”I suppose it is the perks of being grandparents,” he said, the word a little foreign to his tongue, but welcomed all the same, clearly it did in his twinkling eyes, “though I have heard from Anna that such antics are not so common.”
And if his daughter asked to watch over the boy for some nights, the man would most likely not be able to say no.
”…So I suppose Karl has already taken such words to heart,” he murmured, watching Idun’s close her eyes again, unable to help himself, bringing his calloused fingers through her locks of hair.
"It’ll come,“ she said, her words ending with a pleasant hum as he played with her hair. "Remember how long it took Elsa to find her vocal chords again? And then she did, and she could scream right along with all the rest of them.”
But she was quick to settle down again. The nurses said it was amazing how fast she was sleeping through the night, looking as innocent as a little angel. Karl was similar–a pleasant baby to be around, sweet. The perfect little prince.
"He looks so much like Anna, it’s unbelievable,“ she continued, bringing herself back from the past and into the present.
The man was glad his wife left it at that. He would think about it, indeed. But eventually his worries would outweigh everything, and Idun’s prediction would be correct.
At the next question, the man gave a tired sigh, leaning back a little. “The ones I thought would fight it didn’t, and the ones who I thought would understand protested,” he muttered, finding that the Foreign Affairs Minister was surprisingly agreeable to such plans. Was he looking for less work? The man couldn’t be sure. “It’s been tense each meeting, if I am to be honest.”
Never did Agdar think he’d have to make such decisions; ones unpopular and sacrificial. But if he had to shut the world out to keep his children safe, he would do it.
Well, it wasn’t exactly surprising that the council wasn’t in favour of her husband’s recent decisions. It would make them unpopular with their trading partners, it had lost them most of their staff. The King wasn’t exactly in their people’s good books. And his fear of them on Elsa’s behalf wasn’t helping matters either.
"I’m sure things will work out in the end,“ she murmured. "In the best way for all involved.”
She only hoped that it would be sooner rather than later. For all their sakes. And then all of these ridiculous decisions could be over turned, and their children could be happy again.
"I don’t like arguing with you,“ she continued. It hadn’t been a true argument, but it was the closest they had come for a long time. "But I won’t apologise for thinking of our children in the here and now.”
A small, small blessing. That his last vision could be Idun, just Idun. Her voice, her eyes, her lips, her words.
”Elsker deg også,” were his words, sounding strained, each word coming out with so much effort, “Jeg er din for evig.”
The world was growing darker, the woman before him blurring. Forever seemed so short. He could only hope that the Lord could forgive him for leaving his family so soon.
”Now, go,” he whispered, his voice quiet. So, so, quiet.
"I’ll keep them safe,“ she promised. "I’ll keep our children safe. I promise you.”
Even as the tears blinded her, she pulled her hand from his. It had been dangerous to remain there, and now with a flash of blind panic, she realised that she had left her babies alone all this time.
"I’ll keep them safe,“ she repeated, running from the room–off to find her children, her babies she would have to protect. The ones she would have to explain to why Papa wasn’t coming with them to the safe house theyhad in the mountains.
”I cannot argue such a thing, ” the man conceded, marvelling at how natural their holds and kisses were, as if they had never left each others’ arms in the first thing, “And the day has already started differently. Why, the sun is up before we are.”
For most of his adult life, the man got up in the wee hours of the morning, when the stars still twinkled and the twilight kissed the horizon. He often talked of those mornings with humour, claiming he was in tune with the Norwegian’s true farming spirit.
"I’ve gotten quite used to such a thing,“ Idun murmured, wriggling further down in the blankets. "I love our grandson dearly, but I am glad that we are far away enough from the nursery to escape his night time antics.”
When their own were born, Idun had insisted on having them in the room with them, wanting to keep watch over them personally. But now little Karl was Anna’s responsibility, and the old Queen was quite happy to leave it to her.
"Besides, sleeping well does the soul good,“ she continued, eyes falling closed. She wasn’t about to sleep again, but was still in the comfortable state of having just woken up.
His wife had a point. A child like Anna needed attention, a companion to chatter with and ask questions and mingle. And the man knew of what came with loneliness. He knew very well.
And yet he worried. He worried that with another child came more people to bring into the castle, more eyes and ears in the walls.
”I will think about it,” he murmured at last, finally bringing his wine back to his lips, other hand around Idun’s shoulders, “You are right that she needs companionship.”
It was a problem that needed to be addressed indeed. One of many.
And Idun supposed that was the best she could ask for. For him to ‘think about it’. It was like the response they gave their children–normally it meant no. Idun could guess that that would be his conclusion as well.
It used to be easy to keep her children company. Not that they had needed it when they had each other. But now? Now when she spent time with one, they worried about the other being lonely. Anna would practically drag her to Elsa’s room to make her spend time with the elder princess. Elsa would convince her that she wanted to be alone, forlornly playing with the toys she had taken with her, or curled up with a book, a pinch between her eyebrows.
There was Gerda, of course, who could step in from time to time, and governesses ready and waiting. But neither of their girls had ever really bonded with the governesses, and Gerda had other duties. A sigh very nearly left her.
"How are the council taking the changes?“ she murmured quietly, eyes transfixed on the flames in the grate.
There were tears pooling in his eyes, but the man couldn’t allow for weakness, not even those moments, when his strength had sapped, and his vision blurred. Not even when he could feel himself slipping.
No, he had to do what he could, even right there, bleeding on the floor.
”Idun,” he rasped, “Idun please, the children. I’m sorry—-” And a terrible cough, a gurgling wet cough forced itself out of the man, “They need you. I—I can’t——”
A trembling, numb hand made it’s way to his wife’s face. Everything was numb, and he felt like he was floating. “Love, you have to go.”
The cough of his just brought on harder sobs from his wife, even as she tried to keep them contained. She grasped that hand that reached her face with both hands, turning her face into it.
She didn’t want to leave him. He shouldn’t be just discarded here on the floor, he should have been in his bed, an old man, surrounded by a happy family. And yet, Idun knew he was right.
Their children, their precious princesses, they needed her now. No doubt they were terrified, and they needed their mother. She needed to keep them safe, and that instinct was firing up now, strong in her stomach.
Releasing his hand, she bent down to him once more, kissing him, before resting her forehead on his.
"Jeg elsker deg,“ she murmured, again and again, until the words no longer sounded like any language in the world.
He could feel the blood gurgling up from his throat. The burn of the wound, the sting as his wife was pressing a cloth against it, trying to make it stop. But he knew, and she knew despite her words, that there wasn’t much time for him at all.
”L-listen to me, love. You have to go, you have to go and take—- take the children and run. Leave me here, I—-” and a terrible hiss left his bloody teeth, “—-I don’t—- have much time now. We don’t have much time.”
"No, no, sweetheart, don’t talk that way,“ she was saying, her voice as frantic as her movements. They always said to put pressure on the wound, and that was what she was doing. But her instinct was telling her to follow her husband’s instructions to save their children.
A choked sob left her lips as she lent down over him. Bent double, and covered in his blood.
"I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered, moving to cup his face, brush the stray hair away. “I can’t lose you, Agdar, I can’t. Please don’t leave me. I need you.”
Arm around her, the other under his head, staring at the windows and then at Idun, noting how the soft light fell beautifully around her.
“…Perhaps it was my dreams,” he spoke, voice as soft as the morning light around them, “or perhaps it was your face which I’ve woken up to.”
Goodness knows it was an image he would never take for granted again. And so the day was a time for renewal, of grasping the light he now had in his life once more.
A soft sigh left her at his words, and she curled herself even further into his hold. She had missed his embrace so. It had been hard sleeping in a bed alone after being so used to having him there.
"You are hopeless,“ she murmured back, a smile playing on her lips as she stretched up to kiss his jaw. "But I am glad to hear we can have a fresh start. We all need it. Especially you, my darling.”
All that guilt, all that fear. It could leave him now. Everything had worked out in the end–their daughter’s were happy now. And they could be too.
”…And as father it is my job as well,” he replied in turn, “But soon we shall have it so that the worry is of the normal sort; the worry in a time of no worries.”
The man was already in the midst of a balancing act—on the one hand, he was already becoming hyper-sensitive to the problems around them, the issues arising. But at the same time, he had to keep to the course. So the King was already putting a blind eye to certain issues, praying that in time they would fade in the results of his supposed ‘solutions’.
So he assured, and he listened, and he worked his hardest. And he prayed to the Lord that all would work well. That the effort and the hard decisions he had made that night would pay off enough for them to return to how it was before.
And it would seem the matter of their eldest daughter had been put to bed. But there was still Anna.
"Could we not find a playmate of some sort for Anna? It is perfectly normal in other royal houses,“ she said quietly, still pressed into his side. "I worry about her getting lonely. It’s not healthy for a child to be all alone." The way we’re allowing Elsa to be. "Just one other little girl allowed into the castle during the day?”
But from his worries, Idun could already guess how such a suggestion would go. Even she was starting to feel trapped within their own home, and it hadn’t even been that long. How could a five year old feel?
"It might help Elsa if her sister was not spending her days outside her door,“ she added.
"Indeed it is,“ Idun murmured, curling into his side. "But what’s brought this on?”