Arendelle's Lost Daughter
Chapter II: Rags and Rage
Isak Brynjar.
No older than twenty-three years, with thick, unruly black hair and a rustic half-shave, standing at six-one, he's one of the youngest Special Operatives Arendelle has ever seen. He wasn't there by accident, either. He worked hard for his promotions like it was all he had.
Where did he come from? Rags and rage.
His awful childhood consisted of watching his mother die slowly from a rare brain cancer, and his abusive father running off with another woman and becoming imprisoned for the first-degree murder of her ex-boyfriend. Isak was no sugar-coating optimist. He quickly grew crude, restless, hardened, and unfeeling. He wanted nothing more than to get away from the depressing walls of the near-shack his mother left behind. He wanted nothing more than to rip his father apart for hurting his family. Still, with the lingering responsibility of his younger sister Isla and Ollie, a cat his mother loved dearly, he quickly set his sights on finding work and learned that he was good at taking orders.
His work-life balance was atrocious, and he only brought home a measly 50 credits a week. His first job was in the southern strip mines, which required him to work late into the evening, returning home exhausted, caked in dirt, dust, and metal shavings. Isla didn't care about his grime, however. She loved her big brother more than anything and felt profoundly safe with him. She waited by the door every night around eight-thirty. And, as soon as that nob turned right and he stepped in, she would giggle as she pounced on his leg, tugged at his overalls, and hugged him as tight as she could. No matter how tired, Isak would pick her up, spin her around, and exclaim, "Who's hungry, bookworm?!" He would then set off to the kitchen, gently tugging Isla by her tiny hand. He'd feed and pet the purring Ollie for a minute or two, then make his sister something to fill her empty belly.
As the years went on and Isla grew, she figured she'd learn how to finish most of his chores by the time he returned. She noticed the bags under his eyes grew darker and heavier and that he rarely did anything that pleased him, as books and puzzles did for her. It would go: he was gone early in the morning, she'd walk the half-mile to school, return home, busy herself with homework, read, ready the home for Isak, and he'd return dirty and tired to take care of her and the cat, then pass out on any furniture, wake up and do it all again.
So, not only did she help with the chores, she began preparing delicious and creative meals for him. She listened to what he said because he didn't talk much. She started to offer unwavering emotional support, letting him know he could speak to her about anything, at any time, for however long he wanted to. She would take note of his favorite places to slump in after work and make it as cozy as she could, organize his belongings, and keep essential items within his reach. She made sure friends from school were not over when he was home so as not to overwhelm him with the responsibility of hosting, which she knew he would try his best at. She also found work, bringing in enough to buy a couple of meals a week and, eventually, a tiny TV for Isak to watch at night.
Even tired, Isak noticed almost every last detail of Isla's contributions. He would often tell her how grateful and proud he was, which washed her with feelings of comfort and validation. Both siblings made the best of a terrible situation. And, for years, they worked like a well-oiled machine. Isla finally realized that Isak enjoyed whittling wood, which he was really good at. She would praise his craftsmanship and beg him to teach her, which he refused at first, shuttering at the idea of his sharp combat knife close to her hands. But Isla was stubborn and determined. She would joke as she cut chives, onions, or cucumber that she cut her hand off accidentally, to which Isak finally broke and promised the next day he would get her started, which he did. Her smile never left her face during her lessons. She watched every action he made intently and took notes. She eventually learned to create beautiful wooden works of art. A small, detailed Bluebird, a particular project of hers, eventually entered Isak's pocket, which he never lost or broke. It was his most prized possession.
All was going rather well until, under Gunnar H. Weselton, Agnarr's predecessor, Arendelle's economy entered a recession so massive that people called it the Weselton Depression. Unemployment was staggering, and menial jobs like Isak's became oversaturated, with people offering to work for as little as 5 to 3 credits a week.
Ending the worst day of Isak's life, the sixteen-year-old stood dumbfounded outside his shack door. He had no idea what to tell his sister. He was never good with words, anyway.
He opened the door, and still, even older, Isla ran to Isak and hugged him joyfully. This time, Isak could only stare into space behind her, body stiff. His backpack slipped off of his back and hit the floor. Isla was startled by this, stepped back, and noticed her brother's dirty face, laced with anguish. She was no one's fool. She knew exactly what happened; she didn't need to ask, and she certainly wouldn't make him say it to her.
The two stood in the otherwise empty house, facing each other. It was terribly silent.
"... We're g-going to be okay," Isla began, extending her arms outward and offering another hug to comfort her big brother. It was the only thing she could think to do.
Isak broke out into a hysterical, heart-wrenching, silent sob. He covered his face, not wanting Isla to see him like this. His broad shoulders and tall frame tossed up and down, following the rhythm of his cry.
"Isak!" Isla exclaimed, immediately beginning to cry herself. She had never seen her brother cry before, and she felt an unbelievable sense of agony pool inside of her body.
He deflated to the ground, causing Isla to run to his side and support him quickly. He cried and cried, letting out years' worth of pent-up emotion, stress, overwhelming responsibility, physical pain, and now, the uncertainty of how he's going to hold up his end of their support system.
"I'm so sorry, Isla. I failed you."
"You-you-you… Isak! Now, you know that isn't true. You have nothing to apologize for. You're the strongest and smartest man I know. You have never failed me. In fact, you have saved me!"
Isak continued to sob, leaning his head on the wall. Isla didn't know if he wanted to be touched, judging by his stiff body, so she took her hands off of him and hurried in front of him, legs folded behind her. Her hands clasped together by her face as she desperately tried to think what would make him feel better. Her eyes darted around him.
She was shocked. She had never seen her brother like this; it was jarring and unsettling.
She didn't dare mention anything about the future despite her own uncertainty setting in. She pushed it down—for Isak. He doesn't need that from me right now, she thought.
She figured the best thing she could do for him was be present. She didn't try to say anything, she didn't force any details, she just kneeled there in front of him, tracing circles in her hand.
For fifteen minutes, all that could be heard was Isak's gasps and sighs.
Finally, he stood up slowly, and Isla quickly moved to help him. He got to his feet, looked Isla in the eyes, and gripped her shoulders, signifying he was about to say something important.
"Isla. I'm going to have to enlist."
It was a pragmatic solution to their problem, indeed. Arendelle's military was supported by men and women who chose to join it. Usually, the soldiers wouldn't get an actual paycheck; instead, a system called Arendelle Military Protective Support (AMPS) would send a check to support their families, among other benefits, weekly. The only caveat is,
"... and I hate it more than anything, but you're going to have to live here alone for a while." he continued.
Isla stiffened at his words, and her mouth opened, unsure what to say.
"... There's no other way," he stated firmly. "I would steal, beg, barter, fight, or kill before you went hungry, but the truth is, there's just not enough income in this house to feed you every night, even with your contribution…"
Isla knew he was right, but a deep pang of sadness and desperation began rising from her toes to her head.
"Isak, no! I-I, p-please! I don't want you to go! You're the best part of my day! Please, no! I don't know what I would do without you!" Isla said through sobs, hugging her head tightly to his torso.
Isak's heart broke in half seeing her like this, but he knew it was the only way. He'd rather her be sad for a few days than go hungry.
"Bookworm…" his melodic voice sounded softly. She hadn't heard that name in years. It brought back warm, golden memories, causing nostalgia to enter her mind amidst the rest of her complex emotions. She tightened her hug. He hugged her back, finally.
The two stood in the modest shack, letting the truth set in. Much taller than his five-two, he could see over her head and out the window. He saw the fresh flowers Isla cut and put on Ollie's grave sway in the light breeze.
I'm so sorry, Isla, he thought.
"Like you said," he started and gently pulled her away from him and looked into her icy blue eyes,
"... We're going to be okay."
—
Isak stood nervous outside of Agnarr's largest conference room. He was absentmindedly twirling Isla's Bluebird in his calloused hands. Over the years, throughout his training, combat, and eventual offer to be Arendelle's youngest Special Operative, the wooden bird became smooth from the sheer amount he fiddled with it. It calmed him. It was a constant reminder of why he was doing what he was doing.
He had no idea why he was summoned, but when the Supreme Governor beckons for you, you oblige.
He felt the grand doors begin to creek open, reverberating around the hallway he was in. He quickly pocketed the bird and faced straight. He first saw two Secret Police standing on either side of a large, black leather seat. He looked in the middle and saw the Great Agnarr sitting correctly at the head of the polished wooden table.
His heart skipped a beat. He quickly moved to begin the Arendelle solute, body stiff and back straight. He stayed at attention until he was commanded otherwise.
"At ease." Agnarr's prominent voice echoed around the room. Like clockwork, Isak correctly completed the solute's dismount, bringing his hands and arms firmly flush with the side of his body.
Agnarr's following command came. "Proceed."
With this, Isak took ten careful steps to center himself on the opposite side of the table, then came to an impressive, professional halt.
Silence.
Agnarr studied him intently.
"Special Operative Brynjar," the Supreme Governor began.
Isak didn't dare to move or speak without a prompt response. He simply acknowledged with a slight nod, confirming his identity.
"You have progressed through our military's trials and tribulations with integrity, promoted faster than any soldier in our nation's history. You have saved countless lives, fought and served alongside our finest men and women, and assisted in reinforcing the security and stability of Arendelle."
Agnarr paused, letting his words of affirmation sink in. He believed praising one for their successes makes them more likely to respect you. And, the more respect, the stronger the desire to avoid failure. Agnarr needed that right now. His goal was to inspire Isak at this moment for his precious Elsa.
Hearing Agnarr, Isak's heart skipped a beat. This summary of his career brought an immense sense of relief, but not for himself.
Am I doing good, Isla? he thought as if she was hearing what was happening.
Agnarr's expression dropped to a frown. The immense power of his change in emotion made the air around Isak stale and cold.
"We require your special abilities, Brynjar," Agnarr stated, pushing right to the heart of the matter.
Isak stood there, quiet, intent on hearing more.
"Arendelle's Lost Daughter. Does that mean anything to you?" Agnarr continued, a stern look painted on his face.
Yes. More than any issue, past or present, in his professional career, the situation resonated with him the most. He imagined how he'd feel if Isla was taken and what he would do. His duty was never to assist, but he kept himself updated with the investigation.
Isak quickly began to respond, reciting the facts without a stutter.
"On October 10th, six years ago, one Elsa Asta was the subject of a Missing Persons Alert. It is reasonable to assume it was an abduction, based on what little evidence exists, left behind from her last known location, time of day, and situational context. Current whereabouts, unknown. Perpetrators, unknown. No leads on a motive or means of abduction. A digital and physical account of all known information, past or present, exists at the Courthouse, where an ongoing, thorough investigation occurs."
Agnarr was admittedly impressed with Isak's grasp of the current situation. He began to relax, knowing he was calling on the right person.
"I am impressed, Brynjar. That is a correct account of the matter I am speaking about."
The room became silent once again. Agnarr's eyes scanned his decorated operative. He made his final decision and began speaking.
"I am giving you unrestricted authorization to find her. On my express authority, you will have access to any document, weapon, vehicle, technology, or professional resource to locate her whereabouts and bring her home unharmed. You will be granted full protection from legal persecution concerning how you deal with the perpetrators."
Isak was shocked. He had never faced a mission of such urgency where he was given unrestricted access to Arendelle's resources. It was unheard of. Usually, this kind of task was given to a group of decorated military professionals, a chain of command firmly in place to keep from the abuse of protocol.
No, Agnarr was desperate. He's tried all that before. It moves too slowly. He's willing to take a massive, unorthodox risk. And he's willing to take it on Isak.
Isak felt he needed to ask, anyway.
"Sir, with all due respect, wouldn't this task be better suited for a g-"
"Isak." Angarr roared, shocking the two Secret Police beside him for using his first name.
"You are the man for this task. And, as your commanding officer, you will oblige."
Isak's body stiffened. He felt his stomach drop at the Supreme Governor's sudden change in emotion.
"Yes, Supreme Governor!" Isak simply responded. That's all that he could say here.
"Excellent. Your authority begins now. I know you won't let us down. Not to mention, your success in this matter won't go unrewarded. Returning Elsa Asta to me, you will be decorated with the highest honor we can provide and receive one hundred million credits to do with as you please."
Isla! He shouted in his head.
Agnarr decided to seal the deal. Isak was his last hope. While money and encouragement are great motivators, fear is just as effective.
"You have one year. If you fail to deliver, I will be forced to demote you, perhaps back to the mines. Do this for Isla. You're dismissed."
How does he know about her? Isak thought, frightened and intimidated.
Still, Isak quickly put up the Arendelle solute and paced the ten steps into the corridor, where the large doors instantly creaked shut.
He instantly reached for Isla's Bluebird, alone in the hallway. His mind was racing.
I'm not going back to the mines. Isla deserves more than those measly pennies. I'm going to make her the princess she deserves to be. I will stop at nothing.
Isak gripped the bluebird so tightly that his knuckles became white, and his veiny hand shook.
I will find Elsa Asta, and I'll do it in half the time.
—