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Agnarr valiantly held off scratching the itch on his nose as Master Makela worked on the study for his official coronation portrait. It was remarkably hard work. The room was stuffy, his hands and arms were cramped from holding the Orb and Scepter of Aren for so long and his boots were pinching his feet as they swelled. He wondered again why he couldn’t just have a stand-in for this part. But it had been difficult to obtain Master Makela’s services and, as the Council had pointed out, this was going to be the official portrait that would define his reign for quite some time. And, as Henrik had been so kind to point out, when it came to imparting a sense of authority it would be a big improvement over the current official portrait that had been done when he was fourteen, floppy-haired, and his ears were still too big for his head. Thank you, Henrik.
Nonetheless, he had spent hours watching the light from the windows slowly move across the floor. He was starting to get hungry. He distinctly remembered being allowed to use the lavatory the last time he had sat for a portrait. And snacks. There had definitely been snacks. But any time he so much as shifted his weight, Master Makela made a hissing sound to indicate he should remain still. God, he wanted to yawn.
“Your Majesty?” Kai bowed his head as he stepped into the room. Agnarr dared to flick his eyes in the steward’s general direction. “Master Makela?”
“Yes?” The man was a demon. He didn’t even budge from his stool.
“Per His Majesty’s request, the kitchen staff prepared a special, private meal for this evening.”
“Banquet isn’t for another four hours, boy,” Makela spat. “His Majesty will be allowed to attend. I’ll be done with him then.”
Enough was enough. But as Agnarr opened his mouth, Kai smoothly walked over to the Master with an expensive looking bottle. “This is a special dinner for His Majesty and Lady Iduna before the banquet. The banquet to which you are, of course, invited. In the meantime, per your mention of elderflower cordial yesterday, I hope it is not too bold to offer you this.”
“Oh?” The painter grinned as he took the bottle. “No. Not too bold at all.” He waved a hand in Agnarr’s direction. “Your Majesty, I think we can stop for now. I’ll be in the back of the chapel taking sketches tomorrow. We can resume your sitting in a few days.”
“You’re a genius, Kai,” Agnarr said after the mercurial artist departed. “Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it, your Majesty,” Kai said as helped place the regalia delicately into its box. It would be kept with the guards until the ceremony tomorrow. “As requested, the dinner is already at the table. We have taken the liberty of stocking a small side bar, should you choose to partake. And, of course, the entire staff is under strict orders not to disturb you for one hour. We want to respect your privacy.”
“Excellent, Kai,” Agnarr smiled broadly.
“However, I should tell you, although I want to be clear that this was neither mine nor Gerda’s doing, that Lord Calder did order the staff to remove the chaise. Given that the wedding isn’t until September.” They shared a look that said a lot about meddling Ministers.
“Thank you, but that shouldn’t have any effect on the evening.” He tugged at his cuffs. “How do I look?”
“A little uncomfortable, but I imagine that standing still for four hours straight with that maniac would do that to a man, your Majesty,” Kai said with faint smile. “And might I hasten to say that if your intent is still to surprise Lady Iduna, you should probably go now. She’s heading down shortly.”
* * * *
This was ridiculous, Iduna sighed as she walked back along a corridor. She had been living in the castle for three months, but still found herself lost in the halls from time to time. Especially when she was trying to avoid the main thoroughfares when they were teeming with foreign dignitaries. She had known that there would be animosity when Agnarr announced their engagement, but the past few days of festivities had gotten to her. Women in fine dresses with soft voices who never stopped smiling thought they were talking circles around her. The Duke of Weselton had tried to ingratiate himself by complimenting her on ‘such fine manners for a commoner’ which she had been able to laugh off, but had made Agnarr bristle. And she still didn’t know what the delegate from Stralsund had said because everyone who had been present refused to tell her. But she had set Henrik’s broken finger and the delegate had two black eyes.
“It’s not worth repeating, Iddy,” he had told her as she wrapped the splint. And given what she had heard Henrik say both in sobriety and in his cups, that worried her. “Ag already knows you’re worth more than the rest of them. The Council loves you, my mother loves you – all of Arendelle loves you. And Ag loves you more than all the rest of us put together. That’s all that matters.” Henrik sounding so quietly sincere worried her more. Nonetheless, her plan to feign ignorance at subtle slights and rise above the obvious ones was working well enough. The Minister of Culture, Lady Wollen, had been an excellent ally in navigating the dangerous waters of international politics. And remarkably knowledgeable about which cut and style of dresses and gowns were both appropriate for an occasion and reasonably comfortable.
She passed a few more maids who curtsied and gave her a brief “My Lady”. That was a downside to living in the castle. Agnarr and the Council had insisted she take a room in the east wing – far enough for propriety’s sake, but close enough for security concerns. While she had courted Agnarr, the only change in her day-to-day life had been that a few people had been slightly more polite than before. Even Greet and Maddie had been – if not formal – than a touch more careful before saying things. It drove her a bit mad, but it hadn’t disrupted her life – she still worked at Mr. Visser’s Apothecary, she still went out to visit Eir once a month. But now, things had changed. She still saw Greet and Maddie, but hardly every day, and it was different from when the three of them had been on top of one another in the room at Fiske’s Boarding House. So many people called her “My Lady” that she half-thought she would forget her own name. And she couldn’t slip away into the woods whenever she wanted. She had to have an escort now. Eir wouldn’t even sit in her presence these days.
Still . . .he was never more than a few minutes away. And they were permitted to have breakfast together every morning before his duties took him away for most of the day. He had freshly cut flowers brought to her study every afternoon which, Gerda had told her with a sly smile, he always chose himself. And sometimes he would plan small things like this. Neither of them were really looking forward to the banquet – that largest Arendelle had hosted since King Runeard’s reign. He knew that she was a bit nervous about whether or not the etiquette lessons would hold. It was one thing to hold a meal for fellow Arendellians who were prone to sing, drink and dance - with about even-odds of there being a friendly snowball fight depending on the season. It was another affair entirely for a bunch of overseas stuffed shirts. Forks would be a matter of significance here.
So, of course, he would host a small meal for just the two of them. Iduna couldn’t help but smile at the thought and feel the warmth wash through her. They had been able to have several private meals over the past few months (a member of the staff always being present at their daily breakfast) and it was nice to have some time to speak plainly with one another. To joke as they always had and to not have to put on appearances. Once, they had even managed to hold hands for an entire six minutes before someone had just “happened” to burst through the door asking if they needed more water. It was only a pity that they had the banquet right after so she was already in a formal dress. And he was wearing his coronation outfit for the first time. He had worked with the Royal Tailor to create a modern uniform that he told her would represent Arendelle and everything that he loved about it. She had heard quite a bit from him about its shiny gold trim. Just this morning he had told her about his portrait sitting that must have ended by now. Soon enough, they would be sitting for the studies of their wedding portrait.
She grinned at that thought and played with her engagement ring as she walked. For such a long time she had believed that Agnarr had no interest in her beyond friendship. She almost wished she could go back to when she was fifteen and tell that girl how the story would end. It would have saved her and Agnarr quite a lot of trouble. And at least one painfully memorable hangover. The “Lutefisk Incident” probably would have happened regardless. She finally reached the sitting room that Gerda had told her had been prepared for their private meal. She knocked gently on the door and stepped inside.
Agnarr stood up as she entered, beaming at her. “Good evening.” She grinned at the gold tassels on his shoulders and how the piping gleamed against the rich, navy blue fabric. She drew closer, then gasped and felt the blood drain from her face. There, on the trim of the coat and collar, meticulously embroidered, was almost the exact pattern from her shawl. The one she had shown him when he proposed. She covered her mouth with her hand and blinked back the tears. Her fiancée looked uncertain. “Good tears or bad tears?”
“Good tears,” she managed to choke out before a few ran down her cheeks. She quickly closed the distance between them and buried her face in his chest. “Ouch,” she laughed, still crying. “You’ve got medals on.” She pressed against him on the other side. “You can’t wear this, Agnarr.”
“Of course I can,” he murmured as he rested his chin on the top of her head, embracing her fully. “I told you, Sunny,” he drew back to look at her. “I want my official uniform to represent everything I love about Arendelle. And I don’t love anything about Arendelle more than the fact that you’re here.” He sounded shy and far more like the gawky boy she had first met than the man he had become. Iduna sniffled and fanned her face with her hands.
“It isn’t safe to wear that.”
“Sunny, I’m the King. If I want to wear a traditional Scandinavian pattern instead of scarlet trim, no one will think twice about it, I promise you.” He caressed her cheek and she placed her palm atop his hand. “The Council already saw this – they had no idea it was Northuldra. They approved the design. And they approved the same design on the dresses you’ll wear after we marry.” He smiled as her eyes lit up. “You see? It’ll just be a part of our family’s colors. If you want to wear your shawl, no one will even notice because it will just be a part of the outfit. And when we have children, you can share it with them.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, pressing her lips against his. His moustache tickled her top lip as he met her mouth, his arms warm and solid around her back. I love you so much it makes my heart hurt, she thought fiercely and tried to tell him as much without using words.
* * * *
Although he would never admit it to anyone, Agnarr was relieved that the banquet had gone off without a hitch. The foreign dignitaries had come, had a meal, and managed not to insult anyone. He still had no idea what the delegate from Stralsund said to Henrik and everyone present seemed to have conveniently had a lapse in memory. Iduna was radiant and happy and hadn’t stopped smiling for the whole evening. He grinned at the thought. He liked it when he got it right.
He held on to that memory as he walked solemnly in the coronation procession to the chapel. It seemed like the whole of Arendelle had packed the courtyard and the streets outside the castle to cheer him on his way. The palace guards looked unusually grim today, but he supposed that they were also trying to bring some formality to this circus. He had been thinking a lot about his Father. His grandfather had lived to a reasonably old age. His father had been twenty-eight at the time of his coronation and taken the crown with Agnarr’s mother at his side. He had thought about asking Iduna to marry him before the Coronation, but he hadn’t wanted her to feel rushed and the Council had advised waiting.
“Let them meet her,” Captain Calder had cautioned him. “Ultimately, the decision who you court and marry is yours, but there is still some ill-will over it. Iduna is a remarkable young woman and she is loved here, but other countries have hang-ups over ‘noble’ and ‘common’ blood.”
“Hence the inbreeding,” Lady Wollen had shocked all of them that day with that comment. “But Captain Calder is right. Let them meet her and they will realize she will be a good Queen for Arendelle. A few might still harbor the illusion that the match cost them favored trading status, but the fact of the matter is that everyone is making too much money right now to do more than grouse a bit. Let them come and honor you at the coronation. Then let them return home to think, to calm down, and to return in a few months to honor you both at your wedding. And to honor you both properly.” And so Agnarr had deferred to them on this one thing. Besides, as Iduna had pointed out somewhat wistfully, their wedding would take place at the same time of the year they had met. Even if she was the only one who could entirely recall it. It would work.
As he mounted the chapel steps and walked into the nave, the assembled dignitaries respectfully rose to their feet. He walked towards the altar and saw Iduna beaming at him from the front pew. Elias and his fiancé next to her, grinning broadly. Henrik across the aisle mouthing something to him which Agnarr assumed was obscene and meant to make him laugh. He fixed his gaze on Bishop Jensen as the choir broke into song. The ceremony was mercifully short as he had to stand the entire time and was still a bit stiff from Master Makela’s session the day before. Bishop Jensen gave a sermon about how God had blessed this young monarch who came into his reign through such tragedy, but already restored Arendelle as a trade power to be reckoned with and a peaceful and prosperous people. The choir sang again. Agnarr bowed his head and felt the weight of the crown. The Bishop placed the Orb and Scepter of Aren before him. He picked them up and turned to face those watching from the pews.
He remembered Lt. Mattias telling him years ago to never lock his knees while standing. “It’s a sure way to wind up on the ground,” he had warned him. “New troops do it all the time in parade.” He took a deep breath and focused on feeling his muscles relax. He had confessed to Iduna during their private meal that he was nervous. But he wasn’t certain why. He had been king for seven years already. A coronation didn’t change anything.
“Oh, love,” she had laughed and traced his moustache with her finger. “It’s because you’re not going to have the excuse of being a boy king anymore.”
“A boy? I haven’t been a boy in years.” He placed a hand on his heart in mock hurt.
“You know what I mean,” her eyes twinkled. “It’s one thing to be an adolescent monarch and ride your velocipede into the wharf or put on woad without realizing it lasts for a month or-“
“The Lutefisk Incident?”
“Exactly,” she giggled. “But they’ll judge you as a man now.”
“I guess founding a school is more impressive when you’re still practically a school boy yourself.”
“Agnarr,” she looked at him in such a way that he felt his heart skip a beat. “You are an amazing King.” She reached out and gently ran her hand down the embroidery of his jacket. “You are a thoughtful ruler. And a good man.” She took his hand and squeezed it. “The best I know.”
“King Agnarr of Arendelle!” Bishop Jensen’s shout broke through Agnarr’s reminiscing. He raised the Orb and Scepter high, turned slowly, and placed them delicately onto their pillow.
“King Agnarr of Arendelle!” The audience echoed. He turned to face his people, but had eyes only for one person who was shining at him like the sun. He wouldn’t let her down.