A/N: So there are a few things we need to get out of the way before we begin. First: yes, this story is set in the Falling Snow universe, but no, it is not "Book 3." I don't feel ready yet to tackle the depressing events that would be chronicled in that volume, though I may revisit them at some later date. Right now, this is the tale that's been scrabbling at the inside of my brain, eager to be set free. So I've decided to indulge it.

Second: I'm not going to pressure myself this time around to try to meet regular deadlines the way I did for the first two books. That created too much stress and made the whole endeavor feel like a second job. Instead, I'll simply post new chapters whenever they're ready, however long that may take. Hopefully, they'll be worth the wait.

Okay, everybody on the same page now? Right! Then here we go...


The narrow band of light seemed frightfully out of place in the darkened room, especially considering that it was cut off from the rest of its kind by the shadow of the slim figure who stood just outside the barely opened doorway. She peered silently into the room, watching as the sheets gently rose and fell in time to the breathing of its sole occupant. In the dim light, she could just barely make out a tangle of red hair upon the pillow.

Queen Elsa of Arendelle, the most powerful person in the kingdom in more ways than one, nevertheless felt completely enfeebled. It was a feeling she'd come to know well during her many years of isolation and self-doubt. Today, however, it had bitten all the more deeply because it hadn't merely been herself that she had disappointed. She had been totally and completely unable to help her best friend, and she hated herself for it. She was so utterly tired of letting Anna down.

She supposed it had started shortly after everything else had. After all, there was a line in her life so sharp and bright that everything before it felt in some way as though it belonged to an entirely different person. In a single moment, everything had changed. Now there was no going back – or at least if there was, she had absolutely no desire to ever travel that road. Instead, she would fight with her last breath to keep hold of everything that her life had unexpectedly become.

The people had already taken to calling it The Great Thaw. In Elsa's mind, though, the return of summer had been far from the most important change that had taken place on that day. Seasons came and went every single year. The weather could change from one day to the next. But how often in a lifetime does the chance come to start anew? How often does something you thought you had lost forever suddenly reappear, bringing with it promises of new hope and new beginnings?

Afterward, she and Anna had found themselves with a lifetime of catching up to do.

• • •

"Oh, Elsa! I'm so sorry!"

"Wait, what? Sorry? No, no, no. You don't need to apologize to me. I'm trying to apologize to you! It was my fault that I couldn't control my magic. If I'd been able to, then none of this would ever have happened and..."

"You were trying to catch me, Elsa! Don't you see? You were just trying to protect me like you always did, because I was always running off to try whatever crazy thing had just come into my head!"

"You mean like getting engaged to a man that you only just met?"

Anna scowled for a moment at the reminder that, at least in some ways, she hadn't changed all that much since her younger days. Then something struck her, and her face brightened back up again immediately. "Yes, exactly! And what did you do when I told you about it? You tried to stop me. You were watching out for me, just like you always have. Just like you were that night!

"You said that I kept jumping higher, wanting to go faster. Well if I hadn't been so reckless, then you wouldn't have even needed to try and save me. For that matter, if I hadn't dragged you out of bed in the middle of the night in the first place..."

"You didn't drag me anywhere, Anna. Well, okay, you did, but not because I didn't want to come. Anyway, the point I was making was that I never should have made those snow piles so high in the first place. Or I should have just made one into a slide instead and let you come back down safely. There were any number of things I could have done, but instead I let the situation get completely out of hand, and you were the one who had to pay for my carelessness."

"I don't know about that. Hiding yourself away from the entire world for thirteen years seems like an awfully big price to me. I mean, it's certainly far worse than just having to put up with a goofy blonde streak in my hair that whole time."

Anna's hand rose up to finger her right braid. "Honestly though, in a way, I sort of miss it, and not just because I'd gotten used to it over the years. I mean after all, you can get used to a lot of things eventually. Like the smell of wet reindeer! Of course, that's one thing I might not miss all that much. Oh, but please don't tell Sven I said that. Or Kristoff. Not that Kristoff smells like wet reindeer, mind you. Well, not always. Okay, he kind of does sometimes, along with a few other things I haven't been quite able to pin down yet. But they aren't bad smells, really, they're just rather unusual and… Um...

"I think I had a point somewhere in there, but I kind of lost it."

Elsa smiled gently. "You were saying about the stripe in your hair?"

"Oh, right! Well, I never knew where it came from, naturally, but – and this is going to sound so silly – I always secretly thought of it as a bit of you that I got to carry around with me. During all those years that I barely got to see you, it was like I could at least catch a glimpse of you if I just looked at that streak. It helped me feel like we were still close, even when we weren't."

Elsa blinked in surprise, because she found that she didn't know what to say in response to such an admission. For her, every time she had seen the mark that her powers had left upon her sister, it had served as a reminder of her failure and shame. That Anna had viewed it as a memento of their happier times together was such a completely discordant notion that it sent Elsa's mind reeling.

"Really," Anna continued wistfully, "it's a shame that your magic wiped out my memories of that night. It would have been so much simpler for everyone if I'd just known what happened and why you felt like you had to go into hiding the way you did. But then again, I suppose in a way that was probably something of a relief, wasn't it? After all, you'd done such a good job hiding your magic from me up until that point. At least you knew that your secret was safe again and…

"Elsa? Elsa, what's wrong?"

The look of distress on the queen's face actually appeared to be bordering on panic. Her hands were gripping the arms of her chair far too tightly… and tendrils of frost were spreading from beneath her fingers, crawling across the wood like a living thing.

Elsa didn't even notice until her sister's eyes fixed upon it. Then she looked down and, feeling a new wave of embarrassment surging up within her, quickly crossed her arms and thrust her hands into her armpits. "Sorry," she said nervously. "My control really has gotten better lately, but it still slips now and then, particularly when I'm anxious or… Anyway, it's something that I still need to work on a little."

Anna, apparently unwilling to break the established cycle of the conversation, quickly attempted to override this apology. "No, no, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you. That is, assuming I upset you. Well, it must have been me, right? Who else could it have been? We're the only ones here. Whatever it was, I didn't mean to do it or say it or… I mean, if it bothers you that much, I'll try not to do it again. Or say it. But since I'm not entirely sure what 'it' is, it might be a little hard to avoid it, if you know what I mean."

Elsa's eyes searched her sister's face. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Of course I don't. That's what I was just saying."

The queen took a few deep, steadying breaths, working to calm herself. Closing her eyes briefly, she let her mind fill with the notes of a piece of music that she had listened to so often over the years, she would not have been surprised if someone told her that she hummed it in her sleep. After a few seconds, she felt her calm return, felt the magic recede. Only then did she open her eyes again and look at her sister.

"Anna, it wasn't my magic that erased your memories."

"Of course it was! You said it hit me in the head, right? That has to be why I can't remember much of anything about that night."

"But you didn't let me finish. It didn't end there. Anna, you weren't moving. You were cold as ice, and… and I didn't know what to do. I cried out for help, and Mother and Father came, and... Well, the next thing I knew, they'd bundled you up in a blanket, rushed us both out to the stables, and then we all set off out of the castle gates at full gallop.

"I'd never been more terrified in my entire life. I had no idea what was happening or where we were going. Father was holding on to me with one arm and Mother was carrying you, and I kept trying to catch a glimpse of you, hoping that I'd see you open your eyes or something. In my head, I apologized to you a thousand times during that ride. All I could think was that instead of saving you, I might have… I thought that I had… that you were..."

"But I wasn't, Elsa. I got better, right?"

Elsa's head twitched in what might have been a nod, but her eyes fell away from her sister's face. "We finally reached the trolls' hollow, though of course I didn't know what it was at first. It was the only place Father could think of where there was a chance of finding someone who knew anything about magic."

The conclusion was obvious. "Grand Pabbie! Oh, I didn't even know! I'll have to get Kristoff to take me back there again so I can thank him properly."

"Yes. He managed to save your life by drawing the magic out of your head. But in order to be sure, he had to remove it all. Everything. Even… even your memories of magic."

"My memories?" Now it was Anna's turn to look puzzled. "Of magic? I don't remember any magic."

"That's the point, Anna. Before that night, I never hid my magic from you. Other than Mother and Father, you were the only other person who knew what I could do. And you were the only one who was never afraid of it. In fact, you were usually begging me to use it any time you thought you had the slightest chance of convincing me." Elsa found herself smiling at the many recollections. "You were always particularly fond of snowball fights in summer."

A frown dragged down the younger woman's face. "Wait, wait, I'm confused. You're saying that I… that we… But I don't… I didn't!"

Elsa's expression turned somber again as she nodded. "Even memories of magic were a danger. That's a big part of why Mother and Father decided to hide my powers from you. They were afraid that, if you ever found out about them, you might suffer a relapse."

Her little sister still hadn't quite managed to move beyond her earlier sticking point, however. "So they just… they let Grand Pabbie erase my memories?"

"No, not erased, exactly. He just… changed them a little, to hide the magic. You still remember us playing together in the snow, don't you? Well, you just don't remember that I made some of that snow, that's all. He said that he left all the fun that we had together."

"But… but we didn't!"

Elsa laughed a little, although it sounded a bit nervous and somewhat uncertain. "Of course we did. Grand Pabbie might be able to tweak memories, but he can't change the past."

"No, don't you see?" Anna's tone had suddenly taken on a particular note of strained seriousness, the kind that suggested she was struggling to keep her real emotions out of her voice for fear that the sound of them might make them all too real. "We didn't do them together anymore! You remember them one way, and I remember them another. They aren't the same! It's like… I don't know. Like we both saw the same play, but we each saw it on a different day. That's not the same as seeing it together.

"And how do I know which ones are real? I mean, some of them must be. We had to have played outside in the winter too, but there's no way for me to tell which of those times I remember actually happened the way I remember them. So even when I think back to one of those, no matter how much fun we might have had, I'll always be left wondering."

A look of dismay darkened Elsa's face. "I shouldn't have even said anything. I didn't think through what this might mean. I just… Anna, after all these years of hiding secrets from you, I wanted you to finally know everything. I thought you deserved that much after all you've had to go through because of me. But maybe I was wrong."

"No. No, you were right. I needed to know. I want to know, because I never want there to be secrets between us ever again. Besides, I don't blame you. It wasn't your decision."

"But if you blame Mother and Father… Anna, that would be just as bad, maybe even worse! I'm not sure I could forgive myself if I thought that I had done something that would tarnish your memories of them."

Her sister's head shook slowly back and forth. "You didn't, Elsa. Not really. I already knew that they'd kept secrets. They never pretended otherwise. It's only now, though, that I'm starting to understand why they did all that they did."

"They were frightened, Anna – almost as much as I was. Maybe they overreacted, I don't know. Sometimes, I tried to imagine myself in their place, tried to decide if I would have acted differently. Then after they… after they were gone, I suppose I was in their place. But I was so scared and overwhelmed that I just continued doing what they had done, because I really didn't know what else to do.

"I do know that they only wanted to protect the both of us. I just think they didn't really know how to go about it. How could they? So they did the best that they could, and yes, they made mistakes." Then she considered all the many apologies they themselves had just finished exchanging. "When it comes right down to it, I suppose we all did."

Anna didn't respond right away. Instead, the two simply sat quietly, each lost in their own contemplations of the past while the ticking of the clock doggedly continued to add to it.

"I'm not really angry," the princess said at last. She spoke slowly, as though she was trying to make sense of her own feelings by putting them into words, neither of which was proving easy for her. "I mean, it's an awful lot to wrap my head around. I guess I figured that, now that I knew about your magic, I had all the answers at last. I wasn't expecting more surprises."

"No one ever does," Elsa replied, managing to bring back a bit of the smile she'd briefly worn earlier, "or they wouldn't be so surprising."

"It's just that I was already sort of struggling to resolve everything that I remembered with what I know now. There was so much that didn't make sense back then, but it was all finally starting to come together. Now I learn that some of those memories didn't even happen the way I remember them at all, and I just..." She paused, then sighed.

"I guess it's too much to ask for things to just be simple for a change. I know it isn't fair, but now it feels like my own mind is keeping secrets from me. And I am so tired of secrets. I wanted to get back to being a family again, the way we used to be, but what I remember us being isn't even exactly what we were.

"In the end, I suppose it isn't such a big deal, really. After all, this means that back then, things were even better than I thought! Back then, nothing was hidden between us. We really did share everything! And that's the way I want us to be now, so I guess I'm a little sad that I don't really know what it was like back when we used to be that way."

"Oh, Anna! I wish you could have your memories back too. If there was anything I could do to restore them, you know that I would in a heartbeat, but I don't know anything about that type of magic. I only..."

That was the precise moment when the obvious solution suddenly thudded into Elsa's brain. At virtually the same instant, she saw a shift in her sister's features that made it clear she was not the only one who'd been privy to a sudden revelation.

Elsa smiled. Anna grinned. And plans were made.

• • •

"Kristoff's home!"

"And he's brought a girl!"

"Two girls! Kristoff, you sly devil!"

"No, no, it's not like that!" The ice harvester held up his hands defensively as the entire troll community rolled up and unfurled themselves around their guests.

"Sure it is! There's Anna and there's Elsa. That's two, isn't it?" Olaf, who was sitting upon Sven's back, leaned in close to the reindeer's ear. "Or don't ice harvesters learn how to count?"

"I can count," Kristoff grumped as he glared at the little snowman.

"Oh. Well, don't you know what a girl is then? Considering you grew up in a family of love experts, I find that rather surprising..."

"Of course, I know what girls are. I also happen to know that it isn't always the wisest term to use beyond a certain age."

"Mm-hmm, uh-huh, right. So how old were you when you stopped using it?"

"Not my age, their age!"

"Who's age?"

"The girls!" Kristoff preemptively began to wince in anticipation of the inevitable reply.

"But you just said..."

"Yes, I know what I said." One hand now covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose as he slowly shook his head.

"Is he always this confused?" Olaf asked.

Sven snorted and rolled his eyes, an expression whose meaning was absolutely unmistakable: "You have no idea."

"Now don't you start," Kristoff snapped at the reindeer. "Look, we'll talk this through later, okay, snowboy? Right now, we're here for a reason. Has anyone seen Grand Pabbie?"

"Anna!" One of the little trollings at the outskirts of the group leaped up into the air in excitement. By the time she came back down, she had curled up and, hitting the ground, took off whirling through the crowd, steadily picking up speed even as she dodged this way and that. At the last minute, when it looked like she was about crash right into the princess's toes, she sprang open and launched herself into the air with a happy giggle.

"Oof! Hi, Crystal." Anna's voice strained a little, in sympathy with arms that were trying to deal with the weight they had suddenly received.

"You remembered! See, you guys? See? I told you she would!"

Two other youngsters trundled up, and one of them rolled his eyes. "How could she remember, Crystal? She wasn't even here long enough last time for us to meet her properly."

"Ah, well then, you must be Flint," Anna said with a pleased smirk. "And that would make you Orel?" She did her best to suppress a chuckle when the little trolls' mouths fell open in astonishment.

"How did you…?" Orel asked in bewilderment.

"Well, Kristoff's been telling me all about his family, of course. Mind you, it's a very large family, and I don't think I've got all the names straight yet. But it would be hard to mistake the three of you, now wouldn't it?"

"Psst, Anna," Crystal whispered as she tugged on the princess's sleeve. "Who's your other friend?"

"Oh, right! Manners, sorry. Elsa, these are Kristoff's cousins! Crystal, Flint, Orel, this is my sister, Elsa.

"Er, Elsa?"

Anna turned around, surprised to find that her sister was not right by her elbow where she'd expected her to be. It took her only a moment to locate the blond head amid the gray and green of the crowd, but somewhat longer to come to grips with the scene that surrounded it.

Trolls were literally standing right on top of each other, examining Elsa from every height and every angle. Many of them reached out their stubby little arms toward her, but none of them did anything more than gently run their stony fingers over her clothing. It was a considerable contrast to the much more hands-on examination Anna had received upon her first visit to the Valley of the Living Rock.

As she stood and watched, snatches of gravelly conversation drifted across the bowl to her.

"Your Majesty!"

"Queen Elsa!"

"My my, just look at her. She's all grown up now."

"Yes, indeed. Why I remember when..."

"With all the royal visits we've been getting lately, maybe we ought to straighten this place up a little."

"I'm so embarrassed! Why did the queen have to come visit when I'm having such a bad moss day?"

"...reminds me of her mother."

Elsa, for her part, was doing her best to remain gracious, smiling and nodding as one face after another popped up in front of her. All the same, Anna could see the tension in her sister's shoulders even from this distance. After so many years living in effective solitude, Elsa wasn't exactly the most comfortable person when it came to crowds – especially when she found herself the center of the crowd's attention.

"Um, maybe we ought to try those introductions again," Anna said sheepishly. Hoisting Crystal up onto her shoulder, she began to thread her way through the throng toward her sister. When Elsa turned to glance in her direction, the look of relief upon her face was painfully obvious.

The press of round bodies gave way as Anna drew near, and soon she was at her sister's side again, one hand coming to rest lightly upon the other's shoulder. Elsa smiled gratefully at her for a moment before turning back to the female troll who stood before her, hands on her hips with her head cocked slightly to one side, examining both women intently.

"Hello, Bulda," Anna said politely. "I'm sorry we've kept Kristoff away for so long."

"Oh, don't you worry about that. We've grown quite used to him going off for weeks or sometimes even months at a time on ice-harvesting expeditions. So long as he always comes back home safely, that's all that matters. And if he brings my future daughter-in-law with him, well then so much the better!"

"Daughter-in-law?" Elsa asked, startled.

Anna felt her face rapidly progressing through every single shade of pink and red in the spectrum. "No, it's not… We're not! We're just friends, that's all.

"Okay, fine, we're a little more than friends," she admitted when Kristoff's adopted mother fixed her with an incredulous stare. "But we've agreed that we're going to take things slowly. We both think it's for the best. After all, the last time I rushed into a relationship, it didn't exactly turn out all that well."

"Of course, dear," Bulda said with a knowing smile. "You take all the time you need. I really don't mind waiting a little longer to greet my grandchildren."

It takes a special sort of skill to be able to stumble while standing perfectly still. Anna, it turned out, was a master of it. Crystal nearly fell from her perch beside the princess's ear before a steadying hand shot up to catch her. That one small comment, delivered so casually, also gave rise to one of the rare moments that left Anna with nothing to say. Her jaw worked insistently, but nothing came out that was more intelligible than a vague and strangled gurgle.

Elsa had to turn away for a moment, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her amusement at her sister's discomfort.

Both were saved from further chagrin by the sight of a familiar brawny figure coming toward them. At first, it seemed as though the shorter forms at Kristoff's feet were parting deferentially before him. Only as he drew near, however, did it become clear that this courtesy was actually being extended to the venerable troll who ambled along in front of him.

"Your Majesty," Grand Pabbie said with the closest trollish equivalent to a bow that his stiff limbs could manage. "It is an honor to meet you once again."

"The honor is mine, I assure you," Elsa replied, bowing her head respectfully. "You and your people have done so much for my family. I feel as though we owe you a debt whose payment is long overdue. If there is anything I might do to repay your kindness, please know that you have only to ask. Arendelle needs all the allies it can find at the moment, and I would not risk losing your goodwill by taking for granted our friendship or allowing it to become too one-sided."

The old troll smiled. "You have your father's skill at diplomacy, I see. I suspect he would be quite proud of that, and relieved to know that his kingdom is in such good hands."

Elsa blushed, then once again lowered her head to acknowledge the compliment.

"Your offer is much appreciated," Grand Pabbie continued, "but, for the moment at least, unnecessary. Our needs are simple, and we have been more than able to see to them ourselves for many generations now. That we have been left in peace to do as we will in our little corner of the world is all that we ask. We offer our help when it is needed because we believe it is the right thing to do. No repayment is required."

Seeing the disappointed look on the queen's face, Pabbie held up a hand to forestall the argument she was clearly getting ready to make. "However, should that situation ever change, rest assured that I will keep your generous offer firmly in mind. Is that satisfactory?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Elsa nodded. "It just makes this visit a little more awkward. I had truly hoped there might be some service I could do for you, because you see, I'm afraid we've come to ask yet another favor." Her face took on a rather guilty expression.

"Oh, is that all?" Pabbie chuckled. "In that case, you needn't worry. I'm hardly keeping score. Besides," he glanced up over his shoulder at the man behind him, "we're practically family, after all."

Beside him, Bulda nodded energetically. Anna and Kristoff both managed to look more flustered than ever. Restraining her own amusement to a quiet little smirk, Elsa took her sister's hand. Then she stooped down, tugging Anna after her until they were both a bit closer to troll level.

"Years ago," she said without further preamble, "you saved Anna's life when you extracted my magic from her. You even removed all memories of magic, just to be safe. But you see, the damage that was done that night is gone now." She gestured toward her sister's hair, a solid strawberry blond with no lighter streak in sight. "Plus, she knows all about my magic and it doesn't seem to have done her any harm. So we were hoping that maybe it might be safe now for you to put her memories back to the way they used to be."

"Please, Grand Pabbie," Anna added eagerly. "Now that I know the truth, it would mean so much to be able to remember things the way they really were."

The old troll's face fell. "Ah, but what you're asking isn't quite so simple. You see, I didn't just erase those memories. Erasing a memory is much easier, actually. You need only cut off those mental pathways that lead to it. If the mind cannot reach it, then it effectively ceases to exist.

"The problem, however, is that such memories are physically still there and, under the right circumstances, can leak back into your subconscious mind. When your parents brought you to me, I was concerned enough by your condition that I wanted to make sure not even such a tiny residual of magic would be left to harm you. That, as much as anything, was why I chose to do more than simply erase those moments.

"Anna, I am afraid I cannot restore your original memories, because they no longer exist. They were replaced by the new ones that I constructed in order to protect you. I'm ashamed to admit that I did not take the time that night to consider the possibility that the day might come when you would want them back again. Had I foreseen this, then maybe I could have done something differently. Alas, I did not.

"I am sorry, Your Highness. Truly I am. I wish that I could help you, but what you ask is beyond my abilities. Magic may be powerful, but as with all things, it has its limits."

Elsa turned to look at her sister and found that Anna's face was a study in blank incomprehension. She suspected this was more a reflection of her unwillingness to understand than any inability to do so. After all, she had come here with such high hopes. They both had. Neither of them had really allowed themselves to consider the possibility that this wouldn't work. Now to find out that Anna's original memories were gone forever…

"Grand Pabbie," Kristoff said into the silence, "maybe there's some other way. Could you… I don't know. If you can't just put Anna's memories back, could you maybe reconstruct them somehow?"

"You could use mine," Elsa quickly volunteered. "I still remember what really happened. You could use my memories to fill in the pieces that Anna has lost."

The troll frowned. "I do not know. I have never tried such a thing before. It would be incredibly difficult. Simply transferring the memories would not work, or else your sister would be seeing things through your eyes, Your Majesty. She would see herself as you saw her, but she would not see you. To make it work properly, I would have to somehow combine the two, replacing portions of the altered memories with these new creations. It might be possible, but..."

Anna stood abruptly, her fingers slipping from Elsa's. Bringing both hands together in front of her, she bent at the waist in a shallow and hurried half-bow. "Thank you, Grand Pabbie, but I don't think that will be necessary."

"Anna?" Elsa straightened her own knees and looked searchingly into her sister's eyes. Anna gave her a small, if somewhat reserved, smile in return.

"Thank you." She swept her gaze to also include Kristoff, Pabbie, and the rest of the crowd around them. "All of you, but…"

Now it was Elsa's turn to extend a comforting hand. It wasn't like her sister to give up on something she wanted so quickly. Or was it? "Anna, it's okay. You know that, right? It's okay to put yourself first once in a while. You don't have to worry about me or Kristoff or anyone else for a change. Just because it might not be easy doesn't mean we aren't willing to do whatever it takes to help you. You know that I would go to the ends of the earth if it meant making you happy, don't you?"

Anna stared intently at her sister while in her mind, the words of a surprisingly astute snowman came floating back to her. Love is putting someone else's needs before yours. How long had she and Elsa been doing exactly that for each other? That was what had driven Elsa into hiding for all those years, after all. She had surrendered her own happiness in an attempt to protect the ones she loved. In return, Anna had been willing to sacrifice her own life to save Elsa's. Really, both of them had spent so much time worrying about everyone but themselves.

"I know," she answered quietly, "and if we really could find some way to restore my memories, that would be one thing. But this… this isn't what I want. I don't need to replace one set of manufactured memories with another. If Pabbie can't put the originals back..." She glanced down at the troll, who shook his head. "Well, I've lived with these for longer than I had the real ones anyway."

"Are you sure?" Elsa asked. "There might still be other things we could try, other avenues we could explore."

"We have bigger things to worry about right now, Elsa. I mean, you have a whole kingdom to run! I'm not saying I'm giving up, but at least now I know that there was a time when there weren't so many secrets in my life. I had to live with too many of those for far too long, so you have no idea how good it feels just knowing that it wasn't always that way. I don't want to ever go back to that again. Just promise me, Elsa. Even if I don't remember it properly, promise me it'll be like when we were little. No more secrets, okay?"

Her eyes bright, Elsa nodded. "You have my word."

"Mine too," Kristoff declared. Then, looking sheepish as all eyes turned upon him, he hastily added, "Not that, you know, I ever kept any secrets from you in the first place, of course."

"Gee, this is going to make surprise parties a lot less surprising."

Anna laughed. "Surprises are fine, Olaf."

"Really? Oh good! Because we have so many pla- Mmrfrbrgle!"

"A-a-and that's another talk we'll need to be having," Kristoff grumbled quietly as he tucked the snowman's head more firmly beneath his arm. "Hey, quit that. You'll get it back later." He slapped one of the two twig arms that were groping in his general direction.

Anna raised her eyebrows, but otherwise decided to let the exchange pass without comment. There would be time enough later to try to wheedle details out of one or both of the boys.

"Are you sure this is what will make you happy?" Elsa asked one last time.

"Nope." Anna shook her head. Then she extended her arms wide to take in everyone around her. "This is what will make me happy. And speaking of which," she added with a playful spark suddenly twinkling in her eyes, "we've come all this way. It seems such a shame to waste the trip, wouldn't you agree? I think it's about time we got to know Kristoff's family properly, don't you Elsa?"

The queen slowly nodded, a mischievous grin blossoming over her face as well. "Oh, absolutely." She turned toward the ice harvester. "I'm sure they have all sorts of interesting stories they could tell us about when Kristoff was younger."

"Do I ever!" Bulda proclaimed proudly. "Has he ever told you about the time he found that pile of coal in the woods?

"You know, I don't think he has."

"Bulda, please don't." Kristoff sighed, his shoulders slumping. He knew full well, of course, that his adopted mother had already passed well beyond any hope of stopping the very instant Elsa had broached the subject.

"Uh nunna hrr tuh!"

"What?" He pulled the snowman's head out from beneath his armpit. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

"I said, I wanna hear too!"

"Trust me, you don't."

"Oh, but I do! I really, really do. I love stories."

"You wouldn't like this one." He watched as Bulda, already chatting animatedly, led the two sisters off to a more comfortable corner of the bowl, a crowd of trolls following in their wake.

"But Kristoff, just look at me! No, the rest of me." The twigs that were still attached to his torso waved once, then gestured down the front of his body. "Coal, Kristoff! Just like my buttons! I want to hear the story, and we're missing it. Now help me get my head on straight and let's get going."

Rather unceremoniously, Kristoff plopped Olaf's head atop his would-be shoulders.

"Perfect! Now come on, before we miss the whole thing." The snowman began to clamber down one of the reindeer's front legs.

"It wasn't coal."

"Yes it was. Bulda said you found a pile of coal in the woods."

"I thought it was coal," Kristoff corrected irritably. "It wasn't."

"Well, what was it then?"

"Olaf, do you know what bears do in the woods?"

"Ooh ooh, wait! Don't tell me. I know this one. Umm… Something about honey? No, no, that's not right. Just give me a second, now. Let me think! Think, think, think..."

"Do you know what rock trolls do in the woods?"

"Oh, oh, oh!" Olaf jumped up and down on the spot in excitement. Then he stopped and shook his head. "I have no idea."

"Neither did I." Kristoff gestured resignedly. "Come on, let's go. With any luck, they'll have moved on to some other embarrassing story by now. You coming, Sven?"

"Wouldn't miss it!"

"Gee, thanks buddy."

The ice harvester, the reindeer, and the snowman headed off to join the queen, the princess, and a cluster of friendly little moss-covered trolls. It was a strange and altogether unlikely group to say the least, full of strange and altogether unlikely people.

It was, in short, a family.

• • •

Elsa smiled. Recalling her sister's laughter while they had listened to Bulda's stories and watched Kristoff's mortified reactions had the curious and unexpected effect of soothing away some of her own guilt. The disappointment still lingered in her chest, and she was certain that Anna felt it too. However, the difference between Arendelle's daughters had long been in how they handled their setbacks.

Elsa had always worried away at them, dissecting them over and over in search of all the things she had done wrong that had led to them happening in the first place. Anna, on the other hand, rarely looked back in the same way. Instead, she would simply exhaust every possible avenue at her disposal in an attempt to make things right.

Some looked at that approach to life and came to the conclusion that Anna was hopelessly naïve. Honestly, even Elsa had felt that way sometimes. And yet, during all those nights she had spent lying awake reflecting upon every mistake that had plagued her and her family, one conclusion seemed inescapable. Somehow, Anna had managed to weather all that turmoil while still growing into a remarkably well-adjusted woman. Yes, she had her foibles; she was only human after all. But how could Elsa or anyone else say that her attitude toward life was any less valid when it had clearly helped her make it through so much trouble and sorrow.

So fine, they hadn't been able to help Anna get her memories back the way they had both hoped. Still, there were other things she could give her sister instead: love and support, a chance to finally be free, a safe place she could always call home, loyalty that would never turn its back on her again. And maybe, just maybe mind you, those things would, in the end, be worth even more than what they had originally set out to find.

As she quietly closed the bedroom door, she thought about Olaf, who as often as not spent his nights in the subterranean chamber that served as the palace's ice house. She honestly wasn't sure if the snowman actually slept, let alone what he might dream about if he did, but he apparently found the room comfortable enough while he waited for the new day and a chance for another adventure with his friends.

She thought about Kristoff. He'd been given a room in the palace that was close (but not too close) to Anna's, and that was where he kept his few possessions: his lute, his climbing gear, a few changes of clothing. On occasion, he'd even been known to sleep there. Years of habit were difficult to break, however, as Elsa herself knew all too well. That was why on many mornings, he greeted the sunrise from the stall in the stables that had been given over for Sven's use.

She thought of her own new room, now right across the hall from her sister's. They both still visited what had been their parents' bedchambers from time to time, but neither could face the thought of moving into it. Even so, Elsa had chosen to leave her old room behind. She was determined to make a new start of things – with Anna, with Arendelle, and with her life. Too much of the frightened girl she had once been still lingered in her old room. Everything was different now, and she wanted to make that perfectly clear to everyone, including herself. Maybe part of that change would even mean finally leaving her guilt behind.

Despite the lateness of the hour, Elsa did not retire to her own chambers. Instead, she slipped softly through the darkened palace passages until she came to a stop at the intersection of two particular hallways. There, she stood and gazed at the portrait that hung on the wall.

"Hello again, Mother, Father." She paused, ordering her thoughts before she continued speaking in the same quiet tone. "Today turned out to be… well, I suppose you could call it surprising. It certainly didn't end up the way I expected it to when we set out this morning. Grand Pabbie says that he can't give Anna her memories back. She took it better than I would have imagined, though I know she had to be disappointed.

"Of course, this is Anna we're talking about, so I'm certain she'll be fine – and not just because she's always so cheerful and optimistic either. I'm constantly amazed that she can still see the bright side in everything despite what we've been through, but I also think we all know she hides behind that act sometimes. No, she'll be fine because she has all of her friends and this odd little new family we're trying to piece together. We'll help see her through, just like she helped me and we all helped each other.

"After all, if I learned nothing else from the two of you and from Anna, it's that family never gives up on you – not even when you've given up on yourself. I'm trying to live by that every day, along with everything else you taught me.

"I'll admit, though, that most days, I'm frankly still terrified. I don't feel ready to shoulder all of this responsibility. It's more than just Anna; the entire kingdom looks to me now. There's no more regent, no more hiding. The decisions are mine, and so are the mistakes. I look to my advisors, as you taught me to, Father. And I thank heaven for Kai. I'm sure that at least once a day, he saves me from making a complete fool of myself. Gerda claims he did the same for you, though he denies having to do it for either of us."

She fell silent again and, for a long while, just stared at the two beloved faces. "I miss you so much," she said at last, her voice finally breaking a little as it so often did during these conversations. "I wish you were here. You wouldn't even have to be king again, Father. It would just mean so much to hear you say that I'm doing good. Or at least that I haven't messed things up too badly. I just… I'm trying so hard to be the sort of queen, the sort of woman that you would both be proud of, even though I feel like I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

She reached out a hand, her fingertips coming close to but never quite touching the pigmented canvas. "I would give just about anything to hear you say those words. To hear you say..."

"I'm proud of you."

Elsa whirled around, startled by the unexpected, albeit familiar voice.

"Or were you hoping for, 'I love you,' instead. Because they're both true, you know. For me and for them."

"Gerda! What are you doing out at this time of night?"

"Much the same as you are, I suspect, Your Majesty," the old woman said, walking forward until she stood next to the queen. "Couldn't sleep. Seems to happen more and more often as the years go by, and it's frankly too warm a night to sit in front of the fire with a hot cup of tea until I finally doze off. So I thought I'd take a little stroll around the place, try to tire myself out a bit. Maybe visit a few old friends." She smiled wistfully at the painting. Elsa looked back at it as well.

"Come here often, do you?" Gerda asked.

The younger woman nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. "Usually in the evenings, when the palace is empty. It's silly, I know, but everyone else expects so much of me. I feel like I can't admit to any of them what I'm really feeling. Well, maybe to Anna, but I'm not sure she'd understand."

"Oh, I think you'll find she understands more than you give her credit for. If nothing else, she knows what it's like to not have anybody to confide in besides a painting."

Elsa smiled faintly. "Where do you think I got the idea from in the first place?"

Gerda chuckled. "Well, if you're going to follow in someone else's footsteps, there are far worse ones you could choose than your sister's. Still, I don't think your parents would have wanted you to try to be anyone else except who you are."

"I wouldn't mind being me if I could just avoid feeling quite so scared quite so often. I wish I could be more like my father in that way."

"You think King Agdar was never scared? Just how many times have you looked at this painting?"

"What do you mean?" Elsa scanned the taller figure pictured within the frame. Her father stood, arm-in-arm with her mother. His posture was ramrod straight, his shoulders pulled back and his gaze fixed firmly ahead of him. "He doesn't look frightened to me."

"That painting was commissioned shortly after your parents were wed," Gerda explained patiently. "Come to think of it, your father was about the same age that you are right now. And it should have been one of the happiest times in his life. He had waited for so long to marry your mother, and at last that dream had come true.

"Of course, he'd barely been king for two months. The end of his father's reign had frankly left the kingdom in a state of turmoil, and so it had fallen on his shoulders to clean up the mess that had been left behind. Right about that time, he also got word from his sister in Corona that her baby girl had mysteriously vanished from their palace without a trace, just as he and your mother were beginning to think about starting a family of their own.

"That isn't confidence you see there. That is the pose of a soldier expecting a dressing down from his superior officer. Not that he ever admitted it to anyone, of course… besides his wife. And she confided in me. Which turns out to have been incredibly fortunate, because now I'm able to tell you.

"You're setting yourself lofty goals, Your Majesty, and that's commendable. Just make sure you aren't setting them so high that no one could ever possibly reach them. If you expect to have all the answers and never be afraid, then you're aiming well beyond any measure set by your parents, I can assure you."

Elsa looked upon her father's likeness as with new eyes. She had marked before how infrequently her father had actually worn his crown, though it sat upon his head in this paining. She had thought that he had simply found it too ostentatious, an unnecessary distraction that only got in the way of the performance of his duties. Now, she found herself considering that it might have been for other reasons entirely.

Perhaps she had even more in common with her father than she'd ever realized.

"Thank you, Gerda. You were always a dear friend to my mother. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that Anna and I aren't the only ones who miss them."

"I imagine it's also easy to forget that the two of you aren't alone, either."

"It used to be," Elsa admitted. "Lately, though, that one's gotten a little easier."

The old woman smiled. "You know that my door is always open if you need someone to talk to. Someone who'll actually talk back, I mean."

"I'd like that. But not tonight, I think. It's late, and I have a kingdom to run tomorrow. I really should be getting to bed." She took one last look at her parents, bidding them a silent farewell, then nodded once to the head of the palace kitchens. "Good night, Gerda."

"Good night, Your Majesty."

"You know, I'm pretty sure you helped to change my diapers when I was a baby. I don't think such formality is really necessary between us, do you?"

A wide smile split Gerda's face. Without saying another word, she turned and headed back up the corridor toward her quarters. Elsa watched her go, slightly perplexed by the reaction of one of her family's oldest friends. Then with a shrug, she began the walk back to her room as well.

• • •

The ivory gull swooped low over the ice as it neared the end of its journey. A long one it had been, too, and to far warmer climes than it was usually accustomed. Still, it had gone in search of something important, and for the first time in its memory or in that of any of any other bird in its colony, something important had finally been found.

It was now very tired, having made only the shortest possible stops for food and rest on its flight north. It didn't fully understand the sense of urgency it felt, but it knew that the news it carried would be met with great excitement, even if it couldn't quite comprehend why. No matter. The job of a messenger was only to deliver the message, not to make sense of it.

The cold air was refreshing, and it helped to bolster the bird's flagging stamina. The land over which it now flew was still somewhat distant from the arctic ice pack that most of its kind called home. Still, there were other amenities here that more than made up for that relative isolation. There was a price to be paid as well in the form of long trips such as this one, and time spent in uncomfortably warm places. Even among birds, though, there are inevitably some with a more adventurous spirit who are willing and even eager to go where others would not. Not all survived such journeys, but those that did often reaped hitherto unknown bounties in such far unexplored reaches.

At that moment, however, a well-known nest and a belly full of familiar food was all that the weary gull desired.

At last, its destination hove into view. Flapping its wings, it gained a bit of altitude, then caught a current of air that was flowing in the proper direction. Gratefully gliding for a span, it adjusted its feathers only slightly to refine its course. Finally, it pulled them in, creating just enough drag to drop it out of the rushing air current. Then with a few short flaps, it sailed in through the open window.

Down one long passage after another it flew, more impatient than ever to complete its mission. Suddenly, the walls and ceiling widened outward into a chamber of such immense size, the bird might almost have believed that it had flown out another window and was once again back outside. It had been here before, though, and so knew better. It made straight for the center for the cavernous room. With one last effort, it dropped down to roost atop the vertical slab of ice it found there.

On the far side of the ice, a figure stirred. A graceful hand rose up, up, until one long finger touched the top of the gull's head and began to stroke it gently.

"You have been gone a long time, my friend," said the voice that belonged to that figure. "I was afraid that something might have happened to you. Your safe return is most welcome. Of course, you must be terribly tired. You should go to the aviary and rest. Another will be sent to take your place."

A moment passed while the bird luxuriated in the simple caress of that one finger upon its head and neck. Then, in a resigned tone that was all but a sigh, the voice asked, "I suppose there is no news again this time, as there has never been?"

The snow white gull did not want the stroking to end, yet it knew its duty well. It jerked its head, then gently poked once with its beak at the side of the pale hand.

The finger stopped moving immediately, though it remained in place atop the bird's head for a second longer. Then the hand turned over, its open palm cupped right in front of the winged messenger. With a brief flutter, the gull rose from the back of the chair. Then its long claws, used for gripping the pack ice in its native habitat, released the small burden it had carried so very far.

A silence colder and heavier than the depths of winter held sway over the room. Slowly, the figure rose to its feet, holding the object up toward the ceiling to get a better look at it in the light of the aurora that cascaded overhead. Then a single laugh, a giggle of almost girlish glee, broke the stillness.

The wandering green illumination shown through the thin crystalline sheath that was held between two slender fingers, making the translucent encasement seem to almost glow. This was not the cause of the jubilation, however. No, that was born out of what could be seen trapped within the protective covering.

A single golden crocus, frozen in full bloom, had somehow been impossibly captured within solid ice.

"Ah," the woman said almost rapturously. "Time brings all things to those who cultivate patience. Now at last, I have a sign. I will admit, it took longer than I had anticipated, though perhaps not so very long in the grand scheme of things.

"Still, these things must be done properly. Others have been watching as well, though none as swift of wing as you, my fine feathered friend. We shall see what reports they bring, if any. That will take more time still. But then, I have waited this long. I can wait a while longer. Besides, there are preparations that must be made. I have not traveled so far from home in quite some time, yet I think a journey south is definitely called for once again."

The ivory gull found itself being lifted from its perch and carried, cradled in two gentle hands, to the comfortable familiarity of the aviary. There, it was placed carefully into its nest, where weariness quickly defeated hunger as its primary concern. Before long, it was fast asleep.

Elsewhere in the sprawling ice palace, however, a great deal of activity had commenced. Much had to be planned. Much had to be readied. Much had to be done.

For soon, the Snow Queen would set forth on her long pilgrimage to Arendelle.