by Mari Mancusi
My heart melted as I watched the two of them. Maybe this would be all right after all.
Agnarr looked up at me then, his expression solemn. “Look,” he said. “We have to be smart here. And cautious. Until we understand what’s going on, and the extent of these powers, we must keep this quiet. For Elsa’s own safety.”
I nodded slowly, my heart sinking once again. I knew he was right. And I would do anything to keep our daughter safe.
But how could I bear keeping yet another secret?
Especially one as big as this?
“AND THEY ALL GOT MARRIED!”
Agnarr shot me an amused smile, then cleared his throat, making our presence known to the girls, who were playing on the floor in their nightgowns just before bed. He stepped further into the room.
“What are you playing?” he asked, observing the small pile of snow and the ice figurines eight-year-old Elsa had whipped up for their game. Anna was always begging her older sister to conjure up ice-skating rinks and snowmen and other forms of icy entertainment for her enjoyment—sometimes being rather persistent about it, as five-year-olds could be. But to her credit, Elsa always obliged. She liked nothing better than making her little sister smile.
We only let her do it indoors, of course. Within the safety of the castle walls, on days when we had no visitors. Even after eight years, Agnarr held firm to the belief that we should keep her powers a secret—which I understood, even if it made me a little sad. I hated the idea that Elsa would have to grow up thinking her beautiful gift was something to be kept hidden. I knew all too well what it felt like not to be able to be yourself.
At least she had her sister’s full adoration.
“Enchanted Forest!” Anna crowed, answering her father’s question with her usual exuberance. Though Anna did not have magic like Elsa’s, her special nature came through in her boundless energy, insatiable curiosity, and genuine love for all things fun. Meanwhile, Elsa had always been a cautious, careful child, almost guarded at times. She reminded me of the man her father had become, whereas Anna was more like the child I had been.
Different as the summer and winter—but close as could be.
“That doesn’t look like any enchanted forest I’ve ever seen,” Agnarr teased them, sitting down on the bed. Immediately, he had their attention.
“You’ve seen an enchanted forest?” Anna asked, looking up at him in awe.
I frowned, something stirring deep inside me. Agnarr loved telling his girls bedtime stories. But I wasn’t sure it was wise to tread where this story went. They were still so young. Especially little Anna.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked Agnarr, shooting him a concerned look.
He gave me a slight nod. “It’s time they knew.”
I sighed. I supposed he was right. It was part of Arendelle’s story, painful as it was for me. They’d hear it someday, from someone. Might as well be from their father, who had actually been there to see it firsthand.
Well, some of it, anyway.
The girls and I sat down on the bed. Anna leaned toward her sister, whispering something in her ear. Typical of Anna’s attention span: she’d probably already forgotten about the forest.
Agnarr raised an eyebrow. “If they can settle down and listen.”
I stifled a laugh as they both immediately snapped their mouths shut.
“Far away,” he began, “as far north as we could go…”
And so he began to tell the tale, his storyteller voice soft but dramatic as both girls listened with rapt attention, wide-eyed. I leaned back on the bed, closing my own eyes, trying to stay focused on his words. But soon an all-too-familiar storm began to swirl inside me, stirring up long-ago, almost forgotten memories of that fateful day.
It had been years since Agnarr and I talked about the forest. Even longer since we’d traveled out to the mist itself to check on it. Now we were busy, ruling a kingdom, parenting two little girls. We did still send a patrol to the mists every six months, but they always came back with the same news.
The mist still held.
I turned my attention back to the story, realizing Agnarr was almost done.
“And someone saved me,” he explained. “I’m told that the spirits then vanished and a powerful mist came over the forest, locking everyone else out and keeping others in.” He looked solemnly at the girls. “And that night, I came home king of Arendelle.”
I smiled a little at the hyperbole, remembering all the intervening years he’d been the crown prince, not yet anointed, rolling his eyes through every council meeting and running off to our tree every chance he got. But that didn’t make for a good story.
“Whoa, Papa!” Anna breathed. “That was epic! Whoever saved you, I love them!” She fell back into my lap in a dramatic swoon. I couldn’t help a small smile. If only she knew….
My smile faded as Agnarr responded seriously, “I wish I knew who it was.”
If only he knew….
My heart ached. All these years had passed between us. A loving marriage, two beautiful girls, a peaceful kingdom. And I’d still never found the right moment to tell him everything, still bound by the night Peterssen had pulled me aside and bidden me to keep my secret.
I set my resolve. Maybe tonight. After we got the girls to sleep.
“What happened to the spirits? What’s in the forest now?” Elsa piped up, looking quite concerned. I sighed. I’d known this story was going to upset them. They were still so young.
“I don’t know. The mist still stands. No one can get in. And no one has since come out,” Agnarr responded.
“So we’re safe,” I added, shooting him a stern look.
“Yes,” he said. “But the forest could wake again. And we must be prepared for whatever danger we might face.”
“And on that note, how about we say good night to your father?” I interrupted, laying a gentle hand on Agnarr’s arm—even though at this point I wanted to shove him off the bed. Why did he think getting his children all riled up right before bedtime with his stories was always such a good idea?
“Aw, but I still have so many questions!” Anna pouted.
“Save them for another night, Anna,” Agnarr teased, tugging on her toe. He rose and headed out the door, leaving me alone with the girls. I sighed. Time for damage control if I wanted them to get any sleep that night.
“You know I don’t have that kind of patience!” Anna said, scowling after her father. Then she turned to me. “Why did the Northuldra attack us, anyway? Who attacks people who give them gifts?”
“Do you think the forest will wake again?” Elsa added, still looking concerned.
“Only Ahtohallan knows,” I murmured before I could stop myself.
“Ah-to-who-what?” Anna asked, her big eyes growing even wider.
I startled a little. Had I just said that out loud? And here I hadn’t wanted Agnarr to tell his story. Was I really about to tell them mine?
“When I was little,” I said slowly, unsure of the best way to start, “my mother would sing a song about a special river called Ahtohallan that was said to hold all the answers about the past and what we are a part of.”
“Whoa!” Anna breathed.
“Can you sing it to us?” Elsa asked.
My breath caught. Could I?
But then I looked down at them, their sweet faces, their large eyes. Anna curious, Elsa a little more reserved. And something inside me gave, for the first time in many years. Maybe it was time. Not for the whole story—not yet. But maybe just a song. After all, it was part of who they were, even if didn’t know it. And maybe it would comfort them somehow. It had always comforted me when I was a child.
“Okay,” I said, gathering them into my arms. “Cuddle close, scooch in,” I urged them, as I used to say to their father many years before.
Just as my mother used to say to me.
And then I began to sing.
“WOW. WE HAVEN’T BEEN IN HERE FOR AGES!”
I stifled a s
neeze as I slipped into the now very dusty secret library, memories flooding through me as I looked around, everything still in its place. I thought back to all the hours Iduna and I had spent in here, hiding out from the world. As I glanced back at her now, closing the door behind me, an impulsive urge rose over me. I grabbed her and swung her around, kissing her hard on the mouth.
She kissed me back, laughing. “Wow. This place really does it for you,” she teased.
“You really do it for me,” I corrected her, smiling wickedly at her. I kissed her again, deeply, my body warming at her touch. Even after all these years, Iduna still made my heart race like when I was just a young boy.
“You’d better watch it,” she said, pushing me away gently. “After that story you told? The girls are bound to be up all night, worried about monsters in the mist. We’ll find them both in our bed when we get back, I bet.”
I groaned. “Too much?”
“Epically too much,” she replied, mimicking Anna’s words. She sat down on a nearby chair, scrubbing her face with her hands. “But then, I guess they had to find out someday.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “They need to know the truth, even when its unpleasant. I don’t want them growing up as I did. With all those secrets.”
I watched the playful smile disappear from Iduna’s face as she visibly paled. I cocked my head in question. “Are you all right?” Iduna shook her head, blue eyes welling with tears.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, reaching down to clasp her hands in mine.
“Agnarr. There’s something—”
“Mama! Papa!”
The sharp cry roared through the room, as if it came from right outside. Loud screeching, hysterical. Iduna turned stark white.
“Elsa!” she whispered.
We dove out of the room, following the sound of her voice. We headed past the girls’ now empty bedroom, down the stairs, to the Great Hall. I could hear sobbing coming from behind the closed doors and my heart seized with panic. What were they doing down here? They were supposed to be in bed! I threw open the doors wide, then stopped short, horrified at what I saw.
Mountains of snow, piled high. The walls crawling with ice.
Elsa cradling her sister in her arms.
No!
My heart leapt in my chest. “Elsa!” I cried. “What have you done? This is getting out of hand!”
The second I spoke the words, I regretted them. Especially when I caught the agonized look on my eldest daughter’s face.
“It was an accident!” Elsa wailed, looking down at her sister. “I’m sorry, Anna.”
Iduna dropped to her knees, pulling Anna away from Elsa and into her own arms. Anna lay so still. Was she even breathing? Iduna looked up at me, her eyes wide and frightened. “She’s ice cold,” she whispered.
I did everything in my power to keep it together, even though all I wanted to do was fall apart. This was too much. And if anything happened to my Anna…my sweet, silly Anna…
I shook my head. Those thoughts didn’t help. Right now my family needed me. I needed to stay strong. For them.
I froze, an idea suddenly forming in my mind. The trolls. Grand Pabbie. He’d proven he could do magic. Could he help Anna somehow? And if so, could we reach him in time?
We had no choice but to try.
“I know where we have to go,” I said. “Take the girls to the stable. Have them saddle up two horses. I will meet you there.”
Tears slipped down Iduna’s cheeks. “All right. But hurry….”
I rose to my feet. Iduna lifted Anna, cradling her like a baby. Elsa was still crying hard, clinging to her mother’s skirt. I gave them one last look and then ran straight to the library, heading back into the secret room.
Where I’d hidden the map.
With trembling hands, I reached up to a high shelf, pulled the old folklore book down, and paged through it until I found the map, tucked away. I smoothed it out on the table, refreshing the route in my mind. Then I stuffed it in my satchel and ran to meet my girls at the stable.
We rode out into the night. Iduna was white-faced and quiet, cradling the still-motionless Anna in her arms. Elsa was with me on my horse, sobbing her eyes out. She kept glancing over at her sister longingly. My heart ached at the pain I saw her on face.
“I’m really sorry, Papa,” she whimpered. “I’m so, so sorry!”
“It’s not your fault,” I said wearily. “I’m sorry I shouted. I was scared, that’s all.”
“I’m scared, too.”
I reached out to touch Elsa’s shoulder, wanting to comfort her. But she recoiled from me. A sob escaped her throat. “Please don’t! I don’t want to hurt you, too.”
Pain shot through my heart at the anguish I saw on her face. As angry as I was, my rage was never directed at my daughter. It wasn’t her fault. She was a good girl. She loved her sister. She would never willingly hurt her.
“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to make my voice sound reassuring. “I’m taking you to someone who can help. We’re going to fix this. I promise. Anna will be okay.”
But even as I said the words, I wondered. Would anything be okay, ever again?
“WHAT DO I DO, PAPA? WHAT IF I CAN’T CONTROL IT?”
“Shhh, sweet girl,” I whispered, tucking Elsa into her bed, pulling the blanket over her shivering frame. Iduna was doing the same with Anna a few rooms away. Though Anna had not yet woken, she was breathing easier, and her skin was once again flushed with warmth. The only lasting effect of the incident seemed to be a strange streak of white in her auburn hair. Something she would likely keep, the trolls said. But it was not dangerous.
She would be okay.
This time.
“Just try to get some sleep,” I said. “We can talk more in the morning. Form a plan.”
“Will Anna be okay?” Elsa whimpered.
“She will,” I assured her. “And you will be, too.” I forced the words past the lump in my throat, hoping that if I said them with enough conviction, I could convince myself of their truth, too.
Her face crumpled. “I wish I never had magic!”
I stroked her forehead. “I know,” I told her gently. “Unfortunately, we can’t simply wish away who we are. But, sweetheart, you are not alone in this. We will work together, as a family, to help get your power under control. Whatever it takes. You are strong. You are a princess of Arendelle, after all.”
She nodded her little head resolutely. I rose to my feet and started toward the door.
“Papa!” she called out after me.
I stopped. “Yes, Elsa?”
“Please! I don’t want to be alone!”
For a moment, I just stood there, not sure what to do. Then a sudden thought struck me. I turned to my daughter. “Hang on,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I left her room and raced down the hall to my chambers. I reached to the back of the wardrobe and pulled out a wooden chest. After opening it, I reached in and unwrapped the small object I’d placed on top.
Then I returned to Elsa’s room.
“Hello!” I said, making my voice as silly as possible. “Allow me to introduce myself! I am Sir JörgenBjörgen. And I am a protector puffin!” I waved the little stuffed animal in front of me, as if it were waddling in her direction.
Elsa stared at the puffin. “Nice to meet you…JörgenBjörgen?” she said, her voice still no more than a whisper. But I could see the childish interest piqued in her wide blue eyes and it gave me hope.
“That’s Sir JörgenBjörgen to you, madam!” I corrected haughtily. “I am a royal member of the Arendelle guard. Once I was tasked to keep your father safe. But now, I have been reassigned to you! Which I’m very excited about, because I love ice,” I added.
I tossed the puffin in her direction. She caught it in her arms and cuddled it to her chest. “Thank you, Sir JörgenBjörgen,” she said softly, stroking his fur. “Now I don’t have to be alone.”
I crept toward the doorway. “Try to get some
sleep,” I said again. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”
I closed the door gently behind me, finding Iduna standing in the hallway. She gave me a sad smile. “That was a good idea,” she said. “Giving her your stuffed animal.”
“Sir JörgenBjörgen got me through some tough times,” I admitted. “Hopefully he can help Elsa, too.”
Iduna’s shoulders slumped. With the adrenaline of the evening fading, exhaustion was setting in. I pulled her into my arms and held her close. I could feel her heartbeat against my chest as she snuggled into the crook of my shoulder.
“Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” she whispered. “Separating them like this? I mean, they’re sisters! They’re so close.”
“Which is part of the problem,” I said. “From what we’ve seen, joy seems to bring out Elsa’s powers as much as fear. Which makes it dangerous for us to keep them together. At least for right now.” I shuddered, thinking back to Anna’s pale face. Her little body, so cold. If we had lost her…
I felt Iduna’s reluctant nod. It wasn’t what she wanted, but she knew it was for the best.
“It won’t be forever,” I said, trying to soothe her. “I’ll work with Elsa every day. We’ll figure out a way for her to control her power. Once she does, there will no longer be any reason to keep them apart.”
Iduna pulled away from my embrace, meeting my eyes with her own. “And Arendelle? Did you mean what you said to Grand Pabbie about closing the gates? Shutting the people out, too?”
I flinched at the note of accusation I heard in her voice. But I had to do what was best for Elsa, what would keep her safe. “Just temporarily,” I assured her. “To protect Elsa. You know how the people of Arendelle react to magic. If they learned what her magic did to Anna, they’d think her a monster. They’d never allow her to become queen. We can’t let that happen. We must protect Elsa and her right to the throne. Unless you can think of any other way…”
She hung her head. I knew she didn’t like it, but she also saw no alternative. We needed to protect our family. Our girls.