A/N: I own neither Frozen nor Tangled. Would a Disney writer have time and inclination for fanfic? This is a serious question. I don't know the answer. Would they write fanfic about their own stories? I think I would, if I were them. Are they allowed to? These ramblings are what happen when I get tired of typing the disclaimer. Onwards and upwards!

Chapter 10: We Used to Be Best Buddies, But Now We're Not

Flynn stayed with Anna for a few weeks, planning out where to go next. They spent time together as often as Anna could sneak away. They mostly shared Elsa stories. He particularly liked the one about the time Elsa and Anna stole some chocolate cakes from the kitchens and somehow wound up on the roof of the stable with no way down until they were found and rescued, then promptly punished for being tiny scoundrels. Anna nearly swooned at the story of how he helped her learn fancy ball dances. She really liked the stories about them being "cute together," as she put it. He obliged her, even though it sent a pang through his heart every time he talked about the good old days that felt longer ago than they should have.

Anna was so different from Elsa, so bubbly and energetic, never concealing what she thought or felt. Elsa was just as tenacious and brave as her sister, but generally quieter and calmer. Anna seemed to be made of pure joy and sunbeams. He missed companionable silences with his princess, given that silences of any kind were rare with her sister around, but Anna was fun. She taught him how to ride a bike in secret and he showed her what he knew about knot-tying and escape from ropes around the wrists. It was a good few weeks, but Flynn needed to get a move-on.

His departure was more abrupt than he would have cared for. The guards discovered the missing food and were onto the fact that there was someone hiding in the castle. Anna got Kristoff to smuggle him to the western border using the ice business as cover. The blond giant seemed intimidating to Flynn, but Anna insisted that he was a big teddy bear. The reindeer seemed as mistrustful of Flynn as most animals. Despite any tension, he made it out and, after a few weeks hiking through mostly uninhabited Russian land, he wound his way through several smaller countries until he stopped for a bit in much sunnier Qamar. He thanked his lucky stars that Arabic had been one of the languages Elsa had taught him pretty well.

On his long hike, he had traded service for provisions directly at any place with a hint of civilization. Now, using all of the little skills he'd picked up over the years working at the castle, he did some odd jobs for cash and shelter, thievery having lost its luster. However, he spread several rumors that he was behind a few high-profile thefts that the real perpetrators were smart enough to not take credit for. They didn't mind not having heat on them.

Why did he make it seem like he was still a world-class thief? He was trying to make it seem like he hadn't changed a bit from his roguish ways so Elsa would forget about him. She deserved everything she'd worked for and he wasn't about to ruin it. He was watering camels at a bazaar not far from the Sultan's palace in Agrabah when he received a letter that told him his efforts weren't working. A frigid wind swept over the hot sand and gusted into his face with cooling relief, dropping a frost paper letter into his hands.

Dearest Flynn,

What in heaven's name are you doing? I thought that the point of escaping was to lay low. I have managed to hear of your exploits without even seeking out news of you. If my aunt and uncle so wished, they could easily write to the Sultan and have you extradited back here to face the gallows. Thievery is what got you into this mess in the first place. I thought you would have the sense not to continue the practice. Flynn, I am worried about you. Please, if you care anything for me, be more subtle and be safe. I love you as fondly as the stars love the night. Stay alive.

May God protect you,

Elsa

Guilt gnawed at him for making her worry, but he knew it was for her own good in the long run. Obviously, she was disappointed in him for "stealing" but not enough to give up on him. What was left to do that would be a betrayal so deep that she would never forgive him? He cast his eyes around and they landed on a woman draped in gauzy orange veils that covered little. She caught him looking, but instead of being angry that he was staring, she smiled at him and beckoned with a come-hither smile.

Of course. The solution had landed in his lap. There was nothing women valued in a man more than fidelity. If he made it seem like he had forgotten about Elsa, it would break her heart, but she'd never want to see him again and she could move on with her life.

In the Tales of Flynnigan Rider, the protagonist had been a ladies' man in that he never had the same woman with him for to adventures, sometimes switching in the middle of one story. If he was going to model himself after his childhood literary hero, why not go all the way?

He tossed the icy missive into the dust, watching it melt into droplets that quickly evaporated, then turned and followed the veiled woman down an alley. Time to play the part of the roguish womanizer. He wasn't sure he could pull it off.

He realized he'd maybe pulled it off a little too well four girls later when he was bolting down the street away from turbaned guards armed with scimitars. The only warning he'd gotten was a frost paper note from Elsa very curtly informing him in no uncertain terms that he was a scoundrel and a liar and she didn't want to see him again except on the other side of a set of bars.

He ducked into a harem where one of his past "ladies of the night" had worked. There was a benefit to these "romances" besides making Elsa mad enough to move on with her life. His lady friends were more than willing to help him out of sticky situations in exchange for his affections, it seemed. She and her friends helped disguise him in swaths of fabric that covered everything but his eyes. It was sweltering hot, so it wasn't pleasant, but better than getting a body part lopped off. It seemed that at the prodding of Elsa's family, the Sultan had decided that Flynn had overstayed his welcome in Agrabah. Flynn used his disguise to make it to the border and leave behind Qamar altogether.

The next stop was less of a stop and more of a very long sea voyage lasting seven months, around the cape of Africa. Flynn didn't mind. He liked the freedom of the open sea. He learned so much about sailing from the friendly crew, a mix of Qamarain new hires and the old hands from Britain. Flynn's English wasn't very impressive, but the seamen didn't mind, teaching him that skill alongside navigation and how to work the sails.

When they stopped at a port, he continued to spread the rumors about his legendary thievery and skill with the ladies. They actually managed to accidentally time a few of their stopovers with some well-known thefts, but his storytelling was decent enough that general belief was that he'd stolen some things that were never actually stolen, maybe didn't even exist in the first place. His reputation was building impressively.

The only drawback to the open ocean was flinching at every chillier than average breeze, half expecting a supernatural storm cooked up by his ex-girlfriend to blow them all to the bottom of the depths. Otherwise, it was perfect. Sun above, waves below, a beautiful horizon always ahead. A man could get used to a view like this: vast expanses of water and sky on all sides. Possibilities felt endless out there.

At last, they landed in Spain and he bid the crew goodbye in English and Arabic. The sunny warmth of this country was much better than the icy wastes of Siberia and the scorching desert of Qamar. A happy meteorological medium. In his travels, it had become abundantly clear to Flynn that he preferred beaches to most landscapes, especially mostly uninhabited ones where the only sounds were the surf and the seabirds. He stayed in El Puerto de Santa Maria for several pleasant months. He dialed back on the thievery stories and the amorous affairs, simply enjoying doing whatever work came to him. He didn't care for fishing, but it was what was available most of the time.

One day, he couldn't find any work. Nobody had any jobs for him to do. That wouldn't be a problem except that he was out of food and money for food. He would have to try an alternative revenue stream. He strolled down the street, wishing he had his mandolin to play for change. He could at least get a hot roll or something. No sooner than he was pining for his instrument, he heard someone playing one. He followed the sound to a young girl, a bit younger than Anna, with a curtain of dark hair common to this part of the world. She sat on a blanket, expertly plucking a melody from the strings. She was good, but the cup in front of her was nearly empty. The song ended and he approached her.

"You know, you'd probably get more money if you sang, too," he advised in Spanish, the only language he knew nearly as well as Arendellian.

She eyed him warily and laughed, "That would be true if I didn't sound like a tortured cat when I tried to so much as hum. I don't have the voice for it. Don't suppose you'd be interested in a partnership where you did the singing and we split the profit, would you?"

Flynn thought. Somehow, singing with another girl besides Elsa felt like more of a betrayal than anything he'd done since getting run out of Corona. He didn't think he could bring himself to do it, but he needed cash and fast. The only skill he had left was telling tall tales. Maybe that could work.

"I don't sing," he said to the girl on the blanket. "But I'm a decent storyteller. What do you say I spin the words and you provide background music that fits the mood? Minor chords for sadness, fast tempo for suspense, major chords for the happy ending and such."

"I don't know," the girl hesitated. "Talking to music isn't typical. You sure you can't sing?"

"Oh, come on. Songs tell stories on their own. It's not so different. Give it a try. What do you have to lose? If it doesn't work, you can ditch me and take the cash to another corner to try again on your own," he cajoled.

"Well, alright. I'll give it a chance, but the moment it fails, I'm leaving you and taking the coin with me," she relented.

"Deal," Flynn agreed. "So, what story to tell...?"

"Hurry up and make up your mind," the girl prodded, sticking out her tongue.

"Alright, you little tyrant," he teased.

He still was searching his brain for a tale when he realized he could simply tell his own story, a little dressed up, of course. It was the story he knew best, after all.

"Come one, come all to hear the tale of the Thief and the Snow Queen," he called, and the girl plucked out a building tune of anticipation. "Once upon a time, there was a boy who had no name, and a princess cursed from birth to never be warm. They were born hundreds of miles apart, so it should have been unlikely that they would meet, but it was fated in the stars."

A few people had begun to slow and wander closer. So far, so good. He continued, remembering all of the theories they'd come up with for why Elsa had her powers when they were children.

"When the princess's mother was pregnant, she loved to wander the woods that surrounded her mountain kingdom. One day, she happened across a deep stream. She was terribly thirsty, so she stopped to take a drink. The water was cool and sweet, so she drank several sips. When she stood, standing mere feet from her, across the stream, was a haggard man, an axe dangling limply from his hand. He said, 'Please, can you help me get a drink of water? I'm so tired after working in the woods all day, I'm afraid I'll fall in.' The young queen wanted to help, but she had been warned of strangers in the woods, so she told him she could not aid him. His eyes blazed with anger and his lumberjack disguise fell away. In its place was his true face, the King of Winter, the human form of the infamous North Wind," he continued.

A small crowd was gathering, becoming interested in the story. The girl was playing an appropriately mysterious melancholy melody. He took a steadying breath and kept going. It was hard telling an epic tale in a language other than one's native tongue.

"The queen fell to her knees and begged for mercy, but the North Wind is as cold and unforgiving as the landscape of the unclimbable mountain he reigns from. He bellowed, 'You have shown yourself to be selfish and cold, you insolent child, so for the rest of your days, you will never feel warmth again, always chilled to your very bones.' The queen tried to run, but the King of Winter struck her with his magic. But the queen had not done anything wrong, so the curse instead found her unborn child, who was also innocent of any wrongdoing, but also, still being formed in her mother's womb, having the unlimited potential for good or evil, selfishness or generosity, gentle warmth or icy harshness," Flynn pronounced ominously.

He would have to hurry up with the exposition and get to the good stuff soon, or he might lose some of the sizeable audience that was forming.

"Realizing immediately what had happened, the King felt some small measure of remorse and made a slight change to the spell, allowing a way out. 'Should the child find within herself the capacity to show warmth to others on her own, without being born to it, or find someone who loves her with enough warmth to make up for her lack, loves her in spite of her coldness, she will be free of this curse of a frozen heart,' the King of Winter intoned. He vanished with a sweep of his frost-coated cloak, leaving the queen to weep over the fate of her unborn daughter. The princess was born and her parents named her Neva, which means 'snow.' Neva grew into a healthy little girl, but she was odd, never making friends or enjoying the company of people. She was curious about everything but people, though. She stayed in the library alone most days, learning everything about the world that she could. But she was never a part of that world," he sighed.

Flynn was getting too caught up in the emotion. He had to get the plot on track.

"Somehow, a duke at the castle found out about the curse. Believing the child to be a changeling product of wicked sorcery, he plotted to kill the young princess, falsely thinking he was saving the kingdom from a great darkness. The attempt was stopped, but the king and queen wanted to keep their daughter safe, so they sent her away, to her uncle's kingdom in the south. The man's wife had died childless and he never remarried. He was overjoyed to have his niece grow up in his kingdom. He took her to the village and showed her the sights. He was undeterred by Neva's utter lack of interest in other people and answered her every question about how the buildings were built and what the purpose of different items was," he explained, wishing that Elsa's parents had actually had her best interests at heart when they sent her away.

"Now, at the beginning of this tale, I mentioned a boy with no name. He lived in the uncle's kingdom, a poor orphan whose mother had died in childbirth without giving him a name. He lived his life in the opposite manner of Princess Neva. While she buried herself in books, well-provided for with material things, he thrived on connection with people because he had nothing to his name but the clothes on his back and his mother's ring, worn on a piece of twine around his neck," he said, not bothered by the white lie about him being sociable. He liked people, but he didn't like crowds. "Though this absence of material wealth was not for lack of trying. The boy was a skilled pickpocket and often found himself on the wrong side of the law for petty theft. He was seldom caught, but most of his acquisitions went to paying down a boat that he would one day use to sail far from home, to a place where he could find adventure, make a name for himself."

"He was running through the market on the day that the foreign princess arrived, away from the guards, his latest treasure jingling in his pockets. He turned a corner, and as luck would have it, ran straight into the princess. They hit the ground in a tangled heap of limbs and he scrambled up, offering her a hand without knowing who she was. He apologized for knocking her down, but she didn't seem upset. Neva just blinked at him and stretched out her hand to be helped up. He took it and her skin was ice cold, like river water in the winter. He snatched his hand back and stared at the pale wisp of a girl in front of him. 'Are you alright?' he asked. 'I am fine,' she said without emotion. In the next moment, the guards caught up and grabbed him roughly by the shoulders. They were going to bring him in this time, child or not, but that was when the princess did something strange: she asked for mercy on his behalf," Flynn intoned.

"Now, this was strange because the princess rarely asked for anything for herself, let alone others. 'He was kind,' she said. 'I read that people steal things because they do not have enough. If we have money and food to spare at the castle, can we not give him some so that he has enough without stealing?' the princess asked, not terribly invested in the outcome, merely curious as to the answer. Her uncle said that they couldn't give those things away, but that the boy might be given a job at the palace. He took up work as a carpenter's apprentice, and his proximity to the castle gave him abundant opportunities to visit the strange princess who had spared him from his fate," he explained to the ever-growing crowd.

Flynn went on to describe how the two grew up to be inseparable, "The nameless boy was the only one brave enough to approach the icy princess and talk to her. It took years of very slow progress, but she began to warm to him. Neva stopped answering his ceaseless prattle with silence or even, flat tones. She began to show feeling towards him. She was still bad with people, not particularly caring for their company, but the boy was the only exception. They grew from children to the cusp of adulthood. Meanwhile, the King of Winter had been watching the princess grow up and had become fixated on her, the only woman who had ever shared his coldness. The only woman worthy of being a true partner on the throne of winter. It was impossible to call it falling in love with her because he was not capable of such things, but he wanted her for his wife. He thought that the boy was ruining her by bringing out her warmth, so he decided that he needed to snatch her away before she thawed entirely."

"The boy and the princess were sitting together in the gardens, the roses frosting over from her mere presence. He had learned over the years to wear a cloak and mittens around his dearest friend. Suddenly, a frigid wind swirled into the garden from the furthest reaches of the north, freezing over all the lands as it passed. It was the North Wind in his less corporeal form. The wind lifted the princess and wrapped her in layers of gray cloud. Neva cried out for the boy, reaching out her arms, the fear on her face the most emotion she'd shown in all her years. The boy jumped up and his fingertips barely brushed hers, but it was not enough. 'She is mine, now,' the wind roared, departing as quickly as he came. The blizzard he'd brought still consumed the kingdom in what should have been the height of summer. The boy knew it would be up to him to rescue the princess from the clutches of the North Wind," Flynn shouted.

It was an exciting part. Shouting was necessary for hype. But the girl with the mandolin was doing an admirable job of providing atmosphere. The cup was filling quickly with coin.

Flynn detailed the harrowing journey of the nameless boy to save his friend, full of obstacles and suspense. There was a witch that tried to keep him in her house forever, a pack of wolves, pirates, a fairy ring, a knight that insisted on a fight to the death, and finally the King of Winter's own troll army. The boy fought through it all. Meanwhile, the supernatural chill of the North Wind's palace had begun to undo all of the progress the princess had made over the years, making her colder than before. When the boy arrived, he was too late. Neva was seated on the throne next to the King's, her hand in his, wearing a tiara of icicles and a beautiful wedding dress made of ice and snow. She had already become the Snow Queen.

The boy would not give up, however. He challenged the King of Winter to a fight for Neva's freedom. He fought valiantly, but he was no match for a force of nature. The Snow Queen had been sitting off to the side, watching expressionlessly. Neither her husband nor her childhood friend had noticed the slightest tightening of her fingers on the armrests of the throne whenever the boy would suffer a blow. He was down on the floor of the ice palace now, struggling to his knees. Both he and the King had their backs to the Snow Queen. The King raised his hand for the killing blow, a shot of magic that would freeze the boy from the inside out. But before he could strike, Neva leapt in front of the boy, one hand outstretched to the North Wind to ward off his attack, one hand stretched behind her towards her friend.

Flynn concluded the story, "The King tried to stop himself, but the magic had been released. The Snow Queen froze solid, into pure ice, frozen in that position of protection, a look of fear and love on her face. The King of Winter howled his rage to the sky. He had only just found a suitable wife and now she was dead at his own hand. The boy cried out and threw his arms around the woman he had grown to love. Suddenly, both his heart and the heart of the statue began to glow and a bright light overtook the throne room. When the burst faded, the princess had been restored to her former self, wearing a simple blue dress made of cotton like any common woman. She clasped the hands of the boy with no name and smiled at his amazement when her skin was warm to the touch. The King, disappointed to have lost his bride, but also in awe of the power of the love before him that had overcome his ice in the princess's heart against all odds, gave each of them a gift. To the boy, he bestowed a name: Aidan, which means 'strong.' To Neva, he granted an animal guardian: a snowy owl that was native to his kingdom, a defender against any possible future magic attacks. He sent them home on a breeze and thawed the land he had frozen over in his rush to claim the princess. Summer returned and it was under a rose bower in full bloom that Neva and Aidan were wed. The moment she said 'I do' was the first time anyone but Aidan had seen her smile. So, the combination of Aidan's relentless pursuit and brave defense of the princess and Neva's selfless sacrifice for her first friend, their mutual love, defeated the curse and freed the kingdom from eternal winter. Neva's uncle named her the heir to his kingdom, and she ruled both kingdoms with Aidan by her side always. And neither ever felt cold again, for they kept each other warm. The end."

The crowd, which was now enormous and blocking two streets, whooped and cheered. The coins overflowed the cup and had to be caught in the mandolin girl's hat. Once everyone had dispersed, she looked back and forth between the mass of currency in front of her and Flynn.

"Well, I had my doubts, but you're quite the storyteller, Mr..." she trailed off, dividing the profits into equal halves.

"Rider. Flynn Rider," he supplied.

"My name is Catalina Ramirez. Flynn, that was spectacular. How would you like to perform in our circus troupe? We're only stopped here in Santa Maria for a short time before we start our tour of Europe. We just lost our playwright to marriage, so we could use someone of your talents. You'd get a share of the take, a place to sleep in one of the wagons, and of course, your stories would be performed for adoring crowds across the continent. What do you say?" she asked, extending his share to him.

He took it and put it in his satchel, thinking. It was a guaranteed job, plenty of travel. He'd meet some interesting people. It sounded pretty great. The only problem was that he'd be more likely to be recognized the closer they got to Corona.

"Oh, you don't mind wearing costumes and masks, so you? We perform everything as a play, so people who mind having things over their faces aren't suited for the work," Catalina remarked.

"That sounds perfect, actually," Flynn replied with a grin. "I'm in."

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Rider," she laughed.

Flynn spent the rest of his time abroad travelling with the acting troupe. They were a very interesting and eclectic group of people. The acrobat from China could twist herself every which way and was a sexy, daring presence on stage, but in private, snorted when she laughed and was quite shy at conversation. The ringmaster, Catalina's father, was a bear of a man, but he was quite softhearted despite his massive size and booming voice. The Qamarain twins who dressed up as harlequin clowns never turned off the humor, but their jokes were hilarious, so it wasn't annoying. The Russian magician was mysterious and aloof at some times and babbling excitedly a mile a minute the next. The strongman from the Republic of Congo was gruff and sarcastic, but he had a soft spot for animals and spent more time with the menagerie than the people. There was a fire juggler who was afraid of spiders, a sword swallower that liked to keep a small herb garden that grew on the roof of his wagon, a dancer who could leap over people's heads and land on pointe perfectly during a show but trip over her own foot when she wasn't performing, and a whole host of other fascinating circus people. As different as they all were, they were like a big family, and they accepted Flynn into their fold not long into his time with them.

They travelled the land, spending a whole year in Spain before moving on to other countries, performing their acts. Flynn played the part of the King of Winter in "The Thief and the Snow Queen" because Catalina thought he was too tall to play a believable Aidan. He nearly laughed out loud at that statement, but managed to contain it to a quick smile instead. He wrote some other plays and acted in some of the classics. They kept it fresh.

He learned so much from the circus people and from people they talked to in other nations. It was fascinating to see the different cultures and beliefs. He kept up spreading the rumors about his thievery and made sure to rendezvous with a girl at nearly every stop. He told her to tell all her friends she'd kissed Flynn Rider. Other than the act he continued to keep up even though his heart wasn't in it, it was a good life. Despite the fact that they were constantly moving, this was the closest place to feeling like a home since he'd left Corona. He had a wonderful time, as good as when he'd been travelling the seas.

Of course, like all good things, it had to come to an end.

It had been about three years since his departure and they were nearing the Corona border. He was trying to figure out how to tell the troupe that he couldn't go with them there, but he didn't have to.

He was just buying some food at a market stall before a performance when he was approached by two nearly identical giants with red hair and wicked sideburns. One of them had an eyepatch. They both had swords slung over their backs. The one with two eyes pulled out a paper from his pocket and held it out to Flynn. He looked at it and saw that it was a wanted poster with his face, just with an oversized, bulbous nose.

"Why can't they get my nose right?" he sighed, realizing too late that he probably shouldn't have admitted to being the guy on the wanted poster.

"So this is you," the one without the eyepatch rumbled.

"Um, yes? You're not thinking of turning me in for the reward, are you?" he coughed nervously.

"The thought crossed our minds," the speaker admitted. "But we have a proposal that will get both you and us more money than triple the reward for snitching on you."

"I'm listening," Flynn said casually, while internally freaking out. He was fine. He didn't need mounds of cash anymore.

"This week is the lantern festival for the lost princess's birthday in Corona. They'll have her crown on display, though guarded. Your jobs are legendary. We think that a short-term partnership would be beneficial to both parties. You help us steal the crown and you get a third of the take when we sell it to the highest bidder. What do you say?" he offered, extending a hand.

Flynn was panicking. He didn't want to actually steal anything ever again. He definitely didn't want to go back to the country where they wanted to arrest and possibly kill him. But he didn't think he had much of a choice. These brutes didn't look like the type who took no for an answer. He could always take the crown and run, then give it back once he'd lost the terrifying brothers. A shaky plan in mind, he accepted the handshake.

"Deal. So, you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours," Flynn replied.

"Kellan Stabbington. This here's my brother Ian," the one who had done all the talking answered. His brother just nodded wordlessly. Not much of a talker, that one. "So we do this job, split the take, and part ways. Simple as that."

"Sounds like a plan," Flynn said.

They walked away and Flynn let out the breath he'd been holding. This was going to be tricky. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain this to the troupe, but he didn't have to. Catalina had found one of the wanted posters. She offered to let him split or help hide him from the authorities, but he told her it wasn't necessary.

"I have to go into Corona to own up to something. I wish I could stay, Cat. You all have been so good to me," he admitted.

"So this is goodbye, then." She didn't phrase it like a question.

"Yeah," he answered anyway.

"I'm going to miss you, Flynn Rider. Best of luck. Here's your last wages," she sighed, handing him a pouch of coins.

"Thanks for everything, Cat," he smiled. "I'll miss you too, all of you."

"Go do what you have to."

So Flynn was headed back into hostile territory. It was strange to be going back home after all this time. He wondered how angry Elsa was at him. Should he try to see her? Better not. He would make this a clean getaway and then get back on another ship and leave her to her future. But maybe he'd peek in and see how she was doing, just once. He'd ignored how much he'd missed her for years, but it came creeping back up on him. After all this time, he still loved her. How could he not? He hoped she was alright.