Hans Faces His Parents

Hans slowly opened the door to the castle with a small hesitation. His parents would want to know if he was able to secure the thirteenth princess, and he dreaded that moment. He hurried to his room with as much stealth as possible, but was stopped when he heard his name called.

 

“Hans, welcome back.” It was his mother. Hans straightened and tried to act natural.

 

“Oh hey, mother. I'm back, and boy do I have the story to tell.” He gave a grin that he hoped was convincing enough. His mother nodded approvingly.

 

“Good, good. Go ahead and come to your father and I's room in an hour to tell us about it. Until then, get washed and change your clothes.” She turned and walked down the hallway. Hans turned around and entered his room, where he let go the breath he had been holding.

 

He bathed and changed, taking up the full hour he had to himself. When the time came, he forced himself to walk to his parents' room. He stood in front of the door for a good five minutes before gathering the courage to knock. The door opened and he stepped inside.

 

It was dark, but he could see his father on the bed, his gigantic belly and thighs covered by a purple sheet. His mother stood by the foot of the bed.

 

“Welcome back, son. How was your trip?” His father asked in a gruff, wheezing voice.

 

“It...it was good. Not entirely successful, but...uh...a lot happened.” He struggled getting the words out. He was trying to be political in his answers, something he wasn't very good at.

 

“Like what?” Hans had the feeling that his mother was suspicious.

 

“Well, there was a snowstorm, and I took charge. We got everyone coats and made sure that no one was hurt.” Hans knew that this wasn't at all what his was looking for, but he bid his time.

 

“And did you get a girl?” His father wheezed. This was the question Hans dreaded.

 

“Well, there was this one girl. She was the second-in-line. Very smitten with me, as a matter of fact,” he weaseled.

 

“And where is this girl?” His mother asked, tilting her head. “I didn't see one with you.”

 

“Uh, well, that is....She died. Of...uh...frostbite.” The half-truth came out and sat in the room for a second.

 

His mother didn't skip a beat. “And the first-in-line?”

 

“She's already taken by someone.” Hans bit his lip. Both his parents looked furious.

 

“Do you....” His father began before breaking in to a coughing fit. His mother hurried over and started soothing the man on the bed.

 

“Let me take this dear.” She turned to her son. “Hans, you know that you are the last to be married. And do you think that they'll be able to keep your father's kingdom's treasury at the same size as it is now? Of course not! We need all thirteen sons to be married to princesses or this kingdom will go to peasants.” She spit the last word as if it were moldy brussels sprouts. “Why didn't you just kill the oldest when the younger sister died and take the castle? Did you think of that?”

 

“Of...of course I did. But the older sister is, well, untouchable,” Hans protested.

 

His mother shook her head. “You are a disappointment. Get out of here.”

 

“But--” he was cut off.

 

“Go!” His father sounded angry.

 

Hans dropped his head. “Alright,” he mumbled before turning and leaving the room.