Elsa gaped at the girl heaped before her. It was one thing to see girls killed in the arena and to see their corpses brought in. But this – Elsa had never seen this sort of fatal suffering up close, not had she any sense of how she could have helped.

She didn't even know if the girl was dead yet, but she sure as hell might have been. Elsa was locked up, and even without her shackles, she wouldn't be able to break the door lock. She was going to have to watch a blind girl be buried in frost…

Elsa had undone a freeze before in Anna; she was confident that, since she could thaw out a heart, she could fix a few limbs. But even disregarding the fact that Elsa would be unable to physically contact the blind girl, it was doubtful that Elsa could thaw her out. She needed love.

Love? Elsa wasn't even sure she liked the damned thing, much less loved her. She had been scared out of her wits by her, she had felt disproportionately sad for her, but never had she felt more than the slightest sympathy for the girl. She had made it to the second round of the Tournament, after all. She was a murderer.

Just like Anna.

Elsa shook the thought from her mind. She couldn't keep thinking of Anna like that. Anna did what she had to do. She had so do some pretty damned uncomfortable things just to keep her life, just so she could keep hope alive to one day see her sister again.

Just like the blind girl. She probably has a family too.

Again, Elsa rejected the notion. Of course she had a family, and so did every other girl sitting in the corpse pile not two meters over. She couldn't keep feeling sorry for every soul on the planet… some people mattered more than others. Maybe it was worth a life.

Maybe it was worth it to help Anna burn that girl.

It was strange. The blind girl was not too dissimilar compared to both Anna and the girl Anna killed. It was a mix of pity and guilt Elsa felt when she stared again at the thing heaped before her, wondering if love was transitive.

• • •

"Hello, Mr. Hades sir. It's a pleasure to meet you." Eilonwy held out her hand.

"Please, the pleasure's all mine!" Hades smiled a toothy, sarcastic grin. "Head right this way; Maleficent has requested that I do some special processing on you."

Pain and Panic, the adorable little workers of Hades who had escorted Eilonwy up the stairs, prodded her alongside Hades. As if she'd need to leave his side – this all was fascinating! If it hadn't been for all the friends she'd never seen again, Eilonwy would have wished she'd died sooner. The ferry ride to Hades's lair was great and all, but the place itself had this ghastly blue atmosphere that Eilonwy found absolutely mesmerizing.

"Pain! Panic!" Hades commanded upon arriving on a series of grey ceramic barrels. "Empty that one." He pointed to one of the barrels, and the two minions got to work. Before long, they had extracted a wisp of a soul out from the earthen containers and had laid it out on the floor to dry.

"Your room," Hades told Eilonwy, pointing at the barrel.

Eilonwy looked at the barrel, which was full of some gaseous glowing fluid, and gawked. "Surely you can't mean this, sir! I'll drown!"

Hades slapped his face dramatically. "You're dead, kid. You can't drown."

"Oh. Right." Eilonwy had forgotten about that. "I guess I'll get in then. What is this stuff, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Don't worry about it," Hades said to her. "I don't think you'd remember anyways."

Eilonwy grimaced at the sickening texture of the fluid. "I think I'd rather pass, Mr. Hades."

He frowned. "Wrong choice. Pain, Panic! Get to work."

• • •

Aurora sleep came to a dizzying halt when she was pulled out from her jar. She first became aware of her heart beating, her blood pumping; soon she could sense the slime on her skin like smoke, she could smell the damp rock, hear the conversation of a man and a little girl. She couldn't see until a while later, after her chest had heaved with great force to expunge the fluid from her lungs. She jerked upright and hacked up the rest of the fluid, finally able to breathe with short, raspy breaths. It was the worst pain she had ever known. The only pain, really.

She saw two short creatures sealing the lid of one of the urns as well as the grey ethereal man commanding them. He radiated like a God, but was disturbing somehow… Aurora couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"And now, you," the grey man said as he shifted his attention from the now closed pot. "What's your name?"

"Aurora," she said reluctantly. It sounded so strange coming out her mouth that she wasn't so sure of it herself. Aurora.

"Good, Aurora. Where are you?"

"I don't know."

"Why are you here?"

"I can't recall."

"What was your past like?"

"There was this man I loved…" Aurora took a few moments to draw together the smallest bits and pieces. "Phillip. His name was Phillip."

"Hmm. I see." The man looked over at his servants and they wrote something down somewhere. "Anyone else you remember?"

Aurora shook her head.

"Who are you?"

"You already asked me my name, sir. I'm Aurora."

"That's not the same question. Do you know who you are?"

"I suppose not." After having had this much time to assess her situation, Aurora determined that she was not in good company. It really had taken her this long.

"Pain, Panic! Put her with the others. She's wiped enough."

• • •

Gaston opened the cell door on five weary girls. The worst part of the job at this point, honestly, was the smell – the girls hadn't bathed in two weeks. Their clothes were universally brown or maroon, all dusty and damp in a decay unknown to even the poorest in France. Gaston supposed this was just how things worked over here. At least it wasn't happening to him.

That was the thing, though. It was happening to him. Belle was dead.

Gaston finished unchaining the girl who had murdered the love of his life – Rapunzel, Belle had called her. He damn near broke her wrists when he slapped the cuffs onto the other chain. Damn near…

"God, Gaston! Are you trying to rip my hands off?" Rapunzel examined her bruised wrists. The four other girls whipped their heads at her, of course unable to understand the language, but plenty startled nonetheless.

Gaston didn't say a word. He may have been a tad obsessed with Belle, but he wasn't stupid. He could use the money from this job, and there was no telling what Maleficent would do to him if he screwed up. Besides, there would be hoards of girls waiting for him back home. Just nobody as… as great as Belle.

He chained the others – down to four girls, excluding Rapunzel. Two more matches in the second round. Gaston would've placed money on the Arab, the way she kicked around while being transferred.

Gaston made his way back to the front of the line and pulled the chains as he had so many times before. The girls all knew the drill. They followed, and Rapunzel followed closest.

She couldn't help it; her placement in the cell just happened to put her at the front of the line. Gaston knew she couldn't help it. It didn't matter. He still felt she was rubbing Belle's death in his face on purpose.

In the viewing chamber, long before the match was to start, before the audience had even filled the stadium, Gaston found the time to stare at Rapunzel. He had never hated another human being like this before – he didn't even hate the Beast like this. Rapunzel… fucking Rapunzel. He'd seen her buddying up with Belle the week before her death. It was as if she had planned it. Belle may have been annoyed at Gaston – hell, she hated him – but never once did she need to fear for her life because of him.

Gaston knew he came off strong to her. It was off-putting – but only to her. All the bimbos at the tavern loved that shit, but Belle… God, she was a mystery. She hadn't crumbled under so much hardship and then fell to this bitch Rapunzel? Gaston couldn't accept it. She had been the only person who captured more of Gaston's interest than Gaston himself.

• • •

Elsa's concentration on the blind girl was abruptly broken with a jostle of the cell door. Jafar! Elsa hadn't even realized that it was that time of day again, that it was time for another match of the Tournament – a match in which Anna may have to fight.

The door flung open and immediately Jafar noticed the blind girl. He pointed. "Explain, Elsa."

"That's where they put her." Elsa felt a need to defend this poor girl. She couldn't let slip that she was still technically alive.

"Hmm," Jafar said. "I suppose it doesn't matter too terribly much. Perhaps they started a new pile for Round 2."

"Perhaps." Elsa looked at the girl again. Her fingers were long gone, her nose and ears black, but there was still the slightest rise and fall of a failing breath in her chest. She was still alive.

"Come on," Jafar said, unlatching her from the wall. "You know what to do."

"May I use the restroom first?" Elsa asked.

Jafar glared. "Be quick." He finished unlocking her from the wall and instead tied her to a much longer chain near the corner. In this corner (the one that the blind girl thankfully hadn't stumbled around) was a hole in the ground. Of course this happened every so often; Elsa was human. It wasn't out of the ordinary.

As soon as Jafar left and locked the chamber, Elsa got to work. If she had judged correctly, she could just reach the blind girl with her foot. Elsa stretched, hands bound by chains, so that her feet hooked in the girl's armpits. She pulled.

The floor was rough with frost, but it wasn't too much trouble getting the girl in the corner. Elsa sat upright and turned around, placing the blind girl's head in her lap.

She lifted an eyelid, and surprisingly her eyes looked just fine. Not the least bit cloudy – brilliantly brown, actually. She was a very slight thing. Elsa figured they were all very slight things over a week into this. Probably didn't get very much food, did she? Anna was probably in a similar state.

"Are you done?" Jafar called through the door. "The damned match will be over if you keep at it this long."

"Not yet!" Elsa turned back to the girl. She was a complete stranger. A complete stranger. Yet Elsa kept finding so much in common between her and Anna, just by the sheer circumstance of being in the Tournament. There was so much Elsa could do for this girl, and all it would take would be a pinch of true love…

Could she synthesize love? Elsa collapsed over the girl and hugged her. Could Elsa suffer the same way she had when Anna's frozen heart had frozen Anna? This girl was dying. Dying. Was that not enough? Could Elsa place Anna in the blind girl's spot?

Elsa squeezed tighter, so tight it made her cry. This could be Anna. In a few hours at most, there would be another fight. This really could be Anna. This girl and Elsa's sister were the same person. Not just similar – they were the same person.

Suddenly, the blind girl coughed onto Elsa's shoulder a breath of warm air.

• • •

Belle melted awake with her chin hooked over someone's shoulder. She blinked. Nothing. She felt the blood rush back to her fingers and toes so fast it stung. Her nose and ears regained sensation, and before long she could use her fingers and toes. Nothing really felt warm, really. The air was still damned cold, and while her body no longer felt like it was crystalizing into ice, it definitely wasn't warm.

She was just… thawed out. That was it. The parts that the frost had bitten were healing, and the rest of her was thawing out.

"I'm sick of this, Elsa! I'll have you whipped if you take any damn longer!"

Elsa, so the man outside had called her, shouted something back in a Scandinavian tongue. Belle realized it was Elsa's arms she felt wrapped around her back, and Elsa's shoulder underneath her chin.

Belle wriggled loose and Elsa let her fall. Elsa whispered in German into Belle's ear. "Pretend to be dead."

It wouldn't have made a difference what Elsa said, Belle was so damn exhausted. It was uncomfortable, being in this much cold and in this much darkness for so long. She didn't want to move.

Elsa shouted something else in her Scandinavian language, and the cell door swung open with force.

• • •

Meg watched the audience file into the stadium like you watch a mound swarming with ants. They filled the rows, steadily removing the seat covers from view. All eyes were at the arena. All eyes were on Jane.

Why did it matter? Meg only cared for herself and Eilonwy, and Eilonwy was already gone. What did it matter that Jane was in the bloodbath too?

Maybe it was the anticipation. Meg remembered feeling a similar way when Eilonwy's murder had started; however, this time she knew what to expect. She had heard some backstage workers talking about how all the princesses and the queen were in place. Meg had no clue what queen they were talking about, but it seemed to be some sort of stamp, as if they could finally proceed now that the queen was there.

Meg knew what was about to happen. She'd draw some horrible animal from the slips given to her, and those would be set upon Jane.

It now occurred to Meg that those animals were imported from Africa, and Jane was kidnapped in Africa. Perhaps they came here on the same ship – Meg doubted that this building was anywhere near Africa, based on the demographics. Jane probably knew what animals were on that ship. Meg could have asked.

But in spite of not knowing the exact circumstances, Meg felt nothing more than the revolting certainty of events to come.

• • •

This was much better than the last pre-game show, Jasmine thought. In the arena stood a fully adult woman, on her feet in moments, tattered yellow dress matted brown hair tense and ready to spring into action. She had been through harder things, more shocking things. She didn't know what to expect, or maybe she did… the audience knew, and Jasmine knew, and Jasmine felt that this woman would be greater than any animal they threw at her. She was rather flimsy looking, but at least she wasn't a goddamn child.

Jasmine considered herself very half-and-half on the adult to child spectrum. Would she feel fine if someone her age was standing out there? Probably not. If she looked as utterly defenseless as that little girl had yesterday, then Jasmine would find it unfair for her to be out in the arena alone and unarmed. But if she was ready to take on an enemy, if she was ready to fight… maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

Those thoughts of morality were suddenly drowned by the announcer's blaring voice ringing once again through the arena, as if to remind Jasmine that her moral code, her opinions on fairness, no matter how grounded or insane or profound, were utterly worthless in this place.

• • •

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the second day of Round 2 here at the Princess Tournament!" the announcer came on, sickly enthused as always. "We have another great pre-game show planned for you today – with a full person this time!"

A chuckle popped here and there. "Everyone here knows what's going on, so let's get right to the meat of it! We'd like you to meet Mrs. Jane Porter. Jane here made our lives at the tournament much, much harder."

The crowd rippled with silence. "If it weren't for her, we'd have gorillas at our disposal, as well as wild African elephants. But Jane wouldn't have it!"

They booed. "She personally assaulted Mr. Clayton, our good friend, and nearly cost him his entire business operation with her antics!" The hatred roared steadily now, at a pitch that made Meg's bones rattle.

"So this, ladies and gentlemen, is not merely a show. This is a lesson!" The audience had barely ramped up to a cheer before the announcer came on again. "Meg – draw an animal!"

Great, Meg thought as she stuck her hand in the pot and took a slip. At least it wasn't Eilonwy this time. Not that it could be.

• • •

"Meg has drawn, ladies and gentlemen. The animals Jane will be pitted against are… lions!" The crowd gasped and cheered at the same time. Big game was exciting, Jane supposed.

Three lions emerged from three equally spaced doors around the arena. Two were female, and the one male was a scrap of a lion. His fur, compared to the females' golden brown, was a sickly shade of orange, his mane black and patchy. The females flexed their stronger muscles, but damn did that male snarl a lot!

At this point, Jane was no stranger to fending off wild cats. It was essential to living with Tarzan, but that was just it – she had always been with Tarzan. He'd always come to her rescue as soon as possible; she'd just have to swat something away a couple times. Even Tarzan himself couldn't handle more than two leopards very well.

These weren't leopards, though. They were heavier, so less agile, but also stronger. Jane figured it was nearly an equal trade off, but she was small. She could dodge something or another.

She'd never fought so many beasts so large without so much as a spear in hand, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that she would have had to one day. With some miracle, she might be able to scrape her way out of this.

It was a slim chance, but she didn't really have much of a choice at this point.

• • •

Rapunzel watched the girl in the yellow dress dance. The lions crawled up on every side, and she kept low to the ground, backing slowly, leading all three cats into one direction. She made no sudden movements; it was all very thought out, as if it were her life's work studying these things. There were some things that made the lions growl – the male, especially – but on the whole, the girl kept her composure.

Very much unlike Belle. From the back, the lion fighter looked just like Belle – and then she'd turn around, Rapunzel fully expecting to find Belle's treacherous eyes glaring back at her, only to find a plainer face, one that was decently friendly without being sickeningly, falsely innocent.

Rapunzel couldn't shake it. Why was she thinking about Belle? If she was alive and still loyal to the plan, she'd free Rapunzel, and Rapunzel would have to forgive her. A life for a life. If anything else were the case, then Belle was dead. Rapunzel could forget about her entirely.

It didn't make sense. A woman was kidnapped and was being cornered in an arena with three wild lions, and all Rapunzel could give two damns about was Belle.

• • •

Belle was dying again. It wouldn't have been too bad freezing to death if she hadn't done it twice. How long would she have to wait? It was still pitch dark, and Belle didn't have the energy to walk around, anyways. She began suffering again the instant Elsa left, and she knew the cold would not relent until Elsa did whatever the hell thing she did to warm her up again.

Where would they have taken her, anyways? Belle supposed the Tournament – it was, after all, the main event.

• • •

Whatever Jane was doing wasn't working. She'd managed to lead the lions away from her periphery and to a field directly in front, but in the process had back up nearly to the walls of the arena. The lions were getting restless; they had long realized that there was no need to stalk Jane, but were waiting to make sure Jane was off her guard. The lions didn't know she was a slow runner, thank God.

Jane scanned the arena and found a whole lot of nothing. Not a stick or a rock even, much less a spear or an arrow stuck in the ground. It was a flat pitch, spare three lions…

But the walls of the arena weren't bare. There were three openings, the three the lions came from. Jane picked the nearest one and made a dash for it. The moment she began running, the lions started and were on her heels.

Jane hadn't run so fast in her life. While Jane wished she had been wearing what she usually would the day she was captured, her yellow dress wasn't much of a hindrance when she was sprinting for survival. Her throat stung, she was panting so hard – the lions' claws were ripping at the fabric of her dress.

She turned the corner and stumbled into one of the chambers only to be smashed in the nose by something hard and be sent whirling back.

• • •

Shan Yu shook the blood off of his leather handling glove as the girl he had punched fell back into the arena. The way the crowd was cheering, he supposed the lions were mauling that girl about now. Good; he won't have to keep her out again… at least he'd have something interesting to say next time he and Maleficent met.

• • •

Mulan was glued to the glass. Holy crap, that was violent! That woman Jane was doing so well, and in a snap she fell back with a bloody face and a pile of lions heaped on top. One of the females had grabbed her neck… and that was the end of it.

Mulan was awe struck. Between her time in the Chinese Army and her time in the Tournament, she had gotten used to the blood. It didn't bother her or anything – it was usually the circumstance that made her uneasy. The little girl who fed the leopards, for example… her death was hard to watch.

This was different. This woman, a stranger to Mulan, was just interfering with big game hunting, or something similar. She was in the wrong. It seemed that they were actually doing justice here – discipline too extreme, perhaps, but then again Mulan had no clue as to the extent of Jane's interfering in private affairs. It may have been warranted.

Regardless, Mulan found that she was enjoying herself. It didn't make Mulan happy to see all that blood, but it didn't make her sad like it used to. It was simply exhilarating, it was mesmerizing, watching the lions trace back and forth, the male ripping off chunks angrily while the females shared disapproving glances. There were all these little things one misses if she cries over the death, all these bits and pieces that were genuinely captivating.

It wasn't that Mulan wished for these things to happen; she didn't. It's not that she enjoyed killing people; she didn't. But watching the lions at work… especially with the victim they had picked out… Mulan saw why the audience would want to watch.

• • •

There was that feeling, Merida thought as the people filed back into the arena from intermission. That sick feeling she always got, that draining she felt whenever they drew names, whenever the next blood to be spilled was about to be determined. It was back. Merida hated it.

"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to Round 2, Match 2 of the Princess Tournament! Please find your seats, as we will have the lovely Miss Megara draw the names of our next two battling princesses shortly!"

There was a hungry clamor rippling through the stands. The lions had long gone, and just as before, the remains were left on the battlefield. Merida was doing her best to look away, but she noticed that a most of the other princesses weren't bothering to avert their eyes. All but the other redhead. The Scandinavian girl. She still had the sense to shut her eyes. The rest were just waiting – anxiously or excitedly, Merida couldn't tell. It was damned creepy.

"I think we're ready, ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer came on again. "Meg, draw the name of the first competitor!"

• • •

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, we already have the name of our first competitor! I think Miss Megara is as excited to start the match as we are!"

Anna was jittery. She had been a nervous wreck for a while now… she couldn't handle it. She'd have to fight at some point, unless Elsa found her… but she hadn't yet. What made Anna think she ever would? What made Anna think she wouldn't?

She was just waiting, teeth clenched and hands curled in fist, waiting to hear if she'd have to –

"Our first competitor is… Anna! Welcome her back to the arena, folks!"

• • •

Her sister's name called to the game at last,

So Elsa's aim was once again to fight.

But one thought led: was one more dead the cost?

That someone bled while Anna fled was right?

And even so, could Elsa know the score?

If Elsa snowed, would it bestow success?

Yes, it would, she understood, in war

Sometimes the good's misunderstood as mess.

The cause was just, but could she trust it now?

Was she to thrust herself and dust the flames?

Or would the ice just lock its vice somehow?

Would frost then slice and raise the price again?

The ice may be at last what sets her free,

Or it may be the last thing Anna sees.

***Author's Note***

Oh my God it's actually been a whole year, hasn't it? Damn, that went by fast. I published this story on September 21st, 2014, and since then you guys have given me over 200 reviews, more than 50 follows, and over 35 favorites. I don't even know how to express my gratitude; that's way more love than I received on either of my other two stories, even the Incident, which has over twice as many chapters as Princess Tournament.

I've got to say, out of the three stories I have up on FanFiction, PT:FttD has been the most rewarding to write because of all the feedback you guys give me in the reviews section. Your lobbying for Eilonwy to be in the story was the first flood of requests I've ever received, and I'm honestly glad that I added her to the plot. She really makes things more interesting, and I only have you to thank.

Because this chapter is coming out a year after the very first one, I decided to do something a little different, which I'm sure you noticed. Instead of prose, Elsa's reaction to Anna's name being drawn is a Shakespearean sonnet with a shit load of internal rhyme. I'd love to know what you think about it!

As far as the plot in this chapter: Mulan and Jasmine are becoming pretty damn callous to all the violence, and Rapunzel is quickly on her way there through Belle. Mulan, Jasmine, Merida – who will be up to fight Anna, and who will win? *dramatic music*

Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing! Here's to another great year of storytelling *clinks glass*.

P.S. Thanks for catching that Amy Hobbs, I meant to say plainer. I changed it. I was up way too late last night :)