The two women staggered apart, reeling for different but not unrelated reasons. Two pairs of hands grabbed and supported Elsa as she momentarily forgot about her body and instead turned inward, groping around within her mind for a presence that she had never even noticed before. Only in its absence did she now become aware of it.

"Easy. We've got you," she heard Kristoff say, though the words registered only in a distant and detached sort of way. Her mind didn't seem to be where it ought to be. It was as though her consciousness was traveling throughout her body in its search for the suddenly missing piece of herself. In this way, she became aware that her legs were not actually supporting her own weight. She felt Kristoff's strong hands gripping her beneath the arms and Anna's smaller ones trying to steady her. She was even dimly aware of what she thought must be Olaf's thin fingers smoothing the folds of her skirts in concern. She also slowly came to realize that her limbs were trembling and that her breath was coming in ragged gasps.

But what stood out most of all was the bright ball of power that nestled within her, exactly where it had always been. Reaching down with her mind, she gently probed it. It responded to her touch as usual, writhing in eager anticipation of being allowed out into the world. Yet this now seemed strangely disconcerting to her. Her magic remained unchanged even though the one who had subtly tutored her in its use for so long was now gone. Somehow, that seemed unspeakably wrong.

Fare! she called again, still unwilling to believe just yet. Fare, are you here? Can you hear me? Fare!

"Elsa? Elsa, are you alright?"

For a moment, a swooping surge of hope lifted her spirits when it seemed that her desperate questions had drawn out an unexpected answer. She turned away from her power and again tried to examine the darkest corners of her own thoughts, seeking the hiding place from which the reply had come. Then additional words impinged upon her mind, and she realized the truth of the matter.

"Elsa? Kristoff, what's wrong with her? Do you think something went… went… Oh, and who is this Fare she keeps calling for? Elsa?"

"I'm okay," she managed in a thin, quavering voice as she dragged herself up from the depths in which she'd temporarily lost herself. Discovering her eyes again, she pried them open. Anna's worried face was, naturally, the first thing that swam into view. Elsa offered her a weak smile, hoping it looked more encouraging than it felt.

"Elsa!" her sister exclaimed. "What happened?"

"I don't… I'm not really sure. I just… I mean, I… And then we..." Elsa frowned, then shook her head in frustration. "I don't know," she admitted. "It was all so strange and so sudden, and then..." Her eyes widened and, as strength returned to her limbs, she grabbed hold of Anna's shoulder and pulled herself forward. Concern still etched upon her face, Anna turned and slipped an arm around her sister to help support her. Elsa's attention, however, was elsewhere. Her eyes were focused with singular intensity upon the other pale, blond woman in the room.

When she'd stumbled away from Elsa, the Snow Queen had backed straight into her throne. Not having anyone to help keep her upright, she had slumped weakly down onto it. She was still sitting there now, her head bowed and clasped tightly between her hands. The curtain of her long, flaxen hair had swung forward so that her face was hidden from view. For most of the onlookers, this was the first time they had seen her in anything less than full control of herself and her situation. Anna, though, had caught a brief glimpse behind that icy armor. She remembered quite clearly the Snow Queen's panic when she had discovered that it had not been Elsa who had altered Anna's memories. Perhaps that was why she was once again the first one to speak.

"Do you think she's okay, too?"

"We can hope not," said Rohl moodily, finally feeling he had something to contribute to a conversation that had been largely over his head. "I say we make a break for it while we have the chance."

"I'm with Rohl," Kristoff agreed. Placing one hand on Elsa's shoulder and the other on Anna's, he began to tug on both of them "Let's get out of here."

"No!"

The Snow Queen raised one hand. A deep grinding noise came from behind them, and they turned to see the door through which they had entered shrinking before their very eyes. In the space of a breath, snow had filled the opening so that it was now indistinguishable from the rest of the wall that had surrounded it. One by one, all the other exits from the enormous chamber disappeared in like fashion.

"Well, so much for that idea," Rohl grumbled. "What do we do now?"

"Are you feeling alright, Grandma Skadi?"

Their heads all whipped around at the sound of Olaf's concerned voice. The little snowman was standing by the foot of the throne, one hand resting almost tenderly upon the Snow Queen's knee.

"Olaf!" Elsa hissed. "What are you doing?" He did not respond, but simply continued to look up at the bent woman, waiting patiently for his own question to be answered. And the answer finally came in a most unexpected form.

The Snow Queen's hand moved to pat the top of Olaf's head, taking care not to snap the twigs that poked up from his crown. She lifted her head slowly and, as her hair slid back, two unusual things caught their attention. First, the strange wintry light that seemed to suffuse the room now glinted off her tear-streaked cheeks. And second, she was smiling.

The smile was unlike any they had seen on that face before. It was not the eager, covetous grin she had displayed in the palace courtyard while demanding that Elsa demonstrate her magic. Nor was it the smug, condescending smirk that seemed to come to her lips so easily. Indeed, this was almost beatific. It was the smile of one who, though long ago having resigned herself to the endlessness of her suffering, suddenly and unexpectedly found it at an end. The hard lines that had characterized her face, that had left it looking as though it had been chiseled from a solid block of ice, were now thawed and softened by that smile. The regal stiffness that had suffused her posture was gone… and in her eyes shone peace.

"Elsa, what did you do?" Anna breathed in amazement, glancing sidelong at her sister.

"It… it wasn't me," Elsa replied, shaking her head numbly. "It was Fare!"

"Fare? Who is this Fare?"

"A piece of me," answered the Snow Queen, her voice almost rapturous with disbelief. "A tiny bit of my being that passed into Elsa when she was still in the womb. A seed that took root and grew into… into… I am not even sure. What would you call her?" she asked, regarding Elsa with open curiosity.

Elsa stared back, dazed by the fact that she would be presented with such a question. "She's… Fare," she replied lamely.

"Fare." The Snow Queen considered the moniker. "I must say, she chose a rather unusual name for herself."

"No, I gave her that name."

The Snow Queen blinked in surprise. "Danger? That is what you chose to call my gift to you?"

"O-o-okay. Well, I'm completely confused." Anna glanced again at Elsa, then turned to Kristoff. "Are you understanding any of this?"

Looking abashed, Kristoff rubbed at the back of his neck with one hand and tried to meet Anna's gaze while simultaneously avoiding her eyes. Predictably, this did not work too well. "Erm, sort of. I mean, at least the parts about Elsa having a part of the Snow Queen inside her head. You know. Fare."

"No, I don't know Fare!" she shot back. "How do you?"

As his chagrin deepened even further, the redness in his cheeks followed suit. He shrugged. "It… was a long trip."

"So let me get this straight. You," she said, pointing at Elsa, "had a piece of her," and her finger jabbed toward the Snow Queen, "inside your head. For, like, ever?"

"To be fair," Elsa replied defensively, "I didn't know what Fare was until after you'd been taken. She only ever appeared to me in dreams, and I was never sure that she was ever anything more than that. After all, all sorts of strange things can happen in dreams. I thought that she was just another part of me. Sometimes, she acted like my guilty conscience. Sometimes, she was the spur that goaded me into doing things I would have been too frightened to try otherwise. And yes, sometimes she helped me to understand my magic a little better. I wasn't sure if I could trust her, at least not at first. Even if she had been just a part of me, I barely trusted myself back then. Over time, though… Well… she changed. So did I, I suppose. And it was only with her help that I was able to bring back your memories! I owe her a great deal. We all do. She is… was… my friend."

"Was? Wait, so is that what happened just now? This… this Fare left your head and went into – I mean, back into – hers?"

Elsa nodded weakly. "I think so."

Now Anna rounded on the Snow Queen. "And she gave you what you wanted? Just like that? She took away your memories?"

The Snow Queen shook her head, a curious look of introspection upon her features. "No. At least, not exactly. I think she could have, had she chosen to, but she did not. Yet what she did was enough. I still remember my friends, my family, and my fellows. Nor has the pain of their passing disappeared entirely. However, though the memories remain, the bitter flavor that accompanied them has been dulled. It has lessened enough that I can again taste the sweetness of happier times." Her smile widened. "You were right, child. Not all of my past deserved to be forgotten."

"But you said that you couldn't perform memory magic on yourself. If… if Fare is just a part of you, then..."

"Was," the Snow Queen corrected. "She was a part of me. As she was a part of Elsa. She is neither now. Or rather, she is both. And she is herself. She is… more than the sum of her parts. Certainly, she is far more than she was when I left her behind."

"But I thought you only gave Elsa her magic?"

Conditioned by past experience, Anna expected her question to be met with a bitter glare and impatient scorn. What she did not expect was the bright laughter that it engendered instead. Like the smile that had come before, it held an undiluted joy that she would not have believed the Snow Queen capable of.

"Of course not, my dear. One cannot give magic, for one cannot possess magic. I had sought merely to impart unto your sister the knowledge of how to harness and channel such power. Little did I realize that, instead of simply giving her that knowledge, I actually provided her with a teacher instead." She chuckled again at her distant miscalculation. "As I said, it was an experiment."

Now it was Elsa's turn to look confused. "Wait, I don't understand. What do you mean, you can't possess magic? But I feel it inside me." She tapped her chest, right at the base of her sternum. "It's in here. Whenever I do my magic, I just..." She lifted her hand and a puff of snowflakes shot upward from her fingertips. "…let it out."

The warmth in the Snow Queen's smile continued to seem so out of place, it was almost disturbing. "Ah. Then it would seem that Fare's understanding of the workings of magic was not entirely complete after all." She rose from her throne and took a step forward. As one, all of the companions (save Olaf) took a matching step backward, seeking to maintain the distance between the two groups.

The Snow Queen – they all were still finding it difficult to think of her by her ancient name – continued to smile. What appeared to be understanding glinted in her eyes as she folded her hands demurely before her. "Of course," she said, not unkindly. "Pardon my presumption. I really have given you no reason to trust me, have I?" She then tilted her head to one side and considered Elsa closely.

"You have struggled to control your abilities, have you not? Your sister indicated as much during our journey. There is a reason, you know, and a very simple one at that." Lifting a finger, she pointed toward the spot that Elsa herself had indicated a moment earlier. "That does not belong there."

"Of course it doesn't," Anna shot back on her sister's behalf. "It's only there because you put it there."

"No, that is not what I meant. Magic is a force of nature. It is not meant to be contained. Oh, you can if you try hard enough. Just as a dam may hold back a river, so too can the flow of magic be blocked. In both cases, however, you can only withhold so much for so long. If there is no release for the pressure, then it is only a matter of time before the water overflows or the dam bursts asunder.

"You came to fear what you were capable of, Elsa. It is why you gave Fare her name. And so, you sought to contain the magic. You spent most of your life trying to seal it away inside yourself, afraid of what might happen if it ever slipped out again. What you failed to realize was that, in doing so, you guaranteed that when the inevitable slip happened, it would be far, far worse than you had ever imagined. You choked the river and thus birthed the flood."

The Snow Queen's expression held so much sympathy and compassion, it was nearly maternal. "You need not hold it in any longer, Elsa. Do not fear the wild waters. They know where they need to go. Let them pass. When you need them, they will be there. They will carry you upon their bosom. You will travel together. Their strength will lift you. Their swift current will guide you. Now and then, you may dip an oar into the stream, shift the tiller, or perhaps trim the sails. But the trick, you see, is not to try to change the flow itself, for as every seaman knows, it will not be tamed. Any attempt to do so is folly. You must control that which you can and nothing more. You need only learn to steer yourself." She held out an open hand, its fingers extended directly toward the center of Elsa's chest.

"Let it go, Elsa."

Elsa gaped openly as the import of these words made themselves felt upon her soul. The hand with which she had pointed to the reservoir of her power now spread out across it. Was it a gesture of protection, a sign that she still remained unwilling to believe anything that the Snow Queen said to her? Or was it akin to reflexively clutching at a sudden pain, an admission that the power within her chest was a malignancy that needed to be removed? Even she was not sure, and she found herself swinging wildly back and forth between the two extremes.

"I don't trust her." Rohl snorted, making it abundantly clear which side of the debate he favored. "I think she'd say or do anything to get what she wants. How do we know that she isn't just looking to drain your power so that you won't be able to fight her again, hmm?"

"Well, it all makes sense to me," Olaf countered. "I mean, Elsa was already trying to change the way she worked her magic. Isn't that right, Elsa? You said you needed to trust it more and not try so hard to make it obey you. But that sounds just like what Grandma Skadi is saying. Maybe she's right. Maybe she's just trying to help."

"Oh yeah, she's been loads of help so far," scoffed the troll. "Kidnapping a princess. Attacking us with snow soldiers. Trapping us in here. If she helps us much more, we might not live to thank her!"

"But she already got what she wanted! Her memories are better now. So what good would it do for her to hurt any of us?"

"Don't ask me. I don't pretend to know how a god's mind works!"

Realizing he was getting nowhere with Rohl, Olaf looked elsewhere for support. "Kristoff, you agree with me, right?"

"Me?" Kristoff clearly had not been expecting anyone to ask his opinion. "I, um… I don't know. I mean, you'd know more about magic than I would, Olaf, since you're sort of made from the stuff. But on the other hand..." And with said other hand, he gingerly touched the ugly bruise surrounding his right eye, wincing as he did so. "Well, if she wanted to earn our trust, she's got an odd way of going about it."

Olaf looked positively stricken at the lack of support he was finding among his friends. "Anna?" he asked, uncertainty causing his voice to climb in pitch. He turned wide eyes toward her, hoping against hope to find at least one other person who shared his point of view.

Anna returned his gaze for a long moment. Then she stared at the Snow Queen. Of them all, she had spent the most time with the woman. She'd felt her presence inside her own head. By those cold hands, she'd nearly lost everything that she had ever been. In every respect, she had the most reason to hate and distrust Skadi. And yet…

Well, perhaps it was just Anna's own nature. She'd always had a tendency to look for the best in others. She knew perfectly well that many considered such an outlook to be hopelessly naive, and that some considered her little better than a fool who only ever saw the things she wanted to see. Even so, she had long ago decided that she'd rather be a fool than go through life becoming ever more jaded and cynical. Her sometimes reckless optimism had seen her through thirteen years of loneliness and tragedy. She saw no reason why she should abandon it now.

Besides, she knew all too well what it was like to be left friendless and alone. The Snow Queen was not the only one who had lost loved ones. She vividly remembered the dark depression that had gripped her after her parents had been lost at sea. For a long while, she had been so miserable and inconsolable that she had thought she would never feel happiness again. What would have become of her if she had lost not just her mother and father but everyone she had ever known? Elsa. Kai and Gerda. Josef, Fritz, and Marie. If she had truly been left with no one, if there had been none who cared enough to support her or to help her through that terrible time, what might she have become?

And there it was. Despite everything, despite all that this woman had done to her and to those she loved, the truth was inescapable. Anna felt sorry for the Snow Queen. She pitied the ageless Skadi for all the lonely millennia she'd been forced to endure here in this frozen wilderness. Pain had caused her to retreat from the world – pain and the fear of being hurt again. In that way, she was also like Elsa, except that no one had been waiting for her on the other side of the door.

Anna turned then to her sister. "It really has to be up to you, Elsa. It's your magic. It's your life. But if you want my opinion…" She broke off, biting her lip nervously. Even now, she felt amazed at herself for what she was about to say, and more than a little worried how the others would react to her conclusions. But she had made up her mind, and she firmly believed that Elsa deserved to hear all sides before she made her decision. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she forged bravely onward.

"I think we should trust her."

"Wait, what?" Kristoff and Rohl exclaimed together. Elsa stared back at her, surprise written plainly enough across her face.

"Anna, are you sure?"

"No," she answered with a shrug, "but when did I ever let that stop me? Look, I know how crazy it sounds. After everything she's done, we have absolutely no sensible reason to believe her now. But even so, I want to trust her. Elsa, when you consider all that she's been through… Well, it'd be enough to make anybody a little angry."

"A little angry?" Rohl barked incredulously. Anna shot him a repressive glare, but when she turned away, she did not look back at her sister. Instead, her gaze moved to the Snow Queen, who she considered for several silent seconds.

"The entire time we traveled together," she said at last, "you only lied to me once that I can remember."

"I am afraid you are mistaken. I never lied to you."

"You said that you would restore my memories."

"No. You only asked me if I could restore them, to which I replied – truthfully enough – that I could. That was not a lie. It was a poorly worded question."

Anna frowned at this awkward answer, at least until Olaf chimed in with, "She's right, you know? That was what we asked."

"Alright, fine. So you dodged my questions, you answered in riddles, and you took advantage of little loopholes like that one. But you never actually lied to me. So here's your chance to prove that you are as true to your word as you claim to be. None of your games this time, just straight answers. Are you telling the truth about the magic inside of Elsa?"

"Yes," the Snow Queen answered solemnly.

"If she releases that magic, like you suggest, will it hurt her or cause her injury in any way?"

"No."

"Will it have any effect on her ability to control ice and snow?"

"Of course. It should make both far easier for her."

"And why are you explaining this to her now?"

"Because I do not believe in telling lies. I said before that I would become her teacher. I said that I would help her learn to improve her control and to grow even stronger than she already is. This is the first step down that road. If she chooses not to take it, then she will never be able to realize her full potential."

"And afterward? Regardless of what Elsa decides, what happens to her then? And what are your plans for the rest of us now?"

"You and your friends are free to leave," the Snow Queen answered. "I closed the doors only for fear that you might flee without giving me this chance to speak with you. If I taught Elsa nothing, then you would have made a liar out of me, and I did not wish that to be." With an airy wave of her hand, the chamber opened again, every exit returning to exactly the same spot it had occupied before. "As for Elsa… Well, that is another decision that she must make."

"My decision?" Elsa blurted out in surprise. "I have a choice? But you said..."

"That it would take you a great many years to sort through centuries of memories and remove those I no longer desired. However, circumstances are not now what they were then, and the role for which I brought you here has been filled by another."

"Fare? So she bought my freedom by sacrificing her own?"

"That was her choice. But truly, what freedom did she have to lose? She existed only within your mind and memories. I am certain they had their charms, but she was not exactly free. Like both you and your sister, Fare grew up within walls that she thought she would never escape. You spent most of your childhood closeted in your room. How varied a mental landscape do you think that gave her? Doubtless, your dreams and imagination expanded her horizons to a point, yet she was still dependent on you for all her experiences."

"And now she has to rely on you instead. I don't see what's changed."

"Do you not? My dear, I have lived for thousands of years. I have traveled to every corner of this world and to others beyond. I have seen more than the sum of humanity put together. That – all of it – is now Fare's to explore. The lush fertility of Asgard. The mighty mountains of Jotunheim. The primordial ice of Niflheim and the raging fires of Muspell. She has access to vistas of which no mortal could possibly conceive. And if she is still surrounded by walls, they are like to the heavens. What bother are such walls if they can never possibly be reached?"

"So Fare is… She's… happy?"

"I would like to think so," said the Snow Queen, "though I cannot hear her voice. Not yet, at least. We have been estranged for too long. I suspect it will take time before we can learn to communicate like she did with you. Still, I am able to sense something of her presence. It feels mostly like curiosity, though there is a certain amount of anxiety as well. After all, it is never easy leaving home for the first time. I think perhaps there might also be just a touch of loneliness, or possibly regret." She appeared to consider these last emotions for a beat before finally finishing her thought.

"I believe she wishes she had been given more time to say goodbye."

Elsa felt an unexpected lump lodge itself in her throat, and she wasn't at all sure that she'd be able speak around it. But then, she could not think of any words that would do justice to her emotions at that moment anyway.

"But, as we were saying," the Snow Queen continued, "you have two choices that you must make, Elsa. First, you will have to decide whether you trust me enough to follow my advice and release your grip on the magic inside you. Secondly, I have taken your tutor from you. Will you let me continue to uphold my promise and instruct you instead? There is so much I can teach you, so many things you could do with just a little guidance."

Elsa's head was swimming. Things were moving so quickly. In the space of a few short minutes, she had gone from having no choice at all to suddenly being forced to make two critical decisions, either one of which could change her life forever. Swallowing with difficulty, she managed to stammer, "I… I don't know."

That was when she felt fingers entwining with her own. Looking down, she saw Anna's hand clasping hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She met her sister's eyes and saw there the steadfast reassurance that, no matter what decisions she made, she would be guaranteed the wholehearted support of at least one person who loved her.

"It's just so much," she whispered.

"Well," replied Anna thoughtfully, "why don't you just focus on the first question first? After all, if you can't trust her even that far, then I can't imagine letting her teach you anything else."

Elsa nodded slowly. It made perfect sense. She just wasn't entirely sure that it made things any easier. It still came down to a question of trust, and that was what she was struggling with the most. She had listened to all her friends' arguments, and she had agreed with them all too. No matter how she turned the problem over in her mind, regardless of what perspective she tried to employ, she simply could not find clarity over that one fundamental doubt. Did she dare trust the Snow Queen?

"And I'm not sure," Anna said as if reading her sister's mind, "that you can think your way through this one. You might spin around in circles for days without getting any closer to knowing what you ought to do. So maybe you should just trust your instincts. I know you didn't always have faith in yourself when we were growing up, but you aren't that same person anymore. You're Elsa, Queen of Arendelle. You've prepared your entire life to make all the big, important decisions that our people need from you. Well, you can make this one, too. I just know you can."

Anna smiled winningly at her big sister and, in that instant, Elsa made up her mind. Squaring her shoulders, she turned determinedly to the Snow Queen.

"I'm ready," she announced, "to release my magic." There was a sharp intake of breath from behind her, but Elsa did not look around to see who it was. She had made her decision. All that remained now was to see it through.

The Snow Queen inclined her head, a gratified expression on her face. Then Elsa looked back at Anna. "I really have no idea what's about to happen, so you might not want to be too close to me when I do this. Just to be safe."

"Are you sure? Because if you want me to stay here with you…"

"I know. But I think it would be for the best."

Anna nodded and squeezed Elsa's hand one more time. Then she backed away, grabbing Kristoff and pulling him with her. Sven followed his friends. Rohl, for his part, needed no extra encouragement to beat a hasty retreat.

Elsa took a deep breath, then looked down at her hands. For as long as she could remember, they had been the avenue through which she had released her magic. If she was now about to expel it all, she thought it would be best to try to guide it out through the path with which it was most familiar. Hopefully, that would allow her to maintain some control over it so that she might at least direct the outpouring away from the others. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to get hurt because of her. That was an experience she had no desire to relive. So she carefully raised her arms and, pointing her palms outward, extended them toward the distant wall of the chamber, as far away from anybody else as was possible.

"Right then," she said. "Here it goes." And she relaxed the vice-like grip that she had ever kept upon her magic.

She felt the power expand. It roared upward, straining against the very fabric of her being as it sought the path to freedom. The search lasted only a moment, and then it was racing along her arms in a wild, headlong rush toward the world. It burst out of her hands, a dazzling flow of the brightest blue that rocketed across the chamber and exploded against the wall. Instantly, crazy and confused ice formations sprouted out of nothingness. Geysers of snow fountained off in every direction. The chaos expanded rapidly, piling atop of itself before spilling out to either side, and still the magic continued to flow.

"No!" shouted the Snow Queen in a booming voice that echoed throughout the chamber. It startled Elsa so badly that she nearly made the mistake of drawing back her arms before her instinctive reaction took hold and clamped down on the energies that had been so uncontrollably spilling out of her. Her heart pounding in her chest, she stared at the jumbled mess that she had wrought. In only a scant few seconds, an impenetrable mass of jagged ice had spread around nearly a third of the room's circumference. She again stared down at her hands before looking across at the Snow Queen.

"I..." she began. "I thought I was supposed to…."

"Knock down the dam all at once?" the Snow Queen finished for her, and a little of her old acerbity had crept back into her voice. She must have heard it too, for she quite visibly calmed and collected herself before continuing, "Floodgates are there to prevent a flood, girl, not create one." She frowned pensively as she regarded Elsa in a measuring sort of way.

"I think I might have an idea," she said at last. "If I may?" And with a gesture, she indicated her desire to move closer to Elsa. Though there was an unmistakable hesitancy to it, Elsa nevertheless gave a quick nod. With only a few long strides, the Snow Queen closed the distance between them. Then, placing her hands palm-to-palm, she jabbed the tips of her fingers directly against Elsa's sternum.

"This is where you feel the magic, correct?" Again, Elsa nodded. "Well then, here is what you are going to do. First, close your eyes. Close them! Good. Now draw a deep breath in and, as you do, imagine this knot of magic spreading outward. I want you to feel it filling your lungs like the very air itself."

As Elsa inhaled, Skadi's hands moved. They slid down beneath the curve of the younger woman's breasts, moving out to either side as they traced the path that the magic was to follow. "Yes, like that, but do not breathe out just yet. Hold it as long as you can. You need to give that tight little ball a chance to stretch a little. Let the knot loosen. Allow its light to seep into every corner."

Then she waited – waited until she felt Elsa begin to tremble slightly beneath her fingertips with the prolonged effort to hold her breath. "Now you may exhale. And as the air flows out of your body, let the magic leave with it." Her hands curved back inward again until they met at the centerline of Elsa's body. Then they slid upward, stopping just below the base of her throat.

Elsa's mouth opened slightly and something emerged from between her parted lips. It was akin to the fog of a warm breath on a cold day, except there was a strange sparkle that flickered within the pale mist. Nor did it disappear quite so quickly. Instead, it drifted lazily up toward the ceiling, spreading out and thinning as it went until it was lost against the icy shimmer of the roof above their heads.

"It's still there," said Elsa, her voice confused and a little bit worried. "I can still feel it, exactly where it's always been." One hand rose to touch the spot on her chest.

"Again," the Snow Queen directed. "Breathe in. Hold it. Let the magic find its place alongside the air. Good. Now let both out." As before, her hands moved to directly reinforce each instruction. Another cloud of glittering mist rose into the air. "And again," came the Snow Queen's order, this time before Elsa had a chance to voice another protest.

Over and over, this odd meditation repeated itself. Soon, no spoken instructions were required, though the Snow Queen's hands continued their graceful movements. Elsa's brows knotted as she focused on the steady rhythm and on guiding the energies within her. Never before had the simple act of breathing required so much of her concentration.

Then without warning, an exhale became a startled gasp as Elsa's eyes flew open. "It's gone!" she exclaimed, anxious disbelief apparent in her tone as well as on her face. Her hand groped at the place where the power had rested for so long, as if her fingers might find some lingering trace that her inner senses could not. "It's… really gone?"

Anna wasted no time in returning to her sister's side, and she grabbed Elsa's arm just to let her feel that she was not alone. "I'm still here, Elsa," she said reassuringly. "Are you okay? How do you feel?"

Elsa didn't answer immediately. Instead, she lifted her free arm until her hand hovered directly in front of her eyes. For a brief time, she simply stared at it, turning it this way and that as though she was only now seeing it for the first time. Very slowly, she began to curl all five fingers inward, stopping well short of forming a fist. Rather, it looked as though she was grasping an invisible something in the palm of her hand. And though none could see it, all eyes in the immense throne room were nevertheless focused upon it.

With one sharp motion, Elsa snapped her fingers straight. There was the briefest of flashes that caused most who were watching to blink involuntarily. But when their eyes opened again, they all beheld a spectacular sight. There, revolving slowly in midair above Elsa's palm, was a single enormous snowflake, nearly as tall as her head. Its ice was as flawless as glass and, as it spun, it almost seemed to glow with a pulsing inner light.

Or maybe, thought Anna as she pulled her eyes away from the crystal, it's simply reflecting the glow from Elsa's face.

A radiant smile had transformed her sister's features. All the anxiety, concentration, and doubt that had played across them so recently had vanished without a trace. In their place was a look of exultant release. Anna could not remember the last time she had seen Elsa looking so completely untroubled, except maybe way back when they had both been little girls playing together throughout every room, passage, and concourse of the castle.

"Elsa?" she prodded delicately.

"It's like I've been holding my breath my entire life," Elsa said, her voice full of amazed wonder, "and now, for the first time ever, I'm able to breathe." Then she laughed, and it was not her usual reserved and barely audible chuckle. It was bright and beautiful, a shimmering cascade of joy. With a flourish, she tossed the giant snowflake up into the air. Halfway to the ceiling, it reached the top of its arc but failed to come crashing back down. Instead, it simply hung there, its glittering facets flashing as it continued its slow spin.

Elsa laughed again as she gazed up at her creation. Then she lowered her eyes and turned her smile upon Anna. The next thing the freckle-faced princess knew, she was wrapped up in her sister's enthusiastic embrace and Elsa was speaking contentedly into her ear.

"I can barely believe it, Anna. It's just… it's incredible. I don't know how to describe it. I thought I would feel empty, but I don't. I almost feel like a little girl again. Like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I feel so light, I think I could almost fly!

"Anna," she whispered in a voice that no one else could hear, "I finally feel free."

Anna squeezed back with all her might, her heart nearly bursting with joy for her sister. "I'm so happy for you," she said. "I only wish we could have learned all of this sooner."

"So," said a voice that was not Elsa's, "have I earned some small bit of trust now?"

The sisters pulled apart and turned their faces toward the Snow Queen. She had moved off a few steps when Anna had swept in. Now she stood alone, her hands clasped loosely before her as she patiently awaited her answer. After a brief hesitation, Elsa nodded. "Yes, I suppose you have."

"Well, that is good to know, at least." A not-quite-ironic twist lifted one corner of Skadi's mouth. "I am also pleased that you appear to be satisfied with the outcome of your first decision. Are you now ready to make another?"

Anna looked back at Elsa again just in time to see the last of her smile fade from view. Immediately, she wanted to lash out at the Snow Queen. The growing gratitude that she'd been feeling toward the woman evaporated as quickly as had the signs of her sister's new happiness. Couldn't she have let Elsa savor the joy for at least a minute or two before cutting it off at the knees?

Now, Anna watched indecision creep back onto Elsa's face. She could well imagine what had to be going through her head just then. The Snow Queen had been true to her word. Without her help and guidance, Elsa would likely never have enjoyed that rapturous sense of freedom she had just experienced. If Skadi was able to effect such dramatic change so quickly, what greater wisdom might she yet be able to offer given the fullness of time? How many other euphorias of revelation awaited Elsa if only she allowed herself to become student to such a teacher?

At the same time, Elsa had lived her entire life as a creature of responsibility. It was as least as much a part of her as was her magic. She had always been the cautious one when a young Anna had been too busy seeking out new adventures to consider their consequences. Her sense of accountability for their accident that fateful night had sent her into hiding, determined to protect anyone and everyone else from what she might do. Yet despite her fears, she had still prepared for and ultimately taken on the burden of the crown because she had known it was her duty to her people.

Like their father before, however, Elsa did not find the throne to be a terribly comfortable seat. Twice now, she had allowed fear to drive her from it: fear of the kingdom's reaction when her powers had been revealed, fear for her sister when the Snow Queen had taken her hostage. Was that the only thing strong enough to overcome her sense of obligation to the people of Arendelle, or did there exist sweeter temptations that might lure her away? Was the sheer bliss she had just felt enough to convince her to set down the orb and scepter? Was it enough that she would choose to walk away from Anna and the small handful of others who had come to care for her like family?

Not so long ago, Anna wouldn't have spent even a second wondering about the answers to these questions. Then she had seen the look on Elsa's face when the last of her pent-up magic had been released. And now she watched her sister struggling to sort through her emotions and the manifold ramifications of whatever choice she might make – all while determinedly looking anywhere but at Anna. It was obvious that what once would have been a simple answer had now become considerably more complicated.

"Elsa," she began, and she tried her best to impart all the love and support she had to give into her voice. "Elsa, look. I know this is big..."

"Yeah, why is that anyway?"

All heads turned toward Olaf.

He had climbed up onto the vacated throne and sat there now, his short legs sticking out over the edge of the seat. They were swinging idly up and down as he looked about the vast open space. "And it's not just this room, either," he went on, oblivious to the strange looks he was receiving from every direction. "This whole place is huge. But when we were walking through it, every room we passed was empty! I mean sure, I get that you need your space, but do you really need such a big house to hold it all?"

"Okay, I take it back," Rohl grumbled from somewhere near Kristoff's shins. "You just might be smarter than the snowman after all."

The Snow Queen stared perplexedly at Olaf. "I have lived here a very long time," she finally said, "and frankly, there are not a great many diversions in this part of the world. So from time to time – to help relieve the boredom, I suppose – I would add rooms to my palace. If nothing else, they provided a bit of fresh scenery in which I could spend my days. Of course, I could have just remade the rooms that I already had, but why bother? The neighbors never complained," she added with a smirk.

"Besides, had any of them gotten it into their heads to try and seek me out, I saw no reason to make it easy for them. The chances of anyone finding me in this place if I did not wish them to are vanishingly small. It was better for all this way. I had my peace, and anyone foolish enough to trespass had ample time to think better of it before they actually found what they came looking for."

"Yeah, but didn't you get lonely all by yourself in this big palace?" asked Olaf.

"Being alone is not the same as being lonely," she replied. "Besides, I had my animal… friends, as you called them. It was not so bad as all that."

Olaf's face drooped sadly. "I think I would've gotten lonely. I would have missed my friends. Just like I will if Elsa stays here."

"You would be welcome to stay as well," the Snow Queen offered.

"Then I'd miss Anna and Kristoff and Sven. But if I went back with them, I'd miss Elsa. And I think I'd miss you too, Grandma Skadi." His expression became gloomier still. "Families ought to stay together. That way, nobody has to miss anybody else." He heaved a heavy sigh.

"This would all be so much easier if you just lived a little closer to Arendelle."

In the stunned silence that followed, everyone seemed to be trying to look at everyone else. More than one mouth hung open with shock.

"Well, it's a thought," said Kristoff uncertainly.

"Wait," Rohl began. "You can't be seriously considering..."

"We… do have an ice palace that nobody's making much use of at the moment," Anna pointed out. "It might be a bit small compared to what she's used to, but if she still wants her privacy, not many people would bother her up on the North Mountain. Plus, it does come complete with its own resident bodyguard."

"But I… we… we couldn't ask her to do that," Elsa stammered. "Could we?"

"Of course we can," said Anna, obviously beginning to warm to the idea. "She might say no, but we can still ask."

Elsa stared at her sister in disbelief. She looked at Kristoff, who gave a noncommittal shrug. When she turned to Olaf, she saw that he had perked up, his wide eyes darting between his friends as he began to realize that his offhanded comment was actually being taken seriously. Finally, she looked at the Snow Queen, in whose face she saw a mixture of surprise and serious deliberation.

"I don't know what to do," Elsa admitted honestly. "What you just did for me was absolutely amazing. I can't even begin to find the words to thank you properly, and a part of me does long to learn everything else that you could show me. With your help, I might never have to fear what I can do again.

"But I already spent my time in solitude, not because I wanted to but because I thought I had no other choice. I've only just learned that I was wrong. I just got my sister back, and I've made so many other wonderful friends as well. I don't want to lose them again. After all that we've been through together, I'm not sure I could go back to being alone now. I need them, and they need me. Arendelle needs us, too.

"Most of my life, I've felt like I had to sacrifice one thing to gain another. My freedom for Anna's safety. My peace of mind for the kingdom's well-being. It seemed like I was going to have to make the same sort of choice yet again. But maybe this time, there's a chance for something different. Maybe, just this once, I could have it all… if you would be willing.

"I feel like I have no right to ask this of you," she continued, and she caught herself wringing her hands together as she was wont to do when she was exceptionally nervous. Willing her fingers to be still, she forced herself to look Skadi straight in the eyes. "But would you consider coming back with us to Arendelle?"

The Snow Queen returned her gaze steadily. "Are you certain that is wise?" she asked. "I was not exactly a gracious guest the last time I visited your kingdom. Your people might not appreciate my return as much as you would."

Elsa offered a small but genuine smile. "They accepted me, didn't they, and I froze the entire kingdom in the middle of July. At least this time, they wouldn't have been so shocked by the very idea of magic suddenly appearing in their midst. I'm sure there will be some few who will be harder to convince than others, but I do believe they'll all come around in time."

The frown on the Snow Queen's face suggested that she did not share Elsa's certainty of such an outcome. Still, she did not reject the idea outright, and her eyes moved to focus on Anna. "I used you most grievously," she said. "After all that I put you through, I expected neither your forgiveness nor your understanding. Yet by extending me this offer, you appear to be giving me both. May I ask why?"

Anna thought about this for a moment before she answered. "Because you did nothing to me that you knew couldn't be undone. Because I know what it's like to lose the ones you loved most in this world. And because life gave me a second chance at a family even when I thought I had lost mine forever. I suppose I'd like to think that it might be willing to do the same for you."

To this, the Snow Queen had no reply, though she stared at Anna for a considerable span of time before turning to Olaf. "And you, little one," she said kindly. "You alone were never afraid of me. You accepted me even when you barely knew anything about me. What inspired you to show me such kindness?"

Olaf blinked up at her as though surprised that she even needed to ask. "If it hadn't been for you," he said simply, "I wouldn't even exist. I never would have met my friends. I never would have had a chance to see summer. I wouldn't have gotten to do anything, and that wouldn't have been very much fun. Once I realized all that, I figured you really couldn't be all bad."

The snowman's simple logic brought a smile to her face. She gave him a small but gracious bow, then looked to Kristoff. But before she could speak, the ice harvester held up his hands to forestall her. "Don't look at me," he said. "I just want whatever makes Anna happy, which is usually whatever makes Elsa happy, so it all tends to work out well for everybody. If this is what they both want, then it's fine by me." With his next words, however, his expression grew serious.

"But if you do anything to hurt either of them ever again, you and I will have a problem."

The Snow Queen raised an eyebrow and her smile quickly faded, leaving her face every bit as grave as Kristoff's. They stared at each other for a tense moment. Then she inclined her head in somber acknowledgment of his words. "As it should be," she agreed. And with that, she turned back to Elsa.

"You realize, do you not, that my presence in your kingdom may have repercussions beyond your own borders? Even if your people accept me, other lands may not be as comfortable with the thought of two women in the same kingdom with the powers that you and I share. It may lead to fear, distrust, conflict. Are you prepared to deal with such an eventuality? Are you willing to risk so much just for the sake of having me nearby?"

Elsa glanced sideways at Anna. She swept her gaze around the room, taking in Sven, Kristoff, Olaf, and Rohl. Then her lips quirked upward as her eyes returned to settle on the Snow Queen's face.

"If we aren't willing to take a risk for family," she said, "what else is there?"

The muscles in Skadi's jaw tightened, her expression unreadable. She pulled her gaze away from Elsa's to similarly look around the chamber, though her eyes lingered not upon the people but on the walls themselves. Somehow, she gave the impression that she was seeing not just this one room but beyond it to the many others that filled her tremendous fortress, remembering each and every one and the lifetimes she had spent within them all.

At last, she lowered her head. And though she met no one's eyes, the words she spoke were clearly directed at Elsa.

"Very well. If you are sure that this is what you want, then I will return with you to Arendelle."

Olaf bounded to his feet and started doing an energetic dance upon the throne born from sheer excitement. While the reactions from the rest of the party were considerably more subdued, Elsa did grace the Snow Queen with a broad and welcoming smile. Beside her, Anna wrapped her hands around Elsa's arm and leaned her head against her sister's shoulder. She smiled too, though hers took in all there assembled. Then she sighed.

"I think," she said with weary contentment, "it's finally time that we all went home."

A/N: You've undoubtedly noticed that I've struggled to get the last few chapters out at my usual pace. This has been due, in large part, to just how complicated and critical they all have been. However, I've also found myself once again fighting with motivation and burnout. So, having finally pushed through to the resolution of the Snow Queen arc, I think I'm going to take a bit of time off before I knock out the remaining chapters.

In the end, I believe the break will probably benefit the story anyway. I've been so focused on getting this far that I haven't planned out the ultimate conclusion quite as well as I'd have liked. A vacation should give my brain time to work through those final niggling details. With luck, that will make the finished product all the better.

As always, I thank you all for your continued support of this ridiculously long and rambling saga. I hope that, once completed, it will have been worth the wait.