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Hans’ white sleeves were rolled up high onto his biceps. He grunted with effort as he dug into a pumpkin, scooping at the insides to clear it of guts.
“That's the worst part. Yuck.” Anna said, averting her eyes. She was attending to her own pumpkin - it had already been gutted, and she was fastidiously penciling her pattern onto its face in preparation for carving. Her lip was tucked between two of her teeth in concentration.
“Oh?” Hans asked, beginning to wipe at his hands with a spare rag. “I think the worst part is when the sun sets, and it gets pitch dark…” He slowly approached her - his voice was dark and foreboding. “And the only light through the entire countryside is the flickering of the jack-o-lanterns… And…”
He pounced her. “The Nabnacker comes for you!”
His fingers found her midriff, tickling while his deep and honeylike laughter filled his wife’s ears. Anna pealed with squeals of surprise and joy as she squirmed in his grip.
“No! Stop!” She protested with laughter that could melt ice. Hans brushed his cheek against hers and relented. She smacked his shoulder playfully with the back of her hand.
“There’s no such thing as a Nabnacker, and you know it.”
“No,” Hans chuckled. He was about to turn around when Anna clutched him by the wrist, tugged him close, and put him squarely in her lap.
“Will you be my Nabnacker this Halloween?” She asked, stroking dainty fingers through his hair. “I can see it already! Two big horns, and a third eye on your forehead…”
Hans kissed her delicately on the lips. He was slow about it, taking his time to sense the warmth of her skin, and the spiced smell of her hair, and the soft motions of her body as she breathed serenely. Her tongue lashed for the barest moment against his lips - Anna could taste Hans' smoky, masculine essence.
“Only if you’ll be the wicked witch that made me, Anna.” He smiled. In the legend, the witch Fellara created the Nabnacker one Halloween night - but never gave him his heart. She kept it to herself, and promised she would give it to him if he did her bidding - but she never did.
“I’d be terrible playing that part.” Anna said, “I would never be so mean.”
Hans, his eyes closed, stroked her cheek. “No, Anna.” He shook his head. “You are not keeping my heart from me. It was yours, the moment I met you.”
The princess kissed her husband’s cheek. “And mine was yours, Krumkake.”
“That’s ’Nabnacker’ to you.”