A/N: This section includes sexual content that I am not entirely certain how to tag. Proceed at your own risk. Please be mindful of the M rating for this story.

Agnarr recoiled at her words. He furrowed his brow.

"I-I'm sorry?"

"Not as sorry as I am," she growled. To his astonishment, she began pulling at the back of her wedding dress. He winced as he heard the ripping of the fabric as the hooks along the back tore away.

"Iduna? What are you doing?" He felt entirely off balance. "Are you drunk?"

She snorted as she tugged the sleeves down. "I haven't had a drop tonight. Or hadn't you noticed?" She jerked her head in his direction. "Get undressed."

"Excuse me?"

"Get. Un. Dressed." She hissed. She had managed to get the dress down to her slim waist and he watched uneasily as she pushed it past her hips, letting it fall to the floor. She stood before him in her corset and pantalettes. He could feel the flush rising in his face as she began to pull at the stays, her inexperience with the restrictive garment showing as she struggled in her haste. He watched in mounting horror as she tightened it.

"I – I don't think you should be-"

"You want to do it?" She snapped. She stepped out of the heap of skirts on the floor and strode purposefully towards him, never breaking eye contact. He backed into a chair as she halted inches before him. From here, he could see her heart beating in a quick tattoo under the skin of her breast. "Go ahead."

"I – what? No!"

"I mean it. It's fine. Undo the stays."

He reached out and placed his hands atop her bare shoulders, her skin searing against his touch. He felt a pang as she flinched at the contact and a fleeting expression of apprehension crossed her face before her features hardened once more.

"Iduna," he held her at arm's length. "It's fine. We can wait. I mean it. It's not as though they're going to inspect the sheets." She smiled and he felt a chill run down his spine.

"Bold of you to assume I'll bleed. I've had Northuldra men." She raised her chin and stared at him appraisingly. "What's a southern prince compared to that?"

Agnarr swallowed and, after the moment it took for him to recover from that particular declaration, gently gripped her shoulders.

"Iduna. We don't have to do this. Let's just go to bed."

"I'm trying. To go. To bed." He couldn't recall if anyone had ever spoken to him with such contempt. "Undo the stays."

"No."

She rolled her eyes. Agnarr wasn't exactly certain what she did next, but with movement born of unexpected speed and strength, she broke his hold on her shoulders and left his wrists tingling. Then her hand was at his belt as she grabbed his ceremonial dagger and pulled it from its sheath. For a wild instant, he thought she meant to bury it in his stomach. Instead, she deftly brought it under the stays of her corset, neatly slicing them apart before tossing the dagger on to the table behind him. It clattered.

He felt his heart throbbing in his throat and other parts as, with a final swish of fabric falling, she stood naked before him. His mouth was dry and he could feel a full-bodied flush wash over him as he ran his gaze along her lithe body. She glared at him expectantly and he forced himself to maintain eye contact. He didn't want to take his eyes off of her lest she go for the dagger again. And he didn't want to look anywhere else because . . .this was a confusing enough night as it was and his more primal urges weren't helping.

"Your turn," she spoke softly, but intently. Her breathing was even whereas his was growing increasingly ragged. And when he didn't move, she drew closer, pressing herself against his uniform and brought her arms around his back. She looked up at him with a wry quirk to her lips. "You had a good look at me?" Agnarr shut his eyes, trying to quell the shameful stirrings the insistent press of her heat against his body was causing. "Hm?"

"Yes." His voice was hoarse.

He heard her exhale and she laid her head against his chest.

"Your father wanted me to be flawless for you. No freckles. No bruises. No blemishes. I wasn't allowed outside. I had to hold my guard's hand whenever I went on the stairs lest I fall. I wasn't allowed to run." Agnarr tried to steady his breathing. To focus on her words. To focus on anything except the demanding ache below his belt.

"And any time I 'defied the will of a King', as he put it, my surviving brothers were put to the lash for it. Do you remember Birki? I always thought you two got along well. The night your father tested me on the European geography and I mixed up the Balkan territories, I'm told the soldier whipping him was careless and he lost an eye."

With those words, it was as though he had been dunked in the fjord. He opened his eyes as she began to untie his waist sash, stepped back quickly enough to knock over one of the chairs, and caught her by the wrists.

"Stop," he said, wishing he didn't sound so breathless. "Iduna. I-I don't know what exactly has happened here, but I am not doing . . .doing this tonight." He anticipated her trying to free herself and tightened his grip. Her cheeks flushed and he brought her hands against his chest. "Listen. I don't know if you're overtired, or scared-"

"Scared?" She looked incredulous. "Of course I'm scared. If your father had Birki beaten half blind over the borders of Galicia, what exactly do you think he'll do to my family if I don't go through with this?"

Agnarr studied her face. He had always remembered her sense of adventure. A reckless kind of bravery as she leapt off of rough cliff faces or scrambled up impossible tall birch trees, her fingers and toes barely skimming against the trunk. And her smile. He had recalled that as recently as this morning with a heart wrenching clarity borne of youthful friendship and infatuation. He had never, in their previous encounters, thought that she was insane. But he was beginning to wonder.

"Be reasonable about this," she continued. "The whole point of us – of our marriage – of – of all of this, is to provide Arendelle with an heir who can lay claim to both the northern and southern territories. You had to have known that's what your father intended."

"I-I thought that was an added benefit to him asking you, yes-"

"Asking me?" Her eyes were suddenly bright with tears and she slumped against him. "He didn't ask me. I was ordered. He had just-"

"Iduna," Agnarr cut her off and slowly released her hands. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what you expected from our wedding night, but this is definitely not what I anticipated. And I'm not – I'm not going to force you to go through with anything you clearly find so distasteful." He tried not to lean into her, pressed against him as she was. He wanted to look into her eyes again, to see if they were as crazed as her accusations, but instead averted his gaze towards the ceiling. It was growing difficult to maintain his bearing.

"What does it matter if I find it 'distasteful'?" Her voice was getting brittle. "We just need to get this over with for the night. And then just . . .carry on until there's an heir." Barely a whisper. He hazarded a look at her. Her chin was tucked against her chest and she was covering herself with her arms.

"Iduna, it matters to me," he sighed. "It's late. We're both . . .exhausted. I want you to get some rest. And I don't want you to be frightened in your own home. I'll sleep on the floor and-"

"No!" She grabbed his arm. Her eyes were wide. "You can't! Please! I'm sorry – we can-"

"No! It'll be fine!" He insisted, trying to gently extract his arm from her grip. Her nails were embedded in his flesh. "I've slept on ships and bivouacked plenty of times. The floor is fine."

"But they'll check!"

"Who? Check what? I was serious when I said no one is going to inspect the sheets. That's barbaric! And I can rumple the sheets on my side of the bed in the morning if it makes you feel better." He managed to pull free and backed away from her, raising a hand to create some space between them.

"Agnarr, please, my parents . . ." she trailed off, sounding desperate. Her rage and bravado had vanished and she looked as though she could break into tears at any moment. But hearing her speak his name again after so long . . .he sighed, shook his head and shrugged. He didn't believe her parents had any bearing on this evening, or that she was justified in her fears, but Mattias had always taught him that compassion was never a weakness. And regardless of how she interpreted the events that brought them together, she was his wife. For better or worse. And she was clearly terrified.

"Alright. If it will make you feel better – feel safer – I'll sleep in the bed with you. But -and this is not negotiable – you have to put on a nightgown. And, I mean it - I'm exhausted." He laughed humorlessly. "I appreciate that you seem to think that we need to . . .get this over with, but I don't agree. So, I know that this is an unusual request for a man to make of his wife on his wedding night, but please. Get dressed and don't touch me."

Iduna lay stiffly under the covers, heart pounding in her chest. She felt drained, shaky and weak. And it was obvious that Agnarr was still quite awake in spite of his best efforts to feign sleep by remaining still. The deep sighs and occasional sound of him swallowing repeatedly were the biggest clues. She figured he was trying to avoid any further ludicrous attempts at seduction. She squeezed her eyes shut and a few more tears slid down to tickle the edges of her ears. After all of her exhausting efforts to be whatever it was that Runeard demanded her to be for three endless months, she had completely failed to accomplish her most important task.

Her lungs burned as she forced her breathing to remain slow. The last thing she needed was him to hear her weep. She couldn't handle that right now. Apparently, she couldn't handle something as simple as keeping her damn mouth shut and letting him just do what needed to be done. He'd clearly been ready to take her. If she had just remained silent another five minutes or even assented monosyllabically then it would have been over. She'd be able to rest secure in the knowledge that her parents would be sent home safely. But she had allowed her emotions to overcome her and now everyone was in danger.

She knew better.

She just hadn't known how cutting it would be to go through with the ceremony. Every moment under Runeard's thumb since he had ridden south with her had strained her to the point of breaking. And Agnarr had broken her facade. She had grown so accustomed to cruelty that she was now numb to it, able to her head down and push through. But when he spoke warmly of their childhood flirtations she hadn't been able to handle the rush of rage and regret that it stirred within her.

She had hated him after the massacre. Hated this boy for whom she had developed such new and confusing feelings. Hated that he could play a role in such an act of betrayal that led to the deaths of hundreds, including six of her cousins, one aunt and two uncles. And when the letters continued to arrive from him, carried by the soldiers who now occupied their lands, it occurred to her that he hadn't known what his father planned. His ignorance and obliviousness towards his father's evil only served to heighten her outrage.

He was royalty. He should know better.

And clearly, he was still clueless.

Her father had mentioned him in passing over the years. That he was being sent abroad to learn the intricacies of trade and diplomacy. To study other European cultures, languages, and naval warfare. How Runeard had told her father not to mistake Agnarr's kindness for weakness because his son was fully aware of who ruled in the North. She wondered. The past three years had seen Runeard tighten his grip on her land and people almost to the point of suffocation, but Agnarr had spent all but a few months of that time away from Arendelle.

In the silence of the cavernous bedchamber came the sharp sound of metal tumblers as someone turned a key in the door. Iduna felt the gooseflesh crawl across her skin as she stared blindly into the dark with wide eyes. Agnarr was holding his breath. Her arms at her sides, she felt his large, warm hand sliding under the covers to barely brush against hers. She reached out gripped it as tightly as she could. He ran his thumb gently across the back of her wrist. The door creaked open and there was the soft sound of footsteps approaching the bed. Her breath hitched.

"What the hell are you doing?" Agnarr sat up abruptly, his voice as cold and commanding as his father's. Iduna shivered and rolled onto her side, drawing the covers to her neck. He shifted his body to block her from the view of the intruder.

"So sorry to have woken you, Your Highness." The oiled voice was contrite. "But His Majesty requested . . .he wanted some kind of assurance that . . ."

"Then you've seen enough," Agnarr growled. "And if you need more proof, take the damn dress and get out! If anyone else disturbs us, I'll personally see to it that they regret it. This is my wedding night. I deserve some damned privacy. We're long past the era of the bedding ceremonies."

"Again, my apologies, Your Highness." She listened as the man took the dress and departed, locking the door once more. Agnarr was breathing heavily as he reached out to strike a match and light a candle. He rested his elbows on his knees and sighed as she tentatively sat up. The shadows on his face were long as he worried his lower lip. He glanced over at her and she looked away, wiping at her eyes. No way to hide it from him now.

"I, ah . . .I'll burn the sheets. In the fireplace. Myself." He finally said. She shrugged helplessly. He coughed. "I'll tell them I was angry at the interruption. And the implication. They'll believe that."

The silence stretched between them. She rubbed her nose on her sleeve, refusing to be so pathetic as to sniffle.

"Iduna," he began.

"I hate it when you say my name," she squeezed her eyes shut and hugged her knees to her chest.

"Your name?"

"You keep saying it. It's too much."

"Alright," he sounded helpless. "I won't . . .I won't call you that in private."

"Thank you."

"You - you shouldn't be thanking me. For that." He scratched the back of his neck. "How?" He sighed and dropped his head. "How should this work?" His voice was muffled. "How do you want this to work for now?"

She chewed on a strand of hair. Her handlers had taken to putting quinine under her nails. It was the first time since she had come to Arendelle that someone had asked her what she wanted outside of asking if she wanted her brothers to suffer for her obstinance. She thought of her family and spoke haltingly.

"If you would just bed me-"

"No." And his response had the harmonics of royalty behind them. He raised his head to look at her. "I'll lie, that's fine. But I'm not going to force myself on you because you think that's what you need to do. To be safe. Or to provide an heir. I'll keep you safe. And as for an heir – we have time. My father is in good health and so am I."

She laughed mirthlessly. "You're pretty naïve, you know that?"

"Yes, well," he gave her a weak smile. "You wouldn't be the only one to think so. And that's the only reason you and your Wind Spirit used to always win at tag. Cheaters."

She cocked her head to examine him. He found this amusing. Unbelievable. But she held her tongue, took several deep breaths and considered her next words carefully. "I won't be anything less than your adoring wife in public. And I'll do my best not to embarrass you. In return, what I want," she closed her eyes and remembered watching her father being beaten by a cavalry trooper.

"What I need . . ." Runeard placidly telling her about Birki. Aggi twisting as the rope unwound from the tree bough. She opened her eyes and looked at him. She steadied her voice. "I want you to share the bed with me at night. I won't touch you, if you don't want me to touch you. But we need to sleep together. Even if we're not sleeping together."

"Id – I mean, come now. You can't think they'll come and spy on us every night. This is a bit odd, I'll admit. But you sound paranoid-" He caught her hand just before it connected with his face. He was breathing as heavily as she was. They stared at one another for a long moment, stunned, before they both relaxed back into the mattress. He released her. She slumped away from him, leaning against the headboard. He looked at the door.

"You asked me what I wanted," she said softly.

"I did." Agnarr scratched his nose and looked up at the ceiling. He shook his head. She felt cold inside. As sure as she had known Runeard would send someone tonight, she was certain that they would continue to be watched. She could put on a public act without him, but for this – she needed his help.

"You're telling me I sound paranoid, but what do you think would have happened if that man came in and you'd been sleeping on the floor?"

"I . . .I don't know," he sighed. He rubbed his face with his hands. "If you want to share a bed, I'll share a bed. I just feel . . .it's . . .This whole situation. I understood that arranged marriages for alliance could be . . .difficult. Awkward. But this is very different from what I had expected."

"It would make me feel safer." It was depressing how true that was. Almost as depressing as the knowledge that she desperately needed his help. She could remember him as a kind and caring young man. He had always seemed fascinated by other people and eager to show he took his future duties seriously. If she hadn't completely poisoned the well, perhaps she could still appeal to his promises as a husband. To protect her.

She watched as his expression softened. He looked thoughtful. That's it. She thought. He had worn his heart so openly on his sleeve as a boy that it made her mother laugh.

"And . . .if it's not too much to ask," she licked her lips and tried to sound as small as she felt. "I promise I won't do anything that makes you feel less honorable than you are. But when you are ready to, you know, think about heirs – I'm as ready as I'll ever be. You don't need to ask."

Agnarr smiled at her. He looked sad. Tired and sad. "You promised you won't touch me. And I promised I'll sleep in our bed and maintain we're married in every sense. And I promised you I won't call you by your name. Do you think you could promise me that you won't bring up procreation again until I do? In private at least?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"All right, then. We're bound by the strangest wedding vows in the history of royal couples." His tone was deceptively light and cheery and Iduna couldn't help but laugh. He joined her. And they laughed until she ran out of tears and fell into a dreamless slumber.