot was completely unsuitable for observing the waters of Arendelle; neither the port nor the entrance to the bay was visible. The gallery had only aesthetic value, nothing more. And it was so quiet here that, opening the window, Hans could hear the sound of the surf and the ringing of the bell from the church on the other side of the castle. The roar of the waterfall didn't reach here, but it didn't need to. The Southern Isles had no such wonders, so the prince was content simply to contemplate it.
Hans opened the window wide and rested his elbows on the sill, leaning almost waist-deep over the frame, his face exposed to the cool, salty breeze. And only God and Gunther knew how long he stood there. He listened to the cries of seagulls and workers in the port, watched the ship that had brought him here, and basked in freedom and solitude. Gunther didn't count. Servants never count. They're quiet, don't engage in conversation unless called upon, and when you've been surrounded by them since birth, you barely notice their presence. He was just holding a flower, whose place on the windowsill had been taken by the prince.
Only when the ship had become a speck and disappeared over the horizon did Hans come to his senses and peel himself away from the window. There was no point in continuing the tour; dinner was scheduled for a little over an hour. He still needed to freshen up, so the prince asked to see one more roomâthe second and final one for todayâthe greenhouse, where, according to Gunther, the princess liked to spend time.
It was on the first floor of the west wing, a short walk away. The entrance to the garden was guarded by ivy vines spread across the floor like hunting nets. Gunther, of course, let him pass, but warned him to watch his step. The men thought they'd be alone here at such a time, but they were mistaken. Princess Anna sat on the edge of a fountain decorated with multicolored water lilies, embroidering a shawl. She hummed something under her breath.
"Your Highness," Hans bowed his head, and the chamberlain bowed, as befitted a servant.
Anna stood and nodded to the guests. She put the embroidery back in her dress pocket and asked what the two men were looking for. The prince explained the situation and asked about her favorite plants. She jumped up and led him to a gazebo covered in ivy even more than the entrance floor. Almost no light penetrated there. The princess lit a lantern hanging under the roof and pointed to a flowerbed in the center. The plant looked like an ordinary fern. And what did she see in it?
"How did you light the lamp?" Hans saw no matches, no kindling, nothing that could have ignited the lamp.
"When Father was still alive," Anna visibly dejected. "He came up with the idea of ââturning this lever sharply." She pointed to a small handle under the lamp. "It would create a spark that would ignite the oil. He was a great man," the princess sighed sadly.
"I believe you," Hans placed his hand on her shoulder and nodded sympathetically. "What was it about this fern that captivates you so much? Where I come from, there are so many of them that the poor use them as thatch for their houses."
"It's not just any fern. You have to approach it at night, and carefully. Those buds on its leaves open after sunset and glow, it's so magical." She now looked dreamy. "I want to feed it tonight. Will you help me?" she offered.
"What's so difficult about fertilizing a flower that you need help? Why are you doing it and not the gardener?" This strange invitation threw the prince off balance a little.
"He's a predator, and his flowers are poisonous. I can't risk my people like that," she explained.
"If you so wish, I'll be happy to accompany you," Hans nodded. "What do you require of me?" He still couldn't accept this situation. And this girl. She was a princess, surely a beloved princess of the people, yet she was going to tend a dangerous plant herself. Risking her life, even though many would gladly do it for her and honorably endure injuries protecting their sovereign.
Anna laid out a few rules: dark clothing, nothing shiny, glittering, or reflective, thick gloves, and a start time of eleven thirty. With that, they took their leave and went to their chambers to prepare for dinner. Hans finally shaved without nicks or cuts, and Gunther amused himself by ironing his master's shirts and shining his boots. Fifteen minutes before the appointed time, the prince already looked like his title and no longer resembled a sailor. This uniform was akin to a prison robe for him. It signified his belonging to a gilded cage, his submission to convention, and his servitude. Even if he held a high place in the hierarchy, what difference did that make? He was just as unwilling to leave, just as unwilling to marry cheerful, kind Anna, unwilling to dedicate his life to the sea. Sometimes branded slaves have more rights than titled ones. If they escape, no one will look for them; they'll simply buy new onesâit was cheaper and easier. But if the royal offspring disappears from the castle, he'll need all the luck in the world and a little magic to escape pursuit.
Gunther beamed with satisfaction, like a polished silver coin, as he looked at his master â immaculate, clean-shaven, and perfectly prepared to meet the royal couple. He was one of the most responsible servants in the entire castle, if not the kingdom. At least, that was what Hans concluded, noticing how proud the valet was of his work and how dismissive the others were of their duties, since the princess was doing such dangerous and dirty work.
The servant left his master at the door to the royal dining room and went to his servants' quarters, where dinner awaited him. Hans knocked on the door, and the guards swung it open. The Duke and Duchess were already seated at the table. They had warned him that the nieces always arrived punctually, and he, too, should not show up early. Half an hour before the appointed start time was their time. First mistake. Gunther could have warned that it wasn't appropriate for the younger generation to outstrip their elders.
Of course, he wasn't kicked out or asked to leave, but neither was he given a plate. The ducal couple had none either. The prince, like them, was served a glass of wine and canapés with vegetables and cheese. The awkward silence stretched on, and the rulers made no attempt to hide their displeasure at the intrusion. Elsa was definitely like them. She was, it seemed, the late king's sister and her husband. And Anna, apparently, took after her mother.
The girls approached together, but there seemed to be a wall between them. Elsa's expression turned cold again and she looked as she had in the first moments of their acquaintance: tense, withdrawn, frowning, not even smiling. Her cheekbones were tense, her jaw clenched, her gloved hands clasped beneath her chest. Her sister, too, no longer beamed as she had a few hours earlier. Whether it was her sister's company or the return to the eternally locked castle that was taking its toll on her, Hans didn't know, but it was clear that something was weighing on her.
"Aunt Astrid, Uncle Wolfgang, Your Highness," the sisters curtsied. "We wish you good evening and bon appétit." Elsa spoke for both of them, and the girls took their seats at the table. Anna sat next to her aunt, and Elsa, as the heir, sat at the Duke's right hand, one seat behind the Prince.
After the Duke and Duchess gave their blessing, the meal began. Cutlery clattered on plates, and the servants bustled about. The affairs of the kingdom were discussed at the table, and Elsa's thoughts were surprisingly sound. It was clear that great care had been taken in her education. And although the kingdom was officially ruled by the Duke and Duchess, their niece dictated their decisions. Hans had just arrived, hadn't seen anything yet, and had never been to a royal council, but for some reason it seemed to him that of those present, only his future wife was needed. The Duchess and her husband hadn't been groomed to rule; life had forced them into it, and so they became puppets in the hands of a true ruler. That was the whole point of a regency: when a true leader was limited by some silly formality like age, while shallow adults rule in his name.
Anna, as befits the youngest child of the royal family, nodded and assented, not really listening to the conversation. Hans knew it. Hans was in her place. On the left hand of the consort. The last one whose opinion would be asked. The first one to rise from the table and go to his chambers to reflect on the meaning of his life. The meaning of the life of a man born to rule, but not allowed to rule. Who was he? Why him? Why did he even attend family dinners and political councils? The only thing he knew for sure was the number of tiles on the floor of his former dining room and his father's study. He could reconstruct the patterns on the curtains and skirting boards from memory, and list the books in his father's library without hesitation, left to right and back again. You'd think of anything to keep from getting bored where you were merely furniture.
It seemed everything had changed now. From the last voice, he had become the one asking questionsâthe future king. Only it hadn't felt that way yet. He'd been reprimanded, like a boy, for breaking the rules. The princess, his future wife, hadn't even deigned to smile at him like a normal person, a greeting. The only joys he had were Anna, in whom he saw himself, and the chamberlain, who unquestioningly did everything and more. Whether the servants were noticeable or not, they were important. Their behavior, their helpfulness, their ability to remain silent and not make noise.
"Thank you, good night," the eldest sister said, taking her leave. The younger one followed her. The prince, too, didn't want to be left alone with the couple; he left his half-eaten piece of pie, finished his glass of wine, and, thanking them, left.
The wine had left him slightly groggy, making him feel sleepy. Gunther, casting a quick, attentive glance at Hans and realizing all was not well, took his host by the elbow.
"I'm fine," the prince said, pulling his hand back and striding forward hesitantly.
