Arendelle's Lost Daughter
Chapter VII: Wall of Grief
The Supreme Governor's Manor was cold and lifeless despite the three bodies that inhabited it. Agnarr was just returning home from a late night in his conference hall, tending to the mind-numbing, heavy burden of leadership. His face appeared stale, weary, and malnourished–the stress of protecting his nation and searching for his daughter took a heavy toll on him. Dealing with a new threat to national security, a rift in international relations, and massive corporations polluting the air with greenhouse gasses, Agnarr wanted nothing more than to collapse in his chambers and fade away. Still, he propped his cell phone to his ear using his shoulder, hearing out the tail end of one of his advisor's strategies. He mumbled in agreement periodically, admittedly not fully comprehending what was being said.
As he climbed the smooth, polished wooden stairs to the second level and nearly limped to the grandiose door at the end of the hallway, he paused after hearing his strawberry-blonde daughter's quiet weeping from behind her bedroom doors.
"General Fjor, we must circle back to this tomorrow. I have arrived home for the evening," Agnarr hung up without his usual exchange of farewells. He let his phone drop to his side, clutching it loosely with his left hand.
He moved to knock, letting his exhausted yet gentle voice indicate his presence.
"Strawberry? What's the matter, honey? Is everything okay?"
No answer. The weeping continued. Agnarr sighed and looked downwards towards his polished Oxfords, letting time pass before trying again.
"Anna. What's going on? I will come in there if you don't answer me."
There was still no answer, yet the weeping ceased. Agnarr started his hands towards the door handle, attempting to turn it.
She's locked it! Agnarr furiously noted in his mind. He hated being kept from things–hated being on the outside. He violently quaked the handle as he bashed the door severely. He overlooked his phone drop to the floor, feeling an unwelcome anger travel through his veins.
"Anna! You open this door right this instant! You know you are not to lock your bedroom door! I need to make sure you are safe!"
Angarr's anger reached a tipping point, and in a flash of heat, he mangled the handle so much that it nearly bent, rendering it useless until repaired. Calm down, Agnarr! He composed his rage and stepped back, throwing his hands through his hair and down his red face.
"Fuck!" He shouted, halting when he heard his daughter whimper in fear behind the door.
Silence.
What am I doing? Agnarr internally asked, feeling guilt and regret shooting through his brain. He composed himself with a deep breath and placed his left palm against the cool timber.
"I-I'm… I'm sorry, Anna. I'll… I'll give you some space. Please… please talk to me soon."
With that, he turned away from his daughter's locked bedroom and made his way to his own, concluding that he needed sleep or he would continue to act like a child.
I'm so tired of this, he thought. Please, God, when will it end?
He turned the knob to his chambers and entered the freezing room with an exasperated sigh. He instantly looked at the left side of the large bed, expecting to see Iduna fast asleep.
Where is she? She wasn't downstairs!
"I-Iduna? Are you in here?"
Silence. His eyes darted around the chambers; everything was still and untouched. Agnarr moved towards the bathroom, thinking she was likely just completing her nightly routine. Unfortunately for him, the washroom was empty. The towels, soaps, and toiletries were dry and unused. Agnarr was puzzled. He toggled the light and moved back into the center of his chambers. He stood there quietly for a moment, then, as if because of a mysterious force, his head zipped to the left, and he locked his eyes on the doorway to Iduna's walk-in closet.
He walked tentatively towards it, feeling uneasy. Turning the knob slightly, the wood unlatched and revealed vast, neat rows of Iduna's beautiful hung clothing; Nordic dresses, jeans, shorts, blouses, and expansive cabinets of petite high heels, flats, and sandals.
Agnarr felt drawn to go deeper. He moved towards a dangling set of dresses that partitioned the space, gripped both his hands near the middle, and separated the clothing with one smooth motion.
His eyes immediately dilated.
Iduna was kneeling before a massive collection of Elsa's ransom Polaroids. They were taped to the wall in organized chaos, each showing a slightly different angle and definition of their lost daughter. Some were frayed, and some were torn, depending on the state in which she received them. Iduna skimmed her fingers across the most recent one, murmuring something to herself that Agnarr couldn't comprehend.
"I-Iduna?" Agnarr initiated, dismayed and terrified. Iduna was lost in her own world and didn't register the voice behind her.
"Iduna! Please! Can you hear me?" Agnarr's face was painted with desperation as he tried to get his wife's attention. That time, Iduna looked up to Agnarr like a deer in headlights. She was whimpering, tears flowing like a waterfall, soaking the carpet below her. Agnarr, too, was distressed. His stern, tired demeanor was replaced with concern and trepidation.
"Sh-she has a n-new br-bruise. Right here! S-see?" Iduna frantically pointed to the most recent photo of her beautiful daughter, her lips pursing and hands trembling.
Agnarr squinted and moved closer to the image, seeing nothing but Elsa's perfect skin. He scanned the image for a moment or two, trying his best to please Iduna.
"I-I don't see anything," he admitted honestly.
"How c-can you not see it?! It's right… there…!" Iduna choked a sob and turned her attention back to the Polaroid, her left palm flat against the wall of grief, her right pointing desperately at the bruise.
Agnarr was conflicted. If he lied to her and agreed, then it would confirm Iduna's suspicion that her daughter was in physical pain, which he, himself, didn't want to entertain.
"I-I…" Agnarr squinted even more, his mind beginning to illuminate the slight discoloration in his daughter's porcelain skin.
Agnarr let out a stark, alacritous gasp.
Dear God, please help her! Enough is enough! Agnarr prayed.
Iduna wrapped her arms around Agnarr's leg, burning her last pinch of energy as she let out a heart-wrenching sob. She made no sound, but Agnarr could feel her pain as she writhed around his knee.
"I-Iduna! Ple-"
"I-I can't take this anymore! I can't! I just–I can't live this nightmare any longer! We've tried, and tried, and tried, and yet, the wall grows!"
Agnarr felt moved, on the brink of his own breakdown. His knees buckled, and he soon found himself on the floor with his wife. Both desperately clutched each other and wept, letting go of their defenses completely. Iduna nestled her head in the crook of Agnarr's neck as he buried his hand in her silky brunette hair and swayed slowly back and forth.
Agnarr considered consoling her with empty promises, but he, himself, wasn't convinced anymore. After seven long years, even his best Special Operative, Isak Brynjar, couldn't find her–-it was hopeless. She was doomed to die at the hands of the maniacs that abducted her.
They both lived in anguish for several minutes, clinging to one another like they were the only two on the planet; the room fell away, and they were floating there in a void. Weeping eyes closed, broken hearts intertwined.
Suddenly, as Agnarr moved to wipe his wet and red eyes, he noticed a petite figure standing in the walk-in doorway.
Anna.
Her strawberry-blonde hair was disheveled and tangled due to an emotional episode of her own. She was holding Agnarr's cell phone to her ear, which she found ringing off the hook outside her bedroom door.
Her hand trembled violently as she removed the phone from her ear, her eyes wide with shock and her mouth hanging open. The room fell into a heavy silence. Anna's presence immediately drew Iduna's attention, prompting her to quickly attempt to compose herself, wiping away tears and straightening her posture.
Anna struggled to form words, her gaze darting frantically between her parents. She brought her shaking hands to her mouth, trying to stifle her gasping breaths.
Agnarr and Iduna locked eyes with her, their hearts pounding with dread. They could sense that Anna was about to deliver news that would change everything.
With every ounce of strength she could muster, Anna finally managed to speak, her voice quivering and broken.
"El-Elsa… is at Arendelle Central…"
—
Agnarr couldn't believe the Astas had made it to the hospital alive; he didn't remember leaving the Manor, navigating their car through heavy traffic, or finding a decent parking place. All he could think about was Elsa, her current state, and the implications of the life-altering news Anna had delivered moments ago. Iduna had been hyperventilating nearly the entire time, holding her chest as her heart beat rapidly out of rhythm. Anna nearly pulled out her hair on the vicious account of her habit of skimming through it when she was nervous.
The Supreme Governor threw the vehicle in park, shut off the engine, unbuckled, and quickly heaved open his door. His wife and daughter followed suit, no one wasting a single second. Iduna nearly tripped as she ran towards the electronic sliding doors, but Agnarr caught and stabilized her. Anna lagged behind, feeling an intense sense of apprehension flood her body.
Elsa's in there, she thought as she looked up at the massive complex, beginning to feel anxious. I'm not sure she even wants to see me… Why would she? After all I put her through?
As soon as the Astas made it through the double doors and into the lobby, Agnarr noticed his daughter let up and quickly turned his body a sharp one hundred twenty degrees.
"Anna! What's the issue?! Come on! Let's go!" His voice roared, feeling extremely impatient.
Anna could only stare back, struggling to find words. She clutched her braid nervously, much like her sister would.
"I-I…" She began as Agnarr, and eventually Iduna, shot her a look of incredulity and bewilderment.
"Anna, come on! Your sister is in here somewhere!" Iduna stated, exasperated.
"I… I think I'll stay down here, in the lobby. You two go. There's a concurrent two-visitor limit, anyway," Anna said, pointing at a blue sign. She was internally relieved at its truth. She hoped they wouldn't force the issue.
Iduna and Agnarr looked at each other in thick astonishment. Agnarr rushed to his daughter's side and grabbed her hand, looking her directly in the eyes.
"You're coming with us. We're a family, damn it, and we're going to be united. We're doing this for Elsa."
Anna allowed herself to be pulled by her father, a worried expression plastering her face. Her stomach did somersaults as they approached the front desk.
"Hello, welcome to Arendelle Central Hospital. My name is Gerda–" The old woman stopped directly in her tracks as she looked up from her desk. The esteemed Supreme Governer Angarr Asta, the beautiful Iduna, and Arendelle's pride-and-joy Anna stood iconically before her. She nervously corrected her posture, fiddled with her glasses, and collected herself, trying to avoid making a fool of herself.
"Elsa Ida Asta," Agnarr started. His breathing was heavy and uneven. "What room?"
"Supreme Govenor Agnarr! My apologies for not addressing you right away– I…" Gerda took a deep breath and continued, "El-Elsa is here? I thought she was–when did she—I will look her up immediately, sir!"
Gerda ferociously tapped at her terminal, flustered yet honored to be among one of the first citizens to know. Sure enough, the portal matched her inquiry with a recent image of Arendelle's Lost Daughter, unconscious and battered.
Gerda felt herself gasp in pure astonishment. She's really here! Who brought her in, and when? We weren't told anything! She's alive! She's alive!
"She-she's here! She's alive! Ha! Ha! Oh, happy day! Oh goodness, I–" Gerda quickly cut her celebration short, trying to remain professional and polite near her superiors. At Gerda's confirmation of Anna's news, Iduna felt herself take a short gasp of air inward, holding her chest. Tears filled her eyes, and she couldn't help but let them crash towards the ground. Agnarr pulled her close to him, rubbing her back as sobs wracked her body.
This is a dream! It's a dream! Iduna thought, convinced she'd wake up any moment.
"Sh-she just got moved into a private ICU bay… eight? Yes. eight on floor seven–sh-she's likely drowsing or asleep– they gave her some pretty strong pain management medications and–" Gerda frantically attempted to print out visitor passes for each Asta as she explained what the portal told her.
"Anyway," Gerda digressed as she handed each monarch their passes, "Straight down the hall here and to the left, use the General Fjor Elevators for floor seven access–her bay would be to the right, through the double doors, and– here, I will call up and make sure someone is there ready to direct you!"
Agnarr's furrowed eyebrows and serious face murmured in agreement with each of Gerda's instructions. When Gerda mentioned the room and floor, Iduna was ready to bolt, but Agnarr held her back while the receptionist finished her thoughts.
"Thank you," Agnarr simply stated, placing his visitor's pass near his heart.
With that, the Asta family scurried towards the elevators, Agnarr still toting a nervous Anna behind him. As they ran, the public began to notice. People mumbled among themselves, some pulling out their phones, messaging their friends, or taking pictures. The crowd around the General Fjors quickly dispersed as they took note of the frantic Astas. They beckoned them to take the next available elevator, mentioning they would wait for the following lift.
"Thank you all," Iduna timidly said, short of breath. Still, as the other elevators floated around floors in the double digits, Iduna sighed and tapped her sandals impatiently on the marble floor. It was the longest minute she'd ever experienced.
Finally, one elevator lit up, signaling it was headed upward. The riders egressed, leaving an empty lift. The Asta family quickly boarded, punching the seven, catching the shocked and star-struck glances of the visitors outside as the golden doors closed.
The elevator was deathly quiet. No Asta spoke; they all stared into the void with heavy, exhausted eyes. With a swift, high-pitched tone and a robotic voice confirming they were on the seventh floor, the gold-plated doors opened smoothly, revealing a team of medical professionals waiting eagerly for their monarchs.
Iduna was the first to see the crowd and gasped. The female doctor who first took in Elsa stood in the middle, her face showing compassion and understanding. Iduna immediately collapsed in her arms as if she knew. She sobbed heavily on her shoulder, clutching her scrubs. The doctor hugged back, her eyes closed in solidarity.
Agnarr and Anna stood behind her, their emotions fighting to stay hidden. Agnarr shook hands with all the professionals, transmitting his thanks and approval of their efforts.
"Thank you for all you have done for her," he stated, returning to Iduna's side.
"Honey," he whispered, rubbing soothing circles on her back, "It's time. Let's… let's just… let's go see her."
Iduna attempted to compose herself again, wiping her red eyes and gasping. She knew there was a lot of crying to come, nevertheless. She couldn't believe that just a few steps and a simple door kept her from her long-lost daughter. She tried to sweep through her silky hair and pat her shoulders and arms down, attempting to look presentable. She sent Angarr a tiny nod, then one to the doctor.
"She's right in here. I caution you: she will not be awake. We expect her to sleep through the night and late into tomorrow morning. She probably hasn't slept this well in quite a while," and, who could, through all that pain!? the professional noted, keeping her addition to herself.
Anna covertly slipped away from the crowd at the last minute, an internal conflict warring in her head.
I can't! I can't go in there. Elsa probably never wants to see me again! After what I did, after all the pain I caused her, she has a right to heal in peace without me stressing her out!
So, the strawberry-blonde found a bench to sit on, away from everything. It was an unassuming space, dimly lit by a fluorescent glow. Fictionalized images of Elsa's mistreatment began intruding into her headspace. She saw Elsa plead and beg, looking directly at her as she was tortured.
I did this to her! I hurt her! I took years from her life that she will never get back!
She bowed her knees to her chest, beginning to feel the onset of an intense panic attack. Anna's visions continued, gruesomely flashing disturbing images of her sister's misery through her mind.
Keep it together, Anna. Not here. Not now.
But, the outer extremities of her body continued to numb, tingling violently. Her chest began to feel depressed by a severe weight, impossibly tightening with each passing second. She saw Elsa reaching for her, begging for help.
Not again!
The walls began to close in on her, and each noise that entered her hypervigilant ears reverberated. She started to pant, struggling to feel like she was drawing in any air. Her heart rate was approaching hazardous speeds.
She hates you! She hates you! You monster! You wretched, worthless, spoiled little bitch!
Without thinking, Anna shot up from the bench, desperately straining to bring her body back to an even keel. Her feet moved rapidly, following the floor tiles. She didn't lift her head–her hands buried in her auburn brain. One foot in front of the other, tripping every now and then, Anna tried to run from her inner torment, but it followed her with retaliation.
SHE WILL LIKELY NEVER BE THE SAME! YOU TOOK HER LIFE AWAY; YOU KILLED HER!
Unexpectedly, she felt her body collide with what she thought was an immovable object. She fell backward, crashing to the floor with a tiny gasp and a bit of pain. She dizzily gaped upward, shocked to see a man with a concerned countenance.
For some unknown reason, she felt her panic almost instantly subside into a muted, pacifying hum.
"Mrs. Asta!" his harmonious voice came. He quickly crouched, supported her gently by her shoulder, and extended his left hand for aid.
How–how does he know… do I know him?
"Are you alright? I'm very sorry; I should have watched where I was going!" the man's words fired off like cannons as his eyes darted around her face.
Anna sat there, dumbfounded. She noticed herself staring at his face a little too long.
Who is this man? He's touching my shoulder! She thought innocently. Admittedly, she didn't mind the latter thought.
Kristoff's eyes locked on his right hand, which he finally noticed was on her. He quickly removed it and began his nervous stammering.
"Sorry–-uh, names Special Operative Kristoff Bjorgman. I-I know yours from… well, because you're an Asta and everything, and I kind of… work for your father? I mean, I work for your father, and yes, my name is Kristoff. I'm sorry for bumping into you. Are you hurt?" That could have gone better! Kristoff chastised himself, unsure why he was having so much trouble speaking.
"N-no, I'm fine. It was really my fault; I was lost in my own world. This brain of mine doesn't rest! I've been thinking a lot about my sister Elsa and well, we just rushed down here and I really haven't stopped thinking since then so sorry that's probably why I wasn't watching where I was going and thank you for asking if I was hurt and I don't mean to waste your time you probably have a million things you need to do or maybe you don't since it's night sorry for assuming I'm not entirely sure what the hours of a Special Operative are but I'm sure you're very busy but either way what I'm trying to say is… sorry." Shut it, Anna!
"I… uh–-sorry. I talk a lot. Ha." She finished, wanting to simply pass away.
Kristoff listened intently through her entire monologue, processing each and every word she said. He found it highly endearing; he would have listened to her continue for days.
"No, no, I get it. I do, too. You have nothing to apologize for."
A highly awkward silence washed over the two. They averted eye contact by any means.
"Can I help you up?" Kristoff asked genuinely, extending his hand once again.
Anna hesitated but eventually took it, astounded at how warm it was.
He gently helped her to her feet and continued to speak.
"And no, I'm not busy usually around this time. I was just visiting one of my fellow soldiers, Isak. He's still unconscious, so I decided I'd get some sleep for the night and check back tomorrow. Then I met you. Ha."
"Isak…?" Anna questioned. Why does that name sound so familiar?
"Oh, yeah, Special Operative Isak Brynjar–your dad knows him. Nice guy. Kind of pissed off all the time, but you get used to it. He's actually the one who–" Kristoff's sentence tapered off, wondering if he had a right to talk about Elsa's rescue so nonchalantly, especially to Anna Asta, of all people. He bit his lip, thinking of what to say to change the subject.
"Uh–"
"Found Elsa," Anna stated incredulously.
Kristoff rubbed the back of his neck and looked towards the floor.
"Yes, he… he found Elsa."
Anna peered into the room behind him, seeing a figure through the drawn shades. She saw the machines, the dressings, the IV, and the misery that man must have been in. Her negative thoughts started to rush back in with a vengeance.
You hurt him, too. Add that to the list of people's lives you probably ruined!
She placed a shaking hand over her whimpering mouth and quickly turned away, but not before looking into Kristoff's eyes again.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered.
And she was gone, leaving a bewildered Kristoff standing in the middle of Arendelle Central's seventh-floor hallway.
—
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