## Chapter 2: The Wreckage

Iduna's gaze drifted back to the scattered debris of her ship, her heart heavy with the weight of her loss. The storm that had ravaged her vessel had been merciless, tearing apart the sturdy wood and snapping the rigging like twigs. She spotted a fragment of the wheel, its wooden spokes cracked and splintered, and a tangled mess of rope that had once been the mainsail. The memories of her crew, their faces and voices, flooded her mind, and she felt a pang of sorrow. Had they survived? Were they out there, somewhere, clinging to life as she was? As she stood on the beach, the waves washing over her feet, Iduna took stock of her own injuries. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, and her body felt bruised all over. She was battered and bruised, but she seemed to have escaped with no serious wounds. Her long brown hair was matted with salt and seaweed, and her coronet braid was undone, with strands framing her face. She wore a simple yet elegant dress, now torn and salt-stained, which had been her traveling attire. The group of locals, who had been watching her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, began to stir. Their leader, the burly man with the thick beard, gestured to one of his companions, a younger man with a scar above his eyebrow. "Take her to the king," he growled. "He'll decide what to do with her." The younger man nodded, his eyes flicking over Iduna's bedraggled form. He took her arm, his grip firm but not unkind, and began to lead her away from the beach. As they walked, Iduna caught glimpses of the surrounding landscape. The beach gave way to a dense forest, the trees towering above them like sentinels. The air was cool and damp, filled with the scent of damp earth and green growth. She stumbled, her legs still unsteady from her ordeal, and her escort tightened his grip on her arm. "Careful," he said, his voice a little softer than the leader's. "You're not exactly steady on your feet, are you?" Iduna shook her head, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. "I'm fine," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Just a little... shaken." The young man nodded sympathetically. "You're lucky to be alive," he said. "The storm was a fierce one. We've never had a shipwreck like that on our shores before." Iduna's thoughts turned to her daughters, Elsa and Anna, back in Arendelle. She hoped they were safe, and that they would not worry too much about her. She had been gone for days, and she knew they must be frantic with worry. But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on her current situation. As they emerged from the forest, Iduna caught sight of a sprawling castle, its walls of rough-hewn stone and its roofs a patchwork of tiles and thatch. The flag of the Southern Isles fluttered above the castle, bearing the emblem of a golden crown on a blue background. The young man led her through the castle gates, past a pair of burly guards who eyed her with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Inside, the castle was warm and bustling, filled with the sounds of laughter and conversation. Iduna was taken to a large throne room, where a massive wooden throne dominated one end of the room. Seated on the throne was a man with a rugged face and a cruel smile. "Ah, the shipwrecked queen," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Welcome to our humble kingdom. I am King Westergaard, ruler of the Southern Isles." Iduna curtsied, trying to hide her fear. She had no idea what King Westergaard wanted from her, but she was determined to find out. The king's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking over her battered form. "You're a long way from home, aren't you?" he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Tell me, what brings you to our shores?" Iduna hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. She decided to play it safe, for now. "I'm just a traveler," she said, trying to sound as non-threatening as possible. "I was shipwrecked. I'm looking for help." The king's expression softened slightly, and he nodded. "Very well," he said. "We'll help you. But first, you need to rest. You're clearly exhausted." Iduna nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. She was grateful for the king's kindness, and she knew she needed to rest. As she was led away from the throne room, Iduna caught sight of a young man watching her from the shadows. He was tall and lean, with a mop of messy brown hair and a pair of haunted eyes. For a moment, their gazes met, and Iduna felt a spark of connection. She had no idea who this young man was, but she sensed that he was different from the others. And as she was led away to her new quarters, Iduna couldn't help but wonder what the future held for her, and for this mysterious young man.