**Chapter 2: The Discovery**

The small fishing village was bustling with activity as the local fishermen brought in their daily catch. Among them was a group of rugged men who had been out on the water since dawn, their faces etched with exhaustion and their eyes red from the salt spray. As they unloaded their nets, one of them spotted something unusual caught in the mesh - a half-frozen body, tangled in the wreckage of a ship. The men exchanged worried glances, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. They had seen their fair share of shipwrecks and bodies washing up on the shore, but there was something about this one that seemed different. Perhaps it was the fine fabric of her clothes, or the regal bearing of her head, even in death. The men quickly pulled the body out of the net and carried it to the shore. As they laid her down on the cold stones, they saw that she was a woman, her long brown hair matted and tangled with seaweed. Her face was pale and drawn, her eyes closed as if in sleep. One of the fishermen, an older man with a kind face, knelt down beside her. "She's alive," he said, his voice low and gentle. "But she's half-frozen. We need to get her to the village elder, she'll know what to do." The men quickly gathered around, lifting the woman into a makeshift stretcher. As they carried her through the village, they drew a crowd of curious onlookers. The villagers parted to let them through, their faces filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. The village elder, a wise and kind woman named Gudrun, was waiting for them in her small cottage. She quickly assessed the situation and took charge, ordering the men to bring the woman inside and to build a fire to warm her up. As the fire crackled to life, Gudrun gently examined the woman, her hands moving with a practiced ease. She was a skilled healer, and she quickly determined that the woman was suffering from hypothermia. She ordered the men to bring her hot tea and warm blankets, and soon the woman was sipping the tea and wrapping herself in the blankets. As she warmed up, the woman's eyes began to flutter open. She looked around, confused and disoriented, and Gudrun smiled kindly at her. "Don't worry, you're safe now," she said. "You're in the Southern Isles, and we're going to take care of you." The woman's eyes locked onto Gudrun's, and for a moment, they just stared at each other. Then, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, the woman spoke. "Where...where am I?" she asked, her words slurred and uncertain. Gudrun smiled again, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're in the Southern Isles, my dear," she said. "You washed up on our shores, after your ship wrecked. But don't worry, you're safe now. We'll take care of you and help you get back on your feet." As Gudrun continued to tend to the woman, she couldn't help but notice the fine features of her face, and the regal bearing of her head. There was something about this woman that seemed special, something that set her apart from the ordinary villagers. As the day wore on, Gudrun decided that the woman needed to see the king. She called for one of her messengers to take the woman to King Westergaard's castle, hoping that he might be able to help her. The messenger arrived, and with the help of some of the villagers, they carefully lifted the woman into a carriage. As they rode through the countryside, the woman's eyes began to take in her surroundings. She saw the rolling hills and the sparkling lakes, and she marveled at the beauty of the Southern Isles. But despite the peaceful scenery, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had been growing inside her since she woke up on the shore. What was she doing here? How did she end up on this ship, and what had happened to her family back in Arendelle? The questions swirled in her mind, but she had no answers. All she knew was that she was a long way from home, and she had to find a way to get back. The carriage ride was long and arduous, but eventually, they arrived at the castle. The woman was taken out of the carriage and led into the grand halls of King Westergaard's castle. She was ushered into a large throne room, where a tall, imposing figure sat on a throne. "Ah, welcome," King Westergaard said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've been expecting you. You are...?" The woman stood tall, despite her weakness. "I am Iduna, Queen of Arendelle," she said, her voice steady. King Westergaard's eyes narrowed, his expression calculating. "Ah, Queen Iduna," he said. "I've heard a lot about you. Please, come closer. We have much to discuss."