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Description
Arendellian nights could be cold even without the full-on winter bearing down on the little kingdom. It was during such a night that Lieutenant Isaiah was rather grateful for the warmth that his otherwise cumbersome headgear provided. The royal guard paced back and forth, glancing behind him at the lit interior of the Palace, where the glow of multiple candelabras washed over the crowded ballroom.

Tearing his eyes away from the jubilant men and women of the party, Isaiah looked up to the eastern turret. A pair of Corporals espied him and flashed him a thumbs-up, which was quickly returned. All clear. For now.

A threat could be within and without, as his mentor was often fond of repeating. An assassin could come from within the Royal Court as much as from some external intrusion. The advice had served the Guard well, and few things could surprise them.

A few things, except-

“Is this spot taken?” called a voice in the night, causing Isaiah to turn sharply.

“Not at all, Your Majesty.”

“You must have been standing out here for hours, now,” remarked King Agnarr, taking his place next to the Lieutenant. He inhaled, taking in the crisp, cold air.

“About as long as you have been entertaining our guests, Sire.”

Agnarr shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe the hurdles we had to jump over, but it was all worth it in the end. I am heartened that the Sultanate of Russad has agreed to the joint trade route.”

“The Sultan is a wise man,” said Isaiah. “He needs to know that he can conduct such a venture with trustworthy folk.”

“Someone like me, hopefully,” said Agnarr, biting his lip.

“Somone like you, definitely.”

They both laughed, before a servant came walking out of the ballroom. The worthy lady was armed with a silver tray, on which rested a decanter and two glasses.

“My thanks, Gerda,” said Agnarr, graciously. He picked up the decanter and scanned it. “Ah, it’s one of the gifts from our friends in the North. Supposedly their finest vintage, from what I’ve heard.”

With a proficiency befitting of his kingly status, Agnarr removed the cap of the decanter and expertly poured the red, almost black liquid into the two glasses. With a cursory exchange of nods with Gerda, the latter excused herself back to the party.

“You must be excited about the upcoming promotions, next week,” Agnarr commented, handing Isaiah a glass of wine. “Good job, by the way.”

“Thank you, my King. Just another step towards retirement,” Isaiah replied, a bit dryly.

Agnarr slapped him on the back. “Come now, you’ve still got plenty of time left. No need to see the end when it’s so far off.”

“I endeavour to stave off the day as much as I can, Your Majesty,” said the Lieutenant. “And I admit, I’m not sure if ‘Captain Isaiah’ really rolls off the tongue.”

“It will, once everyone has said it long enough. Captain.”

They knocked their glasses together. As Agnarr took a swig, Isaiah stared long into the night.

“What was that game we always used to play?” asked Isaiah, suddenly. “In the canals.”

“I don’t think there was an actual name for it,” the King of Arendelle answered, somewhat invested in the resurgence of the childhood memory. “The boys just called it playing knights or something like that, except one person always had to play the dragon.”

“Not a very imaginative bunch, were we?”

Agnarr playfully punched Isaiah on the shoulder. “You never let me play the dragon. I was always the knight or the prince.”

“You were a prince, Your Majesty,” said Isaiah. “And for the record, you would have been an abysmal dragon.”

Agnarr polished off the remnants of his glass of wine. “Hmph. You were never the dragon, either. I think you just wanted to be on the same side. You wanted to keep a lookout for me."

Isaiah rolled his eyes under his helmet. “Not that I did a very good job. Mattias almost had our heads when he saw the cuts and bruises on us.”

The memory made them chuckle, then descend into a mournful silence; long enough to hear the belated chatter and clinking of wine glasses behind them.

“I miss the old man,” said Agnarr, sadly. “He was good to us.”

Isaiah looked away. “He would have made Captain, by now. General, given enough years.”

Agnarr concurred, “In a better world, he would have.”

Light footsteps behind them caused King and guard to turn. In her violet dress, Queen Iduna almost glided across the cobblestone floor of the courtyard.

“Agnarr! There you are, darling,” she uttered, a bit breathlessly. “Always vanishing at the most opportune time!”

“Sorry, dear, just checking on our friend here,” Agnarr replied, gesturing towards Isaiah.

Iduna and Isaiah met only sporadically the last few months. It had been a long time since they had a proper conversation. The Queen’s eyes positively lit up when she saw him.

“Good evening, Lieutenant. I trust that the King has not bothered you too much.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty. Company is always welcome.”

With a bit of a plunge, Iduna went on, “Lieutenant Isaiah, considering that the last few weeks have been profoundly busy, I have not properly thanked you for your service.”

“Ma’am, I don’t- “

She held up her hand to halt him mid-sentence, then continued. “You’ve saved our lives more times than we could count on one hand, and you’ve kept our people safe almost at the expense of your own safety. Agnarr says you are terrible at receiving gifts; at the least, you must accept our gratitude.”

Impressed by her firmness, he bowed. “I am more than pleased to do my duty for Arendelle, her people and her monarchs, Ma’am.”

Agnarr rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. Isaiah shot a glare at him for breaking the solemn moment. As always.

“Well,” began the King, happily. “Since we are all adequately warmed up…”

Agnarr reached into a small pouch hooked on his person. He yielded a small, wooden box with a latch.

“Here, love, perhaps you can do the honours,” the King said sweetly to Iduna, handing the strange object to her.

Receiving the box with both hands, she faced the Lieuteant again. “We need someone trustworthy, Isaiah. We need someone who can be our eyes and ears when our own fail us. And we need someone who loves Arendelle as well.”

With an arm around the Queen, Agnarr chimed in. “We know that you’re not particularly fond of ceremonies, so we’ve been keeping an eye out for the chance to give you this.”

It must be admitted that Isaiah had an inkling of what was inside the box, but he dared not bet on the arrival of such a day. Opening the lid of the box revealed, in the embrace of a velvet cushion, a gilded epaulet. Emblazoned on the article was the Crocus flower, with a pair of blades crossed above it.

It couldn’t be.

“We’ll make the official decree in the morning,” said Agnarr, though he wasn’t sure if Isaiah was registering anything. “Kai has been distributing the missive to the relevant staff as we speak.”

Iduna cupped Isaiah’s hand in hers.

“Congratulations, Royal Protector.”

Isaiah, after seconds of silent shock, finally looked up from the box.

“You know this means that I’m going to be twice as annoying. Especially when it concerns your safety.”

The King and Queen Consort of Arendelle laughed. “We’re counting on it, my friend,” said the King. “Just like playing knights.”

Engulfed by something between joy and trepidation, Isaiah took out the epaulet and turned it over in his hands, before carefully returning it to the box. The world felt different that night. Not changed, per se, but bigger. He had two of them to worry about, now.

He didn’t mind.

Loud laughter erupted from the party behind them. With a smile, Iduna said, “I guess we should be going back to our guests. They’ll be wondering where we’ve been. Good night, Lieutenant.”

“Good night, Your Majesty, Sire,” Isaiah managed to say. “And thank you.”

Isaiah left, leaving his glass of wine untouched on a nearby table. The Royal Couple stared for a while in his direction, even as he long disappeared into the night. They looked at each other and smiled. Mission accomplished.

“He’s happy,” remarked a triumphant Agnarr, kissing his wife’s hand. “He’s just not good at showing it.”

“Hardly matters,” giggled Iduna. “There’s no one else I’d trust our family with.”

Agnarr rested his chin on her head, his eyes wistfully closed as they rocked slowly in the evening wind.

With her arms around the King, Iduna asked, “Do you think we should have told him?”

“You’re barely a week in.”

The Queen’s hands fell to her stomach. “I know, but it’s peculiar that you would keep your best friend in the dark about this.”

Agnarr did not respond immediately. He thought for a while, then he fell to one knee. He planted a light kiss on her belly, to the Queen’s amusement.

“He’ll know when everyone knows,” said the King. “Besides, you know how much I enjoy keeping him in suspense.”

Description
Arendellian nights could be cold even without the full-on winter bearing down on the little kingdom. It was during such a night that Lieutenant Isaiah was rather grateful for the warmth that his otherwise cumbersome headgear provided. The royal guard paced back and forth, glancing behind him at the lit interior of the Palace, where the glow of multiple candelabras washed over the crowded ballroom.

Tearing his eyes away from the jubilant men and women of the party, Isaiah looked up to the eastern turret. A pair of Corporals espied him and flashed him a thumbs-up, which was quickly returned. All clear. For now.

A threat could be within and without, as his mentor was often fond of repeating. An assassin could come from within the Royal Court as much as from some external intrusion. The advice had served the Guard well, and few things could surprise them.

A few things, except-

“Is this spot taken?” called a voice in the night, causing Isaiah to turn sharply.

“Not at all, Your Majesty.”

“You must have been standing out here for hours, now,” remarked King Agnarr, taking his place next to the Lieutenant. He inhaled, taking in the crisp, cold air.

“About as long as you have been entertaining our guests, Sire.”

Agnarr shrugged. “You wouldn’t believe the hurdles we had to jump over, but it was all worth it in the end. I am heartened that the Sultanate of Russad has agreed to the joint trade route.”

“The Sultan is a wise man,” said Isaiah. “He needs to know that he can conduct such a venture with trustworthy folk.”

“Someone like me, hopefully,” said Agnarr, biting his lip.

“Somone like you, definitely.”

They both laughed, before a servant came walking out of the ballroom. The worthy lady was armed with a silver tray, on which rested a decanter and two glasses.

“My thanks, Gerda,” said Agnarr, graciously. He picked up the decanter and scanned it. “Ah, it’s one of the gifts from our friends in the North. Supposedly their finest vintage, from what I’ve heard.”

With a proficiency befitting of his kingly status, Agnarr removed the cap of the decanter and expertly poured the red, almost black liquid into the two glasses. With a cursory exchange of nods with Gerda, the latter excused herself back to the party.

“You must be excited about the upcoming promotions, next week,” Agnarr commented, handing Isaiah a glass of wine. “Good job, by the way.”

“Thank you, my King. Just another step towards retirement,” Isaiah replied, a bit dryly.

Agnarr slapped him on the back. “Come now, you’ve still got plenty of time left. No need to see the end when it’s so far off.”

“I endeavour to stave off the day as much as I can, Your Majesty,” said the Lieutenant. “And I admit, I’m not sure if ‘Captain Isaiah’ really rolls off the tongue.”

“It will, once everyone has said it long enough. Captain.”

They knocked their glasses together. As Agnarr took a swig, Isaiah stared long into the night.

“What was that game we always used to play?” asked Isaiah, suddenly. “In the canals.”

“I don’t think there was an actual name for it,” the King of Arendelle answered, somewhat invested in the resurgence of the childhood memory. “The boys just called it playing knights or something like that, except one person always had to play the dragon.”

“Not a very imaginative bunch, were we?”

Agnarr playfully punched Isaiah on the shoulder. “You never let me play the dragon. I was always the knight or the prince.”

“You were a prince, Your Majesty,” said Isaiah. “And for the record, you would have been an abysmal dragon.”

Agnarr polished off the remnants of his glass of wine. “Hmph. You were never the dragon, either. I think you just wanted to be on the same side. You wanted to keep a lookout for me."

Isaiah rolled his eyes under his helmet. “Not that I did a very good job. Mattias almost had our heads when he saw the cuts and bruises on us.”

The memory made them chuckle, then descend into a mournful silence; long enough to hear the belated chatter and clinking of wine glasses behind them.

“I miss the old man,” said Agnarr, sadly. “He was good to us.”

Isaiah looked away. “He would have made Captain, by now. General, given enough years.”

Agnarr concurred, “In a better world, he would have.”

Light footsteps behind them caused King and guard to turn. In her violet dress, Queen Iduna almost glided across the cobblestone floor of the courtyard.

“Agnarr! There you are, darling,” she uttered, a bit breathlessly. “Always vanishing at the most opportune time!”

“Sorry, dear, just checking on our friend here,” Agnarr replied, gesturing towards Isaiah.

Iduna and Isaiah met only sporadically the last few months. It had been a long time since they had a proper conversation. The Queen’s eyes positively lit up when she saw him.

“Good evening, Lieutenant. I trust that the King has not bothered you too much.”

“Not at all, Your Majesty. Company is always welcome.”

With a bit of a plunge, Iduna went on, “Lieutenant Isaiah, considering that the last few weeks have been profoundly busy, I have not properly thanked you for your service.”

“Ma’am, I don’t- “

She held up her hand to halt him mid-sentence, then continued. “You’ve saved our lives more times than we could count on one hand, and you’ve kept our people safe almost at the expense of your own safety. Agnarr says you are terrible at receiving gifts; at the least, you must accept our gratitude.”

Impressed by her firmness, he bowed. “I am more than pleased to do my duty for Arendelle, her people and her monarchs, Ma’am.”

Agnarr rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. Isaiah shot a glare at him for breaking the solemn moment. As always.

“Well,” began the King, happily. “Since we are all adequately warmed up…”

Agnarr reached into a small pouch hooked on his person. He yielded a small, wooden box with a latch.

“Here, love, perhaps you can do the honours,” the King said sweetly to Iduna, handing the strange object to her.

Receiving the box with both hands, she faced the Lieuteant again. “We need someone trustworthy, Isaiah. We need someone who can be our eyes and ears when our own fail us. And we need someone who loves Arendelle as well.”

With an arm around the Queen, Agnarr chimed in. “We know that you’re not particularly fond of ceremonies, so we’ve been keeping an eye out for the chance to give you this.”

It must be admitted that Isaiah had an inkling of what was inside the box, but he dared not bet on the arrival of such a day. Opening the lid of the box revealed, in the embrace of a velvet cushion, a gilded epaulet. Emblazoned on the article was the Crocus flower, with a pair of blades crossed above it.

It couldn’t be.

“We’ll make the official decree in the morning,” said Agnarr, though he wasn’t sure if Isaiah was registering anything. “Kai has been distributing the missive to the relevant staff as we speak.”

Iduna cupped Isaiah’s hand in hers.

“Congratulations, Royal Protector.”

Isaiah, after seconds of silent shock, finally looked up from the box.

“You know this means that I’m going to be twice as annoying. Especially when it concerns your safety.”

The King and Queen Consort of Arendelle laughed. “We’re counting on it, my friend,” said the King. “Just like playing knights.”

Engulfed by something between joy and trepidation, Isaiah took out the epaulet and turned it over in his hands, before carefully returning it to the box. The world felt different that night. Not changed, per se, but bigger. He had two of them to worry about, now.

He didn’t mind.

Loud laughter erupted from the party behind them. With a smile, Iduna said, “I guess we should be going back to our guests. They’ll be wondering where we’ve been. Good night, Lieutenant.”

“Good night, Your Majesty, Sire,” Isaiah managed to say. “And thank you.”

Isaiah left, leaving his glass of wine untouched on a nearby table. The Royal Couple stared for a while in his direction, even as he long disappeared into the night. They looked at each other and smiled. Mission accomplished.

“He’s happy,” remarked a triumphant Agnarr, kissing his wife’s hand. “He’s just not good at showing it.”

“Hardly matters,” giggled Iduna. “There’s no one else I’d trust our family with.”

Agnarr rested his chin on her head, his eyes wistfully closed as they rocked slowly in the evening wind.

With her arms around the King, Iduna asked, “Do you think we should have told him?”

“You’re barely a week in.”

The Queen’s hands fell to her stomach. “I know, but it’s peculiar that you would keep your best friend in the dark about this.”

Agnarr did not respond immediately. He thought for a while, then he fell to one knee. He planted a light kiss on her belly, to the Queen’s amusement.

“He’ll know when everyone knows,” said the King. “Besides, you know how much I enjoy keeping him in suspense.”