**Chapter 3: A Royal Revelation**

King Westergaard's piercing gaze seemed to bore into Iduna's very soul as he studied her, his expression a mask of curiosity and calculation. The heavy wooden throne creaked beneath him, a stark contrast to the delicate, golden coronet that adorned Iduna's brow, now freed from its usual confines and styled in a coronet braid that framed her face. Her brown hair, flecked with hints of auburn, cascaded down her back, a testament to her royal heritage. "So, you're the queen of Arendelle," King Westergaard said, his deep voice dripping with skepticism. "I wasn't aware that Arendelle had a queen." Iduna, still reeling from the shipwreck and Agnarr's loss, stood tall, trying to hide her fear. She clutched a worn, velvet cloak around her shoulders, its frayed edges a reminder of her tumultuous journey. "I...I'm Iduna, the queen of Arendelle," she said, her voice firm, despite the tremble that threatened to betray her. King Westergaard raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. He leaned back in his throne, steepling his fingers as he regarded Iduna. The gesture seemed almost...amused. "Tell me, Queen Iduna, what brings you to my shores?" Iduna took a deep breath, recounting her story, leaving out no details. She spoke of Agnarr's determination to understand Elsa's powers, of the shipwreck, and of her own survival. Her words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of her loss and her determination. As she spoke, King Westergaard's expression changed from curiosity to calculation. He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes gleaming with interest. "I see," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Well, you're welcome to stay here for a while. We'll take care of you." Iduna's instincts screamed at her to be cautious, but she was exhausted and grateful for the offer. She nodded, and King Westergaard gestured to one of his guards. "Take her to a room and make sure she's comfortable. We'll talk more later." The guard led Iduna away, and she found herself in a small but clean room. A warm fire crackled in the hearth, casting a golden glow over the space. Iduna collapsed onto the bed, feeling a mix of relief and trepidation. She knew that she had to be careful, that King Westergaard was not a man to be trifled with. As she lay there, Iduna couldn't help but think of Elsa and Anna, and the journey that lay ahead of her. She would have to be strong, for their sake, if not for her own. The thought gave her the courage to face whatever challenges lay ahead. Days passed, and Iduna recovered from her ordeal. She was tended to by King Westergaard's servants, who brought her food and water, and helped her with her wounds. Iduna was grateful for their kindness, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was a prisoner, rather than a guest. One day, as she was walking in the castle gardens, Iduna caught sight of a young man who seemed out of place among the guards and servants. He was tall and handsome, with piercing blue eyes and a mop of blond hair. Iduna felt a pang of curiosity, and she watched him from afar, wondering who he was and what his story was. The young man seemed troubled, his eyes clouded with worry. Iduna sensed that he was not like the others, that he was kind and gentle, despite the rough exterior he seemed to wear. She felt a spark of connection, and she knew that she would have to learn more about him. As she continued to explore the castle, Iduna began to piece together the fragments of her new surroundings. She discovered that the young man's name was Hans, and that he was King Westergaard's son. Iduna's instincts told her that Hans was different from his father, that he was a kind soul trapped in a web of cruelty and deceit. And as she watched him from afar, Iduna knew that she would have to protect him, just as she would protect Elsa and Anna. The thought gave her a sense of purpose, and she steeled herself for the challenges that lay ahead.