He was yelling at her. Something about monsters.

Elsa tried to ignore him, focusing on the two men who had tried to kill her. One was pinned to the wall with a spike of ice getting closer and closer to his throat. The other was sliding close to the edge of the balcony in her castle, the railing broken and gone, nothing between him and a two hundred foot drop.

Good. Her outstretched arms trembled as she let her magic flow through her and the delicate lines of her face wore an uncharacteristic snarl. They followed me here. They wanted me to die. Never again. Never again.

She turned her head slightly and saw the man who was calling to her. He looked familiar. She had seem him somewhere. Where -

Hans. His name was Hans. Anna wanted to marry -

Anna?

Through the rage pounding in her head and the ice surrounding her, Elsa tried to think. Hans was here. Did Anna bring him? Had she come back? If Anna was here, she could be hurt... she had to stop...

Elsa lowered her hands and took several deep, gasping breaths as she let the storm lessen, staring at Hans, working up the strength to ask where her sister was, to warn them both away. You can marry her, she thought, just keep her safe. Safe from me.

Suddenly Hans' eyes widened and he sprinted across the room. She looked after him and saw one of the men - the one pinned to the wall - raising a crossbow. Pointing at her. And then somehow Hans was there in time, knocking the weapon upward...

It was suddenly so silent in the chamber that she could hear the faint tzing as the bolt sliced through the chains of the chandelier.

One glance upward and she knew it was too late, but Elsa tried anyway, gathering her skirts and trying to outrun the tons of ice plummeting toward her, feeling the push of the air against her back, the building roar as the chandelier fell, and finally the shockwave as it hit, lifting her up and slamming her against the unyielding floor.

It seemed to take forever for the noise to abate. Elsa lay where she had fallen, her head throbbing, nauseous with pain. Men milled around, voices echoed in the hall. Fear spurred her awake.

I have to get up. They want to kill me.

But she couldn't stir.

She heard footsteps. Hans knelt beside her. Through barely-open eyes he saw him staring searchingly at her. His expression was unreadable but the rough cotton of his gloved fingers was gentle enough as he touched her neck beneath her ear, feeling for a pulse. "Alive," he murmured, and glanced at her again before standing gracefully and announcing to his men, "She is alive. No harm must come to the queen." A new, darker note came into his voice as he added, "But no harm shall come to us, either. We must get her back to Arendelle."

Elsa still couldn't move, couldn't resist as two soldiers turned her over and tied her hands together with a short length of rope, then used a longer one to bind her hands to her chest, just over her heart. Even through the agony she understood: if she tried to use her powers, she would use them on her own body first, freezing herself.

If I even can, she thought hazily. Would that happen? I would no longer be a danger...

An image flashed in her mind from just a few hours before - had it been just a few hours? - She and Anna, standing on her balcony before it was ruined, talking, Anna reaching out to her, and Elsa turning away. The rhythmic ache in her skull made the image flicker and repeat: Anna reaching out, herself ignoring it, rejecting her sister, over and over again...

No. A few tears of regret slid down her cheek. I might die. Maybe I'm dying. But I will explain to Anna first. She has to understand. She has to.

"Your majesty." One of the youngest soldiers was on his knees next to her, his words soft and tense. With an effort she opened her eyes wider and looked at him. She had been left on her side, her arms pinned, her knees drawn up. "I am to take you on my horse back to the castle. Your majesty -" he stopped and swallowed. "I swear I would not harm you for anything. Forgive me any hurt I might cause you."

For a minute she wanted to smile and reassure him as best she could through the sick dizziness, but she noticed that while there was sympathy in his expression there was fear, too. Almost terror.

Was he worried about hurting her, or was he afraid of her revenge?

She shut her eyes and bowed her head.

The soldier was as good as his word, sliding his arms carefully under her shoulders and knees and lifting her smoothly, but the room still spun as her head raised and fell back against his arm. It took a while to get her out of the castle, down the half-destroyed stairs, and on to the horse. The whole time she kept her eyes closed, bracing herself against the waves of queasiness that threatened every time she moved, refusing to respond to his frequent muttered apologies.

She struggled to stay conscious as they rode down the mountain, a cloak wrapped around her, the soldier sitting behind her holding her upright as carefully and politely as possible. But then his horse, spooked by something, shied and reared briefly. The jolt sent a bolt of lightning through her head, the pain making everything go white. Elsa gasped and fainted.

It smells dark.

How can it smell dark?

Elsa half-opened her eyes. The air was stuffy and close, tinged with smoke and mold. Water dripped somewhere. It was warm in that underground way that felt like roots and earth. Two soldiers - the young rider and another one - had made a chair of their arms and were carrying her down a torchlit corridor. They stopped and Elsa heard someone ahead of them fumbling with a ring of keys.

She was too weak to struggle, much less run, but Elsa leaned her head against the young soldier's arm and stared at him, her blue eyes opaque with fatigue and betrayal, putting all the accusation she could into a cracked whisper. "Dungeon."

He looked down at her. He was lantern jawed and had a nose that was a little flat, like it had been broken at least once. His eyes and the shock of hair that showed under his cap were the same dark brown. He tried to smile reassuringly but all that came through was embarrassed determination. And the fear. "Your majesty, it's for your own sake. Until you can be cured."

The door in front of them creaked open as Elsa said weakly, "There's nothing wrong with me -" trying to break away as they brought her in and set her carefully down on a stone bench. One of the soldiers stepped away and drew his sword, holding it at her neck, while the young rider, his face scarlet, produced a knife and cut away the ropes that bound her. Other soldiers stood near the door, hands on sword hilts, tense.

Bleak light poured through a nearby window, lighting the cell enough so she could see what the young soldier was reaching for on the floor. Edging away, watching the sword fearfully, she repeated, "There's nothing wrong with me -"

He was on one knee in front of her, like a parody of a suitor, reaching out for her with one hand and holding the manacle and chain with the other. "Your majesty, please, it's for your own good -"

"There's nothing wrong with me!" Elsa tried to speak more strongly but her throat was dry and all that came out was a low rasp. "If you'd just leave me alone - please, just leave me alone -"

He stood swiftly to steady her before she fell, but to Elsa's panicked mind it looked like he was lunging toward her, ready to chain her. Bracing her hands against the bench she pushed herself backwards, intending to stand up and run, but the wall was too close and she banged her head against it, knocking herself half-unconscious. Vaguely she heard the soldier's voice again, heard the clinking of the restraints, felt the heavy fetters of iron and silver lock over her hands.

An anguished whine started in her head. Now they've chained you, now you have no powers, but you're still locked in a room, they're going to leave you here, you're going to die alone alone alone alone alone ALONE ALONE ALONE ALONE -

Elsa woke, screaming.