Author's Note: Well, I erased what I did have the second half of the outline for chapter 24(which had become two chapters) and wrote this. Hopefully you guys like it, enjoy! -Foxinstrazt

Part III: Chapter 25

-Moments-

Fjallafólk Village, Arendelle Countryside

Thirteen Days after Knight's Fall

Crouched upon a hill that overlooked much of the village, Anna watched carefully as the warriors of the Fjallafólk sparred with one another. It was intense, more so than any military training she had ever seen, and exponentially more brutal than Elsa's teachings. Every movement of the men and women below was meant to be lethal, with weapons ranging from fists to broad axes that were wielded in both hands. They all stepped with purpose, toward the enemy, but it was not an all out assault. Her sister had emphasized training of the body as well as the mind on matters of battle, and she could see the measured footfalls of each. Even as she found herself absorbed with the vicious display, a hand touched her shoulder, before a form slid down beside her with a huff.

Glancing over, she found that Vayl had joined her, the older woman's pale eyes on the training grounds as a hand absentmindedly tucked a lock of black hair behind her ear. "Thinking of learning our way of fighting?"

There was a level of mirth to the others voice that cause Anna to smirk and shake her head. "It seems to require a certain physique that I lack. But so quick and savage, it must be effective."

"Oh, aye." She felt Vayl's gaze turn, felt the more experienced hunter measure her body and form an opinion. "You could be taught, but not while wearing that abomination of an outfit."

Blinking, Anna turned her head to regard the strange woman. She had not thought much of her appearance since fleeing the castle, aside from the markings that were now present upon her skin, but she was aware of the degraded quality of her clothing. Tears were now frequent throughout the blue fabric of her coat, and the shirt that was now soiled with enough sweat and dirt to be considered a rag. Her trousers were beyond repair as well, with gaping holes on both knees and several remnants of the times she had fallen on the climb through the mountains. The sash and cravat had long been discarded, decorative items that served no purpose when running from an enemy.

And yet, it struck her as odd that she had not truly noticed the various holes in the thin clothing. Frigid snow and howling winds had bombarded her and Caesten's journey from the castle, and she had not once felt bothered by the chill of winter. She had felt it, but it was as neutral a sensation as a slightly warmed room. Shaking herself from her thoughts, Anna watched as Vayl tilted her head, the hunter clearly searching for some reaction to her comment. "I meant to ask about procuring new clothes, but it seems it slipped my mind."

The other woman gave the slightest of nods before donning an expression of thought. "Well, it is possible that some of my old garments might fit you, though it may be a tad snug. I should also warn you; You will not find the wardrobe of a Queen so far up here. We wear only what we can make, or take from our kills."

Scoffing at the idea of herself trudging around the countryside in a ball gown, she shook her head. "I actually prefer to avoid the fanciful. If any of the Southerners recognize me, there will be hell to pay.. It would be best if I blend in as simply another of your people." Anna pressed a hand into the grass, enjoying the feel of the morning dew as it fell upon her skin, before pushing herself up to a standing position. Vayl rose with her, and she narrowed her eyes at the woman as an idea struck. "In the effort of disguise, may I borrow your knife?"

Caesten navigated the confusing placement of huts in the village as he searched for his charge, nodding to the Fjallafólk who looked his way as he passed them. He had spent much of the morning with Patrick, discussing the finer details of how they could wage a rebellion with so few against an army. After hours of finding the flaws inherent in several dozen strategies, it was the daughter of the mountain man, Vayl, who pointed out the obvious that they had missed. The winter, which had brought with it the closing of the passages lowlanders used to move through the mountains, left them at a distinct advantage.

They could move through paths that were known only to the Fjallafólk, hit the enemy hard, and vanish as quickly as they had appeared. Patrick had been ready to commence such attacks as soon as possible, but Caesten had reasoned that it was all for naught if they could not prepare the young Queen to fight the battles. In light of that, he now sought to continue the training that Elsa had started, to forge Anna into a warrior that rivaled the Knight of Spades.

It was the river he was heading too, the small cascade of liquid that ran through the village before disappearing into the frozen countryside. It, like the rest of the area where the mountain people made their home, was thawed by the magic of their shamans. Protected from outsiders, and the elements. It was the perfect place to hide from the agents of the Southern Isles, the ideal location to strike out from. As he rounded the edge of a particularly large dwelling, he spotted the young woman kneeling by the waters edge.

Anna seemed to be studying herself in the reflective surface, and it was only until he neared that he noticed it was not the markings she was looking at. Her fiery hair, once entwined in twin braids that fell to her shoulders on both sides of her head, was now sawed down to a short length. The freshly washed strands gave off a glow in the sunlight, and what she had left was enough to barely conceal her ears and leave bangs that touched her eyebrows. The knife stabbed into the soft earth was telling enough for Caesten to know what she had used, and it explained the uneven appearance of it all. It looked similar to a hairstyle of the Fjallafólk, but he found it also carried a quality of carelessness to it that reminded him of the Queen's sister.

Clearing his throat, he stood a bit straighter, affording her the respect her station deserved, despite the circumstances. "My Queen?"

"Caesten." Anna turned to regard him, and his eyes unwillingly dropped to the ashen spirals that were slowly encroaching upon her left cheek. If she noticed his staring, she did not comment, instead tilting her head back. "Why do you still address me so? I am no longer your Queen, and you are a Regent-Lord."

"You will always be my Queen. King Everard may have stolen your kingdom, but the blood of our country flows in your veins."

"Please, just call me by my name."

Failing to suppress a small chuckle, Caesten gave a nod, and then explained his mirth at the situation. "Your sister would not let me use titles to address her, either." It was the way the aqua eyes fell for a moment that caused the pang of remembrance to thunder through his chest, and he quickly moved to remedy it. "I only came to ask if you would like to get started with your studies.. I have trained extensively in Mekrinon, and I wish to pass what I have learned on to you, if you so wish."

Meeting his gaze again, the light that had been present behind Anna's eyes a bit more dim as she gave a nod. "Allow me to change into more fitting clothing, and I will meet you on the north side of the village."

"I will be there, my Qu- ..Anna." Giving a slight bow, Caesten turned on his heel and strode away, letting out a slow breath as he did.

Anna tied the laces of the leather jerkin she had been chosen from the pile, tightening it to a point where it was held as snugly to her form as it could without causing discomfort. The inside of the garment was lined with bear fur, while the collar kept close to her neck, covering most of the magical pattern present there. It was more of a piece of armor than an article of clothing, with chainmail built into the leather on the majority of the back, and the stomach region.

She had also traded her tailored pants for trousers that were surprisingly close to her own size, the burnt leather proving worn enough for flexibility. It was only as she was adjusting the garments she had picked that Vayl returned, holding a pair of boots that seemed to surpass the quality that she had seen even in Arendelle. "Found a pair that should suit you fine, much more sturdy than your previous pair." Anna pointedly eyed the pile that had been in the Fjallafólk woman's arms, a heavy cloak and a strip of dark cloth, as it was sat down. "Ah, if disguise is your aim.."

The older woman demonstrated by draping the cloth around her face, forming a mask that hid everything under her eyes from view, and Anna nodded a few times as she returned to inspecting the boots. "Thank you, Vayl." Sitting against the chest that had held all of the clothes she had sorted through, she began pulling on the first boot, finding it long enough to reach up to below her knee.

The brunette did not respond verbally, instead meeting her eyes and nodding slowly before moving to the entrance of the hut and pushing a fur out of the way to look outside. "Patrick has told me to take you to our finest smith, to have your choice of weapons." Grunting as she finished tying the side of the last boot, Anna rose from the chest and strode towards the woman, stopping a few feet away. Vayl turned to look her over, chuckling softly. "I do not suppose I need to tell you who you look like?"

Taking a moment to think, it clicked slowly in her thoughts, and then the pain shot through her spine like a crack of lightning. Instead of sharing in the humor, Anna pushed pass the woman, speaking quietly. "I know."

As always, the huntress was not put off by her attitude, bounding up beside her and taking the lead. It seemed as if they were taking a scenic path through the village, as they passed the training grounds she had been watching earlier. Even as they passed, she saw a man grab his opponents weapon hand and punch him in the nose, resulting in a resounding crack as the cartilage broke. Instead of halting the combat, as would have been the case in most combat exercises, the man did not relent. She watched as the wounded combatant took a knee to the stomach, and then was thrown across the small ring they were fighting in, failing to get up this time.

Despite the barbaric quality of the display, she found herself appreciative of such dedication to the fight. In a real battle, an opponent would use such tactics to gain an edge, and would not hesitate to attack a vulnerability. It was an all out assault, at all times. It was why she saw such skill in the mock fighting, in the hunters who would soon be soldiers. There was also a grace to their movements, a subtle dance that shined through, and Anna was forced to wonder if Elsa had learned about more than her power from the Fjallafólk in her time here.

Just as the familiar sense of anger rose to suppress the guilt, they arrived at their destination, and Vayl began introducing the man they had come to see. "This is Caldur, the crafter of the greatest weapons you will find throughout the world." A brute of a man, Caldur turned to regard her with a single eyebrow raised. Gray hair told of his age, while the numerous scars that showed across the bulging muscles in his arms painted a picture of his life. The most unsettling feature of the man, however, was the intelligent and almost predatory look in his dark eyes as he stared down at Anna.

"Yn lowlander? Mae colomen hwn gobeithio I godi un o fy arfau?"

"Hi yn gryfach nah y tybiwch." Unable to understand either the mans words or Vayl's reply, she looked between them before Caldur gave a grunt and gestured to the table in front of his forge, where dozens of weapons lay. There were more types present than she could name, each crafted in the same style as the others, and all of them carried a strange sense of familiarity for her. She found herself struggling to place where she had seen such craftsmanship before, until her eyes settled on a short sword sitting upon the table.

Softly running her fingers over the hilt, she pulled it from the table, letting her fingers adjust to the wrapped leather grip. With her other hand, she gently felt along the edge of the oiled blade, letting her mind make the connection for her. Aside from its short length, it was nearly identical to one she had pulled from a sheath years ago, only to be chastised by Elsa for sneaking into her room. "A fine blade." Vayl's voice pulled her from the memory, causing her to blink and look over. "Perhaps we should find you a longer one?"

Keeping her grip on the sword, Anna shook her head, instead looking down the line for another of similar length. At the far end of the table, a blade caught her eye, and she stepped past the other woman towards it. Caldur followed her, his fierce gaze watching her study the weapons she passed until she reached the one that had arrested her attention. It was an axe, smaller than the two handed monsters that she saw most of the Fjallafólk carrying throughout the village.

The blade of the axe had somehow been molded into the very wood itself, held firmly in place by steel that wrapped around the shaft. Both ends were capped off by metal, a spike on the top, and rounded piece on the bottom. The smith spoke quietly as she picked up the weapon and studied it, and Vayl elected to translate this time. "He says the wood splintered while he was forging it, and now it is too small for our warriors."

Anna eyed the crescent shaped blade, the serrated edge looking more savage and brutal than any other weapon she had seen before. Spinning it in her right hand, while her left spun the short sword, she gave a slow nod. "It will suit me fine."

"Two weapons?"

She watched as the older woman exchanged a glance with the smith, but she gave a nod in the face of their doubt. "Yes. I am afraid I do not have the gold necessary to pay for these, though."

It seemed that Caldur understood some of the lowland language, or at least the meaning behind her words, as he waved his had dismissively at her. The approving nod he gave at her choice of weapons was enough to bring a minute smile to her lips as she gave a slight bow to the man. "Come." Vayl tapped her shoulder as the brunette moved to leave. "Caesten is waiting."

Days passed quickly for Anna now. At first, it seemed as if each day since Elsa's death was a lifetime, and eternity of suffering broken by a few moments where her mind tricked her into forgetting what had transpired. Now, the hours of daylight were filled with intense training that left her body sore and exhausted, and her nights spent studying the art of warfare from Caesten and Patrick. Both men had extensive knowledge of two different types of fighting. From the Regent-Lord, she learned how to command an army to engage a foe, to siege a city, and to inspire soldiers. From the leader of the Fjallafólk, she learned the finer points of setting ambush, of relying on tactics that focused on hitting hard and then vanishing just as quick.

And it was not just warfare that she learned from the old man of the mountain. He explained to her that the power her sister had infused within her body could manifest in a dozen different ways. Some gained the ability to manipulate an element, as Elsa had done with ice and snow. Others developed a talent for all things, able to learn both quickly and precisely, to apply a lesson mere seconds after learning it. Even still, some gained abilities that were seemingly random or strangely unconnected to magic. The greatest example of this was Patrick's own daughter, Vayl, who Anna learned had been born with the power. As for how it had manifested within the huntress, he would not say.

For her, it seemed clear that the power was now allowing her to advance her skills in fighting more quickly than she normally would have. Training with her sister had given her an edge over most fighters in the world, developing the ability to strike at a quick moving target, but it was now that she flourished. Using two weapons at the same time proved confusing at first, but became as natural as breathing for her within days, while Caesten taught her ways of maneuvering around an enemy, and the most efficient ways of blocking an attack. To teach her the Fjallafólk way of fighting, Vayl enlisted the aid of a woman named Aderyn, who had fast become the reason for the bruises that now pained her.

Three weeks had passed since Anna had secured the aid of Patrick and his people, since she had taken that first step on the path to a rebellion. She basked in the soreness that the physical training brought with it, and the mental exhaustion that accompanied the learning. She shut out all of the loss that followed thoughts of Elsa, burying it beneath a landslide of anger and harshness that was now directed at the very throat of those responsible for what had happened. When the notion of taking a break or slowing down came to her, she recalled the smiling faces of the two bastard Princes, Kristoff and Hans. There was another, one she had seen years before, but could not remember his face. King Everard, the ruler of the Southern Isles and likely, the one who had killed her sister.

It was these men that she focused upon to drive herself forward, never slowing, hardly sleeping. Caesten had expressed his concern that she would quickly burn out, but it did not come. Instead, she marched ever forward, letting the idea of vengeance consume her. A small part of her, the part that had refused to be changed by the circumstances she now found herself in, recognized that she was wallowing in the festering anger, that she was letting go of who she was in order to get what she wanted. It was not hard to silence that quiet voice in the back of her head, but Anna let it speak, let it remain as the last thread back to her old life.

Now, she stood opposite Vayl in a small clearing on the outskirts of the Fjallafólk village, watching the other woman warily. "What use is training if I cannot use my weapons?"

"You are good." The brunette laughed and gave a wide smile. "Very good. But, you do not give care to defense. You can cut down a thousand soldiers, but only if none of them hit you. Your style, the way you fight, it is.. di-hid. Reckless. I will teach you how to flow through battle, not merely attack again and again."

Anna tilted her head, sighing as she clenched her fists and raised them, stepping into a readied stance. It only served to increase her confusion when the older woman shook her head. "No. Do not strike, move around the attacks that come at you. Use the enemies movements to your advantage."

"Afraid to get hit, Vayl?"

"I am not afraid for myself." The wicked grin the woman wore gave her an inkling of warning, a tiny whisper that caused her to dodge the first punch that came her way from the side. Snatching the wrist out of the air, Anna shoved away and spun to meet her attacker, finding herself facing Aderyn. Before she could truly process what was happening, a branch snapping caused her mind to focus on another combatant as a huge shape barreled at her. Stepping back and placing both hands upon the mans shoulder, she pushed him into his own momentum, avoiding the charge completely.

She was allowed no rest, and ducked under a strike that her senses told her was coming from behind, giving three quick steps to keep both of her assailants in her sight. Part of her mind was distracted, scanning the treeline for another of the warriors to appear, to ambush her. She itched to go on the offensive, to force both of her opponents back, but instead waited as they advanced on her. Aderyn threw the first strike, an easily avoidable feint that was followed with an hook from the woman's other hand.

Backing away, Anna fell right in the range of the man, waiting until he punched at her to grab his wrist and pull him forward. Placing herself behind him, she raised one foot and planted it upon the small of his back, kicking him toward her other attacker. She watched with satisfaction as her makeshift missile bowled into the woman and brought them both to the ground. Even as she turned to give Vayl a victorious smirk, she knew that it was not over, felt the familiar creeping sensation of an incoming attack. Turning to face the newest opponent, she was not prepared for the furred form that came hurtling out of the foliage.

Paws connected with her chest and slammed her into the ground, but she was determined not to let the animal get the best of her. Anna rolled with the blow, kicking the wolf away the second she had the advantage, and scrambling up in time to meet the next charge. The flank of the attacker clipped her shoulder, sending her spinning back down.

Coughing as the air was knocked from her lungs, she pushed herself onto her back, groaning up at the midday sun as the wolf padded around her. After a moment, the animal closed in. Though she readied for a continuation of the battle, she was instead attacked by the lapping of a tongue at her cheek, causing her to cry out and playfully push the beast away. Rising to a sitting position as she regained her breath, Anna reached out and scratched at Kyn's ears. She settled her gaze upon Vayl, across the clearing, who was nearly doubled over with laughter from their display.

Glaring, she shook her head before pushing herself up to her feet. Looking to her two original attackers, Anna beckoned them forward with one hand and dropped into a readied stance. "Again."

Anna laid back against the rock, taking in a deep breath as she brought the axe in her hand closer to her chest. She was not exactly sure of how long it had been since the attack on her kingdom, only that it was over a month ago. She had stopped counting the days, and forced herself to not dwell upon it. Forced herself to live in the moment, to thrive on the anger held in her heart. In this moment, she could hear the crunch of footsteps upon the layer of snow that had fallen in the night. It seemed that the unnatural winter would not cease, and its blizzards had continued to be so harsh that Vayl told her the people of Arendelle had begun calling it the Savage Winter.

And it was a moment where she felt a semblance of happiness. The day she had shook the hand of Patrick was the day she had taken her first step on the path to a rebellion, but this was the day she took the first step on the path to vengeance. Scouts, dispersed into the wilderness of the kingdom, reported that a snowed in passage had been cleared by a battalion of Southern Isle soldiers, and that they were advancing in the direction of the village. They had set out immediately to intercept them, finding this canyon to set up an ambush. There were several dozen of them, while the numbers of the Fjallafólk, along with herself and Caesten, could easily overwhelm them.

But it was to be her responsibility, her privilege, to make the first move. Slowly letting the breath she had been holding in, she looked to Vayl, who was crouched beside her. The woman's pale green eyes found her, and a nod followed as the huntress pulled an arrow from her quiver. Anna used her free hand to pull the mask over the lower half of her face, turning to place that hand upon the rock in front of her. Standing now, she could see down into the small canyon, see the soldiers that were moving through the trap.

Launching herself over the cover, she landed in the middle of the group, enjoying the chorus of surprised shouts before striking out with her axe. At the time the crescent blade was tearing through the chest of her victim, her free hand was pulling the sheathed short sword from her belt, holding it in a reversed grip before she spun on a heel. Burying the blade into the stomach of the man she had attacked, she faced the leader of the group, a man whose eyes went wide as he watched her dispatch one of his soldiers.

Another enemy stepped into her path before she could advance, brandishing a sword with a wild swing towards her exposed chest. The smart move, and the expected one, was to back away from such a situation. She stepped into it, using the curved nature of her axe to turn his only defense away from his body, before she drove her own blade into his throat, tearing it out the side so viciously that it nearly decapitated the man. It sent a spray of blood across the white landscape, and as if signaled by her two kills, the canyon erupted into chaos.

Her own warriors rained down upon the enemy, brutally cutting down those who could not muster a defense quickly enough. She spared a glance to watch Vayl land only a dozen paces away, felling a man with an arrow from her bow before her hand shot back to draw another arrow. Even as the huntress moved to reload, another soldier behind her turned and raised his sword to slash at her exposed flank. Before the arc of his blade was even near the halfway point, a flash of black fur took him down as Kyn joined the fray, the wolf's teeth tearing open a throat in the blink of an eye.

Turning back to face the leader of the battalion, Anna saw the fear evident in the man's features as he watched his fellow soldiers being massacred behind her. She reveled in it, and advanced on him with a predatory glint in her eye. He did not share her enthusiasm for the battle, and nor did he wish to partake of it, instead turning to run. Without missing a beat, she kicked the ball of her rear foot into the snow and chased after him.

He led her through the twisted narrows of the canyon network, away from where the battle still raged, and she followed. It was clear that the man had no clear concept of where he was running too, as she came around the corner to see him futilely searching a dead end for a place to climb. Luck was not on his side as she blocked his only exit from the trap he had placed himself in, and he wheeled around to face her. It was strange to watch the fear slowly turn into determination, as he slammed the blade of his sword against his shield. "Come on, then! Come on!"

She obliged quickly, rushing forward and faking him out by stepping to the right, then leaping to the left and slashing both weapons at him from chest height. The short sword found no purchase, instead meeting her combatant's blade and pulling it out wide, while the serrated edge of her axe grazed open the wrist of the man's weapon hand.

Crying out, he backed away, and Anna could see the way the grip on his weapon weakened. With the vulnerability revealed, she stalked toward him, bringing her axe to bear in an low arc. He moved to block it with his blade, which allowed her to fulfill the routine she had put into motion. The steel length of her short sword smashed against the hilt of his sword, cutting through flesh and bone to take all the fingers from his hand.

The scream that came from him would have induced a feeling of sympathy in her a month or so ago, but now it was just the howl of an injured beast, a cry from the wounded to be put down. With his sword gone with his fingers, the leader of the battalion backed away and rose his shield to meet the brutal overhand arc of her axe. It slammed into the metal face of the barrier, forcing the man behind it to one knee. From her advantageous position, she kicked against the protection, causing him to fall to the ground.

The motion of falling made his arm go wide, relinquishing him of his last defense as she jumped toward him, axe raised. Her feet landed on either side of soldier's prone form, and she relished the cry of defiance that came from his lips before she struck the jagged blade into the exposed chest. Steel bit through armor, then skin, severed sinew and shattered bone, before cleaving a path through the heart. Anna left it buried in the now silent corpse as she straightened and took a step back from the kill.

In the heat of the moment, it had been easy to brush aside all thoughts of her actions and their consequences, but as she thought back over the last few minutes, she could not help but be sickened with herself. Her mind was in the process of rationalizing when a howling wind kicked up, swirling through the canyon with enough force she had to lean into it to avoid moving. It was that assault from the storms that reminded her of the reason she had set out to kill these soldiers, and their master. "Elsa.."

Her voice was lost in the face of the wind, but it did not matter. "Is that.. You?" The gale that had faltered for a second picked up again, sending snowflakes that had not frozen to the ground spiraling a few feet into the air. There was a moment of bittersweet clarity, as Anna let out a scoff. "If it is you, then you are truly dead."

It may have been her imagination, and part of her could have sworn that she was truly going insane, but the wind seemed to relent. It dialed down its assault, continuing to swirl around her in a more gentle breeze. There was no way to know what had truly become of her sister, if she had merely perished, or had lived on the in the form of the Savage Winter. But in that moment, to Anna, it did not matter, as she looked toward the sky. "I love you."

'Yn lowlander? Mae colomen hwn gobeithio I godi un o fy arfau?' - "A lowlander? Does this dove hope to lift one of my weapons?"

'Hi yn gryfach nah y tybiwch.' - "She is stronger than you think."

Author's Note: To be completely honest, that last part hurt to write. I'm not trying to say it should hit you hard, but writing it did to me, because I've actually done that.(Minus the.. you know, killing) It was a moment when I knew that they were gone, but I just had to say something, even if there was no one to hear it. Anywho, I don't have much to say here except thank you all for reading, or following, or reviewing, or whatever. You all are so supportive of this story, and I love you guys for it! Let me know what you thought of this, and thank you for reading! -Fox

Tustako: I hope you find the hugs you need! Thank you for supporting the story despite(or because) the way it makes you feel, and I truly, truly do hope that you have someone to hug after reading. After that last part, I think I might go hug someone now.

S4839: I definitely know what it feels like to have a line that doesn't work, and I'm glad I could play a part in getting you away from it for a minute! Thank you for your support of the story, and best of luck on your thesis. I know you can totally rock it! Totally missing Elsa too.. As if that wasn't obvious! And do not worry about replying to my messages, because you've already done me the kindness of leaving two huge reviews. Can't ask for more than that!

Narumy: We all love so fiercely, and with all our being, that when the person we love is gone.. it is the worst feeling in the world. I cannot say how appreciative I am that you found I related that feeling well in the story, and the line about how it stains every happy memory was, unfortunately, from direct experience. People always say 'remember the happy times' and I'm over here like: "Yeah, but they still hurt." Gah, I miss Elsa too! And I share the love/hate with this story, because I know where it is going and I love to write it, but I hate to write it too, because it hurts to be so cruel to a character like Anna! As always, holding on to hope is a good thing, and I truly hope that I do not let you down.

UnsightlyViewings: I actually struggled to figure out what Anna would say to Patrick asking why she trusted him. I tried so many long monologues about Elsa or the fact she needed soldiers, and it just did not make sense to her character.. And then I stumbled on the most obvious, simple answer: Her father trusted Patrick enough to bring Elsa to him. It fit so well, and I'm glad someone liked it! Thank you for your continued support of the story, you're freakin' awesome!

Guest: I guess I'm leaving it up to you guys to decide if Elsa is truly gone. Anna seems to think she is, but still holds that sliver of hope.