Kristoff kept a wary eye on the snow-covered paths that twisted through the mountains. So far, there had been little need to worry at the reins. After all, every time he had traveled these routes in the past, Sven had been right there with him. Now the reindeer seemed to know exactly where they needed to go, requiring only the most minimal of guidance from his friend. Kristoff's job was mainly to keep an eye out for signs that could indicate trouble up ahead and to choose a detour if his instincts told him that their usual paths might be blocked or too dangerous.

Still, he spared a glance every now and then to his companion in the seat beside him. Though never as talkative as her sister, Elsa had still been unnervingly quiet ever since they had departed the capital. She had barely spoken two words after they had climbed beyond the foothills. She also seemed at a loss what to do with her hands. Sometimes, they lay folded in her lap. Other times, they were tucked tightly beneath her armpits. At the moment, one clutched the armrest while she stared out across the chasm that they were skirting at what some might have considered a reckless speed. If Elsa was aware of the potential risk, she gave no sign. Her worries lay elsewhere.

For the umpteenth time, Kristoff tried to think of something he might say to comfort her, or at least to pull her out of herself for a short while. It seemed to him that she was in danger of withdrawing from the world again, and he knew that Anna would not want to see her give in to her fears like that. Both sisters had worked too hard to overcome that instinct, but it clearly had not been wiped out entirely. Unfortunately, casual conversation was not exactly one of his strengths. Neither were subtlety or delicacy, both of which he was pretty confident were called for in this situation. That made finding the right words all the more difficult.

"It will be dark soon."

"What?" he asked distractedly, slightly irritated by being interrupted in his search for a way to break the silence. Then it clicked. "Oh. Oh, yeah." He examined the sky. The sun had just descended behind the mountains, plunging their feet into deep shadow though the snow upon the peaks still reflected a pale indigo light from the eastern sky. Behind the western range, the sky was ablaze, shading from a band of gold just above the crests through several shades of amber and into corals and lavenders high overhead.

Kristoff marveled less at the beauty than at how quickly the day had passed.

"Well, we can hang out the lantern then. That should give Sven enough light to see by. It will hardly be the first time we've found our way in the dark."

"I think we should find a place to stop and camp for the night."

He looked at her then as though she had suggested they set the sled on fire. "You can't be serious! We can't afford to stop now. We already lost too much time finding a way around that avalanche that had blocked Skalikke Pass."

"I know, and if it had just been snow, I might have been able to clear it. But it had ripped up a third of the forest on its way down, and the uprooted trees were all tangled together and..."

"Hey, nobody's blaming you, alright? I'm just saying we need to make up ground, that's all."

"Well, I blame me," Elsa replied miserably. "I doubt the Snow Queen would let something like that slow her down. But it doesn't matter. Either way, we need to stop for the night."

"I don't see why. Like I said, Sven and I have gone on plenty of night runs before. In fact, when we were trying to make our way up the North Mountain with Anna, she insisted that..."

Kristoff wondered if the awful taste that suddenly coated his tongue was that of boot leather. Certainly, he had managed to plant his foot quite firmly into his mouth with his casual mention of Anna at that particular moment. The pain reflected on Elsa's face made that abundantly clear.

"Look, I didn't mean..."

She waved his apology away. "That isn't the point. I'm sure you know how to make your way through the mountains in the dark. But I've lost track of how many hours we've gone since our last break. Sven must be exhausted."

"He can keep going a while longer yet. Can't you, buddy?"

Sven gave no answer – not a grunt nor snort nor even a turn of his head. He simply kept toiling away, dragging the sled further and further along the narrow, treacherous trail.

"See?" Kristoff gestured toward the reindeer as though he had answered aloud. Inside, though, he winced. He had been so distracted with his own worries that he had not paid enough attention to his friend's condition. Sven's lack of response wasn't a show of stolid determination. He was indeed beginning to flag from his prolonged exertion.

"Believe me, I'm as anxious to catch up to Anna as you are," Elsa replied, "but we have to be sensible about this. It won't be as easy as just picking her up and heading back home, you know. When the time comes, I'm going to need all my strength, and that means sleep. And though your sled might be the latest model, this bench isn't exactly built for that level of comfort." She squirmed awkwardly to emphasize the point.

"But..."

"Plus, even in the best case, I have a feeling we'll need to get away in a hurry. That means Sven will need to be well-rested too."

"But..."

"Kristoff." Her voice wasn't angry, but it carried definite undertones of warning.

Glancing ahead of them again, he sighed. It was plain that she was not about to let this matter rest or change her mind. Truth be told, he really couldn't blame her. As much as he might hate to admit it, she was probably right.

"Fine," he said grudgingly. "Fine, you win. But we need to go a bit further before we stop. Not too far ahead, the path broadens out into a saddle between two mountains. It's reasonably sheltered from the wind, and there's even a small grove of trees there. With a little luck, that should allow us to replenish whatever firewood we end up using. We can make camp there for the night. Even so, I think we ought to be prepared to head out again no later than first light."

"Fair enough," Elsa replied through a mostly-stifled yawn.

• • •

Their dinner was a modest affair, even considering the circumstances. Elsa's stomach was still too twisted in knots to allow for much of an appetite, but Kristoff insisted that she eat something anyway. Having argued earlier that they all needed to maintain their strength, she couldn't exactly disagree with him. Still, she barely finished the single sausage he cooked for her over the fire, while he managed to down several. Sven, who seemed more interested in sleep than anything else, nevertheless allowed himself to be tempted by a few carrots before curling up beneath the boughs of a nearby tree. He was the first of their little band to fall asleep. The other two remained awake a while longer, staring into the fire as the night grew steadily colder. It looked like they might once again have run out of things to say, until Kristoff finally spoke.

"Do you have a plan?"

Elsa lifted her eyes and peered at him over the crackling flames. "I thought we already settled on that. We'll rest tonight, then set out again first thing in the morning. I can still feel Olaf's magic. It's distant, but it's there. And even if I lose it for some reason, we should be able to continue heading north at least until we reach Lapland."

"Yeah, I know that part. But do you have a plan for when we get there? What are we going to do when we get to the Snow Queen's palace?"

"We aren't going to do anything. You and Sven will wait with the sled by the edge of her garden, or whatever it was Gerda said that Finnish woman called it. That's where the reindeer dropped off Gerda back then, so it ought to be safe for you too. Then I'll go into the palace alone."

"You do realize that, as plans go, that one's pretty terrible, right? For one thing, it assumes the impossible: that Sven and I would let you face that woman alone."

"We've already been over that..."

"And second," he said, steamrolling right over her objections, "it doesn't seem to include any useful bits about how you plan to find Anna, how you're hoping to free her, and how you're going to defeat the Snow Queen. At the very least, you could have added, 'Then I'll bring Anna back out, and we'll all head home.' Any plan that doesn't include that bit is a pretty lousy one."

His eyes stubbornly held onto Elsa's, at least until she turned away and resumed her intent examination of the fire. Then his face darkened.

"You don't plan on coming back out, do you?"

"I plan to free Anna, whatever that takes."

"Okay, you've already demonstrated that you haven't really thought this through when you said you were going in alone. That's not happening. Now you expect me to believe that you think Anna is just going to walk out of there and leave you behind? Are we both talking about the same Anna here?"

"I'm not sure that we'll have any other choice."

"Uh-uh. You don't get to start talking like that. I watched you face off with the Snow Queen, remember? I saw you take down her snow soldiers and keep her ice at bay. You held your own against her! I don't see any reason why you can't do that again."

"Kristoff, that fight took almost everything I had! By the time it was over, I was exhausted. But she… she flew out of the castle on an island of ice! And it seemed like it took as little effort for her as it would take me to make a snowball."

"Yeah, but didn't you build an entire ice palace in about a minute? Didn't you freeze the fjord in seconds? Oh, and I seem to recall you lifting all the snow in the kingdom at one point too."

"That was different," she protested. "I only held it for a few moments, and I didn't have to keep it stable enough for anybody to ride on top of it. It's a matter of concentration. The harder I have to focus on what I'm doing, the more it takes out of me."

"Well then, problem solved. Don't think about it, just do it! It seems to me like that's when you're at your most powerful anyway. When you froze Arendelle, you didn't even realize you'd done it, right?"

"But that's the problem! If I don't remain focused, it's all too easy to lose control. That's when things go wrong. That's when I... hurt people."

"Elsa, I'm not sure you can be afraid of hurting the Snow Queen if we want to have any hope of getting Anna back. Quite frankly, I wouldn't be too upset if it happened either. Back in the courtyard, she certainly didn't seem to have any qualms about injuring anyone… or worse."

"Neither did Hans. Is that what you want me to be?"

"No! No, I didn't mean… I'm just saying that I don't think you're going to be able to hold back this time. It's plain enough that she's at least as strong as you are. If you don't give it everything you've got, then she's going to win. It's as simple as that."

"Where magic is concerned, nothing is ever simple, Kristoff. It's barely been half a year since I've begun seriously using my powers again. From what Kai and Gerda told us, the Snow Queen's been using hers for at least half a century, and probably much longer than that. Even if I was every bit as strong as her, I don't have anywhere near the experience. If this comes down to another battle, I don't see how I can possibly win."

"There has to be a way, and I don't mean just handing yourself over to her either. We still have a long trip ahead of us. We have time. I'm sure between the two of us, we can think of something. But you can't give up, alright? We just have to talk it out, that's all."

Elsa once again regarded the fire in brooding silence. Kristoff, unsure what else to say, picked up a long stick and prodded the tinder. The flames danced energetically, seeking stable footing on the shifting wood before they finally settled down again, now standing a little taller than they had been before.

"That might just work."

Kristoff looked across at Elsa, confused. He'd been lost in his own thoughts and hadn't been expecting to hear her speak again anytime soon. "Sorry, what?"

"Maybe the two of us just need to talk."

It didn't seem like she was answering his question so much as just continuing her earlier private train of thought. Still, the fact that she was actually agreeing with him for a change was a pleasant enough surprise that it buoyed his spirits somewhat.

"Yes! Exactly! I couldn't agree more. That's just what we need to do. Okay, so here's what I was thinking. Maybe we could..."

"I need to go to sleep."

Kristoff verbally skidded to a stop. "Wait, I thought you said you wanted to talk."

"Absolutely."

"Well then, why wait? It isn't that late yet. Of course, if you're tired, I suppose we could pick it up in the morning, but..."

"No, the sooner we talk, the better. That's why I need to go to sleep."

He stared at her in abject befuddlement. Then, running a hand over his face, he sighed. "Why do I get the feeling I'm already not a part of this conversation?"

Having made her decision, Elsa was loath to delay any longer than necessary. Even so, she leaned forward into the light of the fire and quickly explained exactly what she had in mind.

• • •

"Fare? Fare!"

Elsa stood upon an ice floe as it drifted slowly through a gray mist. Or maybe it was simply the curling and twisting of the fog that gave the illusion of motion. Either way, she didn't give much thought to it. It made no difference, just as it hardly mattered which of them was lost in the haze. One way or the other, she needed to find her dark twin.

"Fare!" she called again, turning in a circle and straining to penetrate the gloom. She had no idea if this would even work. She'd never tried to summon her doppelganger before. Fare had always been the one to decide when she felt like making an appearance. Frankly, Elsa was rather surprised that she'd been able to retain enough presence of mind while sleeping to even make the attempt. She considered this to be a good sign, though, since she rarely had such control over her dreams unless Fare was involved in some way.

"Fare!"

"Elsa!"

An indistinct shape appeared before her, wavering in and out of sight as the mist ebbed and then thickened again. Elsa squinted. It was hard to say for certain, but it didn't seem to be moving toward her. Rather, its line of travel seemed to be perpendicular to her own, though Elsa still could not tell which of them was actually moving or whether all sense of movement was a mere hallucination. It might well be all in her imagination.

Of course, it's my imagination, she chided herself. I'm dreaming, aren't I?

"I'm over here, Fare!" She began to edge cautiously toward the hazy figure, unsure where the edge of her particular floe might be, if there even was one. Fare appeared to have stopped at the sound of her last cry. This struck Elsa as strange. Was it actually possible that they had each been searching for the other?

The fog was so thick that it made distances almost impossible to guess. So she was startled when the familiar face suddenly coalesced in front of her. She was even more surprised by what happened next.

"There you are!" Fare reached out and grabbed Elsa by the elbows. The look on her face was one of tremendous relief, which was odd enough, but there were hints of deeper emotions hiding there as well. Elsa had seen them in the mirror often enough that she thought she could put a name to some of them. Grief. Guilt. Fear?

She had come here seeking answers, but she had not expected that the first question out of her mouth would be, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," Fare answered. "I'm sorry. I should have done more. I should have warned you. I wanted to, so many times. But I couldn't. I couldn't. I wasn't allowed."

Elsa clasped Fare's arms, trying to offer support even though she herself was more troubled than she cared to admit. "What do you mean? Who wouldn't let you?"

It was clear that Fare wanted to look away, to hide her face. But she didn't, so the pain in her eyes was all too easy to see when she answered.

"The Snow Queen."

Though she had expected to learn as much when she first made the decision to seek out Fare, actually hearing the words (and spoken in her own voice) still made Elsa shudder. When she replied, she couldn't keep the revulsion out of her voice. "So she is a part of me then. You are a part of her."

Fare's hands tightened their grip, afraid that Elsa might pull away. "Please don't hate me. It isn't what you think. At least, it isn't anymore."

"Anymore? So what was it before? And what is it now?"

Fare looked more miserable than ever. "So many people want to know the reason for their existence, why they were brought into the world, yet they live their entire lives and never find out. But I know. I've always known. From the very beginning, my purpose was to make sure you would embrace your magic.

"It was easy at first. When you were young, you didn't fear it nearly as much. You took care to hide it, once you were old enough that your mother and father could make you understand, but you still enjoyed it. Of course, it didn't hurt that it always made Anna happy. It wasn't often that you could say no to her when she asked you to use your magic. And that was enough. You were experimenting, you were growing, you were learning who you were. I didn't need to do anything but watch and wait, in case you might need a little nudge along the way.

"Then that one horrible night happened, and everything changed. Suddenly, you retreated inside yourself and locked your magic away. I wanted to help you right then, but you were too scared. I peeked into your dreams. You never saw me; I made sure of that. But I saw you reliving your darkest fears night after night. Time and again, I watched you cradle Anna and weep at what you had done.

"More than once, I considered showing myself to you back then. If I could have helped you see that it wasn't really your fault, that it had just been an accident, I thought that maybe I could convince you not to give up on your gift. The more I watched, though, and the more I listened to the conversations you had with your parents and to the arguments you had with yourself inside your head, the clearer it became that you weren't yet ready. Had I tried to approach you in your dreams, I feared that I might only make matters worse.

"So I waited, agonizing over what I ought to do. I knew what I was supposed to do, but I couldn't see any way to go about it. With the state you were in, everything I could think of seemed just as likely to drive you even further away from your powers. Beyond that, I was young then too. Nothing had prepared me for the difficulties we were both facing. All I could do was continue to watch and wait and hope that something would change.

"And finally, it did! You decided to start experimenting with your magic all on your own, because you wanted to be able to leave your room and be a proper sister to Anna again at a time when she needed you most. Suddenly, there was a chance. You were trying, attempting to understand how it all worked.

"Sometimes at night, when you seemed to need it, I would slip quietly into your dreams and whisper to you. I didn't want to risk doing too much, so they were only the tiniest of hints. I knew from watching you during your normal lessons that you often learned as much from the mistakes you made, if not more. If you were ever going to truly understand how to wield your powers properly, I figured I needed to let you do the same thing.

"But then, you got stuck. You kept trying and failing to make your snow hold its shape for you. I nudged you all that I could, but it just wasn't working and you were beginning to get discouraged. So when that one afternoon came, when you fell asleep on the bench beneath your window, I decided that the time had finally come to take a chance."

"I remember," Elsa said quietly. "You appeared to me in my dream for the very first time. You told me to look out the window, and when I woke up, I saw a load of ice being delivered to the castle. That was what convinced me to start exploring it instead of snow."

"Yes, exactly!"

"I also remember that you were positively rude about the whole business."

Fare actually blushed. "I know. I was... different then. As I said, I didn't have a lot of experience. My attempts at subtle guidance had stopped working, and frankly, I was every bit as frustrated as you were. Besides, I hadn't exactly had the opportunity to talk to anyone before that moment, so my social skills were… well, nonexistent really."

The frown that had appeared on Elsa's face at the memory of Fare's earlier behavior did not much soften in response to these excuses. It was clear, however, that Fare felt an urgent need to regain her goodwill. Her very posture was like that of a penitent child who had rushed to confess her misbehavior to a parent, and now dreaded the inevitable scolding.

"Elsa, do you remember when I told you that I'm a child of many mothers? Yes, the Snow Queen is one of them. That's probably where I got my sharp tongue and my more arrogant tendencies. When we were both younger, I think her influence on me was even stronger.

"The thing is, you're a mother of sorts to me as well. Or maybe a sister or… or some kind of relation. Anyway, the power that gave birth to me might have come from her, but now it belongs to you. Yes, in some way, maybe I am a part of the Snow Queen. But if so, then it's a part she cast off decades ago. Since then, I've spent my whole life – if you can call it that – inside your head. By now, I'm more a part of you than I ever was of her. And there's more of you in me, too.

"You know how she said that she hadn't expected to wait so long to find out that you had magic? Well, I'm pretty sure I was never intended to spend all those years with you either. I wasn't supposed to come to know you the way that I have."

Letting go of Elsa at last, Fare wrapped her arms about herself in a pose that Elsa recognized immediately. The dark-haired woman took a step back and shook her head.

"When you stopped using your magic again, I was hurt. I truly believed that I'd been trying to help you. By then, I really didn't care whose idea it was. You were always so much happier whenever you embraced your abilities, and I wanted that for you. Maybe I was being a little selfish, too. I enjoyed getting to talk with you and not having to hide all the time.

"But then you rejected your powers a second time, and you turned your back on me. I'll admit, I didn't take it well. I was angry, and I said some things that I shouldn't have. I didn't want to be alone. And your mind had been a much nicer place to live in when you weren't hating yourself. It had been like feeling the warmth of the sun for the first time in years. So when I saw the thunderclouds rolling in again, I panicked. Naturally, I only ended up making matters worse.

"So I went back into hiding. I still watched you quietly, though. There wasn't much else I could do. Only this time, I knew firsthand what fear felt like. I understood what it means to watch everything you care about slip away, especially when you blame yourself and all the mistakes you've made.

"For the first time, I really began to question everything. Why had I done what I'd done? What was it that I really wanted? What should I have done differently? I knew what I was meant to do, but I was no longer sure if it was the right thing to do. I was unsure of who or even what I was. It took me a long time to sort all of that out."

"I know what that's like." Elsa's features had slowly softened as she'd listened to Fare. She was having trouble deciding if it was strange how much the two of them had in common, or if it was the most blindly obvious thing in the world. Either way, it was quickly becoming impossible for her not to sympathize with… herself?

Fare smiled a little. "Strange, isn't it? Even I'm not sure where the line is between us anymore, if there ever was one. Mostly, I've just stopped worrying about it. We are who we are, and there isn't much we can do to change that."

"Mother was always fond of saying that who we are never stops changing. None of us is the same person we used to be. I've thought about that a lot over the years, because I spent so much time wanting to be someone else. In the end, though, I think it's an incredibly hopeful idea. It means that, no matter what mistakes we might make, we always have the opportunity to learn from them and to become the sort of person who wouldn't make that same mistake again."

"And I've done my best to do just that," Fare replied with a nod. "Even though I still believed that accepting your powers would be the best thing for you, I realized that continuing to push when you weren't ready wasn't going to help anyone. Instead, I looked for other ways that I could help.

"You always seemed more self-confident when you felt in control of the magic, so I thought maybe it would work the other way too. I tried to do what I could to help you feel good about yourself. I helped you help Anna sneak out of the castle. I showed up whenever you were feeling particularly low. I tried to be there for you when you lost your parents. I..."

"You tried to be my friend," Elsa finished for her.

"I don't know that I was ever very good at it," Fare admitted. "If I had been, maybe things would have turned out differently. When you fled into the mountains after your coronation, I felt like I'd failed you. Then you built the Ice Palace, and it seemed like you had put aside the fear that had weighed you down for most of your life. I should have been glad. After all, hadn't that been my goal from the very beginning?

"And yet, I wasn't. Even if you had finally accepted that part of yourself, I knew you still weren't really happy. That wasn't the life you wanted. You told yourself you were free, but it wasn't true. You were still hiding, and you were still alone.

"You didn't even know who the Snow Queen was then, yet you were about to become just like her. You were ready to retreat from the world completely, even more than you had before. You had built yourself a fortress where you thought no one could ever touch you again, and you were determined to spend the rest of your life there. You'd even convinced yourself that it was a good thing.

"A part of me – the very oldest part that had been put there before you were even born – felt vindicated. 'Yes,' it said, 'the world is heartless and cruel, and this is the only way that those who are different can survive.' But I had become so much more than that one small, bitter seed. What I was, I couldn't have said, but I knew that I was no longer just the Snow Queen's puppet."

"Then why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you let me know where you had come from, how I'd gotten my powers? Why keep it all a secret?"

The pain and betrayal crept into Elsa's voice. She had come here to learn whatever Fare might be able tell her about her sister's abductor. Though she felt for this strange apparition who was both a part of her and yet something disturbingly other, the suggestion that she was in any way similar to the Snow Queen shook her badly. The realization of exactly how many people had kept the secret of what that woman had done to her only made it hurt all the more – not least because it reminded her of everything that she had helped to hide from Anna for so long. It made her more determined than ever to find some way to set Anna free.

Fare, meanwhile, looked to be on the verge of tears. "I wanted to! You have no idea how much I did! I simply couldn't."

"Were you afraid of how I would react? Was that it? Were you scared that, if I knew the truth, I wouldn't want anything to do with you ever again?"

"No! I mean, all of that's true, but it wouldn't have kept me from telling you. You deserved to know. When I say I couldn't, that's exactly what I mean. Whatever part of me still belongs to the Snow Queen, it wouldn't let me. That's why I could never come right out and answer you whenever you asked me what I was. That's why, even just a short time ago, I couldn't warn you properly like I wanted to.

"I felt her coming. I suppose it must be like how you can feel your own magic in Olaf. And I got scared. I knew that nothing good could come of her arrival. So I slipped into your dream and I tried to tell you, but I wasn't allowed. I couldn't even use her name. I am so sorry! I failed you again. That's all I've ever done. No matter how hard I've tried to help, I always… I..." Fare's face disappeared behind her hands.

It was impossible to say which of them was more surprised when, a second later, they both found Elsa's arms wrapped around Fare's torso, pulling her close and holding her tight. Fare's eyes popped open for a moment in utter shock. Then she simply allowed herself to melt into the hug, returning it in kind.

"It wasn't your fault," Elsa whispered into her ear.

"It was never yours either."

"You can say her name now. Does that mean she's no longer holding you back?

"I… I think so. I think she just didn't want the surprise to be spoiled. She imagined you would be excited when you found out. But now that you know..." She trailed off with a shudder.

"Do you still want to help me?"

Elsa felt Fare's head bob up and down beside her own. Only then did she pull away, just far enough so that they could look at each other straight in the eye.

"Then tell me everything. Everything that you know about the Snow Queen. If I'm to have any chance of helping Anna, then I need to know as much as I possibly can. Secrets have hurt this family too much already. I won't let them destroy what's left of it."

"I'll tell you whatever I can," Fare said "If there's anything I can do to make this right, I will. I promise."

"Thank you." Elsa reached up and wiped a tear off a familiar cheek. "And not just for this. Thank you for being there all those times when I felt like I was completely alone. Thank you for helping me understand my magic and myself. Thank you for reminding me who I was even when all I wanted was to be somebody else."

Any words of reply seemed to have gotten lost along the way, but Elsa read all that she needed to in the eyes of her twin, her other self. At last, and like never before, they understood one another. In a way, Elsa supposed that meant that she had come a little bit closer to finally understanding herself.

Fare cleared her throat, tried to speak, then had to stop and clear it again. Perhaps that was a little strange, given that she had no real throat or vocal cords. In truth, her entire body was a mere construct of thought and magic. Still, that had not made her tears any less real. Eventually, she got herself under control, and her voice remembered the proper road by which to make its escape.

"So," she said with all the tremulous courage she could muster, "where do you want to start?"