Chapter Text
Wendla is the only one out and about when Ernst tiptoes down the grand staircase. Everyone else is hiding because Hanschen is in a bad mood, because Hanschen is horrible at social interaction and Ernst doesn’t want to eat with him. It may just be because Ernst helped her throw a tea party, her first in years, and because Ernst is likely their last chance to break the spell, but Wendla really likes him. Because of that, she doesn’t call out until he’s off the stairs.
“Ernst?”
He jumps guiltily. “Oh, hi Wendla.”
Wendla is about to ask why he’s down here when his stomach growl. Ernst flushes and crosses his arms. “Do you want something to eat?”
“Please.”
Wendla leads Ernst through the twisting halls of the castle until they reach the kitchen. She whistles--which she hadn’t been able to do as a human, one small thing she enjoys about being a teakettle--and every hops to attention. Except Martha, who runs up and starts bouncing around Ernst.
“You brought the boy!” She chirps happily. Wendla steps into her path before she can run more and crack herself again. After all, Wendla isn’t quite sure how the cracks and chip will display himself once they’re all human again, and she’d really rather not find out how much damage the teacup can take.
“Yes. He’s hungry,” There’s a few cries of protest, one or two ‘But Hanschen said!’s, but Wendla is resolute. “He is our guest, and he shouldn’t be punished because Hanschen is an idiot.”
There’s a gasp and Moritz--How did I not notice him there?--hops off the countertop. “We can’t just disobey Hanschen! Have you seen the West Wing?”
Wendla has, actually. She was the first to do so, the first brave enough to venture near the site of Hanschen’s temper tantrum, and she knows that Hanschen would never do that to any of them.
“He is our guest and we are feeding him,” Wendla says simply. When Moritz opens his mouth again, she continues, “If you don’t want to help, Moritz, you can get out.”
Moritz wavers a bit, but he eventually stays, climbing back onto the countertop to survey the chaos as they prepare food. Ernst sits next to them and the two of them talk.
“My father is an inventor, he’s going to change the world,” Ernst says, “That’s why I had to get the Beast to let him go. I… I won’t be missed much in town, and I cannot do much. It’s less important that I’m here, if my father is not.”
Moritz replies, probably something about the way that Ernst refers to Hanschen as ‘The Beast’, but Wendla clicks her tongue. No, this boy should not have to suffer because Hanschen is bad at social interaction.