Frozen
Death Becomes Her
Chapter 1 – May 23, 1836
Dark clouds scudded across a darker sky as lightning flashed through the heavens. The rain slashed down like a knife, hissing endlessly into a wine-dark sea. The wind howled mercilessly, whipping up waves into towering hills that briefly dwarfed the vessel caught between them before cresting to fall. Sailors crawled through the ship's rigging, fighting to keep the ship from rolling and sinking into oblivion.
A woman stood by the railing, her fingers clinched around it so tightly the knuckles showed white. She stared out into the storm, flinching with each crash of thunder, each wave that doused her. She continued her stare, as if she could see something on the far horizon, though the darkness made that impossible, and the flashes of lightening were too brief to illuminate anything for long.
"Idun, my dear, we really should take shelter below decks. I don't like the look of these waves. That last one nearly reached the railing."
Another wave formed alongside the ship, tossing it on its side. Idun's grip kept her from being tossed onto the deck, forcing Agdar briefly to wrap an arm over the side of the railing.
The queen turned and looked up at her husband, and gave him a wan smile. "I think I would be more afraid down there, trapped, unable to see what was happening," she said, shaking her head. "No, I couldn't wait down there, hearing every groan of the timbers, and never knowing if that were to be my end or not."
"Don't speak like that my dear, even in jest," Agdar murmured. He looked around quickly, seeing the crew as they wrestled the sails and ropes. "You know what a suspicious lot sailors are. I had to speak quite sharply to some just this morning, who were complaining about a woman being on board."
"Because it brings bad luck?" Idun asked, barely suppressing an unregal snort. "I can think of a dozen better reasons why ladies should not be on board ships, and this lady on this ship in particular. Do you know how long it's been since I had a decent bath? With hot water? And my chignon is a complete mess!"
"Rigors of trade deals, my dear," Agdar said, smoothing his wet hair back. "Arendelle needs an outlet for her goods, and our deal with the Danes needs to be renegotiated."
"Still, is it worth this?
"This storm is just unexpected, my dear."
Another wave tossed the frigate, temporarily halting any more conversation which caused a sailor to stumble. He caught himself on the railing before falling into the darkened sea, and he locked eyes with Idun. As he got his feet under him, he turned his head and spat over the railing before he went back to tending the rigging.
Idun started to say something about the disrespect the sailor had shown, but decided better of it. Surely she was just reading too much into it again, as Agdar had mentioned. The sailor had likely just spat out some seawater that he had accidentally tasted. She continued to hold tightly to the rail, but the waves seemed to be getting worse. She was soaked to the skin, and longed to be dry, but the storm raged on.
Idun began to fear they were right. She thought of her daughters, Elsa and Anna, safe back at the castle in Arendelle. She wished she were with them right then, warm within the palace walls. Instead she was freezing from the waves splashing over the side. The water was cold, not freezing, thank goodness, but cold enough to make her teeth chatter.
"How much longer can this storm last?" she asked.
"That is for God to decide, my dear."
Idun cast her eyes over the rising waves, each individual wave itself seemed to dwarf the frigate that carried them. One wave in particular caught her eye, as it built in front of the ship. Men began to yell orders as the deck pitched her rearward. Only Idun's death-grip on the railing saved her from sliding. The deck quickly leveled out as the crew worked frantically around them. Idun noticed the deck pitch again, as the ship slid off the giant wave, this time the far railing rising high into the air.
Idun watched the men as they suddenly fell into the water just past her, horrified that this might be her last moments. She struggled to her feet, her sodden dress clinging to her legs, when a screamed warning from Agdar made her look up at a falling cannon. Turning to the ocean, she dove for the water in a desperate bid to save her own life, hoping Agdar was right behind her.
As she kicked for the surface, her sodden dress began pulling her down below the water. The ship gently rolled on top of her, providing a cap for her watery grave. She scrambled for the railing, her hands blindly pulling her along in the freezing water. Her lungs burned for air long before she crawled past the edge of the ship. Her dress was heavy with saltwater, and unable to swim for the surface, she was forced to crawl up the barnacle encrusted hull, her fingers scrambling for purchase and her lungs screaming in agony. She broke the surface of the water, gasping for air, as the keel of the ship was feet away from disappearing below the water.
She searched in vain for help, not finding anyone. Where were the crew? Where was Agdar? The captain? The keel of the ship began to sink below the water, forcing Idun to stand on the sinking hull. A few barrels floating nearby in a net caught her attention. Could she survive on it? It was floating after all. With the water already at her knees, she felt she had no choice. Lunging for the barrels, she managed to wrap herself into the netting. She looked again for some one, anyone. A crew member, even, but no one was visible.
So there she remained, her arms wrapped into the netting, though already numb, as were her legs. She was cold. Freezing. How did Elsa cope with this cold? Thoughts of her daughters brought some life into her, but her tired body wanted to sleep. She tried to stay awake, but soon found herself nodding off, only to be awoken when a wave crashed over her. So cold, and tired. Eventually she nodded off to sleep, weeping tears of grief for her lost family.
-o-0-o-
Idun came to as cold hands lifted her into the air. Her mind struggled to function, to piece together what was going on. She opened her eyes to see the crew that was dropping her to the deck of a ship. Her dull mind thought briefly that the sailors might have righted the ship, but then she remembered being on it when it sank beneath the water mast first.
No, this was a different ship, but whose? The British? The Danes? A man with a peg leg and crusty boot came to a thumping stop in front of her. She was far too numb from the bone-chilling cold though to lift her head to acknowledge him.
"Are you afraid?" a voice asked from above her, the deep timbre sending a chill down her spine.
As her mind began to function, her fear of dying alone at sea came back to her. She thought of her daughters, relieved she had been rescued. Had they seen Agdar? Was he here? Questions flooded her mind, as it began to function, taking in more of her surroundings. Was this ship heading to Arendelle? Doubtful she knew, but once they made port, she would be able to send word to the Arendelle Royal Navy to come for her. She would then be able to return to her daughters.
"Do you fear what worlds lay beyond this one? The results of your sins coming home to haunt you? I can forestall the punishments. Keep you in this world. Serve the Dutchman a hundred years and earn yourself a redeeming quality."
World beyond this one? What was he talking about? The only worlds past this one were Heaven and Hell, and they only mattered if you…
"I'm dead?" she whispered, horrified at the implications. She was still wet, her dress still clung to every curve of her body, but the cold, the numbness were now gone from her body. That shouldn't be. She should be on the verge of death. A freezing death, but she felt as if she had merely been dunked into the sea.
"Aye, ye be dead," he said again. "You froze to death. We pulled you off some barrels caught in a cargo net."
She was dead? If she were dead, that meant she would never see her family again. Her daughters would be told that their parents were dead, lost forever to the sea. Agdar's regent would oversee Elsa's coronation, though she might appoint a time for mourning. That would also give her time to bring her power's under control so she wouldn't have an accident.
Her daughters. She would never see them again. That thought alone made tears fall down her cheek. She had brought both into this world, knowing each time she did so she risked death for the precious opportunity to bear life. Now they would go on without her.
"Agdar...my husband...have you found him?"
"We have," that deep timbered voice said, which as Idun looked up found it belonged to a well-weathered man with a long brown beard. "He chose not to accept my offer and is below. We will deliver him to his eternal reward with the others from your ship."
"My daughters," she whispered, uncertain if her voice was being heard due to the fear she felt. "Might I see my daughters again if I serve?"
"Aye, any able seaman is allowed to return home once every ten years to see family. It's for only a night and a day, but ye could if ye earned the right."
Relief surged through Idun. She could see them again. Once every ten years. It was a long time to go between visits, but any chance to see her daughters again demanded she try.
"I'll serve."
"Welcome aboard, miss?" Jones said, prompting his new recruit to give her name.
"Idun. Queen Idun of Arendelle," she said, rising to her feet in her still soaking dress.
"We stand on no ceremony here, Idun. You will do the work assigned ye, or you'll suffer the consequences," he said, then turned to a blond man beside him. "Bosun, get this swab to work!"
"Aye, Captain Jones," the bosun said, as the peg-legged captain turned and thumped away. "Come on, Idun," he barked. "You can start by scrubbing the main gangway."
Scrub? Idun had never worked a day in her life. She looked at her hands, so small, delicate. Free of callouses. As a royal, even the smallest tasks were assigned to the varying members of the staff.
"And pray tell, how does one scrub a main gangway?"
Chapter 2
Deep below the surface, in a rock cavern far from the mortal world, stood a dark figure. This room was the central point of his kingdom, a dark and foreboding place few welcomed the sight of, and many more struggled to stay away from. There was no real source of light here, the floor itself glowed a bright red, the eerie light casting odd reflections on the walls as it seemed to move and shift. The walls were as black as the night sky, reaching overhead into a tall dome that no shadow reached.
He stood where he always did, on a small out-thrust of the glowing red rock from his gloomily lit central chambers and looked out over various other caverns. From here he could see into every Underworld under his control. It was his job, given to him by his all mighty brother, Zeus, eons ago. Here he was known as Hades, Lord of the Underworlds, Scourge of the Afterlife.
He was tall, thin but still well muscled. His skin was pale, and his well toned Olympian body was covered in a form fitting black toga with gold embroidery. His helm was also gold, with his stylized symbol outlined in black. The symbol itself was of a scepter, a tall thin spike with the flared crescent top containing an orb.
Hades could also feel her approaching. It wasn't simply his mastery of the Underworld that told him she was coming. No, she radiated power like few others. He turned to face his new arrival as she stepped off the last step. She was dressed in a vibrant blue toga with a golden cord tied about her and accentuating her magnificent body, and trailing a cape of green. The crown on her brow bore her symbol, that of a peacock with its plumage in a brilliant gemstone display. Hades often thought Hera went to great lengths to be the most beautiful goddess on Olympus. Vanity was so unfitting a god, he thought.
"Do you remember our bet, Lord Hades?" she said.
"I was wondering if you would honor a bet made centuries ago after besotting yourself with wine from Dionysus," he said, letting the snide remark slap her. "But, you have always held a fondness for mortal 'royalty.'"
"I honor all my arrangements, brother," she said, showing a bit of the anger she was infamous for amongst the mortals and gods alike. "And why shouldn't I love my royal subjects? Is that not what Zeus made me goddess of? Marriage, women, royals, heirs, and empires? I am tired of them being denigrated as weak for a few bad apples!"
"Forgive me, my queen," he said, bowing. He knew better than to anger the goddess too much. Deciding that cooler heads might be allowed to stay attached, he continued, "You might not win this bet, though. This royal human woman is a far cry from being made of the stuff of heroes, let alone to thrive aboard the ferryman's ship."
"Be that as it may, our arrangement that the first of royal blood who would bind themselves to the Flying Dutchman would be our test. She has a core of strength and a devotion to her daughters I find touching."
Hades scoffed at this. He had already been watching the woman as she was trained to scrub a deck, something every sailor had done at one point in another in his life as a sailor. She had actually begun to cry over a torn fingernail, and Hera thought she could rival the best sailors death could offer?
"She is weak," he said, creating a scrying point on his wall. It showed Idun, as a single tear slipped down her face. "She will not thrive if she doesn't learn to cope with pain."
Hera smiled at this. "Pain is the basis on which strength and resilience is based. Does it not take the breaking of human bone many times for them to grow resilient to breaking again? She will hurt, yes. She will cry many tears before this is done, but I still believe she will prove my point."
"As you wish, my queen," he said, bowing his head to Hera.
"Are you ready to make good on your end of our 'arrangement,' Lord Hades?"
"If," he said, accentuating the word, "she can thrive aboard the Ferryman's ship, I will do so. It matters not to me whom receives the dead at sea, only that my tasks there are done."
"Then we are in agreement," she said, before turning away, and regally climbing the stairs.
Such vanity, he thought, as he turned back to his out-thrust. There was no way that the weak-willed woman could attain the position of bosun on Captain Jones vessel. Sailors better than Idun had tried, staying aboard the cursed vessel for hundreds of years and not attaining that rank. Hera must truly think something of this mortal, to continue the wager.
As he looked back at his various scrying points, he could see that Idun would not last. She was just too weak, too used to privilege, to thrive. He began to doubt she would ever see her home again.
-o-0-o-
Idun was on her knees, her dress bunched up around her as she scrubbed the hallway with a holystone, a large brick of sandstone she was using to scrub the decks white. She was halfway through the hallway, and her delicate dress was already ripping at the seams. She tried to save the dress by not bunching it under her, but it was proving futile.
"You got twenty minutes, Idun," Bosun remarked as he stood leaned up against the wall behind her.
Idun slid further down, the pain in her back and arms already intolerable. She stopped to rearrange her dress, then stretched her aching muscles. She had the rest of the hallway to scrub clean, almost twenty feet, and she began to fear that her already painful joints were failing her. She leaned over, sprinkled some wet sand and water over in front of her, and began to scrub again
Bosun watched her, nodding his approval. He had showed her how to scrub the deck, only partly surprised that she didn't know a thing about scrubbing floors. To him, Idun was a pretty woman that knew nothing about living in the world. She was a beautiful arm decoration for the fancy balls, and had no place in the real world. Even her dress showed how vain she was. He had worn the same clothes for almost ten years. Her dress, which he was sure was recently made of the finest materials, couldn't handle one of the most basic functions aboard a ship.
Not to mention climbing the rigging later.
He watched her scrub, inching her way down the hallway. She paused again, to rearrange her dress. He knew she wasn't going to make it through scrubbing the hallway in time. She wasn't far enough along. He'd seen this before, with other swabs in his almost two hundred years on the Dutchman. That's why Jones had started this. To teach newcomers how to overcome pain in their new existence.
Now Idun was about to start that lesson in earnest, and he wasn't thrilled about being the one to have to give it her.
"Time's up, Idun," he called, and Idun straightened and rubbed her aching spots, which was pretty much all over. She still had several feet of the hall left scrub, though given the time, even the young boys that bound themselves to the Dutchman could do it in half the time. Still though, as bosun he was charged with discipline aboard the Dutchman. He hated to do it, but Idun was given a task and failed to complete it. The punishment was clear.
"Come on, Idun," he ordered, placing a hand under her arm and lifting her to her feet.
Idun began crying as she was led up the deck, her mind giving her horror after horror for what was about to happen. She was led to the rear of the ship, past several crewmen who moved out of the bosun's way. At the rear of ship, through her tear filled eyes, she saw the captain near the helm where he seemed to be waiting on them.
"She failed in her duties, captain!" the bosun called out, his voice strong as strong as his grip on her arm.
"Bring a chest," Jones ordered to his crew, his voice cold as the air surrounding them. One of the sailors disappeared down the hatch and brought back one of the small iron-wrapped wooden boxes. The chest was opened, and Idun was folded dress and all into it. Two large sailors then stood on it, forcing it the last of the way closed even as Idun screamed in pain as she was forced to contort into a space too small for her body. The iron clasps were then secured with padlocks. The chest was then taken to the bilge, and placed against the hull of the ship.
Idun waited in the dark, crushed into a fetal position by the tight confines of her stays while within the chest. There was no light available to see with, and she barely breath as the stays around her chest were so tight as to be breaking. She tried in vain to hear the sound of anything happening, but not even the groan of the timbers reached her ears. With nothing to do, she was forced to wait for the day to pass.
She thought of her life back in the castle of Arendelle, specifically just after Agdar was named King when his father, King Richart, died suddenly in his sleep. He hadn't been sick, not that the doctors could tell, but the rotund monarch hadn't been sleeping well for some time and was prone to falling asleep on his throne. In a lot of ways, she thought, she'd rather be back there.
-o-0-o-
December 24, 1817
Idun lay in her soft bed, on sheets of soft satin. She knew, somewhere, her daughter was being attended to by the servants, though she herself was still recovering from childbirth just a day and a night prior. She smiled, remembering the childbirth, though she was glad the pain was over. The doors to her boudoir opened, revealing her handmaiden and her doctor. Also with them was another woman, who held a small bundle in her arms that appeared to be wrapped in a blanket. Idun's smile faded, as she took the three grim faces in, then her eyes went back to the third woman and the small, baby-sized bundle she carried.
"Doctor Moller, what is wrong with my daughter?" she ordered, her tone steady though she feared the worst. Why else would they be so grim-faced?
"Your Majesty, there was an incident in the night," the doctor said, his voice wavering slightly and his eyes cast downward. "The fire in the nursery went out. The nursemaid has frozen to death."
The doctor took a moment to collect himself, while the nursemaid brought the bundle and placed it in Idun's arms. Idun noticed the babe's skin was as cold as ice, thought it maintained a healthy pink glow. She became worried that with her skin that cold, the babe might grow ill, and looked to the doctor for confirmation.
"Will my child live?" she asked, worry on her face. It wasn't worry as much for the babe itself, but for her husband's, now King Agdar, image. Losing children after childbirth was often seen as a sign of weakness in the royal family. Such weaknesses often led to unrest in the kingdom, unrest that sometimes turned bloody.
The doctor nodded and Idun relaxed. The doctor then continued, "Sometimes, with newborns, a mother provides something a wet-nurse can't. We don't understand it yet, but children who are nursed by their mothers have better chances of surviving in difficult times."
"You want me to nurse my daughter? Like a common woman?" Idun asked incredulously, even as the sheet was draped across the her shoulders, covering her from the neck down. The maids stopped what they were doing and stood by her bed, heads bowed. The doctor himself looked down at his feet, not wanting to show disrespect to his queen.
"If you want the child to live, ma'am, you will need to nurse her. It is a decision I leave to you, but my medical opinion is if she isn't nursed by you, and soon, the child will not live to see her first birthday."
Idun paused to reflect on the doctor's words. It was denigrating to lower herself to such a common-woman's level to have nurse feed her own daughter. She was a ruling queen, a royal descending from ancient lines and kin to half the reigning monarchs in the world. To lower herself to the level of the women in rags, the costermongers, seamstresses and fallen women?
She also knew that to lose the babe, her first ever, could be seen as a bad omen. The commoners would grow fearful that there wouldn't be an heir for the kingdom, and if there was no heir, the kingdom would pass on to Agdar's closest male relative, who currently reigned over a small kingdom near Hanover. The people in the kingdom might rebel if that were to ever happen, and many of her subjects would die as the unrest was put down.
Either option was unbearable to Idun. She had a duty to protect the integrity of the crown, and that included not lowering herself from her station. In the end though, her duty to her daughter was what caused her to nod her head, and allow the maids to open her shift. Her handmaiden then lifted the sheet that was draped across her while the nursemaid helped her to adjust the babe so she could suckle at her breast. When the babe's lips met her tender flesh, she couldn't help but gasp at the icy feeling. It was if her lips were pure ice.
Soon though, the babe stopped suckling and Idun again nodded to her maids. The nursemaid removed the babe from Idun's arms, while her handmaiden restored her shift. The doctor had continued to wait, and inspected the babe before allowing it to pass back out into the boudoir.
"The child is still chilled to the bone, but the color of her cheeks seems to have improved somewhat," he said, worry still creasing his brow. "I've ordered the nursemaid to sit with the child near the fire in hopes that the heat will help warm the child."
"How long must I continue to...to nurse the child?" Idun asked, trying not to snap at the helpful doctor. She didn't know what to feel though. She knew it was demeaning to her station to have to stoop so low as to nurse a child like this, but once she had, something had come over her. She actually felt as if something had been taken away when the babe had been removed from her arms. Something wet on her cheek caused her to wipe it with a finger.
A tear? She was crying? She thought of the babe again and knew that something had passed between them, something between a mother and daughter that hadn't existed between her and her own mother. The two had respected each other, certainly, and her own mother had taught her to thrive in the royal courts and how to gather information discreetly on whether or not another kingdom planned treachery. Such skills were invaluable in royal circles, and helped avoid several wars, but there wasn't a feeling like this between them.
Was it love? Did she love the babe, where her mother had never actually loved her? Her mother had cared for her certainly, had spent numerous hours teaching her to curtsey properly, to be a proper lady at all times, to eat even hideous dishes with a smile on her lips so as not to offend allied kingdoms. This feeling, though, was different, and as she settled back into the soft and luxurious bed couldn't help but to feel the need to order her daughter be brought back into the room. The child did need to be warmed though, that was clear, so she allowed it for now.
"Several months at least," the doctor said, trying desperately not to offend as he stood there, not looking at anything but his feet at the uncomfortable feeling of being in a ladies private bedchamber. "Once the child can eat on its own, the nursing can end. Until then, as your personal physician, I must recommend that the child be nursed by you, and you alone."
"I understand, Doctor Moller," Idun said, as she looked up at the purple crocuses painted across the ceiling. "If there is nothing else, doctor, you are dismissed."
"By your leave, Your Majesty," he said bowing, then backed through the doorway before the handmaiden shut the door as she herself went about her duties.
Idun, left alone, pondered the feeling she had felt for her daughter. It was these thoughts about her feelings for her daughter that carried her into sleep.