#helsa

And the man Anna calls Augustus is in love with his neighbor, Augustine. After all, their parents—two charming elderly couples—had always been family friends and had betrothed them from the moment their children were born. The two would leave together every morning and disappear into a small alley leading to the town's central square. However, they always returned separately. But Anna never suspected Augustus of infidelity. On the contrary, he was trying to earn enough money for a beautiful wedding for his beloved, so he lingered until the last customer—in the princess's mind, he was a wood merchant—and only when the market had completely died down, and instead of the hum of the fair, only the duet of wind and distant waves could be heard in the air, lulling the coast with its mournful lullaby, did he go home.

Meanwhile, the carefree Augustina was already asleep, dreaming of Augustus returning before dawn, and, like in the good old days, they would go to the embankment to see the sun off. Her dreams were not destined to come true anytime soon; for years to come, the young man would struggle in vain to provide his family with a decent life and a dazzling celebration, though almost anyone could carve wood.

Without hesitation, the girl made her decision. Enthusiastically nodding her head, she expressed her consent. A wave of excitement and anticipation washed over her, so much so that the most important question didn't immediately occur to her: how to escape from a palace with more guards than inhabitants?

"Come to the greenhouse after lunch; I know you and your sister don't have lessons today," the prince began. "Just wear something simpler, something you don't mind getting dirty." He took a deep breath. "The journey is very unpleasant; if you change your mind or want to turn back halfway, I'll understand. We'll also have a cover story: you and I are brother and sister, arrived from the Southern Islands to accompany our masters to tomorrow's ball. So we'll address each other informally."

"Why do you need all this? You can go out alone; Auntie will allow it," Anna wondered.

"Elsa asked me to find something for her there," he nodded toward the window. "No one will officially let me go without a guard, and they won't tell the prince and his retinue the truth." "And the guards could spread throughout the palace what was intended only for your sister," he concluded.

"What did she need in the city?" the girl was confused and even a little frightened that she was being invited not for a walk, but for a mission.

"To be honest, I don't know yet, but it would be good to remember everything we hear there. After all, it was she who offered to take you in her place, knowing how eager you are to get out."

Behind the door in the greenhouse, Anna was waiting impatiently for Hans. Upon entering, he noted how much this simple, almost peasant dress suited her. Without unnecessary frills and lace, everything in this picture was much more balanced; the center of the composition was the sweet princess herself, in all her touching naivety and naturalness. A true princess is beautiful not because of her clothes, and therefore any dress suits her.

"Wonderful," he said, dressed in a way that would have made him unrecognizable as a prince: frayed elbows on his jacket, a patch on his trouser pocket, and, as the crowning touch, the grayish collar of his shirt. He might not have been poor, but he was far from a crowned figure. "Come on," the young man gestured, inviting her to follow, and Anna followed him. It seemed such a familiar place, her greenhouse, the paths she had walked up and down countless times, every pebble in its place, each one placed there by her. She remembered every twig, every bud; there was nothing in this place she couldn't recognize, and yet, she had no idea where he was taking her.

She was surprised when her companion opened the door to the pantry for her, inviting her inside. When the prince lit the kerosene lamp, he locked the door and began moving the bags of soil from one corner to another. Yes, Anna had never done this before and didn't know what lay behind them. Brushing a strand of hair from his sweaty forehead, Hans surveyed the result of his labor—an empty corner.

"Here," he pointed to the boards, clearly installed later than the rest of the walls. Two boards, it turned out, were nailed only at the top, because the young man pulled out the lower ones without much effort. "Look, there's a servants' passage," he said, pushing aside one of the loose boards, revealing a dusty staircase covered in fresh boot prints.

"Aren't you afraid we'll get caught?" the princess pointed to the footprints.

"These are mine," Hans reassured her. "I pulled out these nails and replaced them so there wouldn't be any suspicion.It's a short, but terribly muddy road. It will lead us to the old fields; from there we'll go to town," he replied to his companion's dismayed look. "I agree, it's a huge detour; we'll be back before dark. You don't have to come if you don't want to."

In response to this barely perceptible hint of cowardice, Anna lifted her skirts and stepped briskly onto the first step. The old, rotting plank creaked and sagged slightly under her weight, then she dared to take the next step. The descent was short, barely taller than a man. Behind her walked the prince with a kerosene stove. When the stairs ended, they found rails beneath their feet.

"Is this a mine?" the princess inquired.

"One of the next turns does indeed lead to a mine. Elsa told me that's how your parents bought coal directly from the miners. Since the passage was blocked, you've been paying the ferryman," he explained. "If you wish, we can take a walk there, but not today."

"Well, well!" Anna marveled, looking around. "I knew our castle was ancient, but not that old! How old are these passages?" she asked, clearing another web of cobwebs out of the way. Beneath their feet was a deep layer of sand and dust, which rose with every movement, getting into their noses and eyes, irritating them unpleasantly. Besides the dust, there was also the smell of mold and moss that covered the old, dilapidated fortifications. "How much longer must we go?" the princess inquired, feeling something—a small pebble, perhaps a spider—fall onto her face again.

"The next turn is the last," the prince assured her, quickening his pace to get out before the kerosene stove ran out.

Indeed, less than half an hour had passed before the couple reached a staircase where sunlight fell through cracks in the old planks of the hatch door. The field they emerged upon looked only slightly smaller, but also abandoned, like the path leading to it. Anna expected to see farmers tilling the soil, ears of wheat, and neatly trampled paths between the rows, but the scene was completely different. Thick thickets of weeds and nettles, young willows, and here and there a few yellowing grains remained here after the man had left, and in the midst of a vast sea of ​​green, an old apple tree spread its branches. A narrow, overgrown path ran past it.

"Last time, children were playing here; they told me how to get to town," Hans said, striding confidently along the path.

Whether it was so much more pleasant to walk along the bright, beautiful road, or whether this route was much shorter than the one that lay underground, the princess didn't have time to wonder before they heard the hum of the city. The freshness of the suburbs gave way to a sharp stuffiness, and the bright, beautiful green landscapes turned into the impenetrable gray of cobblestones and stone walls.

Their first destination was the market—the place where all city life converges, where most gossip and rumors originate. Even when the king and queen were alive, Anna had never been here. All these years, she'd watched the powers that be manipulate the people, but she'd never seen these people – or the changes in their lives. Now, surrounded by so many townspeople, unnoticeable and ordinary, she couldn't understand how the pretty documents her uncle signed almost daily affected them. Many people simply couldn't read the price tags, let alone taxes, interest, or income…

Hans would occasionally stop at the counters and, glancing at the merchandise, write something down in pencil in a notebook. From the outside, it looked like he was a chef or butler in a noble house sent to replenish the food supplies. In reality, he paid no attention to the selection or the prices, instead trying to jot down every curious and not-so-curious phrase that reached his ears, so Elsa could read it later and draw her own conclusions.

"How much is the bread?" "Barley is seven orts, wheat is forty-one." "Give me the wheat while it's cheap," Hans made the first note, surprised by the buyer's strange logic. "Her Highness will soon be married, and real rulers will be on the throne"—wow, they wanted him, a visiting prince, in power more than the duke and duchess. "If they hadn't met the prince together, I'd have thought there were no princesses anymore"—monarchs, it seems, are generally disliked here.

"Young man, please the bride with a beautiful necklace," the jeweler suggested, noticing Anna examining his wares.

"No, no," she said, moving away from the display case. "No need, I just looked, I have everything."

"Forgive my sister," the prince said, looking at Anna reproachfully. "She's new to Arendelle; she's just curious." The merchant's expression changed.

He stopped when he realized he wouldn't sell them anything, and with a haughty chuckle, he returned to work.

"If you've had enough of this, let's go to the port," Hans suggested as another barker offered them something to buy. If they hadn't had to explain to the monarchs how something they shouldn't have gotten into the palace, they would have bought the necklace and many other things, of course. "The sun will be setting soon; let's admire it," he suggested.

His companion readily agreed, and the fugitives headed toward the sound of the waves. The city blocks up close no longer seemed as sweet and romantic as they had from the castle heights. Too much was hidden and blurred in that distance. From the sidewalks, they could hear shouts and arguments flaring up behind the windows, where Anna had imagined warm family idylls and beautiful stories. And the bright green streaks the girl had previously mistaken for vines turned out to be moss and mold that were destroying the houses. And the bars and taverns weren't exactly balls, but noisy, dangerous drinking parties, with fights and piles of broken crockery. Even people walking on the same side of the road often didn't speak. Her favorite story of Augustus and Augustine was now in question.

Finally, a slightly reddened sky appeared from behind the walls and rooftops, and a pleasant, moist breeze blew in her face. It even seemed to have a taste. Anna, of course, couldn't taste it; how could she know what the sea tasted like? But the seasoned sailor Hans, from the first breath, sensed salty drops, a sweet and spicy freedom like a caramel apple, and a sharp thrill, like a high wave crashing against the side of a ship, awakened in the prince as soon as he saw dozens of moored ships.

The ships rocked gently and rhythmically on the waves, the sea lulling them as it had lulled him so recently. How he longed to climb into one of them, simply stand at the stern and watch the water spread out from the sides in tiny crests, and watch how these tiny waves, compared to the real ones, dissolved one after another into the vast blue abyss. He wanted to listen to the mast creak in the strong wind. But all he could afford was skipping stones. The prince sat down on the shore, and the princess followed his example. He picked up a suitable flat stone and launched it straight down the glittering orange path of the sun. Hans picked up another stone and handed it to Anna.

Their small projectiles sent ripples across the water, slowly spreading outward and being swallowed by larger crests. The fjord grew ever more vividly pinkish-purple, and the daylight sank deeper and deeper into the water.

Elsa watched the sunset, looking out that very same window in the gallery. Although she couldn't see their faces, couldn't discern their distinct outlines, she knew exactly who those two figures on the shore were. It was foolish to be jealous of someone you'd known for less than a week — of your own sister. But the heiress understood perfectly well that even if she sent Anna off to marry somewhere far away, Hans would never forget her. Friend or not, Anna would always be closer to him. This marriage would do nothing to alleviate Elsa's loneliness.