Disclaimer: Frozen is Disney's, dammit.
Agdar stood at the entrance to the Arendelle Castle bridge and stared across at the gates. The gates were open by Arendelle's long tradition (except, of course, the dozen or so years in the 1800s that they were closed at the order of the mad Hermit King), but there were now a few concessions to modern security concerns. Stone barriers blocked vehicles from driving onto the bridge. An unobtrusive guard house stood to the side, housing the controls that would allow the guards to close down the bridge completely in an emergency. The guards posted at the entrance and along the length of the bridge still wore the ceremonial uniform of His Majesty's Own - a green longcoat with gold and purple trim, and tall shako hat adorned with the Arendelle Crocus. They were armed only with radios, but less than two minutes away, there was a reaction force of thirty Marines, fully equipped with modern weapons.
Agdar walked across the bridge, where the guard at the gate gave his briefcase a cursory check, more of a formality than an actual search. So far, Arendelle had avoided the sporadic terror attacks that had kept the Continent on edge for much of the last decade. Still, the Castle was the most important building in the country, and some security had to be maintained. The guard smiled and said, "Welcome to Arendelle Castle."
Welcome back to Arendelle Castle, Agdar thought as he thanked him. The young guard had no way of knowing that this had been Agdar's childhood home. He probably hadn't even been born when Agdar left the Castle for good. Just another reminder that that part of his life was long gone.
He strode through the gates and across the courtyard, intending to go directly to the business entrance. The tap of a drum caught his attention. A platoon of His Majesty's Own marched in precise formation along the front of the castle. It was time for the Changing of the Guard.
Agdar watched the ceremony with melancholy nostalgia. How many times had he and Kris watched this from the upper windows? How many times had they run around the courtyard, trying to provoke a reaction from the stoic guards? How many times did I get spanked for that, and Kris never did?
But all these guards, all this pomp – none of it had been enough to protect Prince Kristen from himself.
Agdar turned away from the ceremony. He walked quickly past the public entrance, where a line had formed for an upcoming tour, and around to the business entrance. There was nothing ceremonial about the security here – the guards carried sidearms and wore earwigs, the white cords curling down into the collars of their suit jackets. One guard checked the access roster and called to verify Agdar's appointment. Another motioned him through the metal detector and then ran the wand over him for good measure. His briefcase received a much more thorough inspection than it had at the gate.
"You're good to go, Mr. Erikksen," the first guard said, handing him a Cleared Visitor badge to clip on his suit jacket. "Do you need a guide?"
"No," Agdar said with a slight smile. "I know the way."
He walked along the corridor toward the rear of the Castle, heels clicking on the polished wood floor. Looking around, he soaked in the warm colors and rich decorative details that were the hallmarks of the Castle's decor. He'd never noticed such things as a youngster.
Well, he'd noticed the suits of armor that stood sentinel along the corridor. Agdar stopped in front of one of the suits and examined the helmet. They never did that dent out. He smiled at the memory, he and Kris wearing those helmets, blind and swinging wildly at each other with their wooden swords. King Haldor himself had spanked both boys over that. Agdar didn't sit for almost a week.
He kept walking. His fingers trailed lightly along the wall, feeling the subtle texture of the rosmaling in the wallpaper. Why had he needed to leave the Castle for so long before he really appreciated its beauty?
At the end of the corridor, he went up a spiral staircase, turned right, and went through the double doors that led to the Royal Archives. The plump woman at the receptionist's desk smiled when she saw him.
"Go right in, Agdar, she's expecting you," she said, waving toward a door labeled 'Chief Archivist.'
"Thank you, Britta. You're looking as lovely as ever," Agdar said with a wink.
"Oh, go on, you old smoothie," Britta said, blushing.
He grinned and slipped into the office. A slim, brown-haired woman rose from her desk and hurried around it to give him a hug. Agdar dropped his briefcase and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight. "It's good to see you, Idunn."
"You too," Idunn said. She pulled back and studied him, frowning. "You look tired. Is it work or…the project?"
"Both, to be honest," he replied. What he couldn't say was that while his work was failing and his 'project' might soon become national news, the two had collided in a most terrifying way.
She squeezed his hands. "I took the liberty of having some lunch sent up. Why don't we eat, and then we can talk?" She waved at a spread of domed serving dishes arrayed on a side table.
"Best offer I've had in a while," he said with a crooked smile.
They made small talk over lunch. Like Agdar, Idunn Fjelstad had grown up in Arendelle Castle, the daughter of King Haldor's private secretary. She'd participated in many of Agdar's and Kristen's hijinks, but unlike the two boys, she rarely got caught. Many a childhood adventure had ended with with he and Kris being dragged off by the ears while Idunn giggled in the background, having gotten away cleanly.
There wasn't much Idunn couldn't get away with, which was the reason Agdar had gotten this far in his search, and why he was here today. Idunn had all of Arendelle's history at her fingertips, literally. Some of that history had been carefully buried, sealed by royal decrees, and Idunn was the one person, besides the King, with the ability to access all of it.
Idunn poured coffee for both of them, then eyed him over the rim of her cup. "So what brings you out here today, Agdar? I get the feeling this isn't purely a social call."
"I've found her, Idunn." He had trouble speaking around the sudden ache in his throat. How long had he been sitting on this potentially explosive knowledge, unable to share it even with the person he was closest to? His chest tightened, and it was all he could do not to break down. Blinking back tears, he said again, "I've found her."
Idunn furrowed her brow. "Found who?" Then her eyes widened with comprehension, and one hand flew to her mouth. "Oh...oh, Agdar, truly?"
He nodded, not trusting his voice. Idunn slid her hand across the table to grip his tightly.
"Where?" she asked. "And more importantly, who?"
"Where?" He cleared his throat. "Right under my nose. For the last five years."
"Right under your nose…who…wait…your protégé? Elsa? It's Elsa?" He nodded and Idunn squeezed his hand. Tears glistened in her eyes. "Oh my God. What are the odds? How sure are you? You must be very sure if you're telling me?"
"A DNA test will confirm it, but I'm certain it's her. The threads I've been able to follow, they all lead to Elsa."
"So the rumors were true."
"It seems so."
The stories had been circulating around the Castle for well over a hundred years – rumors of a parallel royal lineage, a shadow succession put into place to ensure that certain provisions of the Traktat av Norge never took effect. Tales of a queen with a secret lover, of a line of royal children with no idea of their heritage.
Idunn had been the one who uncovered the possibility. Fearful for her country's future and working from the premise that rumors usually had some basis in fact, she had secretly accessed the sealed archives. While there was no definite proof, she had found enough veiled references in old journals and correspondence to convince her that it had to be pursued.
But how? Idunn could hardly take the information to the Royal Council. Accessing the sealed archives without the permission of the King carried severe consequences. At best, she could lose her job. At worst, she could be charged with treason. So she'd turned to Agdar, who had the same encyclopedic knowledge of the royal household, but who was no longer part of it. Someone who could move between the two worlds without raising suspicions. She passed the information to him, and he ran with it.
Agdar remembered the day she called him. He hadn't seen her in years, at first by his choice, and then by hers. He'd met her in the back of a darkened pub, amused and intrigued by her cloak-and-dagger mannerisms. After twenty minutes and two drinks, he'd agreed to the 'project.' He had to do it – the government leadership was either grossly ignorant or completely indifferent to Arendelle's plight. Or more likely, they simply feared any changes to their positions and privileges.
"Does she know?" Idunn asked.
"No. I didn't…I don't want…how do I tell her something like that? It could be dangerous for her." He shook his head. His own wrongdoing had already put Elsa in jeopardy from Weselton and his thugs. If they were to learn the truth about who she really was… And Hans Westergard had an agenda of his own, Agdar was certain.
Plus, he had to find her before he could tell her. Where are you, Elsa? Are you safe?
"We have to keep it secret until I can put everything together and get a DNA test. There are a lot of powerful people invested in the status quo. They won't be happy with a real monarch after twenty-plus years of spineless chancellors."
"You mean the leeches that have done their best to suck Arendelle dry for the last twenty years? Or the bureaucrats who've enabled them?"
He flinched at the venom in Idunn's voice. His surprise must have shown on his face, because she went on, "Oh, yes, I know what goes on. Every significant scrap of paper in the kingdom makes its way to this office eventually. As does every official email archive. Do you know how much data storage we use here now? If only those fools knew…"
She took a deep breath, and he squeezed her hand. "Can I do anything else to help?" she asked.
For one desperate moment, he considered telling her everything. The bribery, Weselton, Westergard, Elsa's flight, all of it, just to have someone to share his burden. Someone he knew would listen without judgment.
No, he couldn't do that to her. But he did have another reason for his visit.
"Well, now that you mention it…"
Idunn raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Are you trying to drag me into another one of your nefarious schemes?"
"Always," he said with a rakish grin.
She shook her head and smiled at him fondly. "I always did have trouble saying 'no' to you." He waggled his brows, and Idunn flushed as she realized what she'd said. She dropped her head into her hand. "So what kind of trouble are you looking to get me into - wait, don't answer that…"
Agdar chuckled and then said, "I would really like to see the journal. To get some context and hopefully some additional information. Do you think that would be possible?"
"Hmm." She tapped her finger against her lips thoughtfully. "I did get approval to open some of the documents to scholars on a limited basis. The journal was one of those. You'll be our first 'scholar' to request access."
He cocked an eyebrow at her, wondering what she was planning. She went back to her desk and accessed her computer. A few minutes later, the printer hummed. Idunn snatched the paper from it, scribbled on it, and stamped it. Then she handed it to him.
Agdar studied it. It was a standard letter, signed and stamped by the Chief of the Royal Archives, granting him access to limited release documents from the Frostahl papers for the purpose of scholarly research. "Really?"
"It's a thin cover, I admit. If I get audited, the jig will be up, but the Archives haven't been audited in over ten years. The people in power have little regard for our history, much to their detriment."
Agdar reached to lift his coffee cup and realized that his hand was shaking. They were so close. So close to getting Arendelle back on the right path. To make it the country it once was. I have a chance to fix it, Kris. To fix what I helped break. He took a shuddering breath.
Gentle fingers lifted his chin. "Stop it, Agdar. It wasn't your fault."
She'd always had an uncanny ability to know what he was thinking. He refused to meet her eyes. "I think it was."
"You didn't force him into that cockpit."
"He would never have tried to fly it by himself if I hadn't - "
"If you hadn't what? Fallen in love? Told him the truth?" Idunn's voice was deadly even. "It was Kris's choice. Yes, he was angry and he was hurt, but he chose to run, chose to climb into a helicopter he wasn't qualified to fly. And it certainly wasn't your fault that His Majesty has chosen to ignore his duty for the past twenty-five years."
She moved closer to him and went on, "I felt horrible about the way Kris found out. I loved him too, Agdar. Just not in the way he wanted." Her voice hitched, and Agdar wondered how much of her own guilt Idunn had carried around all these years. But instead of supporting her, he'd pushed her away, too busy wallowing in righteous self-pity to think about the woman he loved.
He finally looked at her. A single tear slid down her cheek. He cupped her face with one hand, brushing the tear away with his thumb, and said, "I'm so sorry I hurt you."
She covered his hand with hers and gave him a thin smile. "And I'm sorry my pride wouldn't let me forgive you sooner."
He took her hand in both of his own. He'd always admired her hands, soft but strong, with slim, elegant fingers. They had a few spots now, a concession to the passing years, but they were still lovely. He stroked a thumb across her knuckles.
"Idunn, maybe it's been too long, or there's been too much between us, but when this is all over…maybe we could…try again?" He searched her face hopefully.
She smiled at him, and the years seemed to drop away. "I'd like that."
Idunn led him down to the basement of the castle, where an old cellar space had been converted to to archival storage. When they walked into the anteroom, a young woman with long auburn hair came in from the preservation and storage area, the door hissing shut behind her.
"Oh, good afternoon, Margareta," Idunn said. "Mr. Erikksen is here to see the Frostahl journal. Could you set it up in Reading Room One?"
"Sure." Margareta smiled at them. "You'll be the first person outside the Archives to view it in over a hundred years, Mr. Erikksen."
"I'm honored," Agdar said.
"I should have it ready in about five minutes," Margareta said before disappearing back into the storage area.
Agdar watched her go. "Attractive young lady."
Idunn snorted. "Good to see you still notice."
He grinned at her. "I've always appreciated beautiful things." He let his gaze slide over her, pleased when color rose in her cheeks. Idunn was still exquisite. Time had brought some gray to her hair, and there were lines at the corners of her sky-blue eyes, but they only added to her allure, the maturing of a pretty girl into beautiful woman.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Come on, let me show you how this works." She led him over the door that Margareta had gone through. There was a register book on a table next to the door, and she made him sign in and put his contact information. "I can purge it later if that becomes necessary," she whispered. Then she opened the door and motioned him through.
"Wash your hands," she instructed, pointing to a sink just inside the door. Once he was done, she washed hers, then opened another door that led to an airlock. "The storage area is climate controlled, both temperature and humidity," she explained. "The airlock helps keep it regulated."
When he opened the other side of the airlock, he felt a gust of cool, dry air. A half-dozen glass-enclosed reading rooms lined one wall. Tall mobile shelving units dominated the rest of the space. Everything was spotless, lighting bright, the furniture spare and functional. Several of the reading rooms were already occupied. Agdar followed Idunn into the closest reading room, where Margareta had just finished placing an old leather-bound book in a cradle on the table, along with a pencil and notepaper.
"Margareta, would you like to explain how to handle the material?" Idunn asked.
"Sure," Margareta replied. She motioned Agdar into a chair. "You've washed your hands?" He nodded. "Okay. This particular journal is in good condition for its age, but you'll still want to be gentle when turning the pages. If you find any that appear to be stuck, let me know. If you need to leave and come back, make sure you wash your hands again. This material is still partially restricted, so no photos." She glanced at Idunn, who nodded. "Well, then, you should be all set. Let me know if you need assistance."
She smiled at him. Her eyes were an interesting shade of violet, he noticed. Quite unusual. "I will. Thank you, Margareta."
Margareta left, and Idunn leaned over him. "Is there anything else I can do?"
Agdar hesitated. He didn't really want to drag her in any further, it was too dangerous. The last thing he wanted was for Weselton and Westergard to turn their attention to Idunn. But he wasn't sure how much longer he would survive. His usefulness to the little weasel would come to an end at some point, and he had no illusions about what would happen then. Someone else had to know what he'd found.
"I'm going to send you a package. I want you to keep it in a safe place. If more than two days pass without you hearing from me, I want you to take it to the King." She started to protest, and he covered her lips with a finger. "I know he's very ill, but if he's coherent at all…I know he'll listen to you, Idunn. You were always his favorite. Maybe this will finally goad him into seeing to our future."
"More than two days…my God, Agdar, what is happening?" Idunn asked, her blue eyes wide with alarm.
"I will call you every day. A call, not a text or an email. More than two days, you open the package, read it, and take it to him."
"What makes you think I can get past the doctors, much less the toadies surrounding him?"
"Find a way, Idunn. You have to. Everything depends on it."
She met his eyes, and held his gaze for long moment. Finally, she nodded. He found her hand and raised it to his lips. "Thank you."
"No, thank you." Idunn brushed a kiss across his temple and left the reading room. Agdar watched her go, then turned his attention to the journal, where a teenage princess from long ago may have documented a secret that would one day save her country.
A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has faved/followed! Traffic has picked up quite a bit, and I'm so grateful to those of you who have recommended the story. I hope everyone is still enjoying the ride. :)