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?”
”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.”
It was uncertain which would win first—the pains starting to seep in after adrenaline finished its course, or the tiredness which followed after it as well. Her mother told her to rest, to worry not about words of apologies, nor confessions. What a blessing that mercy was, but Anna knew it was one which couldn’t last forever. At one point she would have to wake from her rest, and speak of her transgressions, whether Mama and Papa asked her or not. Would Papa restrict her further within the castle walls? Would an escorted trip outside to the market be forbidden now? Anna hated to think of what was to come, and that was why she tried to fall into slumber instead of worrying, despite the growing aches and stings which were making themselves known to her only now that she was in safe arms. Her expression reflected it, brow scrunching up and small grunts leaving her throat on occasion. The hospital wing’s staff would already be waiting for them by the time they came ‘round the corner. Anna’s thoughts were to memories—of when her sister would accompany her for a scraped knee, or she would go with Elsa. The two never went inside without one another if they could help it.
While her husband carried their child back towards the castle, Idun remained close by, worry practically radiating from her like a wave. Every door was opened for them before they even had to ask, and for that she was thankful. The staff were efficient, at least. There could be small miracles.
Every inch of the building ultimately held echoes of their lost little girl for the Queen, and in those first few weeks, she had half expected Elsa to jump out and announce she had been playing a game the whole time, and how could they have thought she was gone? But she was gone, and had been for some years, and deep down Idun found it hard to even imagine she was still alive. Such a fall… she didn’t know if it was easier to imagine her child in heaven or someone on Earth, waiting to be found. But were she alive, she would have returned, surely? She would have told someone who she was, where she came from, and Anna would have had no need to be out looking for her.
Who could do such things to a young girl? It was obvious whoever had held Anna in the past few days they had not been kind, and from the looks of her, money would have been demanded for her return. And the King and Queen would have paid it, they would have done whatever it took to get their little girl home.
"Almost there now, love,“ she murmured as they rounded the corner.
“I’ll take her, don’t worry,” he murmured, those eyes focusing only on Anna as he bent down to grab under her knees and around her shoulders, “there we go, nice and easy.”
Once her Papa had her in her arms, Anna’s head lolled into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, and Agdar’s arms curled around her in that protective manner of his—but the damage was already done, wasn’t it?
”…I’m sorry, Papa,” she muttered again, the guilt starting to eat at her some more. What if she hadn’t escaped? Hadn’t managed to loosen the ropes and climb out that window? There were so many signs, ones that told her that the men who she had been talking to weren’t of the type she should really mess with—but in her desperation, she’d ignored them, anxious to find her sister after so many years of failure.
She had almost hurt her parents, had almost left them another reason to grieve.
Agdar tightened his hold on her. “——You’re home, Anna, that’s what matters.” His daughter’s condition worried him so, but she was alive, and she was in his arms.
Even when Anna was safe in her father’s arms, Idun remained close by, hovering at his shoulder.
"Don’t speak now, love,“ she murmured, brushing aside some of Anna’s hair, and nearly breaking down at the sight of more bruises. But she couldn’t, their daughter needed both her parents in such a moment. "Don’t speak, just rest. We’ve got you now.”
No doubt those nightmares of her girls’ gone would haunt the Queen again. Even with Anna home, she knew they would. Perhaps if she sat with Anna for a while, her mind would calm a little. No matter what, the redhead would have her Mama with her while she recovered. Idun could only pray that Anna needed cleaning up, some bandages and sleep. And perhaps now she would stop these silly expeditions to find a girl long gone.
”Mama…” she murmured, eyes closed and head slumped against Idun’s chest. It was a call of relief, a call to respond to her mother. A word she was glad was manifested there, in the arms that held her, in the voice that worked to soothe.
She surely wasn’t a pretty sight, then. Her braids half undone and tangled, her clothes dirty and with a couple tears. But the bruises and the scratches and shallow cuts. Knuckles, red and scraped. It looked as if she had fought off a bear. But it was no animal that she had escaped from, no. It was some of their own people.
One of the guards had been about to move to aid in getting the princess inside, but stopped when a hand fell on his shoulder. When it turned out to be His Majesty’s hand, the young guard fell back, and let Agdar move forward, wide eyes looking over the sight of his daughter, and large hands gently resting on his girls’ backs in quiet, barely composed, company.
When that hand came to her back, Idun didn’t even have to look up to know exactly who it belonged to. She had felt that hand there too many a time to mistake it for anyone’s but her husband’s.
"Shhh, my love, I’m here,“ she soothed, running a hand over Anna’s messy hair, all her injuries pointing to but one conclusion: she had almost lost her remaining child as well. No part of her wanted to even think such a thing, think that she may have had to add another stone to that corner of the garden, and tears welled again in her eyes as a tremble entered her body as she only held Anna tighter.
"Agdar, help me get her inside,” she whispered in a strangled way, turning her face to look up at him. His eyes bore all the sadness of her own, but he had always been better at hiding it than she had. The better composed of them both.
A silent yawn, and a further snuggling up, nice and close. That and a little, “Yeah” was how Anna replied to her mother’s words. Whether or not she actually wanted a nap was moot point, since she was already halfway there.
Perhaps she would dream of Elsa, and then wake up to tell her about them. That had happened before, and it would happen again. They would be silly dreams, and she could get Elsa to giggle at them, and it would be a merry time.
Realising from the way her daughter was snuggling close that there would be no putting her down at this point, Idun settled her back against the headboard, bringing a blanket up and over Anna’s little form.
It was true, there had been some tears that morning, but Anna was well on her way to recovery now. They were tears of a tantrum, not of pain and frustration, and Idun was glad of it. The Queen never thought she’d see the day when she was glad of a tantrum from her youngest.
Her mother’s hold was so tight that it hurt, it knocked the breath out of her, but it didn’t matter. She needed that embrace more than she had even cared to admit, to have someone who loved and cherished her, rather than the blows of a malicious stranger.
”I’m sorry, Mama,” she murmured, sounding dazed and tired, but so happy to be home, “I’m sorry,”
She drank it all in, the kisses, the love, the worry in her voice. It was all relief.
She let Idun support both their weights, leaning heavily into her. She couldn’t help it; she was fatigued and her legs had ran on adrenaline for a good long while.
But the relief she felt was tinged with the drapery of failure, of a sister that was still lost to her. She had tried so hard, and yet once again came up empty-handed.
"Oh, my precious girl, my Anna,“ she continued to murmur, tripping over the words in her haste. Idun didn’t even care the reason her child had been out. The hardest decision in her life–to stop the hunt for Elsa–had come and gone, hearing about it again could do little.
Holding up her daughter didn’t bother her too much, but the weakness in her child’s body worried her greatly. And it was then she truly took in the extent of Anna’s injuries, Bruises marring her skin, and she’s probably had little to eat. Idun’s face was one of horrified shock, and she knew Agdar would be out for blood when he saw such a thing.
"Hush now, my little one, hush,” she murmured, continuing to hold Anna in her arms. Once her husband was there, they could carry her in together, but until then, they could wait.
”I want it to be after lunch already,” she murmured, eyes shutting as she made herself comfortable in her mother’s hold, ” ‘wanna see Elsa.”
It was her most favourite thing of the day, Elsa’s visit. There’d always be a story, or something new from Elsa’s day that she’d hear about, and always lots of reason to laugh and giggle. She especially liked it when they made tiny versions of snowmen or other such creatures. It was a sure fire way to entertain the child, that was for certain.
"Well, if you have a little sleep, lunch will come and go much faster,“ Idun murmured, continuing her pat at Anna’s side. "And then Elsa will come, and you’ll have a grand time, won’t you?”
The joy on her children’s faces during their visits made every tantrum, every upset worth it. While Elsa was not as optimistic as her little sister, there was no one better to cheer the younger girl up, the blonde knowing every little trick to get a smile out of Anna. And after so long spent away from her eldest, Idun enjoyed the visits as well.
It was uncertain which would win first—the pains starting to seep in after adrenaline finished its course, or the tiredness which followed after it as well.
