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“Why is Henrik here?” Agnarr asked Elias for the third time in as many minutes.
“Ouch, Ag, you’re going to wound my fragile feelings,” Henrik chuckled as he poured another double glass of brandy and handed it to the already unsteady King. “Iddy asked for Elias and I to keep an eye on your while she performs her duty as the Queen. Her most important duty, some might say.“
“Don’t you talk about my wife like that, you sonofa-“ His words and threatening step towards Henrik were both cut short by Elias’ sharp, firm grasp on his arm as he pulled him back into a richly upholstered chair.
“And even if I wanted to leave,” Henrik continued, unperturbed. “That blizzard out there is raging. Although, frankly, I am far less afraid of dying from exposure than facing Iddy’s wrath if we don’t take care of you.”
“Listen, Agnarr, both Iduna and Midwife Jora thought it would be a good idea for us to keep you occupied.” Elias soothed in a placating tone. “Remember? We had discussed playing chess and darts. Although darts is probably out of the question,” he clucked his tongue as he watched Agnarr grumpily take the glass from Henrik, sloshing most of the contents on the floor. It was probably for the best. Henrik frowned and glanced at him, motioning for Elias to follow as they took a few steps away from their friend.
“Do you think we should have given him all that wine and told him it was Lingonberry juice?” Henrik whispered. “Iduna is going to murder us both if he’s too drunk to see her and the baby.”
“It was her idea to do this,” Elias whispered back, helplessly. “And you saw how he got when that idiot servant started yelling for water and towels. I thought he was going to take the both of us and the door down before he realized it wasn’t her!”
“Have you ever seen him so besides himself?”
“No – not exactly,” Elias shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve only seen him this drunk once before. Drunker, I suppose. When Iddy turned him down that one time.”
Henrik sighed. “How long did it take Thea with your daughter?”
“An entire night and the better part of the whole day,” he sighed. “It’s only been a few hours. The first time is usually the longest, that’s my understanding. Let’s just start giving him water.”
“What are you two talking about?” Agnarr was suddenly next to them, swaying slightly on his feet. Elias guided him back to the chair as Henrik draped himself over a chaise.
“We’re just talking about what a champion Iddy must be, Ag. Tiny girl like her giving birth to the baby of a fellow your size.” Agnarr’s head snapped towards Henrik and Elias made a slashing motion across his throat. Henrik, eyes widening, sat up and raised a hand. “I mean-“
“My mother was a woman of small stature, Sundberg. And she died giving birth to me. And my grandmother died giving birth to my father. Are you telling me I’ve killed her?”
“What? No! Agnarr, I’m sorry I-“
“I feel like I have,” he said miserably, slumping in his chair. “I should have thought of it, you know? The size difference.”
“Ag, for God’s sake, man,” Henrik rubbed his face. “I didn’t mean it like that. Look, women have children all the time and-“
“Agnarr,” Elias handed him a glass of water. “Drink that. Iduna was selling her remedies to half the midwives in Arendelle from the time she was sixteen. And she still chose to marry you. I’m certain she knew the risks. Besides, she was so excited when you both told us that you were expecting.” He forced a grin. “She’s probably the only person more invested in you having heirs than the Council.”
“She did say her mother had four easy births,” Agnarr muttered before taking a long swig. Henrik and Elias glanced at one another. All they knew of Iduna’s life before she had arrived in Arendelle was that she had survived to the age of fourteen to make it to Arendelle. And that someone had probably taught her herbal medicine. She never spoke of it and they both knew better than to ask. A moment passed during which they both innately understood and agreed that this was not something that either of them were going to speak of ever again.
“Um, lucky for Iddy that, ah-“ Henrik cast about for something that wouldn’t alarm his friend. His eyes fell on the window panes that were covered in a thick frost. “That she’s giving birth this time of year. My mother had me mid-July and she said the summer heat was something terrible at the end.”
“Thea said the same,” Elias agreed. “She was very irritable towards the end.”
“Sunny was upset she couldn’t buckle her shoes,” Agnarr said with a faint smile, his gaze resting on the crackling fire. Henrik suppressed a smile. Sunny? This was certainly a day of revelations. Any other time and he would never let that slide. “I’ve been doing them for her.”
“That’s sweet of you,” Elias chuckled. He smiled fondly. “Father did that for mother with Linnea, come to think of it. And Thea couldn’t even fit into her shoes that last month. Her feet were so swollen. I think we men definitely get the better of the bargain when it comes to child bearing.” He smiled, thinking of his daughter. “It’s really grand to have a new baby. There’s nothing like it.”
“Speaking of a new baby, what kind of festivities do you have planned for the people, Your Majesty?” Henrik raised an eyebrow. “Might take a few days for the snow to melt, but surely you’ll do something.”
“Of course,” Agnarr snorted. He nodded at Elias. “Your father must have mentioned it to you. We’ll have a proper mid-winter festival. For a whole week. We had hunters going out almost every day in autumn. Plenty of game for everyone. Plenty of beer and spirits.” He grinned. “We’ll even fire off the canon and blow the bukkehorn. And there’s lots of little gifts for babies and young children throughout the kingdom. And Iduna made a big donation to the orphanage already. Everything she had made for the baby, she had another three made so that the orphanage would be well supplied for winter arrivals.”
“And if it’s a girl?” Henrik asked. Agnarr waved a hand.
“Same celebration for a boy or a girl,” he rolled his eyes. “Victoria has been doing a marvelous job in England. Times are changing. Not that I wouldn’t welcome a son. I loved my father and hope to be half the man and parent he was, but the most important thing is a healthy baby and that Iduna recovers quickly and safely.” His eyes misted and gave a half-grin. “Besides. If it’s a girl – she’d be the first for three generations.”
“Iddy would love that,” Henrik said thoughtfully. “She’s going to make a great mother.”
“She’s been so excited,” Agnarr moved to lie down on the chaise. He closed his eyes and draped an arm over his eyes. Elias and Henrik exchanged a meaningful glance. With any luck, their friend would pass out and not wake again until he was summoned to see his firstborn. “More excited than sad, I think. I know she’s been missing her mother terribly, but she’s scarcely mentioned it.” he mumbled. “I wish she would talk to me more about it.”
After an uncomfortable beat in which Henrik drained his glass, Elias spoke. “Oh, well, you know how emotional women can get when they’re expecting,” he said awkwardly. “Thea started sobbing uncontrollably when my mother gave her a pair of socks for the baby. When I asked why, she told me they were just so ‘teeny and precious’.” Agnarr grunted. “And I’m sure having Midwife Jora in residence the last few months has been a comfort.”
“I suppose,” Agnarr yawned. “But she’s been cold, Elias, so cold. It’s the strangest thing.”
“She’s carrying a baby, Ag,” Henrik snorted. “I can’t imagine that makes for an amorous mood.”
“Not like that, you depraved idiot,” Agnarr sighed, his arm still over his eyes. “I mean she’s felt cold. Physically. As in her temperature. Even Midwife Jora said it’s a little odd, but that Iduna seems far too healthy for it to be a harbinger of illness. Maybe the season has been a bit harsher than usual, but I’ve hardly slept for stoking the fire throughout the night. And even with several quilts on the bed, I’ve been sleeping in three layers and a coat.”
“Sounds like the gentlemanly thing to do,” Henrik said. He glanced at Elias and mouthed ‘Help me’. This was one area of womanhood that his particular area of expertise did not readily lend itself. His energies had been spent avoiding this exact scenario, much to his mother’s dismay.
“Thea itched throughout her pregnancy with Sasha,” Elias shrugged. “She couldn’t stand the scent of crocuses either. Of all things! Crocuses. Said it made her feel very unpatriotic. But as soon as Sasha was out, the itching stopped and crocuses didn’t bother her any longer.” Agnarr mumbled something that was unintelligible and began to softly snore.
“Oh, thank God,” Henrik relaxed into his chair. “What did you do when Thea was giving birth?
“Father sat with me and we drank a lot of wine,” Elias grinned. “Not this much, but enough. And Agnarr stopped by for cigars. But I took father’s advice to stay out of earshot of the screams. He always said he regretted listening to mother when he couldn’t do anything to ease her suffering.”
“Iddy’s strong and healthy,” Henrik said, trying to convince himself. He had spent his childhood with his mother telling him how much pain he had caused her and how her health had never truly recovered. But that he was worth it. Usually. He didn’t like to think of Iddy suffering. And Ag was as good a friend as a man could have. They both deserved for this to be quick, to be easy, and to be over.
“She won’t leave him,” Elias shrugged uncomfortably. There had always been tales in Arendelle, his father had said, of curses surrounding the royal family. “Or the baby. And Father had a small part in ensuring that Jora was here the entire time. She’s been keeping a close eye on Iduna.”
“Still, I can’t imagine how scared Agnarr must be.”
“Hence Iduna asking us to get the man drunk. She told me the last thing she needed was him breaking the door off the hinges while she was trying to push.” He sighed. “Pity that they wouldn’t allow for Greet or Maddie to be with her. At least Gerda is there.” He stood, walked to the sidebar, and helped himself a generous measure of brandy. It was going to be a long night.
* * * * *
Agnarr could hear the wind moaning against the window panes as he struggled back into consciousness. He hadn’t thought he had that much to drink. He managed to force his eyes open and sit up, his tongue like glue in his mouth. Elias and Henrik had curled up into chairs and were slumbering peacefully. He walked carefully to the pitcher of water and managed to pour a large glass without spilling. He gulped it down. The light streaming through was an eerie golden gray and he wondered if it was dawn on the other side of the blizzard. The wind howled again, but over the primal sound of the elements raging against the side of the castle, Agnarr could just make out the raw scream of his wife.
For a moment, he felt the bottom dropping out of his world and then he was staggering through the dim light of the room, grasping for the door knob and out into the hall. Entirely oblivious to the way the snow had suddenly stopped. As he made his way towards down the impossibly long corridor to the birthing room, he could see several maids scurrying past in their aprons, carrying armfuls of towels and sheets. The crisp whiteness of the cloth a bright contrast to the bright red of the sodden bloodstains. He felt his body go numb as he stared in horror, but the women bustled right past him, determined in their task and blind to the meddling of men.
“Your Majesty!” He turned to see Gerda, gaping at him in her own blood splattered apron. “You’re supposed to be waiting with Master Elias and Master Henrik!” She wagged a finger at him. “Her Majesty was very clear about that!” He could feel his mouth working, but he was unable to summon his power of speech. It was silent now. There were no more screams or cries or sounds of any kind. Gerda frowned at him. “Your Majesty?”
“She’s dead,” he choked. “Isn’t she?”
“Dead? What? No!” Gerda glanced down at her apron, huffed and started to remove it. “You see? This is why men don’t belong anywhere near the birthing room. The Queen is fine. The baby just came not two minutes ago. We’re cleaning up.” She held her apron behind her back. “It’s perfectly normal for there to be a great deal of blood when the time comes. But that doesn’t mean that you need to see all of that. I know for a fact that she doesn’t want you to see it.” Gerda gave him a meaningful look. “And given what she’s just been through, I think you owe her that.”
Agnarr blinked several times. “She’s alive?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Gerda sighed, placing her folded apron one the floor against the wall and delicately taking him by the arm. “Here. Why don’t you come stand over here, out of the way, and let them clean up your wife and child? They’re both perfectly fine.”
“They are?”
“They are,” she said soothingly as she led him to a small alcove and pushed him gently, but firmly, into a chair. “A perfectly lovely pair. And if you’ll be patient just a few minutes longer, Midwife Jora will come and fetch you and you may see them. Now you just sit there.” It occurred to Agnarr, in some vague and distant way, that there was an unspoken, slightly patronizing “Like a Good King” on the end of that sentence and that he was the ruler of Arendelle and should not be spoken to as thus, but his relief was so powerful that he could do little more than slump bonelessly in the chair, offering up prayers of thanks to any God that could hear them. It had been childbed fever that had killed his mother, taking her when he was merely two weeks old, but he had heard enough from those who had tended to her birth that it was evident even while she was in labor that something terrible had happened. He rubbed his face vigorously, not wanting to meet his wife and infant sobbing like a child over unhappy thoughts and memories.
“Your Majesty?” He looked up at Midwife Jora’s voice. She was beaming. “Your wife would like to introduce you to the baby.” He was up like a shot, rushing past her and bursting through the door into the birthing room. Lavender incense was burning, but there was still a distinctly coppery note of blood that hung in the air. The storm had passed and sun was starting to break through the clouds. And there was Iduna, with the most precious smile he had ever seen from her, looking a bit fatigued but utterly radiant as she gazed up from the baby cradled in her arms to look at him. He moved towards her, feeling like he was walking through a golden fog. He sat gently next to her, one hand at the small of her back as the other reached out to delicately touch an impossibly pale blonde curl that peeked out from the tiny velvet cap covering its head. The baby’s face was ruddy and bit squashed, but as it opened its swollen eyes to peer at him and he saw the brilliant blue, Iduna’s eyes, Agnarr couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight he had ever beheld.
“Agnarr,” Iduna spoke softly as he leaned into her. “This is Elsa.”
“Hello, Elsa.” He said in wonder.