“Poor dear,” Smiling, Calanthe accepted the tiny princess, cradling the child in her arms. “Hello, little miss Anna,” She crooned, bouncing her gently. “Don’t worry, Idun. I see this all the time helping in the orphanage, doesn’t last long.”
“We managed to escape this with Elsa,” Idun murmured, bringing out a handkerchief to wipe at her daughter’s nose a little. There was something of those new parent jitters about the brunette, her eyes full of nothing but love for the little bundle in her sister-in-law’s arms. “Do you truly think it’ll be gone soon?”
“Take this one, won’t you, Calanthe?” Idun said with a smile, holding out the wriggling child in her arms. The other queen always seemed to manage to get little ones to calm. “I think the poor mite has a cold and can’t quite seem to get comfortable with me.”
And sleep she did, the medicine soon taking its effect, and with a long, shaky sort of sigh, she sunk in to the bedding.
The king came a beat or two of time later, a quiet worry about him, and a quiet anger stirring inside his stomach, an anger he managed to keep to himself, managed to not show.
He didn’t speak to his wife at first, only putting a hand over her shoulder once more. “How is she?” he murmured, just above a whisper, eyes stuck on his daughter, but hands firm for Idun.
The hand was welcomed, one of the Queen’s own rising to cover it. It wasn’t until that moment that she had noticed the chill in her own skin from the worry, but now she hoped that it wouldn’t have made Anna uncomfortable.
"The injuries were light, and she should be fine with some rest,“ she murmured, repeating what the doctor had said. Turning to face him, Idun looked up at her husband with worried eyes. "What do you think happened to her?”
With a deep grief on her face, the Princess stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to the foreign Prince’s cheek. When she relaxed back down onto her feet, Idun’s face lowered, her hand lifting to wipe at her eyes.
"Will they really not change their minds?“ she asked softly, eyes turning up to plead with him. "Can’t we try asking them again? I feel I shall never love another as I love you. I wish to marry you.”
”Very well, Your Majesty,” Dr. Pål replied with a bob of a nod, and a nurse was promptly sent to the other side of the bed. A syringe was filled and tapped, and the opiate was given, a drug that should soon ease the princess’ pain and mind.
The regret could be forgotten in dreamless sleep. Her mother’s hand could take away the loneliness for a while longer. But how long would it take her to search again?
As terrible as her ordeal had been, as much as it all hurt, Anna knew she would end up sneaking out again when she could.
”Sorry, Mama,” she whispered to her mother, that held hand squeezing a little, before her eyes closed, to try and sleep fast enough, to hope for fast acting relief, which she needed more than anything.
The squeeze of her hand was returned, the Queen getting a little closer still to brush hair away from Anna’s face. The drugs would soon take effect and then her daughter would sleep. Explanations and excuses could come later.
How could people have done such things to her child? Idun’s precious little one, her Anna, she had been treated brutally, that much was certain. And it took a lot not to let tears fall down her face.
"I know, darling,“ she whispered, standing to press a kiss to the Princess’s forehead. "I know. Just sleep now."
When the girl’s eyelids closed, she turned to a nurse to request her husband’s presence.
”Why can’t I find her, Mama?” she continued over whimpers and more tears trickling down bruised, dirty cheeks, “Why…. I just want to find her, Mama. I just…”
But there were no more words after that, just the odd tear falling down her cheek, and the grunts of pain and the tightening of grips on her mother’s hand whenever the doctor’s hand probed a bruise or when alcohol was poured on a cut..
And after all was said and done, Anna was left there to rest, the bandages tight, but in that sense relieving.
”Her injuries are light as far as we can tell, but we’ll have to wait and see. We’ll administer some morphine for now, so she can sleep,” the doctor murmured to the Queen in that time, “So if you want to ask her any questions, now would be the best time.”
Perhaps questions were for later, or perhaps there were urgent matters ahead of them. The doctor knew naught much except for what such matters had incurred upon the princess herself.
"She’s not out there to be found, love,“ Idun replied, tears of her own pooling in her eyes. It had been so hard for her to reach a point of saying that, but her heart needed it. Her heart needed to believe her eldest was gone, so that she could go on living. Even if in her deepest, darkest beliefs, she knew she would feel it if her child was dead. Wouldn’t she? She was her mother, she should know. "Hush now, sweetheart. Hush.”
As the injuries were assessed and cleaned, the Queen’s thoughts remained firmly on the daughter before her, the daughter who was real. The one she had seen grow up, who wasn’t an eternal eight year old. A part of her wondered if Anna’s obsession with finding her sister was their fault–they had concentrated for so long on finding Elsa, had that just rubbed off on their youngest?
"No, no, there are no questions right now,“ she answered, encasing Anna’s hand in both of her own. "It would be better for her to rest. Such matters can be handled later.”
Her mind took those words and drifted with them, a murky memory floating into her mind. Of a blonde braid flapping about in front of her, a hand which held hers as she was led on to wherever it was they were to go. She couldn’t even remember where, but that young girl’s words to her childish questions, she did.
‘Are we there yet?’
’Almost there, Anna! Almost!’
The doctors and the royals met and soon it was one group heading for the infirmary, and once in the infirmary it was the bed, and once on the bed the King was ushered out of the room while the nurses worked on removing her haggard pieces of clothing.
Anna’s mind was still with her sister, and it was those memories and the pain of being jostled about so that brought tears to her eyes. “I’m sorry, Elsa,” she mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
To think, all of this had been caused by a ribbon. A simple hair ribbon she had tied around her child’s braid that had come loose and tried to fly away. They had found that ribbon once the train had stopped, flapping above the railing, obviously what Elsa had been climbing up on there to reach. Idun still had it, tucked safely away in her jewellery box. She had kept it safe–yet she hated it. Hated herself for tying it in Elsa’s hair.
At least the Queen could stay. She could help with the removal of Anna’s ripped clothes, even through her misty eyes, she could be there. She could hold Anna’s hand as the doctors examine her, shush her when she heard those murmurings.
But, oh, those murmurings hurt.
"It wasn’t your fault, little one,“ she whispered back, running a hand over the top of Anna’s head. "It wasn’t your fault. Shhh now, Anna. It’s all right.”
