Ah, the first of the children to wake them up that morning. Wrapping her arms around the small form of their ward, Idun pressed a sleepy kiss to his temple, and sat up. Agdar was still asleep beside her, she could still hear his quiet snores–no doubt the girls would get to him soon enough. But the Queen’s concentration was on Quasimodo.

   "God Jul, darling,“ she murmured, giving him a squeeze. "My, I think you’re up even earlier than last year.”

   Sitting back on her behind, Idun glanced up at the stranger scrunching her skirts up in small fists. It was a habit her mother had tried to break her of, said it was ruining her dresses by crumpling them, but she still did it. Small and curled up, there was a fear in her eyes, an anxiety.

   "Wanna go home,“ she mumbled, looking down at the flowers sewn into the hem of her outer skirt. "Want my Mama.”

   The child glanced around the unfamiliar surroundings, forgetting quite how she got there. Normally a confident thing, she felt her stomach twist up and her bottom lip slid between her teeth.

   "Mama?“ she called, hoping to get a response. "Papa? Clara?”

   No one answered.

   Soon enough her feet were carrying her from the room, hoping the outside would have more clues as to where she was. This place was obviously a castle, but it was dark, not like her home. She didn’t run into anyone either–what if she’d just been abandoned there? What if her parents didn’t find her?

   Almost about to lose all hope, she spotted a lady at the end of the corridor. She knew she must be a lady, because she had gloves on, and wore a pretty dress. Maybe she was a Princess, like her, or a Queen like her Mama.

   "‘Scuse me,“ she said quietly, approaching her. "I’m lost. Can you help?”

   It was shouts up on deck that had awoken the Queen. The rocking of the ship had been especially rough that evening, leaving her to retire to try and sleep through it. But now she was growing more and more concerned, especially when her eyes fluttered open to find her husband gone. His side of the bed was quickly cooling, empty. 

   His time in the navy was known by all, and she wondered if he had simply gone on up for a peaceful purpose–or to help. Eyes full of worry, she threw on some clothes, and tried to make her way up the steep steps, hand gripping the rope handrail tightly. So tightly that her knuckles turned white, and a few cries left her as she nearly slipped. 

   Rain lashed down upon her before she even made it out, the wind whipping her hair this way, and that, throwing her thin frame around as the men tried to avoid her. It was easy enough to find Agdar, even with his bright hair darkened by the water. Waves crashed against the hull as she grabbed his hand. It was freezing. 

   That had been half an hour ago. Now they were huddled together, the mast already gone down to the depths below. A tremble had entered her from the cold and the wet (and the fear, but she’d never admit it), but still she clung on to him. Because there was nothing else to be done. Hope was quickly dwindling, and his words just brought out a choked sob as she hid her face in his chest. At least–at least they had each other.

   "We’re never going to see them again, are we?“ Idun asked, her voice almost stolen by the power of the weather outside. Her children, her precious children, she’d never see them again. Never give Elsa that one last hug. Never braid Anna’s hair again, or sew with her. 

   There was a voice talking to her. It sounded like she was underwater, or coming out of a deep sleep. Idun would much rather stay in the blackness–just floating there. But there was something important, something she should remember. The voice, it belonged to someone important. 

   "E–Elias?“ she murmured, eyes fluttering open after struggling for a few minutes. Her voice was raspy and quiet, but her hand reached for his, wanting to give her child comfort no matter what. Even if she knew he wouldn’t take it. "Don’t worry, darling, I’m here.”

   "Sweetheart,“ Idun began, reaching out for her daughter. But she thought better of it, and folded her hands before her, a deep sigh leaving her lungs. "Anna. Please understand. This is Elsa’s secret to share, not mine. I–I wish I could tell you. I wish I could.”

   "Indeed it is,“ Idun murmured, curling into his side. "But what’s brought this on?”