**Chapter 2: The Wreckage**

The storm that had ravaged Iduna's ship had long since passed, leaving behind a eerie calm. The sea was quiet, its surface reflecting the grey sky above like a mirror. Iduna slowly came to, her body battered and bruised, her head pounding in time with the waves lapping gently against the shore. She was lying on a sandy beach, the wreckage of her ship scattered behind her. As she struggled to sit up, a sharp pain shot through her head, and she fell back onto the sand. Iduna took a few deep breaths, trying to clear the fog from her mind. She remembered the storm, the ship crashing onto the rocks, and Agnarr... Her heart ached as she thought of her husband, and she forced herself to sit up again. The beach was littered with debris from the ship, and Iduna spotted a few pieces of wreckage that had washed up on the shore. She saw a fragment of the mast, a tangled mess of ropes, and a few splintered planks. The sight of the wreckage brought back memories of the storm, and Iduna's eyes welled up with tears. She stumbled to her feet, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of Agnarr or the crew. But there was nothing. No bodies washed up on the shore, no signs of life. Iduna's heart sank, and she felt a cold dread creeping into her veins. She was alone. As she stood there, trying to process her situation, Iduna noticed that she was not alone on the beach. A group of fishermen were approaching her, their faces weathered from years of working at sea. They were dressed in rough, practical clothing, and they seemed to be studying her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. One of them, an older man with a bushy beard, spoke to her in a dialect Iduna didn't understand. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. The fishermen exchanged worried glances, and the older man took a step forward. "You're a long way from home, lass," he said, his voice gruff but kind. "We'll take you to our king, and he can decide what to do with you." Iduna nodded, still trying to process her situation. She had survived the shipwreck, but Agnarr... Agnarr was gone. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she thought of her husband, her family, and the life she had left behind. The fishermen surrounded her, offering her support as she swayed on her feet. Together, they led her away from the wreckage, towards a new and uncertain fate. Iduna's eyes scanned the horizon, a sense of longing and loss washing over her. She knew that she had to find a way to return home, to her daughters, and to the life she had built with Agnarr. But for now, she was at the mercy of these strangers, and the king who ruled over this distant land. As they walked, Iduna caught glimpses of the surrounding landscape. The beach gave way to rolling hills, dotted with small villages and farms. The air was filled with the scent of salt and seaweed, and the sound of seagulls crying overhead. Iduna felt a sense of wonder, despite her grief and uncertainty. She was taken to a small village, where the fishermen led her to a large, stone-built hall. Inside, the hall was warm and cozy, with a fire crackling in the hearth. Iduna was greeted by a stern-faced woman, who eyed her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "Welcome, traveler," the woman said, her voice cold but not unfriendly. "I am the king's steward. You will see the king shortly." Iduna nodded, feeling a sense of trepidation. What would this king be like? Would he be kind and understanding, or harsh and unforgiving? She didn't have to wait long to find out. The steward led her to a large, throne room, where a tall, imposing figure sat on a throne-like chair. He was a rugged-looking man, with a thick beard and a stern expression. "So, you are the survivor of the shipwreck," he said, his voice deep and commanding. "I am King Westergaard. And you are...?" Iduna took a deep breath, trying to find her voice. "I am Iduna, Queen of Arendelle," she said, her words firm and clear. King Westergaard's expression changed, from curiosity to surprise. "Ah, the Queen of Arendelle," he said, his voice dripping with interest. "I had not expected that. You are a long way from home, Your Majesty."