In Fantasy

Chapter 3: The Promise of Mountains

Small, quiet ripples of water lapped against the hull of the ship as a gangway ladder was brought to its side, easing the passage onto the dock below.

The prince was the first to descend, followed by his father's adviser, a few guardsmen, and finally their porters bearing their luggage. He exchanged brief thanks with the dock men, and then saluted the others still aboard the ship, who bowed their heads gruffly in return.

The adviser rolled his eyes, making a beeline towards his diplomatic counterparts on the cobblestoned streets beyond the dock. The prince followed him with less haste, allowing the older man to present the first round of false smiles and nods before engaging in such formalities himself.

As he approached, two lines of guards standing around the group created a path for him to the others, and his practiced smile twitched.

"Prince Hans! And Lord Bertram. We are honored to have you both here again," said one man, bowing.

"Lord Daniel, Lord Christian, Lord Finn," the prince acknowledged each in turn. "I'm glad to see all of you in such fine health. It's been too long."

"Eight years, by my count!" Finn exclaimed, clapping Hans on the shoulder. "But what of the rest of your party? Where is His Majesty, and your brothers?"

"They've been detained by some matters back in the Isles, I'm afraid," Hans replied, still smiling. "But rest assured, they'll all be here in time for the wedding."

Finn nodded. "Good, good. Well, now that's settled, let's get you inside the castle, shall we? You must be dying for something decent to eat after being at sea the last few days."

"Yes," Bertram cut in, causing the man's hand to drop from the prince's shoulder, "we are."

Finn frowned a little at the interruption, but shook it off with a pleasant "follow me!", leading the group back towards the castle.

Bertram fell back so that he was just behind Hans, his low voice little more than a murmur on the wind as they passed through the wrought iron gates.

"Remember to play your part, Your Highness. Keep the girl in your thrall."

Hans's smile slipped, if only for a moment, and he made no reply.

»»————-　❈　————-««

A young woman weaved through the growing crowds at market in a plain brown and white tunic dress and brown cloak, though she still drew the occasional glance from passers-by thanks to the brilliant glow of her loosely braided, white-blonde hair under the morning sun.

Eyeing the fruit stall, she waited until a few shoppers had gathered to review the day's produce, and then slipped a stray apple at the end of one shelf into the pocket of her dress with a furtive smile. Pausing for a moment to observe her surroundings, she moved with graceful ease until coming to a small alley tucked away in a corner, and then leaned against the interior wall with a relieved sigh.

Glancing up, she retrieved the apple from her pocket, rubbed the skin against her skirt, and took a bite. The taste made her smile contentedly even as a trickle of the fruit's juice ran down her chin, and she wiped it with her sleeve as she returned her attention to the market and docks beyond.

It was busier than she had seen it in months – or maybe even years – with all the local merchants occupying their stalls and carrying various wares in and out of the ships at port, then into the castle, all the while hawking their goods to the hordes of foreign visitors who had converged upon Arendelle.

Her practiced gaze moved from the bustling market up to the docks, though her vision strained against the sunlight as it reflected off the fjord's calm waters. She raised a hand to her brow to block out the worst of it, wincing when a ray hit her eyes.