From under an overturned boat, he watched her pick up her skirts and run back to the castle, hair ribbons flying. Neck-deep in the harbour, he was in a most undignified position, but he didn't mind, not today. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile.
Oh, she was cute. She was very cute.
With a grunt, Hans heaved the boat off him and clambered back up onto the dock, taking hold of his horse Sitron. He was soaked to the skin, his red hair damp and stringy, his thick clothing now deadweight. A few merchants stopped to gawk, but he gave each an icy glare and they turned quickly away. Even sopping wet, Hans, with his perfect posture and easy, confident gait, was every inch a prince.
Anna disappeared back into the castle. In this state, Hans could not chase after her--but no matter. He would go back to his quarters for a change of clothing, and then he would attend the coronation. How he congratulated himself on treating her politely before he even knew she was the princess! Good manners, after all, paid off.
Yes, Hans decided, striding purposefully back to his lodging, she would do the job nicely.
~~~
Of course, his first choice had been the Queen herself, but he'd heard rather alarming rumours about her, and while they might be just that--rumours--it never hurt to have a Plan B. Besides, he had evidently already made a good impression on the princess, and it would be a shame to let that go to waste.
As Hans entered his chamber and called for his attendant, his mind worked quickly. He liked to consider himself a keen judge of human nature, and in those few minutes he had spoken to her, he had summed up Princess Anna for himself. Not that there was a lot to sum up.
Affectionate, excitable, awkward, charmingly clumsy--that about covered it, actually. Quite a silly little woman. Exactly the type of person he had hoped for. The type that would trust without reservation, accept without complaint, and allow him to carry out his own business. Oh, she wouldn't question any of his decisions. Probably wasn't smart enough to question them. Hans felt confident that even the queen's mysterious demise could be easily explained away to her.
And she was pretty, uncommonly pretty, with big sparkly blue eyes and a dusting of freckles. Hans always had fancied redheads.
His attendant was a long time in coming, and Hans muttered in irritation, ringing the bell furiously. The poor man bustled in quite frazzled. Hans ordered him to find him a new set of clothes and watched impatiently as his servant threw open trunks and hastily brushed down coats.
Not that it mattered what Anna looked like or was like, but if he was going to marry her he might as well enjoy her company. She would, he thought, be easy to please. Some finery here, a few excursions there, and he would be left alone to run the kingdom. He could, in fact, provide her with quite a pleasant little existence.
The Southern prince pictured himself at a dinner with those small white hands clinging on to his arm. Princess Anna would prattle quite delightfully to the guests, and he would discuss affairs of state. It was a nice picture, and Hans smiled again, and then snapped at his servant when the man, hands shaking in nervousness, buttoned a button wrong.
Finally--it seemed an eternity, one caused by incompetence--Hans was dressed. He swallowed down his annoyance, determined to enjoy the day. Everything was, after all, most fortuitous. Today of all days he could let a few little mistakes slide.
Adjusting his jacket one last time, Hans walked towards the palace, waiting outside the chapel doors for the ceremony to begin. Surreptitiously he glanced at himself in the ornate mirror on the wall. Too haughty, he reflected, and changed his expression to one of endearing, almost childlike charm. Suave, but not too suave. Eager, but not too eager. There. That was just about right.
Anna was perfect for the job, and it would be child's play to win her over. The doors of the chapel opened, and he went in with the crowd.
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