Author's Note:
Ah-ha! I updated a day early- so that evens out the late updates, right? Anyone...? Anyways, I hope you like this addition to the story. If you have feels about it, please leave a review. I love reviews, they make me feel warm and happy on the inside- and sometimes make me smile on the outside. As always, read, enjoy, and review!
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In the weeks since his appointment, Ingvar had learned much about palace life. For example, the castle staff didn't appreciate it when you did their job for them (like when he makes his bed). Or, if you don't come to the great hall before the meal is served, a place is not set for you at the table. Sometimes, dinner isn't served in the great hall at all, so you must wander into the kitchens and ask politely for a meal. He learned that the Princess was a spitfire, and that Master Bjorman was usually good for a chuckle.
He also learned a lot about the Queen. She was composed and proper. She knew her place, and knew the places of the people around her. She was regal, she was poised, and she was capable. The Queen hid behind her mask of authority well. She rarely showed emotion, and if she did, it was for a split second before her face melted back to impassive. Her powers were impressive, but she rarely lost control of them. She slipped sometimes at meetings, frost would start creeping out from under her hands. Ingvar would give her a knowing look, and she would reign herself back in.
But the more time he spent with her, the long nights they spent combing through weapon designs and battle strategy, the more he realized that while she was all those things, she was also human—and she was scared. Fear of failure plagued her. When left alone with her thoughts, she constantly doubted herself and her ability to lead. She was still trying to live up to the destiny her father picked for her. When she was nervous, or felt her emotions start to overwhelm her, she twisted her hands together at the base her neck, always right hand over left. She would hunch her shoulders over and rub her hands, trying to warm them up to keep the ice at bay. When she didn't know the solution to a problem, she would look over to the painting of her father's coronation hanging above a long table to the side of the office, as if begging for advice. He learned to move with her, to fall into step behind her. He learned to stand unobtrusively in her office, a witness, but not a participant. He learned that she didn't like to be touched unexpectedly, and he kept a respectful distance between them at all times.
The Queen, was, however, young. And sometimes they laughed together over a ridiculous situation, or about a slightly off-centered hair piece of an older general, or a raunchy joke that a Queen shouldn't laugh at, but she did anyways. Sometimes they shared a mug of hot coco in genial silence while the light from the fire in the fireplace danced around her office. He found himself getting better and better at chess—it was something that she played habitually to clear her head. And, because Ingvar was frequently the only person with her, he became her partner. Although she commented that he was the best player she had faced, she always won.
Ingvar also learned that he was available to the Queen at all hours. Master Bjorman had warned him that the Queen rarely slept, and when she did she was plagued by nightmares. She never seemed to suffer from the little rest she got though. At least, not in the way Ingvar felt that he did.
It was later than usual when the Queen knocked that night. Ingvar buried his face in his pillow trying to block out the sound of her call.
"One moment," he groaned, rolling onto his back and stretching out his arms. He swung his legs over the side of his bed and padded through the dark room. When he opened the door, there stood the Queen, still dressed in her daywear.
"Your Majesty," he stifled a yawn, "what can I help you with?"
"Can you come with me?" she asked.
He looked at her, "My Grace, it's very late, where could we possibly need to be… other than in bed?"
"Please, I have a concern…"
He sighed, "And you can't tell me, say tomorrow, you have to show me now?"
"General Rolf…"
"Okay, okay," he stepped into the hall and closed his door. He couldn't help but notice her move her eyes down his body. It was then he remembered that he was sleeping in only his trousers.
"Do I need to change, your Majesty?"
She shook her head, "Oh no, no, this won't take long."
She scurried towards one of the doors that led to the many landings around the castle. When they stepped outside, a burst of frigid Arendelle winter air hit them, and Ingvar pursed his lips against the cold. Now he wished he had put on a shirt.
"Look," she said, motioning to the dark city below her.
And he did, but he didn't see anything worth concerning him with at this time of night.
"Your Majesty, if you could be a bit more specific, I know you don't feel the cold, but I do…"
She looked back at him and his bare torso and shivering.
"How are we going to protect this? The more I think about it, the more I realize that Arendelle is not particularly defendable."
Ingvar looked out into the darkness again. He could barely see the sheer cliff faces that surrounded the capital on all sides. On the one exposed side was a water passage leading directly into the fjord and city. She was right, it wasn't particularly strategic location.
"Your Majesty," he nodded back towards the warmth of the castle. She followed him in and shut the door behind her. "That is something to bring up with the generals council. Arendelle has needed protected before, and I am sure some of the older generals will remember how to defend it."
She nodded in agreement, but still asked, "What is your initial response though? If you had to come up with a plan right now, how would you fight the war?"
Ingvar fought the urge to roll his eyes. He apparently wasn't getting out of this one so easily.
"Uh, well," he looked around as if he was outside again, "I think I would move up. I wouldn't wait for the enemy to come to me, I would meet them up and away from the city. That way, we can find the more strategic high ground, and we're not fish in a barrel down here."
A thoughtful look came over her face, "But I don't want to fight in any provinces. I want to contain the fighting here somehow, if I can."
"If I may, my Grace, this is war. And as the Ambassador and his troops get closer to our country, they will rip through any towns they find. Every location on the map is a battle ground for them. You're not going to be able to protect the citizens by trying to draw him out here. Invading forces are never fair."
She shook her head in disdain, "Then I will have to send troops out to all the southern provinces. To help evacuate the towns and defend the refugees."
Ingvar looked puzzled, "refugees? Where are you going to send them? They can't stay here. Like you said, this will be hard to defend."
"They will have to keep moving north I suppose." She paced in front of him, another thought spinning in her head. Ingvar stifled another yawn as he waited for her to ask him about it.
"There is a small kingdom above us."
"Kenton," Ingvar agreed.
"Do you think we could make an alliance with them, ask them to take our refugees?"
He shrugged, "potentially. Did you turn down any suitors from them?"
"No," she said, "Their king is old and has no children. No one from that kingdom ever came."
"What could you offer them in return for taking in your citizens?" he asked, crossing his arms over his torso.
"Um… well, ice," Elsa shrugged.
Ingvar shook his head, "Is that going to be good enough for a country that is significantly north of us? Don't you think they have enough ice as it is? And wouldn't Arendelle providing ice cut into their ice harvesting business? I'm not sure that is a viable option."
Elsa scrunched her brow, considering his words, "I mean, there is always money."
"Which Arendelle has a surplus of right now?" he questioned.
"Not exactly," Elsa looked down, "It's a crazy idea anyways. I don't have the time to go visit their King, and it wouldn't be polite of me to ask him to travel all the way here. I suppose I will have to figure something else out."
Ingvar looked thoughtful, "Why don't you send the Princess?"
Elsa looked back up at him, "What?"
"She is royalty, she could act on your behalf, and only with your instruction. She has the authority to sign any treaty for Arendelle, and it would keep her out of your hair while you continue to get ready for the war."
"Anna is never anything to keep out of my hair, General," Elsa defended her sister sharply, "But you are right, it would be good training for her, just in case…"
Ingvar stepped towards his bedroom door, hiding a yawn behind his hand, "So, why don't you sleep on it, your Majesty, and we can talk about it in the morning… or later this morning, I suppose."
Elsa stepped back, "Oh, yes, of course. You must want to get back to bed."
Ingvar pushed his door open, "My Grace, every time you wake me at such hours, it is my express goal to get back to sleep as quickly as I can."
With a wicked grin, Elsa moved towards him again, "Well there is this one other thing…"
"Good night, Queen," Ingvar interrupted, closing his door without a glance back.
