A/N: So I thought this chapter was going to be an easy one to write. Boy, was I ever wrong! Nor did it help that I came down sick last weekend, and since weekends are when I get most of my writing done these days… Sigh. Anyway, sorry for the wait.

"I tried, Anna. I tried to fight her, but… I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't win. The only way I could guarantee your freedom, your safety was to..."

"No!" Anna struggled out of the group embrace and immediately pushed her way past Elsa, firmly planting herself between the Snow Queen and her friends. "You don't get to take my sister!"

The Snow Queen's eyebrows arched imperiously. "I shall do as I please. I have that right. She is what she is today because of me."

But Anna shook her head furiously. "No, you couldn't be more wrong. What you did left her so frightened, she hid from the entire world for most of her life. She became who she is in spite of that, not because of it."

"We are shaped by our adversities," the Snow Queen replied. "They are the anvil upon which our steel is forged. What strength we possess comes from the trials we have each endured."

"Or maybe it's the strength we already have that lets us get through them," Anna countered. "You didn't give Elsa that. Our mother and father did. They're the ones who showed us what it means to be strong. And they taught us right from wrong, something you apparently never learned. The right thing to do when you care about someone is to be there for them, to help them and guide them whenever you can. That's what being a family is all about.

"But you, you just walked away! You swooped in, poked and prodded and generally made a mess of things, and then you left. You had no right to do that then, and you most certainly don't have any rights of any kind now!"

"Oh, but I do. You see, your sister agreed..."

"Yeah, I know. I was right here, remember? Because I certainly do, thanks to Elsa. She agreed that she would stay with you on one condition: that you would restore my memories. But you didn't. She did! So technically, you never really made any deal at all, did you?"

At that, a look of vexation passed across the Snow Queen's face. It was short-lived, however, and she recovered quickly. "Well, in that case, then there was also no bargain struck for your freedom. If you wish to remain my prisoner so very badly..."

"I do," Anna said, lifting her chin defiantly, "if it's the only way that Elsa and I can stay together."

"Anna, no!" Elsa hurried forward and grabbed her sister by the arm. "You can't do that! Just… just leave me here. I'll be fine. She wouldn't have gone through so much trouble if she wanted to hurt me. But you! You wouldn't survive here for long – not in these temperatures. You need to go home, back to Arendelle. Our people need someone to wear the crown and..."

"And it needs to be you, Elsa," Anna avowed earnestly. "Not me. You. I won't leave without you."

"And if Anna's staying, then so am I," Kristoff added, coming up to stand behind the two sisters. With a snort of solidarity, Sven trotted up beside him.

"Gee," said Olaf, who was rubbing his chin thoughtfully after finally getting his parts properly sorted. "If everybody's staying here, that's going to be an awful lot of furniture to move."

"Anna..." The mere tone of Elsa's voice pleaded with her sister to see reason.

"Besides," said Anna, ignoring the entreaty and turning to again address the Snow Queen, "why do you really want Elsa anyway? For the entire journey here, you made your distaste clear for… well, pretty much everybody. I find it hard to believe you did all this just for the company. For that matter, it makes no sense why you would have bothered to kidnap Kai or any of the other children before then if you really detest people so very much. So just what is it you're trying to do here?"

The Snow Queen gave Anna a look that couldn't quite decide whether it wanted to be an annoyed glare or a cunning appraisal. Either way, it seemed designed to intimidate, but it failed to have its desired effect. Anna stared back steadily and stubbornly, her posture and body language loudly proclaiming that she was ready to wait as long as it might take to get an answer. Even so, she appeared slightly surprised when she actually got one.

"I am trying," the Snow Queen said, her voice suddenly filled with the deepest weariness, "to forget."

Anna blinked. "Forget? Forget what?"

A bitter, mirthless laugh escaped the Snow Queen, as unlike the girlish giggle she had once affected in the palace courtyard as it was possible to be. "So very much," she answered. "Mistakes. Regrets. Hopes. Dreams. Things lost that will never return. Tragedies and miseries beyond anything you could possibly comprehend. Entire lifetimes, as you would measure them. My past is far too cluttered. It is long overdue for a thorough scouring."

Anna was not the only one perplexed by these statements. "But," Elsa ventured, her debate with Anna temporarily driven from her mind, "you can already alter memories. You made Anna forget, just like you did to our mother and Kai and Queen Olavine..."

"Well, of course I can," the Snow Queen snapped irritably. "I have spent years beyond count, traveled far and wide, sought out all knowledge I could find regarding the workings of the mind. I explored every possibility for how memories might be manipulated, how a person's past could be erased. I found ways to alter the most insignificant of details. I discovered how to wipe the slate completely clean. I learned everything there was to know about such magics. Unfortunately, that included one critical detail.

"I cannot perform any of it on myself.

"There is a fundamental problem, you see. In order to eliminate a specific memory, you must first find it. And to find it, you must know it. You have to remember what it is that you wish to forget. Yet it is impossible to both remember and forget at the same time. It cannot be done. Every attempt to recall the details that you want destroyed only ends up reinforcing them, rendering all your efforts futile."

"So you need someone else to erase the memories for you," Elsa concluded. "But if you already searched the whole world over for those who knew anything about such magics, surely one of them could have done it."

"Do you think I did not try exactly that? I tracked down shamans, enchantresses, witches, wizards, sorcerers, and conjurers from every nation and magical heritage. I sought help from humans, spirits, demons, and countless other creatures many of which no longer walk this earth. None could do what I asked of them, for my mind was far too different from their own."

"But," Anna interrupted, "Grand Pabbie was able to alter my memories!"

The Snow Queen scoffed. "Yes, and a shoddy job he did of it, too. I saw his work when I was inside your head. Terribly crude. The alterations stood out like a toddler's scribbles upon an illuminated manuscript. What he did only worked because human recall is already so vague and imprecise that such inaccuracies would hardly be noticed amid all the usual messiness. That held doubly true in the memories of a young child.

"The irony," she continued, "is that the trolls tend to be among the most skilled mystics when it comes to memory magics. Indeed, when I approached them during my search, I did so with high hopes that they might finally be the ones to offer the solution that I had been unable to find anywhere else." She snorted derisively. "Unfortunately, they ended up being no help at all. Their elder took one look inside my mind and then fled, screaming in a fit of hysterical madness. What she had encountered was so far beyond her comprehension, it parted her from her sanity in an instant."

Elsa glanced back at Rohl who, despite his stony complexion, had somehow contrived to turn slightly pale at the callous way in which the Snow Queen had just described the horrific fate that had befallen his tribe untold generations ago. She thought that she could hear his teeth grinding with a sound like millstones as he tried to contain his outrage and indignity at such casual effrontery.

"Whoa, hang on!" Anna exclaimed, drawing Elsa's attention back again. "Just peeking into your mind did that to the poor troll? If trolls are the best at memory magic, what in the world makes you think that Elsa can possibly do what they couldn't? Or, after all the trouble you've gone through, do you plan to just stand by and watch while the same thing happens to her?"

Anna found herself pinned with a look of scornful exasperation. "When you have searched the entire world over yet failed to find the thing you were seeking, you have but two choices. You must learn to live without it, or you must create it yourself. I have attempted both, though I have not yet been successful at either. I am hopeful that is about to change."

"Wait, so that's what it was all about? You took Kai – and however many other children besides – just to try to turn them into… into tools you could use to erase your own memories?"

Both sisters looked around, surprised that Kristoff had suddenly injected himself into the conversation again, much less that he should be the one to put all the pieces together. Their slightly startled expressions made him pause. "What?" he asked. Then his thick brows drew down in mild aggravation. "I do pay attention, you know."

"Yes," the Snow Queen said, answering Kristoff's earlier question. "That was my intent. As I said before, the mind of a child is almost infinitely malleable. With suitable care and the right persuasion, it can be shaped into nearly anything.

"Unfortunately, 'almost' and 'nearly' were enough to foil my every attempt. Even when I wiped their memories clean so that I might start afresh, my efforts to mold them into what I needed them to be ended in failure time and time again. I tried to replace their emotions with logic and reason so that they would be able to better understand their lessons without prejudice, and so that the horrors I would be asking them to expunge might not affect them so. Obviously, all such measures proved dreadfully inadequate. Nothing I tried ever came close.

"More than once, I nearly abandoned the whole idea as impossible nonsense. I would swear to myself that I was done trying, and I would uphold my pledge for years upon years. But then some new wrinkle would come to me when I was least expecting it and, however much I tried to ignore it, it would nag at me until I found myself traveling out to make just one more attempt."

"And your last attempt was me." Elsa stated this matter-of-factly, but the Snow Queen gave a nod of mute acknowledgment.

"Except that it almost wasn't," Anna said slowly, her voice filling with a burgeoning understanding. "It was almost our mother!" Elsa shot a startled look at her sister, but Anna continued to speak directly to the Snow Queen. "Back in the palace courtyard, you said that you met our mother twice: once when she was pregnant with Elsa, but also once before that when she was just a child. And you said you always sought out children to manipulate with your magics. She was going to be your next victim, wasn't she?"

The Snow Queen frowned. "I had thought that she might potentially make a good subject" – and she stressed the word in contrast to Anna's chosen description – "when I first met her, yes. She was already possessed of a sharp mind and a quick wit. I will admit, I took a genuine liking to her during our brief conversation. It seemed clear to me that she was destined for much more than the rustic life she was then living, and part of me wanted to be the one to help her to realize all that untapped potential."

"So what stopped you?" Anna asked, and where another might have spat out the question with caustic sarcasm, her voice seemed to hold only genuine curiosity.

"I remembered all too well every single one of my past failures." The Snow Queen's perpetually youthful face seemed to age before their eyes as weariness pulled its every line downward. Or maybe it was… Could it have been regret? Perhaps even grief? "Your mother, young though she was, reminded me of someone. Nor am I speaking of myself, though I will admit, there were flashes there that did seem familiar in that way. No, she reminded me of… of a friend I had known a long, long time ago. In my youth, I suppose you might say. Her name had been Idun as well, you see."

Elsa was ready with a question of her own, but before she could get it out, Anna was already talking again. "This friend of yours," she began, and there was a strange tightness in her voice that caused Elsa to glance at her curiously. "Was it only the name that she and our mother had in common, or was it more than that? I mean… what was she like?"

Now Elsa's curious gaze found its twin in the measuring look that the Snow Queen gave Anna. There was, in fact, a considerable delay during which everyone seemed to be regarding the princess as though she might perhaps have taken leave of her senses. None of her companions could understand why she had suddenly taken such an interest in a random acquaintance from her captor's past. If Anna noticed their attention, she gave no sign, but instead kept her regard fixed firmly upon the Snow Queen.

When an answer arrived at last, it came out somewhat haltingly. It was as though the Snow Queen were choosing her words with exceptional care, or else that each one spoken cost her dearly. "She was… quite lovely. Generous and kind. She had a trusting heart, almost to a fault. I do not think she knew how to hold a grudge. She always shared freely with all, even those who some might say had wronged her."

"What did she share?" Anna prodded, thus earning a redoubling of the strange looks from all those around her but most especially from the one of whom she had asked the question.

"Many things," the Snow Queen replied, "though chiefly, fruit from her orchard, Apples."

As Elsa watched, Anna's hands rose up to cover her mouth while her eyes abruptly grew wide and round. Even as they continued to stare at this woman who had abducted her, Elsa could see the light of some realization dawning in them, though what it might be, she herself had not the slightest idea.

"Anna?" she said softly, reaching out a hand and laying it gently upon her sister's shoulder. "Anna, what is it? What's wrong?"

At first, all Anna could do was shake her head a few degrees back and forth. Her sudden muteness only worried Elsa all the more, especially when she took an almost involuntary step backward away from the Snow Queen. But then, her words somewhat muffled by the fingers that still hovered before her lips, Anna spoke. She did not seem to be talking to anyone but herself.

"It can't be. It just can't. And yet… It all makes sense. Doesn't it? Her magic. Powers over ice and snow. Her loneliness. Her agelessness. Her sled and the pictures on its panels. Yggdrasil, the world tree. The death of Ysir and the creation of the world from his remains. Ragnarok, the twilight of the gods. Her bow and her..." She shook her head a second time. "Idun," she whispered, and her eyes managed to grow wider still. "Idun and…

"And Skadi?"

Elsa's head whipped around as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Snow Queen stiffen. The woman's face had gone just as rigid – empty and blank, betraying no emotion. Yet those brilliantly blue eyes bored into her sister's with such intensity that Elsa began to fear for Anna's safety all over again.

"Skadi?" Kristoff repeated, clearly perplexed. "Who's Skadi?"

"Didn't you ever learn your mythology?" Elsa asked without looking at him. Her gaze remained fixed upon the Snow Queen as she tried to grasp the full implications of Anna's words.

"Troll mythology, sure," he replied, "but I somehow get the impression that's not what we're talking about here."

"Mythology," the Snow Queen scoffed disdainfully. "Mankind's arrogance knows no bounds. A faith followed for centuries with a pantheon of gods worshiped every bit as fervently as those to whom you now pray, yet today, it cannot even be granted the small dignity of being called a religion. Instead it is belittled, considered nothing more than a series of quaint fables. Its long-dead disciples are viewed with something akin to pity that they should have been so naive and foolish as to believe in such fairy tales, yet you live with absolute certainty that the new bedtime stories you tell yourselves are somehow different – superior and, of course, completely true."

Anna, who had grown rather inured to such diatribes during the long journey northward, waited until this one ended before answering Kristoff's question. "Skadi was the ancient Norse goddess of winter," she explained. "She was the daughter of the giant Thiazi and a mighty huntress, particularly known for her skill with a bow."

"And I take it she was friends with another goddess named Idun?"

Now it was Elsa's turn to shake her head and, as the pieces began to come together in her own mind, she took over the telling of the tale. "According to the legends, three gods – Odin, Loki, and Hœnir – were traveling on a journey through the mountains when they found themselves in need of food. Spotting a herd of oxen in a valley, they slew one and set the carcass over a fire. They soon found, however, that the meat would not cook.

"Then a voice came from the tree above them and, when they looked up, they saw a great eagle. This was Thiazi in disguise, and it was he who kept the meat from cooking. He promised that he would lift his magic if only they would let him share in their meal. The gods relented, but Thiazi then ate so greedily, claiming all the best bits for himself, that Loki grew angry and impaled the eagle with a wooden staff. Thiazi then took to the air, dragging Loki into the sky with him as he clung to the makeshift spear, unable to free himself.

"Thiazi agreed to release Loki on one condition: that he would bring the goddess Idun and her magic apples out of Asgard and deliver her to the giant. Loki agreed and, at the appointed time, went to Idun. He told her that he had found a tree with apples that appeared to be every bit as marvelous as her own, and that she really ought to come with him to see it and bring her own apples so that they might compare. Idun followed him and, once they were in the forest, the great eagle swooped down and carried her away.

"When the other gods discovered what had happened, they were furious with Loki. On threat of torture and death, he agreed that he would rescue her. With a bit of magic that gave him the shape of a raven, he flew to Jotunheim, the home of the giants. Finding Thiazi away and Idun left alone, he snatched her up and fled. But then Thiazi returned and, finding his prize gone, again transformed into his eagle form and sped off in pursuit.

"The gods saw the two birds approaching. Odin, realizing what it meant, immediately ordered that a fire be set ablaze atop the walls of Asgard. As Loki flew over it with Thiazi right behind, the flames roared up and caught the giant. His wings badly burnt, he fell to the ground below where he was set upon by the gods and killed."

Kristoff grimaced. "Kidnapping and murder? That hardly seems like the best foundation for a particularly close friendship."

The Snow Queen, her face still somber, gave a small shrug. "Surprises abound in life. Not even Odin the Allfather, who ever sought out knowledge in all its many forms, could clearly see things before they came to pass. When I learned of my father's death at the hands of the Aesir, my wrath burned as hot as the fires that had brought him low. Girding myself for war, I marched upon Asgard to seek my vengeance. But the Aesir had no quarrel with me, for I had done them no wrong. Indeed, they offered recompense for my loss and agreed to all my demands. So it was that I took Njord as my husband and, through marriage, joined them.

"Even then, though, any sort of friendship between myself and Idun would have seemed to all to have been most unlikely. Not only had my father abducted and imprisoned her, but we as women were quite different. I was ever one to seek out the bracing cold of ice and snow while Idun was drawn to the warm fertility of forests and orchards. I was a warrior's daughter and loved the hunt. She was more reserved and thoughtful, preferring instead the quiet peace of music and poetry. Perhaps that was why her marriage to Bragi the minstrel was far more successful than mine to Njord.

"And yet, once I had settled amongst the Aesir, I sought her out to apologize for my father's behavior, for I did not wish old enmities to sour this new future that lay before me. Much to my surprise – and hers too, I believe – we ended up talking all through that night until dawn broke upon us the next morning. It is a strange thing the way our fates can become intertwined with the most unlikely of others, but that was the beginning of a deep and abiding friendship that we ever renewed whenever our various travels would bring us together again."

A faint smile had formed on the Snow Queen's face as she had recounted this most unexpected of friendships. Now, however, it began to falter and, within moments, had vanished completely. In its place came a look of bitter sadness and painful regret. "It is the first of many things," she said quietly, "that I wish to forget."

Anna and Elsa exchanged confused glances. "Why?" Anna asked first. "Why would you ever want to forget a friendship like that?"

The Snow Queen heaved a sigh. "Because it reminds me of what came later," she answered bleakly. "Of the pain of its loss, and of everything else that was taken from me that I will never know again."

"What happened? How did you lose it? Did you and Idun have some sort of falling out or… or something?"

"Idun is dead. They all are dead."

Stunned silence followed this pronouncement. "That… that doesn't make sense," Elsa said at last. "If all those old stories are actually true, then the gods were immortal. In fact, it was by eating Idun's fruit that they were able to remain eternally young. Nothing should have been able to disrupt that save the great battle of Ragnarok that would bring about the end of the universe."

At that, another harsh laugh escaped the Snow Queen. "My dear girl," she said condescendingly, "the end of all things came to pass when your race had barely even been born."

Elsa stared back at her in continued disbelief. "But that can't be. The prophecies that described Ragnarok foretold the destruction of all creation. The very heavens were to be consumed and the earth scorched by fire. If Ragnarok had already happened, we shouldn't even be here!"

"Yes, well... The stories we tell tend to change in the retelling, do they not? I should know. I was the one who told all of those tales to the men of this land when first they began to grasp the concept of this thing called language. I told them of my people – of their heroism and their follies, of their courage and their cowardice, of their great deeds and petty squabbles. Back then, I had hoped that your fledgling race might learn from both our triumphs and mistakes and in the process also keep alive the memory of what was no more.

"Yet as I said, mankind is nothing if not arrogant. They accepted the stories eagerly enough, but they were not content to leave them as they were. No, they had to insert themselves into the tales. Before I knew it, my people had somehow become gods. Man sought to give reason to his existence and so made himself our creation. I suppose it was inevitable then that the end of my world slowly turned into the end of this one as well.

"But you see, Ragnarok was not prophesy. Ragnarok was history. It was how everything I ever knew came undone, and it was how I ended up stranded here alone when all else crumbled."

The Snow Queen – Skadi? – began to pace back and forth before her throne, and her agitation spilled over into her voice as well. "Some truth still remained in the versions of events that passed through the generations of your people. Odin and the rest of the Aesir knew that the great battle was approaching, but it was no prophesy that brought such foreknowledge. They had made many enemies and had not treated all of them as fairly as they had me. Great unrest had been growing both in my homeland of Jotunheim as well as in Muspelheim, the land of fire. Some form of confrontation seemed inevitable.

"Then came the day when Loki, who had been imprisoned for his part in the death of Odin's son Baldr, escaped along with his own son, Fenrir. They fled to our enemies and, finding there a hatred of the Aesir equal to their own, rallied them against us. So it was that Heimdall the watchman spied the approach of an army greater in size and power than any that had ever before been seen. The Aesir united in defense of Asgard, but even they held little hope of withstanding an assault from such an overwhelming force.

"As the onslaught fell upon Asgard, the worst fears of the Aesir were proven true. Powerful though they were, it was clear that victory in this battle would not be possible. Even so, they refused to yield, and they fought with every ounce of strength they yet possessed. Their enemies broke through the great walls of the fortress and drove the defenders ever back. All too soon, they came within striking distance of the great Bifröst."

"The what?" asked Kristoff.

"The rainbow bridge that connects this world to the realm of the gods," Elsa explained.

The Snow Queen nodded. "I was among those defending the bridge," she explained. "We fought to protect it, to keep our foes from crossing to this world and unleashing untold havoc upon it. Yet we were hopelessly outnumbered and it became clear that we would soon be overrun. The sons of Muspell were merciless in their attacks. All around me, one Aesir after another fell beneath their assault. I myself was driven back onto the Bifröst, a last desperate warrior and the only thing left standing between the ravagers and Midgard.

"I knew that I could not hope to repel them. So, as they advanced onto the bridge, I turned and ran, their taunts and jeers ringing in my ears. But I did not flee to save my own life. Instead, I stopped on the far side of the Bifröst where I turned and watched their approach. The vast army poured out onto the bridge. The Aesir had build it with skill and art beyond any other, yet still it groaned under the weight it now bore.

"As the vanguard crested the top of the Bifröst's arc, I drew an arrow from my quiver and nocked it to my bow, pulling it back as far as the mighty bowstring would allow. Then, taking careful aim, I loosed it at what I judged to be the weakest point of the great expanse. It ricocheted off without leaving even the slightest damage to mark its impact. Still, I had already drawn back another and fired it so that it struck the exact same spot. Arrow after arrow I loosed until but one remained to me and the hordes of Muspelheim had nearly reached my chosen target.

"With all the strength left in my body, I drew back what I knew would be my final shot. I could feel both bow and string vibrating with the strain, and I fought to keep them still. As the boot of their great captain was about to come crashing down upon that one miniscule point, I fired. The string broke. My proud bow splintered. Yet the arrow flew true and slammed into the Bifröst – head, shaft, and feather. The creaking of the bridge grew louder and louder. Cracks shot outward from that one weakened point, spreading almost unseen beneath the feet of the enemy host. Then with a terrible crash and the roars from thousands of throats, the Bifröst shattered. The sons of Muspell fell, plunging into the boiling waters below.

"I fell as well. Yet the last crumbling vestiges of the bridge bore me not into the rivers Körmt and Örmt. Instead, I ended up here, in the far northern reaches of Midgard that I had visited so often during happier times. The battle had nearly sapped the last of my strength, and I lay sprawled upon my back where I had landed. I stared up into the sky as my senses slowly faded. But even as darkness took me, I watched the ruined fragments of the rainbow bridge as they danced across the heavens. They remain there to this day and, when conditions are right, they can still be seen even by mortal eyes."

"The aurora," gasped Anna.

"But..." Elsa stammered. "But… Idun! I don't understand. The legends said that the gods needed Idun's apples to remain forever young. But if you've been trapped here alone for all this time, how can you possibly still be so… so..."

"Because," the Snow Queen said with a distinct air of impatience, "attempting to explain immortality to mortals is like trying to describe a mountain to a flea. Unlike man, the bodies of my race do not wither and sicken. We can still be killed but, barring that, we will never die from the mere vicissitudes of time. Nor does it take any more effort on our part to remain ageless than it takes for your kind to grow old. It is merely the way we are.

"But therein lies the rub. For you see, the mind is bound to the brain is bound to the body. And as our bodies are immune to the ravages of passing years, so too are our minds. That which comes naturally to you humans is denied to us. We cannot forget. We remember everything that we have ever learned, every experience we have ever had in perfect, crystal clarity.

"For you, grief fades. The pain of loss dulls. Those you knew and loved recede into the past until only the most important things you shared with them remain with any real potency. Yet for us, it is all as yesterday. The sight of my people lying dead at the feet of the invading army, their screams of pain and shouts of desperate bravery, the stink of the carnage – all remain in my mind as though I still stood in the midst of the battlefield.

"Idun's apples did indeed keep us young, but in a way that those who passed along the stories could not begin to comprehend. We needed not their help to keep age from our bodies. No, what the magic in those fruits gave to us was the blessed gift of forgetfulness. The anguish that drowns the spirit, the remembrances of every horrid failure, the awful sense of futility that comes from realizing how little we have each of us accomplished despite everything that we have attempted to do – all swept away with that first bite.

"That was what allowed us to keep going. And yes, perhaps it meant that we repeated mistakes that we might not otherwise have made. But without that sweet relief, we would have been so crippled by the weight of all that we had done that our lives would have been nothing more than an endless misery of replaying those same mistakes over and over and over again. Idun's grace allowed us retain some measure of wisdom without losing ourselves in an eternity of knowledge."

The Snow Queen's head hung morosely as her pacing came to a halt directly before her icy throne. "But my friend is gone. All I knew and loved has long since turned to dust. And I have been forced to carry that burden for untold ages of man, its horror ever undiminished for me.

"For a while, I tried to subsume it beneath new memories. I tried to become a teacher to those with whom I now shared my new home. I traveled the world and taught them, helped them when I could. Like a parent, I could not do everything. Some things they needed to learn on their own. Mistakes often teach more than successes, and so I had to watch as they made those too. Still, I could offer advice here, give a little nudge there. And I hoped that perhaps I could create some small goodness out of my own private tragedy.

"I was a fool. I allowed myself to care, thinking I could in some way replace those I had lost. But then I watched as those I tried to teach grew old and died. Their children followed, then their children's children. Nothing lasted. My lessons became warped and twisted as they passed through the generations, if they were not forgotten entirely. I sought to correct them, remind them. Yet in every face, I began to see only the specter of mortal death coming to claim its next victim. As always, I remembered every lost friend and the pain that came with their passing with a keenness as sharp as any blade.

"In the end, I did the only thing that I could. I retreated from the world, returning to the lands of ice and snow that held the only small comforts left to me. No longer did I hunt, for I had seen enough death to last a thousand eternities. I remained here by myself, with only the animals of this arctic wilderness for company. And ever I dreamed that a day might arrive when I would finally be allowed to forget..."

Her voice trailed off, and it seemed to take the voices of Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, Olaf, and Rohl with it. The companions all stood mutely, alternately looking at the Snow Queen then at each other, unsure what they could possibly say in the face of a misery beyond what any other living creature on the planet had ever known.

Speech found Anna first, and she took a tentative step forward. "Skadi?" she said. The Snow Queen's cheek twitched almost imperceptibly at the sound of her ancient name. "I… I can't possibly understand everything you've been through, but… Well, I do know what it's like to have my memories taken away. Are you sure that's really what you want?" The immortal did not answer, at least not in words. She merely turned her head away.

"When you took away my memories of my parents, you said that you did it to spare me the heartache of having lost them. But you know what? It didn't! Because I still knew that I must have had parents. I just knew nothing about them, and I think that was even worse. True, I didn't remember the pain of grieving for them, but I didn't remember their laughter either. I didn't remember their faces or their kindness. I didn't remember Mother's gentle wisdom or the special smile Papa would get when we were alone and he could just be himself instead of having to be king. All of that was gone, and what was left was just… hollow. Empty. I still felt like I'd lost something, only now I had no idea what it was that I'd lost!"

The Snow Queen's silence continued, but it was not enough to deter Anna. "Look, you said that you remember everything, right? Well, doesn't that mean you remember the good times, too? And even though you remember it all, you can't possibly remember it all at once. You still have a choice, don't you? You get to decide what memories you want to revisit. You get to choose whether to dwell on the worst of them or the best. You've lived so many lifetimes. Surely there's also been good along the way. Hasn't there?"

"I brought you here," said the Snow Queen darkly, "that your sister might follow. I did not desire your opinion on the choices I had made, nor do I now. You have served the only purpose I had for you, and the small role I needed you to play is over. Elsa will stay to perform the work for which her gifts were intended. With so many centuries behind me that must be sifted through, she will be kept quite busy for many, many years. In return, I shall become her teacher, helping to refine her control over both ice and snow. She has learned a great deal on her own, yet there is so much more she could accomplish with only a little guidance.

"You, on the other hand, are no longer necessary and would do well to obey your sister's wishes. Return to Arendelle. Live your life free of fear, for I shall not trouble you again so long as you return the favor in kind. Should you try to reclaim your sister by force, however, I will spare little mercy. Know that I have shown you but a fraction of my power. No might of men can best me here in my stronghold. Waste neither my time nor their lives with such an attempt."

"I'm not going anywhere without Elsa!" Anna proclaimed defiantly.

The Snow Queen offered an indifferent shrug. "Then stay. There is no shortage of room in the palace. Know, however, that this land is far from hospitable. Food is scarce during the long winter. Though I eat little myself, I have made preparations to provide for Elsa's needs. I have no desire to be needlessly cruel and I would not see you starve, but meals are likely to be meager compared to what you have grown accustomed.

"I suspect, however, that the cold will be a more pressing matter. Neither I nor your sister are likely to find it a problem, but it will undoubtedly prove difficult for you. Should you choose to stay, I have no doubt you will soon find yourself thoroughly miserable if not deathly ill, and I have little skill at healing. So you need to ask yourself: are you willing to sacrifice your comfort, your happiness, perhaps even your life just to remain by your sister's side?"

Anna jutted her chin out proudly. "I've done it before!"

"Anna, please. Don't." Elsa grabbed her sister's hands and tugged her around so that they stood face to face. "You were ready to give your life to save me once before. It's my turn to do the same for you. You're my family. I love you. All I've ever wanted is for you to be safe and happy, but you will never be either of those things here. Maybe… maybe I can visit now and then. The Sn-… Skadi traveled abroad from time to time. Perhaps she will let me do the same someday. Or we could write. I… I don't suspect there's much in the way of mail service up here, but if she was able to keep a watch on Arendelle for all these years and get a message delivered to her here about what happened on Coronation Day then… Well, I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Elsa, no..."

"Anna, I'm sorry, but I just don't know what else we can do! I can't see any other choice!"

Maybe… I do.

Elsa's spine snapped straight as, for only the second time in her waking life, she heard her own voice inside her head speaking words that were not her own.

Fare?

I think… Perhaps you should offer to begin your task for the Snow Queen.

What? Why? How could that possibly help with anything?

Look, you trusted me before, and together, we were able to bring back Anna's memories. Please. If you can put your faith in me just one more time, I think there's a chance that we might be able to perform a second miracle today. Can you do that? Can you still trust me?

"Elsa? Elsa, are you alright?"

With a startled jerk, Elsa brought her eyes back into focus and looked down at Anna. "Yes," she said, not completely certain herself which question she was answering. Then, before Anna could say another word, Elsa spun to face the Snow Queen.

"So far," she declared boldly, "all I've proven is that I was able to restore my sister's memories. But you said that your mind is far different from that of mere mortals like ourselves. Before you send my sister away, don't you think it would be prudent to determine for certain whether or not I'm even capable of performing this task that you set for me? After all, if I cannot, then what reason would you even have to keep me here?"

"Elsa," Anna interjected, the fear plain in her voice. "Remember what happened to that troll! It could happen to you, too. Just looking inside her mind could drive you mad!"

"I told you, Anna. We don't seem to have any other choice." Addressing the Snow Queen, she fought down the nervous quaver that was threatening to distort her own words. "Your experiment is not yet over. You still need this one last data point before you will know for certain if it has been a success. And if..." She broke off, swallowed, then continued. "And if my mind is not up to the strain, then I would prefer to be returned to Arendelle, where at least I can be looked after by those I love."

The immortal considered this proposal gravely, while Anna stood beside her sister, biting her lip and clinging tightly to Elsa's arm as if to physically restrain her from taking any action whatsoever. At last, the Snow Queen nodded. "Very well."

"Elsa, don't! Kristoff, help me! We need to stop her. We can't let her do this!"

Elsa reached down and, gently but firmly, pried Anna's fingers from her bicep. Glancing over her sister's shoulder at the ice harvester, she gave him a look that said better than any words could have, "I have to do this. Please, no matter what happens, take care of Anna for me."

Laying his hands upon Anna's narrow shoulders, Kristoff nodded once at Elsa. She knew that, from him, that simple motion constituted the most solemn of vows.

Drawing a deep breath, she turned and marched across the short distance that separated her from Skadi, goddess of winter. Their eyes met, and there was no need even for a nod between them. All that had happened, everything in Elsa's life since before she had even been born, had led her to this moment. Now, there was only one thing left to do. Reaching up, she placed her fingers against the side of the Snow Queen's face, much as she had done to Anna's. Then she closed her eyes.

Goodbye, Elsa.

Fare?

Her eyes snapped open as she felt something race down her arms and flow out through her fingertips. The sensation was similar to what she always felt whenever she released her magic, only this was subtly different. For one thing, it left an emptiness behind in a place whose existence Elsa had not even noticed before that moment.

Fare? she called out again inside her mind. Fare!

There was no answer.