A/N: This is a Dark!AU inspired by wandering-bard-from-the-id prompt which can be found on Tumblr. It is the second story in the Bound series which can also be found on A03 or Tumblr. While you do not need to read The Conquered to understand what's going on here, it will provide more background and context for what has led to current events. The ENTIRE series is rated M.

As always, many thanks to my beta-reader Fericita who is not on FFN, but is a remarkable writer. I highly encourage everyone to go read her stuff too!

"Elsa! Elsa!" Elsa looked up from her book as her nine-year old sister came bounding into the room. She smiled and leaned back in her seat. She had given up years ago trying to concentrate on her studies when Anna was vying for her attention. "Is it almost time? Is Papa back yet?" She scurried over to the large window that overlooked Arendelle's bustling harbor. Elsa shook her head and closed her mathematics primer, sliding out of her seat and joining Anna.

"He probably won't be back until tomorrow, Anna. See the flag?" She pointed at the high banner billowing over the docks. "See how it's blowing? That means the wind is going against their sails so it's going to take longer to get home."

"Awwww," Anna pouted. "Another night in the stupid castle."

"Don't let Grandfather hear you say that," Elsa gently warned her. "You'll only upset him. Hurt his feelings, even."

"Oh, I love Grandfather," Anna shrugged. "I don't mean him. But aside from the food and the chocolate and all the people and paintings and Ms. Halima and Destin and Cecilia and the horses and all the books and toys, I don't like the castle. I like it when we're back home and I can do whatever I want, however I want. One of the guards chased me all the way through the courtyard before I got to the gate just because some of my slip was showing!"

Elsa smiled fondly and patted her sister on the shoulder. Truth be told, she didn't care for the castle either. She had enjoyed it well enough when she had been younger, though she had never understood why her parents wouldn't let her show her powers to her Grandfather or anyone else in the castle. She understood well enough now, even though she suspected that Mother and Father were holding back the entire story.

Besides, the chocolate from the kitchen and countless books in the library had more than made up for a few days at a time without ice and snow. It wasn't always easy to control, but she managed. It was harder for Anna to stay quiet about it. Anna didn't understand why her sister's gift was something that had to remain a secret. However, her parents had told her that Anna was too young to know about Grandfather's feelings about magic and she respected their wishes. Still, it was easier to conceal her powers around her Grandfather than to completely sort out how she felt about the fact that he would be angry with her, scared and displeased, if he discovered what she could do.

She wondered, too, what they hadn't told her even if they had finally explained that the king disliked magic. As she grew older, she realized how every time they came to the castle, her Mother grew withdrawn and distant. Sad. As though she was barely holding her tears back. Anywhere else and Mother was as happy and exuberant as Anna.

When she had first noticed, she thought it was because they only came to the castle when father was leaving for or returning from one of his diplomatic trips. Elsa always felt a bit sad when they came to the castle because even if it was for a trip like this, when Father was coming home, it was still the place they had last seen him before sending him off. Only Mother was allowed to accompany him to the dock with Grandfather. The castle was a place of the last dinner together, the last hug and kiss on the top of the head. The place where they said their goodbyes before he sailed for distant ports and countries for months at a time.

But it seemed like it was even more than that for Mother. Her eyes became hard or dull and her face became fixed. She hovered around Elsa and Anna in a way that she never did when they were in residence at the Sommerhus. She came looking for them frequently, always asking if they were alright, if anyone was bothering them. As though the staff would ever be a bother. Even Anna seemed to notice and was bouncier around her mother, hugging her even more than usual and constantly running back and forth between her playtime and lessons to check in on her.

Elsa was twelve now. Adults had always told her how intelligent she was compared to other children her age. They praised her memory and ability to make connections that weren't readily apparent to others. And her keen sense of observation. She could be silent as she moved through the halls and she had heard any number of adult conversations that were had when the speakers were certain there were no children about. Obviously, Father had been raised in the castle. But Mother had lived here too and she hadn't been happy, even then. And it had something to do with Grandfather and the Northuldra. With magic. With a war that wasn't really a war, depending on who you were listening to at the time. She was starting to wonder what her parents would share if she asked outright.

"I'll tell you what," Elsa said as she turned away from the window. "Let me finish my problem sets and I'll take you for a walk. We can go on that path in the woods by the fjord. You know, the one that's really pretty in the fall."

"Oh, the one where Papa gave Mama the locket of Grandma and Grandpa?" Anna sighed happily and threw herself onto the chaise. "I love that story. Can we ask Mama to come?"

"Of course we can ask her to come. She'll like that."

Iduna smiled as she watched her daughters race ahead of her.

"Not too far, Your Highnesses!" Their escort called after them. Iduna shook her head. She knew better. There was no stopping the girls after they had been cooped up inside for two days straight. Fitting to her mood, it had been storming when Runeard sent the carriage to fetch them for Agnarr's homecoming and it had only just stopped hours before. She ambled along at a comfortable pace, next to the guard who accompanied her. A young sergeant, not one of the familiar faces of the Sommerhus, but an easy-going lad who seemed keen on handling his responsibility seriously.

"Should I go after them, Your Highness?" He sounded nervous.

"Thank you, Sergeant Korhonen, but once they get going there's no stopping them. Don't worry, they'll stay in sight." Almost as if they had heard her, the two girls turned around and waved. He laughed and waved back.

"You must be excited to see Prince Agnarr." Iduna gave him a sidelong glance, but his face was guileless. She wouldn't put it past Runeard to have people spying on her, she and Agnarr expected it, but this boy just seemed the chatty type.

"Yes, it's been four months. We've missed him terribly."

Sergeant Korhonen let out a low whistle. "You'll pardon my saying, ma'am, but I've got a little boy at home. Ten months old. My first! I can't imagine being gone for so long. The old hands tell me before you and the Prince fixed everything up with the Northuldra, it was nothing to do nine months at a time up north." He shook his head. "Glad it's not like that anymore. I guess it's different for royalty though. Having to go everywhere to keep the peace and make deals and what not."

"My husband works very hard," she said mildly. "But he always says that it is his highest honor to serve Arendelle. The girls and I are so very proud of him." Let Runeard try to get something out of that statement if the guard was in league with him.

"He'll be off again though? To the northern border? For the taxes?"

"He will, Sergeant Kornhonen. Fortunately, the girls and I are able to make that journey with him."

"It isn't too far for the Princesses?"

"Anna gets a bit bored on the way," Iduna conceded. "But she loves to see her grandparents."

The sergeant shook his head. "Of course, I'm sorry. Your family. It must be wonderful to see them. I'm sure you're looking forward to it. My folks are here in Arendelle so we're all on top of one another half the time." He laughed and shrugged. "Do your parents ever come down to visit?"

She forced herself not to give the boy a rude look and smiled instead. "No, they haven't been down to visit since my wedding. My mother came briefly after Anna was born, but we travel to see them."

"Makes sense, I suppose," he said thoughtfully. "Your dad being the Chief Elder and all. He's probably very busy up there. I guess he and King Runeard are lucky to have you and Prince Agnarr to go up and back once or twice a year."

"Mama!"

Iduna nearly sighed with relief as Anna came thundering back towards her. She smiled and stooped down so she was eye-to-eye with her beaming daughter. "Mama, where did Papa give you the locket with Grandma and Grandpa's portraits?"

Iduna laughed. Her youngest daughter was such a little romantic at heart and was always swooning over stories of her parents' marriage. "It was just here along this path," she pointed up the trail. She pulled the golden locket from under her blouse and opened it, showing Anna the twin paintings. Elsa walked up and peered over her sister's shoulder with a smile.

"I love that story," Anna beamed as she gently touched the gold chain. "Everything about you and Papa is so romantique." Iduna tapped Anna on the nose and stood. She and Agnarr had been obliged to share a rather censored and sanitized love story with the girls. One that had absolutely no marriage proposals made on their father's behalf that included threats of violence if refused. No knives or coercion.

To this day, she had no idea what Agnarr must have said to his father to make the man hold his tongue, but whenever Anna pressed him, Runeard merely told her that Iduna and Agnarr were young sweethearts, so an arranged marriage had made sense. Her own parents simply demurred to their granddaughter's questions by claiming they could never tell the story as well as Iduna and Agnarr could tell it and then distracting her with sweets.

"Sergeant Kornhonen! Tag! You're it!" Anna darted out with quick fingers, catching the soldier on his sleeve and then sprinting down the path. The Sergeant glanced at Iduna. She smiled and nodded, gesturing for him to give chase. He broke into a boyish grin.

"I'm gonna get you!" She and Elsa watched as the pair ran through the trees.

"He likes to talk," Elsa mused. Iduna hugged her daughter from behind and hummed her assent. "He likes to talk a lot. And he seems kind. But Father says people like that can be the most dangerous."

"Your father isn't wrong," she sighed. Elsa had always been too sharp and observant for her age. "Royalty always needs to be mindful of who's listening."

"Yes. And I'll be Queen one day. So I need to be mindful of what people are saying. What they're telling me. Because that lets me know what they want me to know and to think."

"Very good." She placed her arm around Elsa's shoulder as they walked. She sighed. "You've had a very different upbringing than I did."

"Yes, Grandfather likes to point out all the opportunities I've had."

They shared a look. "I wish you could have had more fun. I was so carefree when I was your age."

"I don't mind, mother. And Anna is carefree enough for the both of us." Elsa grinned. Anna had managed to circle back on the hapless Sergeant and was pelting him from behind with dirt clods. "She's not happy that we're spending another night in the castle. She wants to go home."

"As soon as your father arrives," Iduna promised. "Once he's here, we'll say goodbye to the King and we'll be off." She noticed Elsa look away uneasily. "What?"

"Grandfather visited me while I was studying with Governess Albinka."

An involuntary chill ran along Iduna's spine. She worked to keep her tone even. "Oh? What did he want to talk about?"

"Nothing much. He was just asking how my lessons were going and what I was doing. He was impressed with my French. But just before he left, he . . .he made a comment about how I was getting older. And how when Father was my age, he was starting to attend council meetings to see how a monarch should conduct himself." Elsa bit her lip and looked up at her. "He asked me how I'd feel about coming to live in the castle."

"Did he?" There was an angry, high-pitched whine ringing in her ears. "What did you say?"

"I told him the truth. I like being at the Sommerhus with you and Anna and Father. Even in the winter." She continued to chew on her lower lip. "I didn't tell him anything about my powers. Just that the castle doesn't feel like home." She looked at the ground and gave a little shrug. "He seemed a little disappointed. But he didn't press me on it."

"Good," she said firmly. No. He wouldn't press Elsa. She gave her daughter a reassuring hug. "What you said was perfect."

"He can't make me come here to stay with him, can he?" Iduna felt a primal urge to protect her daughter flood through her chest as Elsa looked up at her with worried eyes.

"No. Your father and I will never allow that to happen."

Runeard watched from the window as his granddaughters crossed the courtyard. His eyes narrowed as he saw their mother trailing close behind them with one of the members of the castle guard. The woman was always infuriatingly close to them whenever they came to see his ingrate of a son off on one of his journeys or to welcome him home. Runeard had only barely managed to corner Elsa for a few minutes before she was shuffled between lessons. He supposed he should feel some relief that the girl was clearly being educated appropriately at that glorified shack in the countryside.

But she wouldn't be a girl much longer. He had tolerated this situation long enough, never quite believing that it would last as long as it had, that his son's rancor and obstinance would never wane over the years, but time was relentlessly moving forward. In Agnarr's absence, he had already started making formal inquiries about a suitable match. Runeard needed to find an appropriate young man who was up to the task of being a subordinate to a woman. England had managed to strike a balance, surely, he could too. He was running out of options.

In the aftermath of his son's betrayal at the behest of that northern bitch, Runeard had tried to be reasonable. He had not disowned or disinherited Agnarr. He had not punished him. When the insolent boy had returned home from a goodwill tour of the north, at the head of a sled and wagon train of trade goods that were meant to pay the land taxes for the Northuldra, the taxes which Runeard had been quite certain the tribe had no idea about, the king had managed to remain calm. The people of Arendelle were quite happy to accept the goods in lieu of cash, knowing a good deal when they saw it. His idiot son had managed to somehow arrange several trade deals behind his back, apparently before ever heading north.

Runeard had sent Agnarr and his wife for what was meant to be a victory lap, once again establishing his dominion over their lands and reaffirming the good sense in the resettlement camps. To show off to the Northuldra how their Chief Elder's daughter had been re-educated into a passably refined symbol of Arendelle. To legitimize the claims the young couple's future children would have over the northern territories. That had been the whole purpose of their marriage. And instead, Agnarr had thrown it all away in some ill-conceived attempt at egalitarianism and self-righteous moral superiority over his own blood.

He had let the savages buy the right to return to their lands. To their spirits. The boy had utterly squandered the opportunities Runeard had worked so hard to create for him and their kingdom. There would be no second chance. The Northuldra would never be persuaded to come south in large numbers again. Not after he had successfully ambushed them the first time. They had returned to their Enchanted Forest with their damnable spirits. Chief Elder Valde wouldn't even venture beyond the guardian stones. And Runeard wasn't foolish enough to think the Arendelle Army could manage a victory against the Northuldra and their magical guardians. He had witnessed the Earth Giants first hand. There would be no stopping them.

Training Elsa was his last chance.

He had remarried several years earlier in a fit of rage. After Agnarr had made it clear that there would be no more children. Anna's birth had not been easy – according to the midwife, anyway, but who knew if it was the truth or another lie that his traitorous son was leveraging against him. He had told the boy that he could take a mistress, that any bastard sons could easily be legitimized into an heir. Perhaps after a generation the Northuldra would let their guard down or their spirits would die – magic was weaker than ever on the main continent. What Agnarr had squandered perhaps a grandson could regain, even without Northuldra lineage. Runeard would educate him personally.

Agnarr had refused. They had quarreled. Loudly. At one point, he believed they would come to blows. He would not be compelled to be unfaithful to his wife. And when Runeard had insisted and called Iduna "savage", Agnarr had sworn that they would never remain under the king's roof for so long as he lived. He had packed his wife and the girls off to a permanent residence in the Sommerhus. Officially. As though they hadn't spent most of their time there since Elsa had been born anyway. And Runeard had retaliated by packing Agnarr off to various parts of Europe for six to nine months a year.

Then Runeard arranged for a match to a suitable young woman from the south of France with a storied pedigree. He had felt pained, as though he were dishonoring the cherished memory of his late wife, but Arendelle had to come first. Even over personal sentiment.

She had died of pneumonia her first winter in Arendelle only six months after the wedding, never having conceived. He had been unable to compel any other families of appropriate note to consider him. They all saw the writing on the wall. He was aging. His heart had been giving him more trouble with each passing year. Agnarr was of age, educated, popular among his own people and among the nobility of Europe from all the diplomatic trips he was sent on. Their internal strife had not been made public knowledge. Of course everyone assumed that Agnarr was the natural successor – he was still Heir Apparent. Why waste the cream of the next generation on an aged monarch whose line of succession was already secured?

Which left his eldest granddaughter, odd duck that she could be.

She was beautiful, at least, and rather brilliant in her own way. She might lack her father's flair for diplomatic skills, but she had been analyzing constitutional and trade law like an adult from the age of ten. Minister Gundersen had been praising her mathematical skills as second to none for several years, proclaiming that she had never seen a child so quick with trade numbers. If only the girl had her younger sister's talent for charming everyone she came across. He sighed. But there was something to be said for regal reserve as well. People who were too familiar with royalty could forget themselves. Elsa wouldn't have that problem. She could have a commanding presence when she wished.

And her claim to the Northuldra could not be denied. Valde reportedly adored the child and doted on her shamelessly when she accompanied her parents on their trips to the north to collect the annual tax. Though his intelligence sources in the Enchanted Forest were scare, his understanding was that Elsa was as popular among the tribe as Anna was in Arendelle. Both girls were loved by their people. He would work with that. He would have to work with that. He had no choice.

It was time to extend an olive branch to his wayward son. Though it galled him to think of having to offer an apology to the boy and that bitch, he could swallow his pride for the moment. He had painstakingly cultivated several relationships with some of Agnarr's allies over the past year, Gundersen included, who also felt it was time that the future Queen set up formal residence in the castle. They agreed that she was coming of age and while it had been indulgent of Agnarr and Iduna to want the girl to have a normal childhood, it was high time she begin her formal training for rulership. Which included attending council meetings and other events on a regular basis. Runeard was certain that they could all prevail upon him.

Agnarr loved his daughter. He would see that it would be best for her in the long run. There was only so much she could learn at the Sommerhus, even with the finest tutors. She was getting to the age where she would benefit from practical experience. Runeard was confident that he could provide his granddaughter with practical experience and mold her into the kind of leader who would understand exactly how her parents had betrayed her birthright and the good sense in getting it back. She was such a smart girl, after all.

"Papa! Papa!" Agnarr beamed as Anna sprinted towards him and dropped to one knee. He let out a grunt as she collided with him at full speed, Elsa fast on her heels. When he had departed in late April, he had just barely been able to hoist both the girls off the ground, one in each arm. But they had grown over the summer months.

"I missed you," he kissed Anna's cheeks before staggering to his feet and kissing Elsa on the top of her head, drawing her into a tight hug. "I missed you both so much." Runeard had ordered him all over Europe for the past five years, ever since Agnarr had made it clear that he had no intention of forcing Iduna through another pregnancy or of taking a mistress. He wintered in Arendelle when the seas and weather were too rough to allow for easy passage. It allowed Runeard to keep up the appearance that all was well in the Arendelle Royal Family and that the line of succession was strong and secure. More importantly, however, it allowed Agnarr time with his wife and daughters.

Leaving his ladies never got any easier for all the letters they wrote one another and gifts that they sent through the post. Of all the regrets Agnarr had, missing so much of his girls' lives as they grew up was his greatest. Iduna wrote him daily with stories of their exploits – carefully edited lest they were read by any of Runeard's spies – but try as she might it could never be the same as spending time with them. Watching them grow. Holding their hands and hearing their voices. Every day away from them was another wound on his heart.

It was a situation to be endured for the time being.

He had the Sommerhus built as a gift for Iduna while she had been pregnant with Elsa. What was meant to be a quiet getaway for their young family had become their refuge when their eldest was only a few months old and it was becoming apparent that the winter weather was not the cause of the constant chill that surrounded the infant. He would never forget the day that he and Iduna had been playing with her as she was propped up against a pillow. Elsa had reached out with a tiny hand and chubby arm and the mysterious snowflakes that had been blamed on everything from an open window to a drafty fireplace had swirled forth from her outstretched fingers.

They had left abruptly the following morning.

Once secluded, with only Gerda and another trusted servant in tow, Iduna had sobbed and told him that, while very rare, it wasn't entirely unheard of for one or two children of each generation to have magical abilities. To bank fires with bare hands or dig a hole by stamping a foot. It was far more common for children to have an affinity with the spirits, like she had with Gale. That affinity was what ran in her family, not powers. Agnarr held her as she wept, trying to suppress his own mounting sense of terror for his tiny daughter, and reassured Iduna that none of this was her fault and that anything and everything about Elsa was a blessing.

A blessing that had to be concealed from his father at all costs.

It had been relatively simple to keep Runeard away from Elsa in those early years. The king had little interest in spending much time with a baby, especially a little girl. He thought she was a beautiful child and congratulated Agnarr on proving that he and Iduna were able to conceive and bear healthy children. But she was a girl. A place holder until a grandson appeared. Then came Anna.

Anna had been a difficult pregnancy and a hard birth.

The first two weeks after the delivery had been touch and go, Iduna had grown weaker each day. Although Anna had thrived with the help of a wet nurse, his wife had faded in and out of consciousness and coherence. Barely able to keep down broth let alone solid food, growing stiller and paler by the hour. Agnarr had sent a messenger north. Her mother had ventured to Arendelle, bringing with her one of the Northuldra's most skilled healers. It was the only time she had dared to come.

It had saved Iduna's life. After her convalescence, Agnarr had been gently insistent that there should be no more children. He could not lose her. He had begged her. He had wept and held her hand. And, finally, Iduna had relented.

Runeard had grown increasingly persistent. He had been patient during Anna's first year, but then he had started to make demands. He reminded Agnarr that it was his duty to provide a suitable heir to the throne. A boy. It was Iduna's sacred duty as the Queen to enable him to do that, even at the cost of her life. And when Agnarr had nearly put his hand through the table at that, Runeard had suggested that Agnarr take a mistress. A bastard son could easily be legitimized.

In spite of his father's many sins, Agnarr had not hated the man until that moment.

Runeard's insistence had only made the castle more oppressive. But things had come to a head when Elsa had been five – old enough to understand the need for secrecy and to hide her powers. Anna had only been two. And she loved to toddle after Elsa shouting "Snow! Snow!". The risk of discovery was too great and Agnarr no longer had any illusions about how his father would react if Elsa's gift were to become public knowledge. Their final shouting match about Agnarr taking a mistress had provided an excellent justification to establish residence at the Sommerhus on a permanent basis. It not only allowed their family some much needed distance, it kept his daughter safe.

He had not expected his father to send him abroad so frequently. This had been a short season, only four months. But it was still four months too long away from his family. However, he was short on options. He could not abandon his kingdom. He could not take the girls and Iduna and flee to the forest – he had no doubt that Runeard would respond in rage and invade. He couldn't live with that loss of life on his conscience. The king was getting older. He was weaker every time Agnarr saw him – going gray in the face – and there were rumors of heart trouble.

No, there was no escape for now. He could only endure and pray that the girls would forgive his absence.

He felt Iduna's hand on his shoulder, firm and warm. He glanced down at her as she smiled warmly at him. They had already said their hellos on the ship, before Runeard met him at the dock. He grinned and pulled her in as well, making Anna and Elsa giggle.

"Family hug!" Anna yelled and squeezed him as hard as she could. He laughed as Elsa and Iduna followed suit.

It was good to be back with them. It was everything. They were his home.

Anna skipped down the halls of the castle, swinging her new doll as she went. Papa always brought her one. He used to bring them for Elsa too, but Elsa had gotten boring as she got older and now she got things like books. They had enjoyed a mid-day meal with Grandfather, sandwiches and chocolate cake and ice cream and some kind of fruit punch, but she was ready to go home to the Sommerhus. The castle was big and impersonal and Mama always fidgeted and fussed and Elsa couldn't do anything interesting at all. She still didn't understand why, but Mama and Papa had made a big deal about being able to trust her with an adult secret. And Elsa had quietly asked that Anna not share her gift with anyone outside the family and she didn't want to let her big sister down.

"Where are you going, Princess?" She skidded to a stop as Grandfather came out of one of the rooms. She looked up at him. He wasn't any taller than Papa, but he always seemed much, much bigger. Like a bear. With a gray moustache.

"We're going home, Grandfather," she smiled. "It was nice to visit you though. You should come visit us some time!"

He chuckled and patted her on the head. "An invitation? I'll be sure to take you up on it. Tell me, have you enjoyed your-"

"Anna!" She spun around and saw Papa at the end of the hall, not twenty feet away. She gaped. Papa never sounded angry, but he had just barked at her. "It's time to go." Grandfather's hand dropped away from her head and he patted her back.

"Go," he said in a cold, clipped tone. She shuddered and scurried towards Papa.

"Come on, Anna," he said as he took her hand into his. It was warm and worn from his time on the ship. "Let's go home."