Idunn's life was one of few words.
It had been since she was princess of Corona – quiet even as the crown sealed away her life, her decisions, her future. Back then, Frederic spoke for her, protesting on her behalf – but a marriage to the future King of Arendelle was a match too political for anything to be done.
And so Idunn said nothing, leaving behind her sunny, familiar world to enter a kingdom of frost.
Agnarr was not what she expected of a husband. He was, however, what she expected of a King: firm, faithful, and just – and also very certain that everyone would obey his words with diligence, and without question.
Including his consort.
Idunn knows he respected her – and her opinion – but if Agnarr was born a ruler, Idunn seemed born to only be beside him. In court and in life, she was but his shadow, and the King her voice.
Even when her first was born – so pale and beautiful – Agnarr was the one to spread the news in her stead. He spoke to the kingdom and her family, while the queen could only cradle little Elsa, the fear of anything happening to her like an icy grip on Idunn's heart.
Frederic's child – who was whisked away into the night – haunted her.
And yet it wasn't long until she had another.
Anna was the joy that spread her news herself – vocal and exuberant even so young, and captivating to all who laid eyes on her. Even Elsa, who was so soft-spoken – so sensitive and nothing like the boisterous Anna – couldn't keep away. Not for long.
Perhaps, the queen reflects, Idunn should have kept her away.
Elsa's ice glistened and grew in strength – Agnarr's shoulders going stiff with worry – but Idunn saw the shimmer in Elsa's blue eyes, heard the laughter in her voice when they were together…
Even then, her daughters' love was a beautiful thing.
And so Idunn only smiled, a wisp of a shadow beneath her eyes, and said nothing.
If only she had.
The ice struck cold and quickly, and overwhelmed them all in the blink of a moment – the mistake of a young girl and a mother with words too little, too late.
But that isn't her real regret, Idunn knows, feeling the pang of it through her aching soul. Her ghostly fingers press against the wall of the ballroom, where Anna had been struck so many years ago.
"If only…" Idunn whispers.
She has so many regrets.
Agnarr's concern had spiraled into frenzied worry as he ordered the servants – shutting the gates and away any risk that their princess could hurt again.
And it was done within days – within hours – as Idunn watched, gripping her youngest as she had Elsa so many years ago, when Idunn feared the dark would tear the child from her shaking arms – throat almost too tight to breath.
But Idunn will never forget the way Agnarr looked to her, that night.
Her eldest was shaken, trembling as Idunn pulled her gently close – still young and frightened and allowing her to. But Agnarr only stood stiffly by the window – anxiety like a dark cloud above him as he turned to Idunn.
Agnarr was a decisive man. He did not look back, or think twice, or do any of the things that left long winds of regret in Idunn's heart. But in that moment, Agnarr looked more uncertain than Idunn had ever seen him – glancing back, for the first time in his reign, to Idunn.
As if waiting for her to speak – to question his decision to seal away their daughter's life, her decisions, her future.
And Idunn said nothing.
She couldn't say anything – hands quivering, heart aching – with the fear literal icy shards across her skin.
But her daughter would learn to control it. She must.
"It is for the best," Agnarr had said, in the very halls Idunn now lingers in, unable to move on.
But was it really?
Idunn doesn't know.
All she remembers is how, year by year from that moment, their world had grown ever colder. Agnarr became harsher – to survive the winds of rule – and Idunn felt herself becoming frailer, heart like hollowed glass.
She never heard Elsa's laugh again, or saw the way her eyes shimmered – the joy only Anna could bring lighting her soul.
She could only take Anna, drawing the girl close as little sobs broke Idunn's heart, piece by piece – telling herself it was for the best.
Did it matter if they were happy, so long as they were safe?
Agnarr didn't think so. But the years were long and cold, and full of such longing that Idunn shivers at the memory. They separated them so that Elsa would gain control, but with every day, it only seemed to worsen.
Idunn realized it then, she thinks.
That, perhaps… it had been a mistake.
But then the storm came.
Idunn hardly remembers it – only remembers the crash and roar of the waves as she thought back to that moment, before Idunn left for sea. She remembers thinking of Elsa, of how beautiful she had grown – and how painfully withdrawn, as the girl shrunk away from the family she had once loved so freely.
If only Idunn had said something, then.
But it's only once she realized she needed to say it that she can't – that the words ghost across the earth like whispers, too soft to hear.
The world is darker after death, and fractured – the passage of time a confusing haze as Idunn sees what she has let her daughters' lives become.
She watches, aching, as they grieve – as her eldest tries to take the world on her shoulders and her youngest tries to fit hopelessly within it.
As Elsa tries to cope, and as Anna falls hard and fast, without Idunn there to pull her from the edge – to warn her of men with smiles and masks.
As Elsa runs, terrified as the ice roars like a storm from her heart, and as Anna runs after her – so innocent and true and heedless of danger.
Idunn watches even when her heart can't bear to watch anymore – as her youngest clings to life with everything and her eldest sobs, begging for it to end.
She watches when the frost melts to rich spring… and all that comes after that.
Perhaps Agnarr had moved on from the world, if only to spare him what comes next. But Idunn is frozen – can do nothing but watch as her daughters' love grows stronger, as dangerous as the ice that built into a storm.
If only Idunn had said something… then maybe, just maybe, they would not have become so broken, as to need each other like this.
It's dark and horrifying and sinful – and so beautiful, and pure, and all of the things Anna says to her sister in the night, candlelight soft against their skin. Idunn should be disgusted – should be crying for the sins she hears so gently, lovingly embraced.
Idunn should not feel as she does.
But she can't stop the way her heart stirs – the way she melts at the sight of them.
That moment, the two are in the study. In the years it's been hers, Elsa has added a plush sofa – or perhaps that was Anna, given the way it clashes with the furnishings so badly. But there they curl up together – Anna cuddled beside Elsa, much like when they were little girls.
But they are not so little, anymore.
"Would father really be proud of us, if he saw us now…?" Elsa says, softly.
They know the nature of their love – even if they are attached too deeply to let it go.
"You know what he'd think, Elsa."
Idunn knows, too.
"Would mother?"
The question comes and Idunn tenses, waiting… For her daughter to say Idunn was just like their father – or worse, that Anna didn't know, because Idunn said so little she might as well have been a ghost. But Anna is so certain when she nods.
"She would be."
And it's then that Idunn realizes.
There are so many things she should have said… That she was wrong, and Elsa wasn't a danger, if only they had trusted her – if only they had seen Elsa as the gift she was. That Idunn was their mother, and so, so proud…
That she loved them, and it didn't matter what happened – she only wanted them safe, and warm, and happy.
"How do you know?"
Elsa's voice shakes, but Anna's doesn't.
"Because she's mother, and she loved us."
There are so many things Idunn should have said, in her life. So many things that could have happened differently. But in the end… the most important of what she didn't say – what means the most... Anna says for her.
"She'd want us to be happy," the princess says.
And Elsa's eyes soften and shimmer, like they did so many years ago, and Idunn's soul is set free.