Hey everybody! So, I know my updates really haven't been on schedule lately, but that's only because I've had a few REALLY busy weeks, and it's been really hard for me to handle. Luckily, I think that's all over with now, so I'll be able to post my next (and last) few updates in a more regular pattern.

This chapter is a little strange, I admit, but that's mostly because half of it is just a dream Elsa is having. Dreams aren't supposed to make a lot of logical sense, so I made it a little weird on purpose. I hope you like it. I'm a little nervous about this chapter, to be honest. I just really hope you all like it.

Every moment of Elsa's life felt like borrowed time.

She knew—knew from the very depth of her heart and soul—that she should've died that day. Should've died lying on the icy, stiff ground of her kingdom, her glittering gown hugging her as she kneeled into submission. Should've died with that monster-of-a-man standing just above her, her life eroding away at the very moment his cool blade stuck into the paleness of her neck. It was destiny, she had thought. It was her destiny to die. Hans should've killed her.

And if it wasn't for Anna, for that manifestation of all that was good and pure and just in the world, he probably would have, too. And instead of being here, alive and healthy and happy, she would've been just another dead girl in the ground, lost and forgotten like the trash she used to think she was. With that on her mind, it was almost as if every second Ella spent still on earth was a second that did not belong to her. Seconds that were gifts, fancy little prizes, from the land beyond. She didn't have any idea why she deserved such wonderful presents, really, but she couldn't complain. Her near-death experience had made her time sacred for her, and the appreciation she felt for her new life was astounding.

She was alive, and Anna was alive, and the world was alive. And that was enough to keep her going throughout the day.

Being queen, Elsa found, was pretty much exactly how she expected it to be. Signing documents, and writing letters, and a whole lot of hand shaking with random kings and queens she didn't really care a great deal for. She'd figured her first few years of ruling would be the most social-intensive of her reign, considering she still had a lot of mess to clean up after the whole "freezing Arendelle" incident, but she'd had no idea how right she'd be. Apparently, the 'Great Freeze,' as some were now calling it, had spread to a couple of Arendelle's neighboring kingdoms, as well. And none of them seemed very happy about the damage...though, that was to be expected.

What did surprised Elsa, however, was the amount of awe, rather than fear, that her powers seemed to inspire. As a child, she'd always assumed that if the world ever caught of mere glimpse of what she was capable of, they would be absolutely terrified of her. Or, at the very least, majorly distrusting. What Elsa could do was, admittedly, unnatural. Odd and weird and dangerous and threatening and all other words with negative connotations. Some people, she figured, would be curious. But most would call her a monster. That was what she'd always thought. If anyway ever found out, they'd all call her a monster.

But it hadn't worked out like that. Sure, when they first saw the real her, everyone had gone crazy. There had been screams and tears and bitter words thrown at her from all directions. But now that the shock had worn off, the utter chaos taken care of, everyone had gone all doe-eyed and excited at the mere mention of her name. Now that their world was no longer buried in ice, their children no longer in danger of freezing to death, it became almost entertainment for them.

"Queen Elsa, do the magic! Do the magic!" little boys and girls were constantly begging of her, practically on their knees from the way they pleaded. It reminded her almost eerily of little Anna, and always she'd end looking to their parents, unsure and afraid of harming the young ones. She was always just as equally surprised, however, to see the mothers and fathers looking just as excited as their offspring.

"Don't be rude," they'd tell their children with a short scolding, but a glint in their eyes, "What did we tell you about manners?"

And then the children would say, "Please, Queen Elsa. May we please see your magic?" And their parents would nod, looking so hopeful and excited, and the children would practically tremble with joy, and Elsa couldn't help but throw a few bursts of snowflakes into the air just to please them.

People actually liked her. It was so strange.

Still, Elsa found the constant admiring to be almost as tiring as the constant threats, and for the past month or so she'd been eager to jump into bed ever night at exactly 10:00 sharp. Maybe even 9:30 if she could get away from work long enough, though that was increasingly unlikely. Everyone's favorite game, it seemed, was throwing all their problems at their newest queen and seeing how long it took to bring her down.

One night, as the girl—now woman, the last months events had proved that—nestled up in her cushy, cozy, perhaps even too comfy bed, only one though struck her mind. Whatever happened, whatever event occurred next in her crazy life, she could handle it. She'd already lived through the worst fate could throw at her. From now on, everything would be a breeze.

As if to prove her correct, a second later, a soft, nervous knock began to ring out on Elsa's wooden bedroom door. At the time of night it currently was, she knew that it could be either one of two things. First, it was some terrible emergency that required her immediate attention. Or second, it was Anna.

Fortunately for her, it was the latter.

"Oh, umm… hi Elsa!" piped up the girl as the door was thrown open, rubbing her neck sheepishly, "Hi. I, um, wanted to ask you if I could, maybe—"

"You want to sleep in my room for the night?"

Elsa didn't know how she could tell that that was the question her sister was going to ask, but she just could. And she was willing and ready to oblige.

Slowly, relief flooding through her face, Anna nodded, and Elsa stepped aside to let her in.

"Anything wrong, Anna?" Elsa asked, taking in the girl's slightly disheveled appearance with intelligent eyes.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing really. I-It doesn't matter. Really, it doesn't."

Elsa raised her eyebrows, a mix of disbelief and amusement drawn onto her face, and quickly Anna dropped her act. Far too quickly, actually. She'd never been one to keep secrets.

"I just… I felt kinda weird tonight. I got all scared, all of the sudden, that when I woke up tomorrow morning I'd go into your room and realize that… oh, I don't know. That it was all a dream or something. That I hadn't really saved you from Hans, and that he had killed you, and that I had had to watch as he did it. I don't really know why it's coming up now… that all happened a while ago… but I just couldn't push the feeling down. I don't know, it's stupid, sorry…"

"Don't apologize, Anna," Elsa interrupted, voice simpering, "I understand. You can sleep in here for the night, if it helps. " She, too, had had her share of nightmares about Anna's supposed death for many days after the incident. Sure, it may have occurred a month ago, but she couldn't really blame Anna for a delayed reaction., could she?

"Thank you," Anna began, a smile spreading her lips, "I'll sleep a lot better knowing you're right there next to me."

Elsa nodded, and soon she was setting up the bed, puffing up the pillows in the way she knew her sister liked them. She chose her own favorite and placed it gently on the ground below her. When she began making a little cot for herself out of an extra blanket, Anna finally got what she was doing, and she shook her head vigorously.

"Oh, no. I don't want you to sleep on the floor, Elsa!"

The woman shook her head, still not understanding. "Well, there's no way I'm letting you sleep on the floor—"

"No, no, that's not what I meant." Anna's cheeks were going very pink now, her feeling of childlike embarrassment fresh on her face, "I wanted - if it's okay - to sleep in the bed with you."

Elsa's eyes widened in memory. When the two were little girls, Anna a mere five-year-old with a common hate for bedtime, she would often come into Elsa's room late at night, begging for some sort of playtime. Sometimes, if she were feeling especially mischievous, Elsa would fulfill her with some nice spurts of snow. Other times, however, Elsa would remind her of the importance of a good night's rest, and after a good long time of arguing, they would agree that so long as Anna promised to keep still and quiet, she could spend the night in Elsa's bed instead of all alone in her own. And so, on those lovely nights, Elsa fell asleep with the sound of Anna's soft, steady breathing intermingling with her own, the girl curled up in her arms and her head resting gently on her chest. Admittedly, it had been a bit hard to breathe with so little space, but she'd never minded. Those were the moments, Elsa thought, that she missed the most.

"Oh," Elsa began, not really knowing what to say, "You won't be very warm. You know how much colder my skin has gotten since then."

Anna shrugged, a grin marking her face. "It's not as bad as you think. You're not bitter cold, your skin is just cool. Like, in a refreshing way, especially in the summer. My room is too hot, anyway."

As Elsa rolled her eyes she tried hard to contain her amused smile. That was the second reason Anna had wanted to sleep in her room.

After some thought, Elsa finally nodded slowly, and a huge smile spread across Anna's face as she squealed in delight.

"Yay! Sleepover!"

"Shush," Elsa teased, "You know the rules."

Slowly, she positioned herself comfortably in her bed, feeling as Anna slowly slid herself next to her.

"Goodnight," whispered the girl as Elsa blew out the last candle in the room, next to the bed stand.

"Goodnight," Elsa replied warmly.

"I love you."

"Love you, too. Now go to sleep."

From her complacent state of mind as she slowly drifted out of consciousness—the pressure of her sister's arm giving her a strange sense of comfort—to the fact that she hadn't had one in weeks now, few would expect tonight to be the night that Elsa had the nightmare that blew all her other's out of the water. Though, as the woman had learned long ago, fate was rarely ever content with predictability.

One moment, Queen Elsa of Arendelle lay quite sleepily in her silky blue nightgown, eyes closed peacefully and breathing slow and repeated. The next, she was standing alone in a land of ice and snow. And no longer was she Queen Elsa. No longer.

The first thing Elsa noticed was the wind. In fact, it was practically the only thing she noticed. It was wild and loose and ferocious all around her, twirling her braid and tugging her dress and obscuring her vision in all it's unconfined furry. Flecked inside it, as scattered as stars in the sky, were thousands upon thousands of tiny, little snowflakes. Elsa loved snowflakes, she'd always had. She remembered reading once that each one of them has a unique structure, no two being exactly alike. As they danced around her tiny form like children in the brink of summer, this fact only made them more alluring to her. More fascinating and precious and beautiful. But, at this moment, not even they could fill her with joy.

For a while, Elsa had no idea why she felt so incredibly terrified, all she knew was that she did. She felt herself stumble around and around in her blindness, her icy heels cracking the brittle ground beneath her feet, and she hugged herself in hopes of containing her fleeting warmth. Warmth... she'd never felt warmth before, much less had the ability to lose it. That should've been her first clue that this was all an illusion created by a sleep-craving brain, but at the moment, she was suspiciously accepting. She did not question anything. All she knew was her wanting, her needing, to run. To run.

Not too uncommon in nightmares, she found that instead of having definite boundaries, with a clearly defined beginning and end, her icy storm seemed to be an endless, volatile whirlpool. The more she trudged, the deeper she seemed to be trapping herself, and the more the wind whirled and screamed around her. It was torture. The ground, icy and barren as it was, seemed to stretch for miles and miles on end, growing two meters for every one meter she walked forward. It was hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. She'd never get out, she'd never escape. She'd be stuck in this freezing hell-hole for the rest of her miserable existence, and it was all because of what she could do. No... of what she was.

"Elsa... what have you done?"

Of all the things it could've been, it was his voice that shocked her out of her painful trance. She hadn't heard his approach, could barely even see him through all the blurred snow, but there was no doubt in her mind who it was. Not a doubt in the world.

"Father? Father, where are you?"

Her voice sounded so fearful and frightened and young... far too young to be her own. Elsa looked down upon herself—her dream allowing a nonrealistic birds-eye-view of the situation—and realized with a spring of fear in the pit of her stomach that she was no longer a young-adult draped fetchingly in a dress made of ice. Instead, she was a mere fourteen-year-old girl shivering madly against the horror of the situation. Her dream-self didn't understand the shock her real-self felt at this realization. Her dream-self had never grown up, had never escaped from imprisonment, had never been healed by childhood wounds. It had always been a fourteen-year-old girl. A very, very bad fourteen-year-old girl. Very bad.

"Elsa!"

Father bellowed, his voice loud and clear and haughty, and suddenly, as he stepped forward, he came fully into view. The snow was still swirling viscously all around him, but now it seemed to be avoiding his body by a clear three-inch radius. He was practically outlined, haloed, by the very white in the air. He had never looked so perfect. Never looked so unexplainably wonderful.

"S-stay away from me!" Elsa screamed suddenly, the pale-blue, childhood dress she wore flowing around her like a rushing stream, "Please. I don't want to hurt you."

It came back to her, a little. The memories. She still couldn't exactly remember the horrible crime she had committed to get herself into this situation, but she could recall that she was dangerous, and a monster, and was most certainly going to hurt everyone within a mile radius if she didn't get away as fast as she could. If she didn't escape.

"No, Elsa," Father said, his voice so low she should not have been able to hear it above the roar of the winds, "I-I can't. You're my daughter, my responsibility. I tried to control you, to keep you from turning into what I know you've become... but I've failed."

"I failed," Elsa corrected, slowly backing further and further away from the man in his royal red robes, "I'm sorry... but I have to go. Just let me go."

She tried to turn and run but found her feet stuck firmly to the ground. Something was holding her back. She didn't know what, but she both hated it and feared it with all of her being.

"Your mother and I did everything in our power," Father continued, acting as if he hadn't heard her, "But it was never enough. We should've known it was a lost cause from the very beginning... but we were blinded. Blinded by our love, and our fear, and our own shame. Nothing we did was ever enough."

"So let me leave," Elsa begged, lips simpering as she struggled hopelessly to move her legs, "Let me go, and I promise I'll never bother you again."

"No, Elsa. It's too late for that. It's always been too late."

"Why? Please!"

She was desperate now, but he didn't seem to care. He just kept speaking as if he couldn't even hear her.

"I was such a foolish man. Such a foolish man. I always knew what had to be done... but I was in such a deep state of denial. And now my worst fears have come true, and Arendelle is in ruins because of the very thing I failed to accomplish. I was so weak."

"Papa, please! Stop this talk!" Something about his voice was dangerous, almost ominous. She didn't like it at all. Something was going on, here.

"I knew it from the moment you first showed your powers, Elsa. I sensed evil in them, something no one else seemed to see. It was a curse sent from the Gods, a punishment for my own sins, and I was forced to watch in silence as it corrupted and twisted your innocent heart. You were once so pure... and now you are this."

"STOP IT! PLEASE!"

Elsa didn't know why it hurt so much—she didn't even know what heinous act Father was talking about, really—but each word stung like a dagger to the heart, and as she begged she could already feel the tears beginning to slide down her face. Her knees were shaking unbearably, but still she stood. Rooted to the ground like the deadest of flowers. Petals blackened with soot and disease. Stem wilted with lack of love.

"Elsa? Do you have any idea what you've done?"

Slowly, tears blurring her the shining-blue of her eyes, Elsa shook her head.

"Then look. Look at the wreckage you have created! Look at the monstrosity you have become! Do you realize, now? Do you realize?"

And it didn't make any logical sense, but almost as if he himself could control the winter winds, the storm around them opened up like a treasure chest and flew higher into the sky at his words. It created a large, swirling, omniscient dome of snow and ice to incase the two, and finally in the clarity, Elsa could see the carnage that lay around her.

There were hundreds of them. Hundreds upon hundreds of fearful expressions, of motionless bodies, of blocks of cold transparency that lay scattered like pebbles on the bank of a moving stream. There were mothers wrapped in their warmest of clocks, dragging their lagging children by the hand as expressions of unexplainable panic stretched across their worn, wrinkled faces. Father's carrying little boys on their soldiers, swords held threateningly by their sides, but unable to fight against their bodyless enemy. Sons and daughters running around, looking so confused and scared and just the tiniest bit excited, not yet knowing their horrible fates. But oh, what they had felt didn't matter anymore. Because those were only remnants of what once had been. They no longer felt anything anymore. Elsa knew that for sure.

Because, as her Father was trying to show her, Elsa had just frozen the entire Kingdom of Arendelle. Bodies and warmth and happiness and joy and love... in one split second, in one mistake of the hand, Elsa had turned it all to ice. And there was no going back.

"N-no," the girl spluttered, eyes wide and broken and so incredibly scared, "No... I didn't do this. I didn't mean to do this. Oh God, no. Father, Father please. Forgive me."

"The time for forgiveness is over, Elsa," he began, eyes narrowed and cold with decision, "I love you more than I can say... but you've turned into everything that I've ever feared you'd become. And it's my job to end this."

Suddenly, out of what seemed like nowhere, two large bodies were at her father's side. They were big and heavy and gruff-looking, carrying swords slung over their shoulders, and it did not take Elsa long to recognize them. Samuel and Johnson. Elsa's assigned guards.

Father hadn't come to stop her. Hadn't come to warn her. Hadn't come to forgive her.

He'd come to kill her.

"Father," Elsa chocked, her voice no louder than a whisper, "Why?"

He didn't answer, just shook his head slowly. When he looked her in the eyes, they screamed his own reassurances for himself: It's for the best, it's for the best, it's for the best.

But it wasn't. Not for Elsa, at least. She was going to die. She was still a little girl, and she was going to die.

Finally, after far too long, Father spoke. His voice sounded broken, but he kept himself strong.

"It's time to end this madness. Johnson, Samuel, begin the execution."

This was too much for her. Too much for her to take. Suddenly, replacing her drowning fear and suffocating guilt and pitiable self-hatred, a swirl of anger boiled and sloshed hotly in Elsa's stomach. She gritted her teeth as if trying to gnaw through bone, and when her eyes flashed menacingly, she knew her Father had seen. He tried to send his guards forward, to end her rebellion before it begun, but it was too late. Elsa was already one step ahead of him.

"Why them?" she asked, her voice unnaturally sharp and icy, laced in every sentence with copious amounts of sarcasm, "Why them? You go through all that trouble finding me, you search and search these cursed lands of ice and snow just to trap me here, and yet you don't even bother being the man to accept the glory? Come now, Father. Don't be so modest. Do it yourself."

At this, finding her feet no longer frozen to the ground - perhaps they had never been to begin with - Elsa began taking slow, dragging steps towards him, never letting her eyes wander from his own. She watched as those pools of warm chocolate widened in shock and confusion, and before he could react, she trapped him. The dome of ice and snow, the one that had whirred so perilously around all the ice sculptures in her kingdom, immediately began to shrink and shrink and shrink. It was wilder, now, fiercer, and Elsa watched as it began to consume and block everything but her own father from her view. The ice-villagers disappeared. Samuel and Johnson were sucked back into the madness. And there was her Father, all alone, a sword on his belt. They were domed in together, now. It was just the two of them.

"Elsa…" Father began, his teeth gritted hard, "What are you doing?"

"You want to kill me," she began, anger swirling hotly in her stomach, "Then do it. I admit it… I'm a monster. I deserve to die, so you may as well be the one to commit the act. But as you lay that blade down upon me, remember this, Father… you were the one who turned me into this. You were the one who hurt me, and corrupted me, and drove all innocence from my once fearless heart. This is your doing… not mine."

Father spat at her suggestion, eyes narrowing in hate, but she could see the self-doubt swimming in his heart.

"Don't be ridiculous," he thundered, "You've been this way since the beginning."

"Deny it all you want," she whispered, now so close that she could've hugged him, or attacked him, depending on which she preferred, "But know that doing this… murdering me… will not erase your sins. Will not take back your mistakes, will not restore honor to the shame of your existence. You'll only be making it worse for yourself. But if it's what you wish, Father, I will not disobey you."

Father looked taken aback at her words, but the fury was still quite evident in his eyes, and he was just about to open his mouth to say something, when…

"NO!"

Elsa's eyes widened in surprise. The voice—as high-pitched and fearful as it was—certainly did not belong to her Father. Certainly. Heart nearly stopped, the girl slowly turned on her heels, and saw something both incredibly surprising and completely expected. There was Anna—a mere twelve-year-old child—standing ten or so feet behind them in the dome, her froggy green nightgown whipping her ankles.

"Anna," Father began, "Stay out of this. It's for the best."

"NO!" the girl repeated, eyes wild with fear, "NO! I won't let you hurt her!"

She attempted to rush forward, to wrap her arms around her beloved older sister, but immediately found herself bound up. Mother, who had appeared out of nothing more than thin air, wrapped her arms around the frail girl, tears streaming down both of their beautiful faces.

"Anna," she breathed, voice no louder than a whisper, "We can't get involved in this. You must stay."

"No, no, no, I won't!" The girl was struggling furiously now, screaming and kicking and squirming with all the energy she could muster, but it seemed that in this particular dream Mother held an almost-unnatural amount of physical strength. She held Anna to her chest without even a single sign of weakness, and soon the girl was forced to try another tactic.

"Elsa!" Anna called, eyes now completely and utterly desperate, "Please! Don't do this!"

For a moment, Elsa felt a well of pity begin to surge in the pit of her heart, but she pushed it down. She needed to do this, it wasn't even an option anymore. She had to see whether or not her Father would actually kill her.

She understood that, since the day she had shown the spark of evil that lied within her, Father had done everything in his power to keep her hidden away, safe and trapped in his clutches. The one day she had begged him for her freedom, he had stood firm and stubborn, unable to let her go. Letting her go, she realized now, was his biggest fear. So today she would try again, and for the first and only time in her life, find out whether he loved her enough to release her, or feared her enough to kill her instead. To murder her rather than give her the freedom she so craved. Today she would find out, in complete and utter honesty, whether or not he actually loved her. She had to do this.

"I'll all be alright," Elsa lied to her little sister as she screamed and cried on the ground, red hair a hurricane on the top of her head, "Please, Anna, just calm down. I'll all be alright."

Anna looked at her, eyes wide and pleading. She seemed to understand what was happening, and was completely and utterly appalled by it.

"You'll always be my hero," the redhead chocked to her sister, innocent eyes blurry with tears, "Even if you've lost your mind."

"I haven't lost my mind, Anna. I've found it."

And then, satisfied she made her point, the girl had stepped forward. And Father had looked at her with false anger. She could still see his doubt. The doubt that was her only hope.

Father did not say a single thing, but Elsa spoke as if he'd just told her the world.

"Go ahead, Father," she whispered, eyes never having felt so cold before, "I dare you. Because if you really are so coldhearted as to bring that blade upon your daughter's neck rather than let her be free, then I know that I would rather die than live with the knowledge that I share even a drop of my own blood with a cold, cowardice, fool such as yourself."

Elsa fell to her knees and bowed at his feet in rebellious submission, and young-Anna shrieked behind her. Head aimed towards the ground, eyes shut firmly, Elsa whispered what she thought might be her final statement. She wanted to make it count.

"Do not doubt my words, Father. I will not harm you. My life is in your hands."

And then she was silent. And so was the world.

Finally, after far too long, the girl heard the familiar sliding sound as Father unsheathed his sword from his belt. She could practically feel the way he lifted it so far above his head, eyes cold and dead, heart blackened by his own stubbornness. For a moment—a horrible, horrible moment—Elsa's mind came to the realization that he was really going to do it. He had never loved her enough. It was just as bad as she had feared.

It was there, crouched like a brooding child on the ground, that Elsa felt a trickle of regret. Why? Why had she done this foolish thing? Did she think she was proving a point? Had she wished to die a martyr's death? She didn't know. Now, suddenly in the face of death, the prospect of knowing whether or not her Father loved her enough did not seem a sufficient reason. Not with Anna standing so close by. Who cared whether Father loved her or not when right next to her was all the unconditional love she could ever wish for? And the girl giving the love… she was so innocent, so pure. And about to watch her older sister be beheaded by her own father. What nightmares was Elsa about to give her? What kind of selfish person was she?

Oh, but too late. Too late to worry and regret and feel guilt. What's done was done. If Elsa died, then God only knows she deserved it.

But there was no harm in one more glance…

In a split second, trembling slightly in anticipation from the blade, Elsa turned her head just enough to free one eye, and looked at her Father standing beside her. She saw the sword raised so high above her head, his mouth so stern and grim, his eyes full of pain and horror. She let her gaze meet his, her icy eyes already melted to an aqua pool of swirling blue, and allowed herself on more moment of childhood. One more moment of pure love, pure admiration, pure joy. For a single second, she willed herself to forget the contempt she felt for the man above her, and remember that he was her father. He had raised her and protected her and loved her… even if never enough. But that was better than nothing.

But, strangely, Elsa saw something in her father's eyes change, after that. They softened, slightly. Their chill eroded away, replaced by that warmth she had so grown to love as a little girl. He must have seen the innocence flash across her face. He must have remembered, too. Remembered the days he had picked her up and swung her around and around and around without a care in the world. Remembered that he loved her. Suddenly, his blade faltered. Then fell to his side. And before Elsa knew it, he was sobbing on his knees.

"Oh, Elsa. Elsa, my dear. I'm so sorry. I've always been such a fool; so incredibly blind to my own faults. I've done it all wrong. Every choice I ever made for you, no matter how good intentioned, has harmed you in some way or another, and I can't even begin to express my regret for that. I'm so sorry, princess. I'm so sorry. I love you so much."

Elsa could not respond. She couldn't think of a single word to say, her throat just felt so dry and crumbled. Part of her wanted to scream at the man. Scream and scream at him that his apology was too little, too late. He had just been seconds away from slitting her throat, how on Earth could she just forgive him for that? And yet… another part of her, a part of her much stronger than she liked to admit, merely wanted to wrap her arms around the figure in front of her. Hold him tight and sob into his shoulder and tell him over and over and over again that she loved him with all her heart, she always had. For a moment, she reached out a hand to stroke his back in comfort, but quickly thought better of it. She withdrew her love, and in an endless swirl of indecisiveness, brought herself to her feet. The ground was icy below her, but she stood without a single loss of balance. She had long gotten used to standing on unstable ground.

"Good," she said, "I'm glad we got that out of the way." Then she slowly turned on the balls her feet and walked away. No destination in mind, really, she just walked away. And Father, and Mother, and Anna all sat and watched her go, each one with tears streaming down their beautiful faces.

She loved them all so much, she couldn't stand it. She simply couldn't stand it.

And it was over. There was finally, finally closure. Father loved her enough to set her free, and that was all she needed to know. That was all she ever needed to know. So even as she walked away from him, shoulders shaking as if she were the verge of falling apart, all she knew was the wash of sweet, sweet closure spreading through her chest. It was over. She wouldn't have to worry about her Father's love ever again. The past was finally behind her.

She awoke a minute later to the gentle shaking of her sister's hand.

"Elsa! Elsa, are you okay?"

Immediately, the woman's head shot up from her pillow, her eyes wide and fearful. Then she saw the person next to her, memories returned, and her heart slowed down to normal pace. Dream. Dreeeaaammmm. It had all been a dream.

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm fine, Anna. I'm sorry… did I wake you?"

The girl nodded slowly, face still etched with concern.

"You were shaking in your sleep, Elsa. Your skin got really cold, and then you… did this."

Elsa looked down at what she slept on and flushed in shame. Her pillow was frozen solid, her blankets coated in multiple layers of snow. She had iced her bed.

"I'm so sorry, Anna. I knew this was a bad idea, maybe you should just—"

At the prospect of going back to her own room, Anna interrupted immediately, voice a little louder than necessary in the middle of the night.

"No! I mean... no, it's fine. Did you have a nightmare, Elsa? Do you want to talk about it?"

Elsa avoided her sister's gaze for a moment, before discretely nodding, expression firm and cold. Then, slowly, her face softened, and she looked Anna in the eyes.

"Yes, I had a nightmare. But it doesn't matter anymore, let's just get back to sleep."

"What was it about?"

"Anna, I really don't want to—"

"Was it about Hans? Or the storm? Or me?"

"Anna—"

"Come on… we're sisters! Sisters share secrets!"

"I know, but it's just—"

"Please, Elsa! I don't want to pry or anything, but… PLEASE TELL ME! DON'T SHUT ME OUT AGAIN! I REALLY, REALLY WANT TO KNOW!"

Elsa sighed into her hand, shaking her head slowly.

"Please," mused Anna once again, "You can tell me anything, you know that."

Elsa was about to deny her again, but something about the girl's last words sparked something in her heart, and before she could stop it, her lips had opened up to spill a little bit of her broken, damaged soul.

"It… was about Father."

This was obviously not the answer Anna had been expecting. Her eyes widened in surprise, and her lips went slightly agape.

"Dad? Why? What about him?"

Elsa just shook her head. "It's nothing, Anna. It's late, let's not talk about it now. We should try our best to sleep the rest of the night, and we can worry about all of this tomorrow."

Anna nodded slowly, "But you'll tell me eventually?"

Elsa looked at her sister silently, for a moment. She remembered what the girl had said to her in her dream, and felt a sensation of warmth spread throughout her as she processed the meaning.

"You'll always be my hero, even if you've lost your mind."

Sure, that little girl in the dream hadn't actually been Anna, but there was something about those words that told Elsa that, even if she'd never said any of them, Anna felt exactly that. The dream itself, actually, seemed almost startlingly real. Sure, her Father was dead… but it almost felt, for some strange reason, as if that man in her dream really was him. And it was that exact feeling that brought her so much closure this night. Her Father was given his final chance to control her, and yet he had let her go. And it didn't matter that it was all just a dream, because what she knew now was that it wasn't just a dream. She didn't know how she knew, she just did. Her Father really did love her, and that was enough. That was enough.

And Anna… Anna loved her more than anything. Elsa didn't need the dream as evidence, she had proved her love on more than enough occasions, too many times for her to even begin to doubt. Anna deserved to know the truth—the truth about Father, and Mother, and Benson, and even herself—even if it ended up tarnishing her innocence. Because, as Elsa had come to understand when little Anna had watched Father descend upon her with a blade, innocence could not last forever. Sooner or later, the girl would have to at least become aware of some of the horrors in the world, and it wasn't in Elsa's power to deny her of this natural step in growing up. If Anna was going to hear the truth about her parents—which was inevitable, whether Elsa spilled her secrets or not—it might as well be from someone who loved her. Who would comfort her. Who would show her that even when people made bad choices, it didn't make them bad people. Who would help her to see that just because evil existed, it didn't mean that goodness wasn't just as powerful as it always was. That was a beautiful, horrible truth. And Anna deserved to know it.

"Of course, Anna. I'll tell you eventually, I promise."

"Tomorrow?" Anna asked, excitement building in her voice.

"We'll see."

That, of course, meant no. Not yet, she wasn't quite ready. But soon. One day soon, she'd tell Anna everything.

That seemed to be enough for her, and in an instant, Anna had plopped herself back down onto the now completely melted bed, dozing off in the snap of a finger.

Elsa knew now that only when that time came—when all her secrets were revealed and all her doors wide open—would she really, truly be free.

Freedom. It would come to her in only a matter of time.

It was all in a matter of time.

Believe it or not, the idea for this chapter actually came to me in a dream XD. Most of my dreams are really just a mash of all this weird stuff that don't make any sense, but this specific one I had was amazing for me, so I just knew I had to include it SOMEWHERE in this fic. Originally, Elsa's father came to kill her instead of Hans after the events of frozen, Elsa begin fourteen for some reason, and they both said more-or-less the same things I wrote for you (I don't exactly remember, but I assume). I really liked the idea, especially as a conclusion for Elsa and her Father's relationship, but I knew it wouldn't really make any sense, considering by this point in the fanfic Elsa's father is dead and Elsa is an adult, so I decided making it a dream would be the best way to go.

I'm not really sure if I was successful in making it a good closure or not, but I hope I was. In my mind the dream was sort of a message from her dad (in the afterlife) saying that he realizes what a monster he has been all her life, and he's trying to show that he regrets it and really loves her despite all he's done to prove otherwise. Idk, really. I guess this entire chapter is open to interpretation.

I also wanted Elsa to make that big decision to tell Anna all the secrets in her life, since I think I'm going to make that plot the final chapter of my fanfic (not yet, though, I still have a few more in between). I haven't decided EXACTLY how I want that conversation to go yet, but I have a few ideas, and I figured I'd just lead up to it in here.

Well... I hope you liked it! Like I said, I had a crazy busy last few weeks (especially this weekend) so I really haven't had a lot of time to write. Hopefully this is good enough for all of you. Don't forget to review and tell me what you think!