**Chapter 3: The Locals' Discovery**

The sound of footsteps echoed through the trees, and Iduna's eyes snapped open. She sat up, her heart racing, as a group of locals emerged from the underbrush. They were dressed in simple tunics and leggings, their faces weathered from years of working outdoors. The leader of the group, a tall, imposing figure with a stern expression, approached her. Iduna's instincts told her to be wary, but she stood up, her eyes locked on the man. He was a ruggedly handsome individual with a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes. His dark brown hair was flecked with grey, and his expression was a mixture of curiosity and caution. "Who are you?" Iduna asked, her voice firm despite her exhaustion. The man hesitated, his eyes scanning her face before responding. "We are the people of the southern isles," he said. "And you, queen, are a long way from home." Iduna's eyes narrowed. "How do you know I'm a queen?" she asked, her hand instinctively rising to the coronet braid that held her brown hair in place. The man nodded towards her clothes, which were still visible beneath her torn and tattered cloak. "Your attire suggests you are of noble birth," he said. "And your bearing... you carry yourself with a confidence that is not often seen in commoners." Iduna's eyes widened as she realized the truth. These people had discovered her true identity, and they would likely take her to their leader. She steeled herself for what was to come, her mind racing with possibilities. The man gestured to his companions, and they moved forward, surrounding Iduna. "We will take you to our king," he said. "He will decide what to do with you." Iduna nodded, her heart heavy with trepidation. She had no idea what lay ahead, but she was determined to face it with courage and dignity. As they led her away from the beach, she caught a glimpse of the wreckage of her ship, a reminder of the tragedy that had befallen her. The locals marched her through the rolling hills and verdant forests of the southern isles, their footsteps quiet on the soft earth. Iduna's eyes took in the beauty of her surroundings, but her mind was elsewhere, focused on the unknown fate that awaited her. As they walked, Iduna noticed that the locals seemed wary of her, their eyes flicking towards her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. She realized that they must have heard stories about the queen of Arendelle, and they were unsure what to make of her. After what felt like hours, they arrived at a fortified castle, its walls imposing and strong. The man who had first spoken to Iduna led her through the gates, into the heart of the castle. Inside, the castle was warm and welcoming, the air thick with the smell of cooking meat and freshly baked bread. Iduna's stomach growled in response, reminding her that she had not eaten in hours. The man led her to a large throne room, where a figure sat on a throne-like chair. He was a burly man with a cruel face, his eyes cold and calculating. "Ah, the queen of Arendelle," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've heard a great deal about you. My name is King Westergard, and you are now a guest of my kingdom." Iduna's eyes locked on King Westergard, her heart heavy with foreboding. She knew that she was in the hands of a ruthless man, and she would have to tread carefully if she was to survive.