Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen
Rating: for dark themes, nothing graphic
Kingship
A king is a father. He watches over his people and tries to do what is best for them. Sometimes, he is cruel to be kind.
Agdar stands on a viewing balcony, watching impassively as Kai – dear, loyal Kai – tells the assembled staff that their services are no longer required in the palace. They will have good references – he has sourced jobs for as many of them as possible – but their employment is terminated.
There are mutters. There are cries and curses. One woman looks up and, seeing the king standing there, shouts, "Will you watch us starve too?"
He does not look away as Kai and the soldiers usher them out.
A king is a father. And sometimes, fathers fail their children.
A king is a god. He gives orders from on high. Sometimes, he decides who lives and who dies.
He waits in a side room. Captain Yrjar enters and bows.
"It is done, your Majesty," he says. His head rises from the bow and Agdar can see in his eyes that Yrjar may be loyal but there is nothing that can be done to restore his faith in the king.
On the next day, he enters the town hall to hear petitions. Husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, children, they all come and demand the same thing – to find their loved ones; to find the murderer of their loved ones; to implement justice.
He promises the same thing to all, his words echoing throughout the halls. He tries not to think that he knew their sons, their daughters, their husbands, wives, brothers, sisters, friends.
A man says, "Your Majesty, please. Imagine it were your own child."
"Justice will be done," he repeats even as he thinks, Don't you see, it was for my daughter, so that she may stay safe. And through that, for all of you – my children – so that there can be a safe succession and no civil war.
A king is a god. And sometimes, people find cause to stop believing in their gods.
A king is a soldier. He fights constantly to ensure his country is safe. Sometimes, he is overzealous in his approach.
He does not hear about all of the comings and goings in Arendelle, of course. He does not talk to all of his staff. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't listen.
The conversation is brief – two of the kitchen staff chatting over dishes.
"Got caught stealing some bread, I 'eard."
"Poor Merete. Doesn't deserve that shame."
"No, but it were for her, I 'eard. After the gates shut and they all got sent away, you know. Course, she got a good reference but 's not as easy as all that, is it. Gotta be somewhere hiring and with Merete injuring her back like that and little Ivo not being kept on either … well, a family's gotta eat. No, I got sympathy for Ivo. Too young to waste his life away in a jail. And Merete…"
"She got no livelihood now and no way of getting it without Ivo.
Those words curl around him like barbs. He squares his shoulders as he walks, telling himself that people lose their jobs every day. People starve every day. He tries to alleviate it – of course he does – but he cannot be responsible for every twist of fate and every failure. The law is clear. Thievery is forbidden.
He tells himself this all the way to the jail. The guards are surprised to see him but he does not comment. He walks through until he passes the cell of Ivo Dahlberg. He only stops for a second but the young man sees him. A serving boy, he thinks, though he could be wrong. Ivo recognises him however – in the space of that second, astonishment, anger, hatred and fear cross his face.
He leaves the cells and returns to the palace. He visits Elsa, who is having a good day, and who shows him the work she has been doing, and he holds her and breathes in her smell.
"Are you OK, Papa?" she says.
"You know I love you, right, Elsa?"
"Yes, Papa."
"And I'd do anything for you?"
"Yes, Papa." She smiles and it almost hides the sad look that has been in her eyes for the past year. "I love you too."
It's almost enough.
A king is a soldier. And sometimes, soldiers make deadly mistakes.
A king is a man. He does the best he can to make his way in the world. And sometimes, he does what's wrong because he believes it's right.
He watches her control slip further away as he does the best he can. He is there, always there, watching and counselling and holding (until one day she shouts for them to stay away from her), and it never helps. He is in meeting rooms with ministers; he is with Anna, trying to keep her happy; he is with Queen Idun, trying to be an attentive husband; he is in the palace halls, watching over the work; he is in his study, writing laws, signing letters, trying desperately to make a trading country with an isolationist policy.
And the servants he fired, the men and women he killed, the sons and daughters who wound up in jail, they are there too. He sees their faces when he makes speeches, hears their shouts as he walks down the halls, feels their loved ones' anger and despair every time he talks to Elsa. On some days, he wakes up and he could swear his hands are covered in blood. On those days, only Elsa's smiles are enough to keep him going; the days of Elsa's smiles lessen with each week.
The day before he and Idun are to travel to Corona, he worries that Elsa will be unable to cope on her own.
"She'll be fine," Idun says. "One day, she'll have to rule without us."
"I know. But her control is-"
"It doesn't matter. She'll have to be fine."
"You can't force someone to be fine." She says nothing and it's because she already knows that. He looks at his hands and then at her. "Idun," he says softly, "Do you ever … do you ever think we haven't done the right thing?"
The pause is just slightly too long.
"We did the best we could," she says in the end but when she looks at him, he can see Elsa's sadness and the blood on his hands reflected in her eyes. "There are worse things we could have done."
Shouts and tears and lifeless faces fill the space between them.
A king is a man. And sometimes, men pave the road to hell with nothing but good intentions.
Fin