One Heart Frozen Further, Another Thawed and Melted While the Stone Around It *SHATTERS*...

♪Then *AT LAST*, a voice in the gloom
Seemed to cry, "*I hear you*;
I hear your fears,
Your TORMENT and *your TEARS*...!"♪

"No One Would Listen", Andrew Lloyd Webber, 'The Phantom of the Opera'

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Arendelle. The kingdom of Arendelle, Norway. Not extremely powerful or exceedingly rich, but still a lovely far-away kingdom nestled at the base of a high range of mountains that was quite comfortable and with a peaceful history- known for a decent fair trade and good port. -And soon to be former thirteen royal Westergaard son of the Southern Isles Hans' new home.
There were also two princesses of marriageable age or nearing it in Arendelle's royal family ...but that did not much concern Hans. It had at first, admittedly- but he was *SICK AND TIRED* of denying himself as he was. (No offense whatsoever to Lars, of course- he'd only been trying to help as usual, and Hans *WAS grateful* for it!) It was DANGEROUS to *TRULY dream* in the Southern Isles under the rule of King Magnus Westergaard- under the glazed eyes of his mother and cruel mocking ones of the rest of his and Lars' brothers ...it wouldn't be in Arendelle, he felt.

~"The Westergaards are LIONS, *not MICE*,"~ his now-former father had always said. Well, he should probably remember that it was *the mouse* who nibbled through the ropes and *FREED the lion* after he was trapped in a hunter's net with no way out in one of Aesop's fables-! Not to mention smart clever Basil of Baker Street, sometimes-bumbling but also kind (and just as smart, if on a slightly lower level) Doctor Dawson, brave plucky little Olivia Flaversham, timid yet fearless when it came to her children's safety and well-being Mrs. Frisby-or-Brisby, and noble brave Matthias of Redwall ...not forgetting plucky kind smart Mickey and caring quietly-brave Cornflower, of course.

-The point was, it was not really such a *BAD thing*, much less 'wrong', to be a mouse or rat, even if you had to watch your back for predators. No offense to the more-or-less nicer lions, tigers, and other kinds of big, medium-sized, or small cats in the world... or Figaro-

Suddenly, the runaway ex-prince heard a funny splashing AND *clunking* sound against the side of the ship along with a soft pained "*Ow*", jolting him from his broody-and-not thoughts- ESPECIALLY upon registering that the voice accompanying the strange noise sounded *rather young*. His heart which he'd used to believe frozen, empty, and hardened if not simply surrounded by a wall or coating of stone worriedly leapt in his chest as he rushed over to where he'd heard the noise. Had a YOUNG CHILD been *SHIPWRECKED* and was now floating lost on a makeshift raft??

-Well, he wasn't too far off his guess, but Hans still GAPED, struck his chest to force air back into his frozen lungs, *STARED down at the water*, and pinched himself bruise-hard when he saw that the strange clunking sound accompanied by a pained sound and splashing noise was because *the child himself* was made out of some kind of wood from head to foot *to DONKEY EARS AND TAIL*!! He'd been swimming for who knew how long, and now he'd accidentally bumped into the ship that Hans was on! -And Hans could chillingly and sadly empathetically sense that this wasn't just a leisurely just-because dip; the stringless puppet-boy had RUN AWAY from a cold, uncaring, distant, or even abusive so-called 'family' after diving into the sea wherever he originally came from.

He seemed tired as well as emotionally broken and hurt, but could probably still swim away from what he'd bumped into due to pluck, adreneline, youth, and magic. -Yet that was the thing. *Youth*. He was *a YOUNG CHILD*, five to eight or nine years old (Hans couldn't really tell, but guessed that he was either just past toddler years or small for his age by design)! A small boy all alone in the world that could be cruel, wicked, dangerous, and dark with horrible selfish people...

Nobody save for Lars and a couple of the castle servants had helped or tried to help Hans. Had anyone ever attempted to emotionally and/or physically assist *THIS boy* ...or would Hans be the very first?? Only one way to find out.

"Hey," he called softly down the side of the ship. "Need a hand, 'lille dukke' (little doll)? You seem like you're stuck or almost about to give out."

A flash of fear, apprehensiveness, and wariness across bright blue yet sweet-looking orbs for eyes and a freckle-flecked rose-daubed face from underneath a just-as-wooden flop of bangs as dark and shining as a raven's feathers- expressive sweet-lipped mouth thoughtfully and worriedly pursing. (Had the stringless puppet-boy been standing, he would have been slightly rocking back-and-forth on his heels and clutching or rubbing at his arm while rubbing his lower lip between his teeth or biting it, Hans could tell.) -Then, very faintly yet clear as crystal, a glimmer of hope and the beginnings of trust as the mellowest candle or star-flicker of a friendly smile could now be seen before the lost child uttered in his sweet clear merboy timbre, "Y-Yes. *Yes please*, i-if you would, 'Signor Principe'?? I- I can swim away, but- I am kinda gettin' tired, and don't really know where exactly t' go from here that's not where I used t' call home."

"*'Mr. Prince'*???" Hans laughed quietly, his own freckled cheeks flushing a bit more in abashed shyness and pleasure. "Even if you don't yet know my actual name, why call me THAT, little Lost Boy?"

The 'Lost Boy's' literal doll-face turned even redder under his sugar-sprinkling of 'fairy/angel kisses' in caught-out embarrassment. (How strange- live puppets and dolls *COULD blush*?? -Or maybe 'twas just him...) "Um- u-um... You- You look an awful lot like- like a handsome fairytale prince in a s-storybook, so- so, well... M-'Mr. Prince'. I'm- I-I'm awful sorry, 'signore'! D-Did I offend you?? O-*Oh gee*, I HOPE I didn't...!"

"*Aren't YOU* sweet as peach cobbler?" the former royal chuckled again, before adding assuredly, "No- no, you most certainly DID NOT offend me, small one! If anything, I was rather flattered. Most/Many people think of fairy-tale princes as brawny, blue-eyed, and with curly locks of golden hair as well as tall, handsome, and dashing; same with princesses often, sans the brawniness. Not red-haired, green or hazel-eyed, or freckled..." 'Or NOT *Caucasian*, but let's not open *THAT can* of political worms right now, hmm, Lars?'
"Hopefully *I* did not in the least *offend YOU* by calling you 'little doll', either."

"U- Uh-uh!" the much younger dark-haired donkey-featured male dressed in brightly-colored foreign-looking and old-fashioned clothes refuted with a headshake. "You- You didn't, 'signore'. Y-You didn't say it MEANLY, or as a way t' make fun 'f me! You just- You just called me what I am since you don't know my own name, 's all."

Did he *ALWAYS* forgive so easily, even if he didn't forget??? Hans wondered semi-worriedly as he fetched a spare long thick rope from the deck. -Or maybe he was just a slightly better person than the mostly bitter moody yet outwardly charming once-thirteenth royal child of the Southern Isles... Well, whichever the case, this 'lille dukke' needed assistance, and Hans was going to give it to him as he hadn't really been able or allowed to before at 'home'- right here and now.

Hans lowered the rope down towards the wooden boy. "Here- quick! Grab this- then climb on up. I'll help you over onto the ship, too."

Wasting no time or further breath, the younger male took a firm hold of the rope in Hans' hands, launched himself up out of the water, and began to climb up the side of the ship. Another wary nervous past-hurt flash streaking through his eyes and over his face when Hans reached out and gently grabbed hold of his scrawny pale xyloid arms, a slight tremble- but then he shakily breathed in and out, rubbed his lower lip between his teeth, and nodded another 'A little help, please?', allowing the self-exiled prince to lift him up over the edge of the ship and gently place him on his feet onto the deck, where he collapsed with a small but heavy sigh into a sitting position with his arms wrapped around his knees as his legs were pulled up close to his chest. Instantly yet slowly and carefully so as not to spook or possibly trigger him, Hans lowered himself down and sat himself in the shade of a cabin's roof, where nobody saw them save for Hans' cat and horse, who were both watching the new goings-on with great interest.

"Th-Thank you, 'signore'," Hans' new young friend smiled weak and quiet yet genuine. "Th-Thank you very much for your help."

"You are quite welcome, little friend," the formerly-royal redhead smiled back the same way sans feebleness.

"I'm- um... Ah- m-my name is P-'Pinocchio'."

-*NO*. WAY. *Inconceivable*!!! He was more-or-less actually meeting and had just helped out the protagonist of one of literature's most famous works??! (One who was actually rather *sweet*, ADORABLE, and likable rather than akin to a younger copy of his twelve older brothers sans Lars as well as broken and lost as Hans...) -That, or a namesake.

Well, whichever the case, he was glad to *FINALLY* have an *ACTUAL name* to the face! Time to return the favor. "Hello, young master Pinocchio- well-met!" Hans nodded cordially since he couldn't really bow in his position. "I am 'Hans'. *JUST 'Hans'* now, though I WAS once 'Mr. Prince' in truth- thirteenth in line for the Southern Isles throne in the royal family Westergaard after my twelve older brothers. Not the heir by any means, not EVEN *a SPARE*- *WORTHLESS*. A throwaway..."

Young Pinocchio's lip was gently locked between his teeth again, and his thumbs were rubbing his knobbly little knees, his large sad azure eyes filled with nothing else but sympathy and kindness as he looked into Hans' round keen clear hazel-green ones. "Y-You ran away from a place you used t' call home, too," he whispered in both empathy and realization. "Ran away from a family who didn't really truly care about you, even if they ever said so and you thought they meant it..."

Now it was Hans who sighed sad and heavy, his eyes smarting and starting to blur from bitter hurt tears long-held back and hardly ever allowed to shed even in private because *STRONG men and boys* don't cry, or you'll *get something to cry about*. He SHOULD, according *to THEM* be nothing but *ASHAMED* at showing weakness and 'wimpiness' to a child *much younger* than he ...*but he WASN'T*, and never would be, because this also-broken 'lille barn' UNDERSTOOD as no-one else had outside of books, films, a television show or two, and Hans' own imagination and futile flights of fancy if not actual sleep-dreams.

"'Ja'- yes, 'lille' Pinocchio. I did also run away from my so-called family- stuck up in the world on my own, forced to think that *HELL* is a place called 'home' and 'Heaven'. -Well, alone save for Lars. He was *the ONLY* one of my twelve brothers who was kind to me and listened to what I had to say- was *INTERESTED in what I had to say*. But the others?? I was ALWAYS the butt and scapegoat of endless taunting, teasing, mocking, jeering, sneering, and fists or feet where they were concerned. Three of them literally *pretended that I was INVISIBLE* for TWO YEARS... and I was never of any real consequence to my father the king. He *HATED me*, practically.
"'*To THE POINT*, Hans! Always *just get to the point*- don't dither, stammer, dawdle, or mumble.' 'Hans, you should listen to your brothers. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from them if you stopped acting like you were *BETTER THAN them*.' 'The Westergaards are LIONS, *not MICE*'. (And he *ABHORRED* 'mice'.)"

"-Harry-Hunting and Pr'fessor Dumbledore's 'it's for (my) greater good'," Pinocchio mumbled, his eyes alight with intelligible understanding yet sharp from protective anger. "*Bullies*. I really don't like bullies."

"Dealt with them yourself day-and-night-in and day-and-night-out?" queried Hans in worried sympathy, his previously-frozen stone-walled battered heart fluttering and thumping against his breastbone at the thought of someone besides Lars, castle animals, and a few servants being protective and angry where he was concerned. Book or movie, Pinocchio was Desperaux Tilling or Bernard the RAS janitor.

"N-No, 'Signor' Hans. Just- Just read about an' saw them- y' know, in books and movies. I haven't- I h-haven't really been outside in public until now. But- But I almost did, 'n would've if I wasn't a Creation, or F-Fath- Father had *just been h-HONEST* fr-FROM THE START..."

Hans stood entirely corrected. Cut from the same cloth, yet NOT. No line of *MEAN big brothers or sisters* -or a couple younger ones- that went on for miles; no distant uncaring verbally and emotionally abusive father, or practically silent glazed-eyed mother... But he didn't angrily feel like he'd been again tricked or betrayed.

"Ah- what do you mean by that last??" he wanted to next know. "And what exactly is a 'Creation'???"

(If Lars were here, he'd be INSTANTLY ready to jot down notes, Hans ruefully and wistfully chuckled to himself. The thought was bittersweet, like a slightly stale lemon bar.)

"Well, a-accordin' t' Mr. Baron Humbert von Gikkingken from 'The Cat Returns', '*Whenever somebody creates something WITH ALL OF THEIR HEART*, then that Creation is given a SOUL, you see.' And- And since Z-Zia Chiara didn't- *DIDN'T bring me t' life* as F-Fath-Father wished even though it was *against The Rules*, I- I guess- I guess that's what I am. I- I don't really have any other word for it."

'So *THAT'S what his literary Collodi namesake would be called*. What *he himself* is...!'

"And- And as for what I mean 'by that last'..." Now Pinocchio was CLUTCHING his arms around his knees and legs and trembling a bit as his large blue eyes shone with/from *tears* while they grew dark from sorrowful hurt bittersweet reminescence, the shadow of a Dementor passing over his young sweet face while his long ash-grey wooden donkey ears lowered almost flat to his Tyrolean-capped head and his matching tufted toy-jointed tail curled up around his feet. "When- When I w-woke up for the first time- came to life- Father- F-Father looked so- *so SAD* yet- yet *hopeful 'n happy* the moment he first saw me, cr-cried out what I thought was my name as he jumped out of bed and r-ran over to p-pick me up and h-h-hug me. He- He- H-*He called me 'CARLO'*; said- said that I'd c-*come back*- c-*come HOME*! That- That I'd been h-hurt awful bad after- a-after bein' hit 'n thrown back by a b-bomb ac-accidentally dropped onto the church by a p-passing plane because- b-because I'd run inside to f-fetch my pinecone that I'd forgotten in the rush t' get out before it- it happened- that- th-that I'd b-been asleep in a c-coma for an awful long time until- until th-then.
"I thought- I th-thought that explained th-things; why- why I felt so... f-FUNNY, *and d-DIFFERENT*. W-*WEIRD* ...fr-*freaky* 'nstead of n-'normal'."

"-But that didn't pass even just a little bit," Hans guessed, feeling a squirming slimy *NASTY* sensation in the pit of his stomach akin to a poisonous snake swimming through a murky swamp.

"N-No. It wasn't- it wasn't j-just on *the in-INSIDE*, either. Or- Or havin' bl-blank spots in my memory," Pinocchio swallowed. "The next day, F-Father sh-showed me pictures of us t'gether plus the lady he said was my m-ma-'madre' who'd- who'd d-died when I was five, and- and I had slightly thinner hair, br-brown eyes instead 'f blue, a p-per- *PERFECT NORMAL nose*, and n-*NO* rosy cheeks or fr-freckles. When I asked him about it, he- h-he told me that- that along with the head trauma messin' with m-my memories, the- the ch-chemicals from the bomb had ch-changed me a bit; and- and that for now, the- the doctors at the hospital had told him that- th-that I should stay indoors and n-not have visitors- not- not go back t' school, ch-church, or elsewhere just yet."

"-And you didn't fight back or argue with him about it??" Hans would have *gone STIR-CRAZY* and long started questioning things by then!

"I didn't- I d-didn't wanna upset or worry him, Mr. Hans; and- and he said I'd been in a long deep kind 'f sick sleep, so I needed to still get better even after wakin' up! All- All I really knew was what he'd told me! I thought- I thought it was *the truth*..."

If Hans was a Slytherin, then Pinocchio was *a HUFFLEPUFF* with Ravenclaw tendencies/traits through and through. He wasn't a DOORMAT by any means- he just tried his best to avoid confrontation that would only lead to a nasty argument should anything more on the 'forbidden' subject be discussed further. "What- What happened to *make YOU* run away, Pinocchio?" Hans asked quietly.

Another hard swallow, a fierce rapid blink at the tears welling and beginning to leak around the rims of his eyes, a stifled anguished whimper or sob- then Hans' young friend choked out, "Think- Th-Think Victor Frankenstein tr-tryin' t' destroy his creation despite greatly desiring to present him to the world as a miracle of science at first, the H-Hunt-Huntsman 'n Snow White, and- and Sh-Sheriff Woody's screamin' at Buzz Lightyear or Buzz's angrily sayin' but differently 'YOU. Are. *A toy*!!' all- all rolled into o-one..."

Hans felt like he'd been whipped or sucker-punched if not kneed in the groin- and the kicks and hits didn't stop coming when Pinocchio then heartbrokenly showed him through a makeshift magic mirror the *SCARLET Faerie* *his mother* flying in to intervene ...and to tell her formerly unwanted son HER unvarnished truth about what would have happened had Pinocchio not been a 'Creation' and his AUNT the Blue Faerie had *SHATTERED* The Rules of Wishing Fae. How she would have blackmailed, pressured, and lured 'Chiara' into a wager that should Pinocchio prove himself worthy enough to become a *REAL boy* -human-, then she would help her elder sister transform him AND *take her heart back*- and then *HORRENDOUSLY CHEATED ON* that not-so-little bet with her fellow evil faeries' henchmen the Fox, the Cat, the Puppet-Master, and the Coachman- all of whom were *child sexual predators* as well as sleazy conmen, kidnappers, and just *ROTTEN people* in general...
-How she would have *brought Pinocchio BACK FROM THE DEAD* as he was 'only *HALF alive* to begin with' alongside the Blue Faerie, taken her heart back and therefore aged forty years and lost her dark unearned powers, and met up again with and likely married Geppetto once the Forgetting Spell over Pariva and elsewhere had lifted, and Geppetto would *NEVER* have known about what she'd DONE and *TRIED TO do* to his and her own son because he was a puppet with *NO* HEART unless she'd told him! (Which wouldn't have been likely.)

*********************************************************************************************************************************************

The once-youngest Westergaard had *NEVER* felt so much empathy, sympathy, pity, and heartache for anyone outside of the 'friends' in his books and imaginings in his life. He was DUMBSTRUCK- *HORROR-STRICKEN*; *heartsick*. In ways, Pinocchio had it *MUCH worse* than he had until very recently. He'd wholeheartedly *loved and trusted* *HIS father*, who was his ONLY relative (so he'd thought)- and then one day the massive grief, guilt, and twisted tangled knotted love on the woodcarver's end had been TOO MUCH, and Pinocchio had been almost literally stabbed in the back as well as figuratively!!
Not only that, but *his MOTHER* (who was NOT *the Fairy with Turquoise Hair* though Fae she still was by 'conquest') had been a first-class *BITCH* up until it was revealed to her that Pinocchio was a Creation and therefore untouchable/not falling under the Wishing Faeries' Three Cardinal Rules *Not to be Broken Under Any Circumstances*- causing 'Ilaria' to have a massive change of far-off heart and back off her own child and The Bet *NOT made*, striking down and killing or throwing into prison Pinocchio's would-have-been false friends, kidnappers, *and RAPISTS* once she'd left Pariva herself... '*POOR thing*! *Poor thing*...!!' INDEED, Ms. Nellie Lovett.

He *had NOT* instantly forgiven either of them for what they had done and almost done to him- which answered Hans' question from earlier. And he would likely NOT EVER forgive them, if not simply for a very long time (more than understandable); not any more than Hans would have forgiven *HIS father*, Caleb, Rudi, Runo, and the rest sans Lars, or his mother who was a SHELL of a woman. He had screamed, spat, snarled, and sobbed at them- cried that he *HATED them* for treating him like a toy, chess piece, a mere replacement for *someone else DEARLY BELOVED AND MUCH MISSED*, or an object easily disposed of before running away there and then.
A broken angel on runaway love after confessions of a broken heart were uttered via *BOTH his parents' lying lips* as a sweet dream became a WAKING NIGHTMARE...

But they hadn't snuffed out his spark of life *COMPLETELY*- they hadn't hardened or frozen his large heart of pure gold even though they'd caused it to fall to his sometimes-wooden feet and shatter like a delicate porcelain vase or piece of pottery. For all he'd just suffered and had been even during 'days in the sun', he was still *so SWEET*, caring, kind, thoughtful, and friendly. He'd been wildly unsure at first, but then had *TRUSTED* Hans, a perfect male adult stranger with Fox-red hair and green Cat eyes, with helping him up out of the sea that he'd dived into after running away from the 'home' that had almost become his EXECUTION CHAMBER, and then his life-story! *TRUSTED Hans* because he was just as BROKEN, *HURT*, and *lost* as the part-Fae child-Creation, even if in a more storybook/fairy-tale way given he was the youngest of a royal family...

-More than likely, besides first Geppetto and then the Talking Cricket known as 'Sebastian' (note to self: *NO* 'Little Mermaid', 'Cruel Intentions', or 'Glee' jokes regarding aforementioned character in all three in the future), Hans was the very first friend Pinocchio had ever had outside of books, movies, television shows, and his own imagination. And it was both a humbling and dolorous thought.

Hans didn't know what to say, to the point or not. All he could think of to do was something he never had before outside of dreams, daydreams, and when he was much younger towards his horrid other brothers and his mother- and that was congenially (and nervously) hold his arms out wide, kindly inviting his sweet young friend into and offering a hug.

He flinched and waited a bit, almost flushing a stinging red again for his audacity ...then his heart happily thumped again when inch by inch, Pinocchio just as nervously yet willingly scootched himself over towards Hans, letting himself be gently taken hold of and drawn against the self-exiled prince's chest, even wrapping his own small thin white-pine arms around his new kind 'amico's' lean back in return.

Hans felt Pinocchio tremble and shake again- heard him suck in a sharp breath and bite back a sob or two, saw the forlorn hurt puppet-boy again blink back tears. He probably felt like he'd cried enough already along never having to deal with this kind of *horror, grief, and betrayal* before, 'stakkels dreg' (poor boy)-! But while Hans was a new-grown man at twenty years old, Pinocchio was a YOUNG CHILD; and what he'd just been through some hours previous would have been enough to break and shatter *anyone*! If he continued to simply hold it in (or try to), it would only make him sick if not *DESTROY* him.

"It's alright, Pinocchio- *it's okay*," Hans murmured kindly in Pinocchio's still-lowered ear while gently rubbing his small thin back with one hand and stroking both his ears with the other. "Go on and cry a bit more if you need or want to- I won't drown or melt; won't be angry, upset, ticked off, or offended. Remember what Cornflower of 'Redwall' said to Matthias? 'Don't be ashamed to weep. Listen to me- even the *strongest and bravest* must weep! It shows they have a great heart- one that can feel compassion for others...'
"You cannot begin to heal until you let go of the pain. Weeping will relieve that. Let them fall, 'Nocchi 'pusling'- they are only tears..."

Hans' words of assurance, sympathy, and beginning affection broke through the dam of emotions he was trying to hold back; *ANGUISH*, heartbreak, betrayal, and grief swelled up inside Pinocchio until he couldn't hold it back anymore and just let it go. He buried his face in Hans' chest, a flood of hot tears soaking the former prince's brocaded jacket as sobs, keens, whimpers, wails, mewls, and near-howls shook his small body.

Now Hans' own eyes stung from and began to leak tears from *ANOTHER'S pain*, the broken sounds of his despair wrenching his own heart. He tightened yet gentled his hold a bit more, still soothingly rubbing Pinocchio's back and stroking his ears as he laid his cheek against the younger's head. "*Shhhh*- shhh. It's alright, 'Nocchi- it's alright. Everything's going to be okay; I promise. *Shhhh- hush*. I'm here- *I'm RIGHT HERE*. Right by *YOUR side*, and I'm not going anywhere; I won't leave you on your own, or ever try to hurt you. I would *NEVER* hurt you, a 'skatter' (treasure) like you!
"I know- *I KNOW*... 'Do you share my madness??' 'Ja'- yes. *I do*. I know ALL TOO WELL what it's like to be badly hurt by people who're supposed to care about and love you no matter what, 'Nocchi. Maybe not the same way, and for much longer, but I *DO know and understand* what it's like. I KNOW- *I understand*, 'muller'. Shhhh- it's alright; it's okay. Let it out, Pinocchio- let it all out so it doesn't fester and poison you. I'm here- I have you. *You're safe*, 'Nocchi. Shhhh- hush..."

Hans gently caressed and murmured soft sweet comforting words to Pinocchio until he'd cried himself down to soft sniffles, shaky breaths, and hiccups, remembering how Lars had used to do the same for him until he was eleven or twelve whenever he could actually let the tears and hurt out. -Though he didn't by any means stop the tender petting or let go of his sweet 'sonderbrudt engel' of a friend, sensing that Pinocchio still needed the gentle assuring touch and comfort now that save for Sebastian he was basically all alone in the world- like, well, ...'Laege' Frankenstein's at-'birth'-abandoned Creature/Monster. (And HE hadn't even once really had the simple warm companionship of an animal friend, the poor scarred broken big guy!)
He dug into his pants pocket for a handkerchief, then gave it to Pinocchio with a gentle "C'mon now, 'beib dreng'. Dry your eyes and face- blow your nose. You'll feel a bit better then."

Pinocchio obeyed, cleaning the then mucus-spotted tear-soaked handkerchief with a soft 'Scourgify' afterwards before handing it back to Hans. "Th-Thank you, Mr. Hans. N-Not just for this, I mean..." he whispered not a little hoarsely and raspily.

"You're welcome, 'Nocchi- *more than*. Is- Is it alright if I call you that?" Hans checked once he'd nodded a 'thanks' himself and took his kerchief back.

"Y-Yeah- 'si'. It's- 's alright. The- The other heart-names you used earlier, too, just- just so you know," Pinocchio stammered, slightly blushing in abashment.

"-You *DON'T feel like* it's TOO SOON? *Too much* between two strangers, especially a grown man and a small boy?"

Pinocchio firmly yet kindly shook his head in response, his large swollen bloodshot pain-clouded blue eyes shining with trust, hope, and affection like sunshine on a mostly overcast day up at Hans.

He was now *STARVED for love and affection* just as much as Hans was *practically malnourished*. They were both *DESPERATE* for it in different ways yet the same... Had the Violet Faerie Agata not come along when she did, then Hans would have used that vital information, twisted it up and around, and poisoned it in order to gaslight, further fool, and abuse Pinocchio- tying his still-there strings firmly to Hans' frozen twisted heart. -But *not now*. *NEVER* now!

At least Hans had had *ONE good, kind, and caring elder brother* out of the twelve- but even if he hadn't and been alone completely from the start, he would have decided then and there to *turn THEIR 'teachings' around* and open wide the door to another as abandoned and hurt by family (well, the Blue Faerie Chiara Belmagio didn't count any more than Lars did) as he. -How to bring that up, though??

"Where will you go from here, 'Nocchi?" Hans inquired lightly yet with great concern as he gently brushed the young Creation's dark bangs out of his eyes and smoothed his hair in an affectionate and paternal or brotherly way.

"I- I- I don't know, Mr. Hans," 'Nocchi' admitted with troubled eyes, thumbing and fingering the white satin material of Hans' jacket. "To- to an orphanage 'r foster home somewhere, I guess. Wh-What else can I really do, bein' just a 'bambino'? 'M not *an ADULT* like The Creature/Monster was...
"Where- Where're *YOU goin'*?"

"Once the ship stops at Arendelle's port, that's where I'm heading: into the kingdom proper," said Hans with a not-so-small smile, his eyes shining and sparkling from his princely face. "I've heard and read really nice things about it, and I've wanted to visit it for a while now. Seems like a nice place to live..."

Another lip-bite and rub. Hope, fear, and anxiety warring in those big bright expressive eyes as clear and blue as his soul. Then a timid shy query of, "M-May- May I please come with you?"

Hans smiled warmly and pulled Pinocchio into another embrace, happy dancing and joyously shouting '*YES*!!!!' like he was a little boy again himself in his head. "*Of course* you can and may come with me, 'Nocchi!" he replied happily yet seriously. "I *WANTED you to*- I can't just leave you all by your lonesome again! You're *my friend*- my dear sweet 'lille venn'. I meant what I said and said what I meant earlier: *I'm HERE*. *I'm right here*, and I'm not going ANYWHERE away from you- not when you clearly *NEED somebody* to shelter you, tend to your needs, and protect you from harm ...to LOVE you."

"You- You *LOVE me*???" Pinocchio actually squeaked, knocked *for seven* or TEN. "Even- E-Even though we j-*just met*?"

Hans nodded, warmth and tenderness radiating from his spring-colored eyes. "...Like you're the little brother *I* never had, being the youngest of thirteen."

Pinocchio hardly dared to believe what he was hearing ...but it was still *the BEST* and MOST WONDERFUL thing he'd ever heard since he'd almost been 'put down' by his own 'padre' and had his heart further shattered by his 'madre'. Finally he admitted with a shy sweet smile, "You're- You're the 'grande fratello' I've never had until now, M- Sig- I mean, Hans."

Why could Hans hear Lars cheering for him in the recesses of his heart??? Well, so long as he was happy for them- "*ALWAYS together*- *you and me* then, 'lillebror'."

"*You 'n me*, Hans..."

Just then-

"*LAND HOOOOO*!!! Docking now in Arendelle! All passengers off!"

Hans stood corrected again- *THEY had made it* out of the prisons once called 'home'. And now the 'Spare/Throwaway' and 'Replacement' also known as reborn!Captain Robert Walton and Frankenstein's Creature (now much younger, less outwardly scarred, shorter, and not in the least seeking for revenge or an end to his cursed life of scorn) would together start a new adventure; a brand-new life *FAR FAR away* from both Italy and the Southern Isles.