Author's Note: I've been working on this story for the better part of six months on and off, as I ambitiously decided to write the whole thing before posting it. A questionable move, to be sure, but I think the end product is better for the time spent ensuring consistency in themes, imagery, and so forth. I originally described this as "Frozen meets Sleeping Beauty meets Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," but I think I should add in The Little Mermaid or Aladdin there for good measure. You'll find little bits of many stories' influence on this one, though hopefully it isn't too similar to them as to bore you.
Hope you enjoy, and look forward to several more installments to come. You can find future chapter previews, fanart, and analyses at #InFantasyFrozen on Tumblr.
Prologue
The young couple entered the main hall of the palace with bowed heads, their eyes fixed to the floor.
The steward announced their presence as the doors to the room closed behind them. "Their Royal Majesties, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of Arendelle."
The couple finally raised their gazes to the throne at the head of the hall, atop which was sat the king. He was a generation their senior, though his dark brown hair and keen, light blue eyes did not betray his true age.
Posted along the sides of the hall were his guardsmen, and one notary at the foot of his throne, the latter holding a tablet, paper, and pen with disquieting stoicism.
They bowed and curtsied on instinct. "Your Majesty."
The king waved away the gesture, standing briefly from the throne. "There's no need for that between old friends," he said, sitting once they were upright again. "Agnarr, my boy—I must congratulate you. You could not have chosen a finer-looking wife."
The young woman's nose wrinkled, though she tipped her head in thanks.
Her husband cleared his throat. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
"Just 'Albert' is fine," the king corrected him, making the young man redden. "Don't be embarrassed. We are equals now, you and I, are we not?"
The young man's blush did not dissipate as he tried to find an adequate reply, and in the awkward silence, the king pressed on: "I know it was some time ago, but I was sorry to hear about what happened to your father. You received my letter, I take it?"
"Yes," replied the young man. "Thank you for your condolences."
"It was the least I could do," said the king. "Even if Runeard and I weren't exactly on good terms, I never wished the man ill." He sighed. "It was a shame we were never reconciled before his unexpected passing."
The young man swallowed. "Agreed."
The king eyed him with interest. "Which is why I was quite surprised to hear from you after so many years. After all, the last time I saw you, you couldn't have been more than… what, eight? Ten years old? And now you are married, and the freshly-crowned King of Arendelle." He paused, smiling. "The title suits you."
The young man looked unnerved. "That's kind of you," he said, and continued: "I regret that my father kept us apart from many allies during his reign, including the Southern Isles."
The king's gaze alit. "Indeed. He left you and his councilors with quite the mess to clean up." He frowned. "All of that unpleasantness with the natives, for instance. I imagine building that dam and losing some of your best soldiers cost a pretty penny."
The young man's cheeks burned. "There were significant financial consequences as a result of those decisions, yes. We…" He inhaled sharply. "We were hoping to obtain your assistance in our recovery efforts, and rebuild our countries' relations."
The king slapped his knee with a broad smile. "Well, why didn't you just say so from the start?" He chuckled. "That's all I've wanted for a very long time, you know."
The young woman looked relieved. "We would be grateful for whatever help you can give."
The king's smile twitched. "It is money you seek, is it not?"
She reddened and bowed her head, unable to answer.
The king looked down and exchanged a glance with the notary, then fixed his stare back on the couple.
"You know," he began, leaning back, "I'm quite sure Runeard despised me from our first meeting." His eyes flickered with amusement, and then pity as he regarded the young man. "He was a hard man. No sense of levity about him. I imagine it wasn't easy being his son."
The young man was silent at the assertion, though he wore a frown.
"Yes, I thought as much," the king observed, his eyes narrowing. "And as you're well aware, he wasn't quiet with his dislikes. In fact, his repeated public slanders against me cost my country dearly, and we were unfairly excluded from a number of profitable ventures over the years on the continent—many of which your father helped broker."
The young man swallowed. "I'm sorry for that, Your Majes—Albert," he corrected. "I do not intend to continue my father's way of conducting business." His lips set in a grim line. "I cannot say that our temperaments were much aligned on this or other matters."
"I should hope not," the king retorted, sitting up straight again. At the young man's annoyed expression, he laughed. "I'm only jesting with you, my boy. I know you're not Runeard, and I wouldn't make the son carry the sins of his father." The king paused. "That being said, I am prepared to loan you a considerable sum," he suggested, "at thirty percent interest."
The young man balked. "No—I mean, it's not possible," he amended, biting his tongue. "We would never be able to repay you. It cannot be more than ten."
"Twenty," the king shot back.
The young man shook his head. "It's not possible—"
"Please, Your Majesty," his wife interrupted, "we implore you to understand the position we are in. There must be something else we can offer, in order to make this exchange equitable for everyone."
The king stared at her, considering the question. After a time, his brow lifted, and his smile returned. "You're quite right, young lady," he said. "I can offer you a loan at ten percent interest if – and only if – your firstborn daughter is married to my youngest son." At their exchanged looks of consternation, he continued: "And, since I'm inclined to be charitable to those in need: if our children produce a healthy heir to Arendelle's throne together, I will absolve the entire debt."
The young woman grabbed her husband's arm, moving to reply in protest, but he raised his hand to silence her. He turned to the king with an unhappy look.
"Fine," he said, ignoring his wife's wide-eyed stare. "We agree to these terms."
The king clapped his hands, standing up again. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed, and turning to the notary, said: "Have you got all of that written down, Bertie?"
The older man nodded. "I'll have it finalized and ready for you to review in a few hours' time, Your Majesty."
The king grinned and stepped down, meeting the couple at ground level and patting the young man on the shoulder. "Excellent. Well, we should continue this conversation after dinner, when the agreement is drawn up. Now, why don't you two take some time to go and freshen up before then?"
The young man nodded, but his wife was silent, her shoulders shaking.
The couple reentered their guest quarters with drooping shoulders, their energies spent.
As the door was closed behind them by a servant, the young woman staggered over to the chaise longue by the fireplace, gripping the armrest until her knuckles turned white. Her husband caught her just as her face grew wan and her body went limp, resting her on the cushions and kneeling beside her.
"Iduna?" he said in alarm, examining her pale features. "You haven't eaten all morning. I'll have the servants fetch you something—"
"No," she murmured, her eyes closing. "It's not that."
He removed one of his gloves and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "No temperature," he concluded, and breathed a slight sigh of relief. His brow furrowed at seeing her lip tremble. "What's wrong?"
The young woman withdrew from him. "I haven't bled in over two months, Agnarr," she whispered, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes. "I'm probably… I must be…" She broke off into sobs and buried her face against the armrest, unable to continue.
Understanding, and dread, dawned on the young man's face. He slid down until his back was pressed against the chaise, and he faced the cold fireplace, drawing his palms to his forehead. Fresh pain was beginning to collect there, and he shuddered.
"What have I done?"