by Mari Mancusi
“Prince Agnarr of Arendelle. My kind, handsome, fearless love…” The butterflies swarmed around her, creating a halo around her head. Her eyes met mine. “Will you marry me?” she asked in a soft voice.
I stared at her in disbelief. Iduna grinned sheepishly, a giggle escaping her lips. She jumped off the bench and approached me, reaching into her pocket and pulling out something small. It took me a moment before I realized what it was.
The love spoon. The one I thought I’d lost forever.
“You finished it,” I whispered.
“Yup.” She beamed. “Though I had a little help. Who knew Olina was a master woodworker as well as a master chef?”
I ran to her and pulled her into my arms. The reindeer surrounded us, snorting and huffing, but I shooed them away, holding her close, until her face was inches from mine. She looked at me with those big blue eyes of hers. Eyes I could lose myself in.
And find myself in, too.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love you, too,” she replied, her eyes teeming with affection. Then she added, “Look, Agnarr, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. You were right all along. We love each other. That’s all that matters in the end. We can go to the council and make our case. Or go to the people, even. What can Peterssen say if everyone in Arendelle is behind us? They’re the ones who matter, right? Not just the council.” She smiled bravely at me. “You said our love was worth fighting for. Well, I’m ready to fight. I want you to marry me.”
I raised my hand, brushing her soft cheek with my fingers. “And I definitely can marry you—no council fight required,” I told her.
“What?” Her eyes clouded with confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ll never believe this, but it turns out there’s no official rule in the Arendelle lawbooks saying I have to marry royalty.” I grinned broadly. “You can thank Kai and Gerda for that.”
“Really?” Her eyes grew wide. “There’s no rule?”
My hand snaked around her neck. “None at all,” I whispered.
Our lips met. My hands dropped to her hips and pulled her flush against me. I could feel every curve of her body as her mouth moved hungrily against mine. I pulled away for a moment to rest my forehead against hers. “Are you sure this is what you want?” I asked in a low voice. “You’ve seen what my life is like—and I’m not even king yet.”
“I know,” she said solemnly. “And I don’t expect it to be easy. Don’t get me wrong; there’s a part of me that wants to ask you to just run away with me. To live a simple life of farmers in a field. But Arendelle needs you as much as I do. So I’m okay with sharing.”
“I think Arendelle needs you,” I corrected her with a laugh. “But I guess I’m okay with sharing, too. You are the most amazing person I have ever met,” I whispered. “Will you ever stop surprising me?”
Her blue eyes sparkled. “Seems unlikely, Your Majesty.”
“I am glad to hear it, my queen.”
“IDUNA? MAY I SPEAK WITH YOU FOR A moment?”
Peterssen’s voice cut through the happy daze I was in as I gazed out at the royal gardens turning colors in the waning light of early dusk. Agnarr had been pulled away by another group of well-wishers, and I had been basking in the glow of our love and all that had happened over the past two days to cement it.
When Agnarr had stated his case to the council the day following my proposal, they didn’t put up much of a fight. I think they were embarrassed by the publicity of the botched courtship with Runa and her scheming father. And when we soon after announced our betrothal to the people of Arendelle, they were thrilled at the idea.
“The castle may have its head in the sand,” declared Halima as Agnarr and I shared the good news over a cup of tea at Hudson’s Hearth. “But we have all been paying attention. And I can’t think of anyone who would be better for our prince—and our people—than our sweet, talented Iduna. Mattias would be so proud if he was here.” Agnarr had beamed in pride.
Mattias might well have been. But the look on Peterssen’s face now told me perhaps the sentiment was not universal.
I followed him to a quiet alcove, a small feeling of unease gnawing at my stomach. When we were out of earshot, he turned to face me, a grim look on his face. “I am happy you and the prince have found each other,” Peterssen began. “I truly am. And I know you will make a wonderful pair. You will make a wonderful queen. But, Iduna, if you go through with this, I must warn you: it’s more important than ever for you to keep your past a secret—at least for now.”
“But why?” I asked, aggrieved. I had actually been planning to come clean to Agnarr about everything later that evening, when it was just the two of us. I wanted to move forward with him with no more secrets between us, only openness and truth.
Peterssen looked troubled. “You just implicated the king of Vassar in violent acts against Arendelle while basically vindicating the Northuldra. If the people ever learn that you’re secretly Northuldra, don’t you think they might wonder if you and Runa worked together and schemed to plant the evidence in the Vassar tents in order to exonerate your own people and win the prince for yourself?”
I stared at him, crushed by his words. I knew what he said made sense. But why did I also have to keep it from Agnarr? Surely he wouldn’t jump to such conclusions.
“Agnarr loves me,” I insisted. “He would keep my secret.”
“Are you so sure?” Peterssen asked quietly. “For I never knew anyone who hated secrets as much as our prince. And if the truth were to come out—whether by his own mouth, in a misguided attempt to defend your honor, or by some other means—it would be disastrous to his rule. People learning he willingly married you, knowing you were the daughter of Arendelle’s enemy, might cost him the throne. Better he does not know. Then if something were to happen, he could use his ignorance as a shield.
“Vassar is gone,” he continued. “But there are plenty of others who watch carefully for an opportunity to gain such a rich trade route. To discover weakness, to plant seeds of discontent and fear. We need a strong king. A king whose rule will never fall under question. If you care about Arendelle, you will keep silent—at least a bit longer.”
Ah, yes. There it was, the duty to country that was now my obligation as much as it was Agnarr’s. I would not be keeping the secret for myself, or even for the sake of my and Agnarr’s relationship.
It would be for Arendelle.
And for the Northuldra, too.
As queen I would have the power to protect the Northuldra, to finally put to bed the rumors of their supposed magic and misdeeds once and for all. And if the mist ever were to part, my family and the others could emerge protected, their lands safe.
My voice might seem silent. But it would be strong, persistent, and persuasive. It would be a powerful one.
“Iduna! Come over here!”
I turned my head, my eyes locking on Agnarr, who was beckoning me back to our well-wishers. Mrs. Blodget was standing next to him, holding the most enormous block of chocolate I had ever seen and grinning happily. I gave them a small smile and waved, then turned back to Peterssen.
“Very well,” I said, lifting my chin as I fought to keep the tremble from my voice. “I will do as you ask. At least for now. But someday I will tell my story. Agnarr will know the whole truth.”
And with that, I walked back to the celebration, not waiting for his response. Shoulders back, head held high. A perfectly poised soon-to-be Arendellian queen.
Conceal, don’t feel. Don’t let it show.
I STARED AT MYSELF IN THE MIRROR AS Gerda affixed the jeweled silver wedding crown to my head. I was not yet a queen, of course, but the Arendelle wedding tradition sure made me feel like one, along with this sweeping silver gown that cinched at my waist, then billowed out around me like a cloud.
Me, Iduna, Northuldra orphan. Soon-to-be queen of Arendelle.
It was the stuff of those fairy tales I had read about in the books the A
rendellians had brought to the dam. Now come to life.
Who would have thought it?
“Are you ready, my dear?” Gerda asked, her eyes shining. “I think it’s time.”
I drew in a breath, my heart pounding, as Gerda led me to the chapel inside the castle. The place was packed, but instead of inviting dignitaries from neighboring kingdoms, we’d filled the vast space with all the townspeople of Arendelle. They cheered as I entered the room, and I felt my cheeks heat in a blush.
The music swelled. I started down the aisle. As I walked, I saw Agnarr standing at the end, dressed in his formal Arendelle military uniform with its gold epaulets and shiny medals. He’d finally grown his mustache out, which did indeed make him look especially dashing. Bulda would be so proud.
But it wasn’t his outfit or his new facial hair that had my heart pumping madly. It was the nervous smile on his face.
“Well, hello, you,” I whispered as I stepped to his side.
“Hello yourself,” he whispered back. “You look…incredible, Iduna.”
I beamed. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.”
He blushed, holding out his arm. “You ready?” he asked softly.
My heart brimmed over with the look I saw in his eyes.
No doubt. No fear.
Just love.
“So ready,” I declared.
The reception was held in the streets of Arendelle. The musicians played merry tunes and we danced every dance under the sun, including “the reindeer who had to pee really badly but was stuck in a ballroom”—which had turned out to be a crowd favorite. We feasted on an endless array of delicacies, including a traditional wedding kransekake—a tower of sweet bread topped with cheese, cream, and syrup. As a special touch, Mrs. Blodget had added two little figures to the top of the tower—to represent Agnarr and me. They were made of solid chocolate.
We couldn’t stop smiling through it all, our giddy grins disappearing only for the space of a kiss. We were so ridiculously happy to finally be together, out in the open, without fear of getting caught. After years of stolen glances and secret moments, we no longer had to hide our love.
“You look so beautiful,” Agnarr told me for probably the fiftieth time since the reception began, taking me into his arms for yet another dance. I could feel the crowd watching us in delight, but I kept my eyes on my prince…my husband.
“I think you might have mentioned that already,” I teased.
“Are you sick of hearing it?”
“Not at all, Your Majesty.”
“Good. Because I plan to repeat it every day of your life from this point on…Your Majesty,” he added, his eyes twinkling.
I groaned. “Are you really going to start calling me that?”
“Absolutely,” he declared. “If only to get back at you for all the times you’ve Your Majesty’d me over the years.”
I sighed in mock dismay. “Great. I’ve created a monster.”
“No.” His eyes grew soft. “You’ve created a king.”
He reached up, cupping my face in his hands, meeting my eyes with that green gaze I would never in a million years tire of. “I could never have done this without you, Iduna,” he whispered. “And I want you to continue to be a part of it. You’re to be Arendelle’s queen now. And I want you to rule with me. Equally. Side by side.”
“I love you,” I whispered, feeling a little overwhelmed by his words. Me, a wife, a queen. I’d been preparing for this moment for a long time now, but it still seemed so crazy to have it actually come to pass.
Olina bustled toward us then, clapping her hands briskly. “What are you waiting for, Your Majesties?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes. “It’s time for the kransekake!”
I smiled shyly at Agnarr, remembering how the chef had explained the Arendellian wedding tradition to me. Together, we’d lift up the top ring of the kransekake, and however many lower rings were lifted with it would predict how many children we’d have together.
“Are you ready?” Agnarr asked, giving me a wink.
I giggled, suddenly a little nervous. “I think so?”
Together we reached down and slowly lifted the top ring of the cake as pretty much all of Arendelle watched, holding their collective breath.
The top ring rose. Two lower rings came right along with it. The crowd burst into cheers and applause. Olina clapped her hands and jumped up and down. Kai and Gerda hugged each other enthusiastically. I thought I caught tears in Gerda’s eyes.
“Two rings!” Olina declared. “That means two blessed royal children!”
I turned back to Agnarr. “Wow,” I said in a low voice, meant only for him. “Guess Grand Pabbie was right.”
He nodded, looking like a proud papa already. “Two children,” he said, his voice hushed with awe.
“Two daughters,” I corrected him with a smile.
And somehow, at that moment, I knew it to be true.
“AND NOW, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MAY I present to you your new princess, Elsa of Arendelle!”
The roar from the crowd below was almost deafening as I stepped out onto the balcony, cradling my newborn daughter in my arms, her tiny form swathed in a soft blue nightgown that matched her crystal blue eyes. I knew the people were almost as impatient to meet her as I had been.
Agnarr stood beside me, placing a hand at the small of my back. He looked down at me, an adoring smile on his face. “Are you ready, my love?” he asked.
I nodded, stretching out my arms and passing Elsa to Agnarr. He fumbled for a moment—we were both still getting used to handling such a small package—then took her into his arms, holding her up for the crowd to see.
“Long live the princess!” shouted Gunnar, the florist. Everyone laughed and cheered. In fact, they were so loud and excited they must have given little Elsa a start, as she began to wail loudly, shaking her tiny fists in dismay. I quickly took her back from Agnarr, surprised to find that for some reason, her skin was suddenly ice cold. My heart stirred with concern. Was she getting sick?
“I’m going to take her back inside.”
Agnarr nodded and planted a kiss on my forehead before turning to the crowd. He clapped his hands. “Please help yourself to food and beverages. There is plenty for all. Musicians, will you give us a tune?”
The band burst into a merry song while the crowd dashed toward the food and drink stations. Some started to dance. All were still excitedly chattering about the beautiful baby. Her sweet mama. Her doting papa. The perfect royal family for Arendelle.
But I shut out all the noise, concentrating on getting Elsa wrapped back up in my shawl. She was still wailing, near inconsolable. Not sure what to do, I gently placed her back in her crib, twirling her little mobile in an attempt to distract her. Gerda had made it for her and it featured the most adorable white-painted stars that swirled in a circle when spun.
Elsa’s eyes began to track the motion of the spinning stars. For a moment, she watched them as though mesmerized, her sobs fortunately subsiding. I let out a breath of relief. But when the mobile began to slow, she grew angry again, her tiny face scrunching up with rage. I watched, amused, as she reached up as if to try to grab the mobile and spin it herself.
Instead, to my shock, a streak of what looked like ice shot from her fingers, blasting the mobile straight on.
What on earth?
The mobile started spinning again, but it now appeared to be crusted in ice. I reached out with shaky fingers to touch it. Sure enough, it was freezing cold.
Elsa giggled, happy again. I stared down at her, my pulse skittering. Had she really done that? Shot ice from her fingertips? But that was impossible.
Unless…
Magic.
“How are my girls?” Agnarr asked, leaving the balcony to come up beside me. He stopped as he caught the look of fear that must have been written on my face. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is she all right?”
I swallowed hard. “Watch,” I said, reaching out to stop the mobile.
I held my breath, waiting to see if she’d do it again.
Elsa stared up at the mobile, her nose wrinkling in frustration. As the two of us watched, she reached her finger up and pointed. Another blast of ice shot through the air and the mobile began to twirl again.
I looked up at Agnarr. His eyes were like saucers. “How is this possible?” he whispered.
“I don’t know,” I answered helplessly. And I didn’t. Sure, she was half Northuldra, like me, but contrary to popular belief, we didn’t possess any magic.
Except Elsa somehow did.
Agnarr stood as though frozen himself. I could practically see the thoughts whirling through his brain. Even after all this time, was he still fearful of magic because of his father’s influence?
Frustration rose inside me. I scooped Elsa from her crib into my arms. Then I went to Agnarr, holding her out toward him.
“Look at her, Agnarr,” I commanded, my voice leaving no room for argument. “She’s our daughter. We created her, you and I. Whatever powers she might possess, they were born out of love. Which makes them a gift, not a curse.”
As my heart beat furiously in my chest, Agnarr said nothing. Then he looked down at Elsa. I could see his whole body was shaking. “I know that,” he replied softly. “I do. But the people out there. What will they say if they learn of her power? They haven’t been taught by you, like I have, that we shouldn’t be afraid of what we don’t know. We shouldn’t be scared of magic.”
“They will say she is amazing,” I answered in as firm a voice as I could muster. “And maybe she will help them finally get over their fears.” I sighed. “Agnarr, fear has been the true enemy of Arendelle all along. And maybe—just maybe—if they see their beautiful little princess using her magic for good, they can finally stop being afraid.”
For a moment, Agnarr did nothing. Then he slowly reached out, his hands still unsteady, gently brushing the fuzz of Elsa’s white-blonde hair on top of her head. She looked up at her papa with wide blue eyes and smiled sweetly at him.
Agnarr’s face crumpled. He took her from me and cradled her close. Elsa snuggled against his chest, cooing contentedly as Agnarr gently stroked her head.