AN: Over a year between this update and the last… I know. It's a long damn time. I work on a lot of stories, and I really shouldn't have left this one so long. But I always feel a great weight of expectation when writing this (which is, to be fair, my own damn fault) and I don't want to disappoint my readers. I also realised the reason the story has been so meandering through the last few updates—my arc-welding of various elements was not fitting the right structure.

So I made a new one.

The direction of the story has changed somewhat from what was in my last set of cliff notes, but this should be tighter, stronger, and far more cohesive. Better yet, I have an ending plotted, with some inspiration from Frozen II. The Mythic elements at least, which I was already exploring anyway. So strap in, keep your remaining limbs inside the ride, and prepare for an update or two in the near future…

Vanja was out hunting—trying to take her mind off everything, especially Søren and the guilds—when she heard the crack. It sounded like a rifle. In the distance she saw an orange flash, and heard it again. She ducked low, advancing cautiously. A single gun couldn't fire that fast. There had been mentions of possible survivors from the raid on the fort at Løkarna, but she Weseltonian soldiers tended to prefer crossbows. Mostly because smiths in Weselton lacked the precision to craft decent barrels. Løkarna was the same, but that was by virtue of being a small state, with a sometimes fractious alliance with Arendelle itself.

Another crack, flashing green, and the pattering of something raining down that wasn't rain. Nocking an arrow, she crept forward, careful to keep as much cover between her and the attackers as possible. The flash wasn't right for a powder explosion, and there was no smoke on the wind. Vanja squinted, peeking out past a low rise. A bolt of fire pocked the dirt next to her, and with a bright flash left her wondering why she had abandoned her hunt.

Then she saw them fighting. Throwing flashes at each other. Bits of stone knocked loose and raining down around the forest floor. Her arrow barely chipped the one with the orange garments. He was very clearly the aggressor, his stance low and ready, preparing to deliver a fatal blow to the green garbed creature beneath him. Vanja hesitated. Nature wasn't taking its course here. These—somehow—were thinking beings, locked in a savage duel. Whatever the orange garbed one was, he didn't care about collateral damage, or hurting her. She drew her knife and charged.

She blinked.

The orange garbed creature was gone. Below her lay the green-robed and very similar looking creature. Dying. Half of its body had been torn away, but there was no blood, just crumbled rock, and a fading glow from within. She realised the stories were true. Trolls existed. And this dying troll was trying to talk to her, to hand her something.

"Take it," It was a stone, marked with chiseled letters not of the roman alphabet. Runes. "Take it to the queen."

Vanja took the stone, turning it over and over. It was a bar, about four inches long, and triangular. Each face was about an inch high, with three lines of runes. It glowed softly, unchanging as the light from the troll was extinguished. There was more she needed to know. And why had the troll commanded her to take it to the queen? Why had something been trying to stop the troll? And why had that one run after doing so?

"Too many questions," Vanja cursed softly, sheathing her knife. She had to return now, empty-handed from her hunt. She frowned, sure that that was not the only reason she had been in the heartwood, but unable to recall anything else. A memory she couldn't quite reach, drifting just beyond her grasp. She hated the odd feeling of uncertainty it provoked in her.

Sitting behind her desk, Elsa fought to keep the shock from her face as Anna summarised the events of the previous three days. When Anna told her what Søren had said about the townsfolk she held up a hand to stop her sister from going any further. This time she didn't bother trying to hide anything. That Søren, of all people, had felt unsafe going about town was worrying in the extreme. Arendelle was a fair and just town—it wasn't meant to make anyone feel unsafe. But in their righteous anger… Elsa recalled a scream she'd heard as the townsfolk fell upon a would-be assassin. Could that anger have turned towards Søren; for what his son had been complicit in?

Taking a breath, she gestured for Anna to continue. She still wasn't quite ready for the high speed delivery—or her sister's self-recriminations.

"The head guildsman is going to Løkarna and I tried doing all the correspondence that I could, but I let you down, and, and I told you about that letter form Assam that I don't think I should've been reading and there were those disputes around the borders I don't know how to deal with and then there's the treasury and those numbers are scary—I mean, not the numbers, but scary what they mean—and then there was something about Weselton, a lot of stuff that I couldn't figure out and I don't even know where I finished up the other day because I must've fallen asleep trying to work it all out—how do you even stay awake for all that?—anyway I was worrying about you, and trying to figure out how to fix the library and maybe the hall of records can tell us the books we lost but I know some of that stuff can't be found and now…"

Elsa noticed it as her sister trailed off, probably from the blank look she knew she must have been giving her.

"Elsa?" Anna's voice was heavy with concern. "What's wrong?"

"You—I–" Elsa cut herself off before she could dig a deeper hole. Anna continued staring at her, waiting for an answer. "I think, maybe, you're a bit too nervous about telling me everything."

Fire shone behind Anna's eyes. "You would be too if someone left you in charge with no idea what to do for three whole days. Three days, Elsa. And no news from you. I know you had Hank with you, but I was worried, and I knew I couldn't follow you this time so I just had to stay here and try and do your job but I could never be as good at as you and now… now…"

"And now I'm back," Elsa wheeled herself out from behind the desk, taking her sister's hand gently in her own. "I am right here." She took a deep breath. "And I am so sorry I made you worry like that. I shouldn't have."

Anna sniffled. "But you had to go. Something so important about your magic."

"So important I got possessed."

"Wait, what?!" Anna just stared at her, eyes wide with shock. "You what, Elsa?!"

Just then Elsa saw a figure at the door to her study. Blonde, wearing furs, and armour. A thin sheen of sweat covered the visitor's face and brow. In her right hand was a stone with etching that glowed. Anna made a quiet sound then retreated to a seat near the wall. Elsa couldn't hide a wince at that. She hadn't wanted any interruptions. Vanja Ostberg-Lang strode into the room like she owned it, even if one step was slightly unsteady. She extended the glowing stone towards Elsa, and Elsa could see that it was etched with runes.

"A troll told me to bring this to you."

Elsa's eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was the last thing she'd expected to hear. "A troll?"

"Dead," Vanja's voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "She—I think it was a she—was fighting something. It sounded like gunfire, but flashed orange. There was no smoke. The troll told me to give you that."

Peering at the glowing stone, Elsa could make out two lines of runes on each face, and as she turned it she felt the magic flare within her.

The time of prophecy draws near.
A curse upon the hevnstein is lifted.

They will use as their weapon, fear.
And upon their backs a kingdom is shifted.

What their magic takes cannot be returned.
But what the world gives cannot be unlearned

Elsa re-read the runestone several times, then transcribed it onto a small card. It didn't make any more sense. Which made it just as useful as any previous troll prophecies involving her. She made two more copies of the card and handed them to Vanja. She took them without comment, placing them in a small pouch beneath her furs.

"Deliver one to Marshal Gerhardt, and the other to Bishop Gudbrand. Maybe they can see something I've overlooked." She sighed, skimming the message again. "If a troll died to get that message to me, it must be important. And if you have any 'fuzzy' memories, tell Gerhardt—we're trying to establish where these other trolls have been, or might live."

Elsa had never seen surprise on Vanja's face before, subtle though it was. A peaked brow, and a slightly different set of her lips. At least Elsa thought it was surprise, it was hard to tell when Vanja left without another word. From the other side of the room Elsa heard a very loud breath, and swift, soft footsteps as Anna rushed over to her, sitting cross-legged this time.

"How did you get possessed?" Anna asked earnestly. "I thought that was only in stories and stuff—was it scary?"

"No…" Elsa searched around for the right word, but couldn't quite find it. "It was… sad."

"Sad?"

"Her spirit had been cursed to that spot—that stone; the bautasten—for five hundred years. I couldn't even imagine it. She watched the world as magic began to fade, dying out before our time. Before our parents' time. And then, that time we returned from 'your' cave through the there, when I touched that bautasten that mentioned ismakt… She felt it. It was such a shock to realise magic had returned to the world. I'll answer your questions at the end, I promise—I just need to tell this as one story. To get it right.

"She took control of my body when I touched the bautasten again. She'd been waiting for me, knowing that I had to return. She told me I was the last of the seidr. She told me everything she could about my magic, and hers. It felt like we were talking for hours, but Hank said I was only out for a few minutes. Thyrí—she told me about the curse. About how her family had been lost, and how she'd sought help from the trolls. They took her memories. Took the pain away. But they also took most of the good memories of her family as well. They couldn't separate the two, and what they'd done couldn't be undone.

"She attacked them, and as they died they cursed to be as stone forever. She invoked a forbidden magic to do the same to them. If they ever left their valley, they would turn to stone, forever. Those outside the valley turned to stone instantly. The curses worked, until I managed to break them—and I'm still not sure it was on purpose. Or the right thing to do. Everyone hurt and suffered, for so long. Thyrí just wanted to be free. She used me to get that freedom."

Elsa couldn't keep the sadness from her voice when she spoke again. "And now she's gone. For good."

"You're sure?" Anna looked up at her curiously.

"I am," Elsa's voice was low. "I saw the trolls she'd cursed moving around. I broke two curses that day—and losing all of that nearly broke me."

Anna blinked, shuffling closer. "Are you okay, now?"

"For now," Elsa nodded. "But I discovered something about my magic. Several things, in fact."

"Tell me, please." Anna was close now, her eyes wide and endearing.

"I can show you."

Elsa hid a laugh behind her fingers as Anna's jaw fell with shock. The redhead couldn't seem to get a word, starting to say something half a dozen times before giving up with a frustrated huff. She gestured for Elsa to continue. So Elsa did, calling upon the slightest touch of her magic, tracing a circlet with her fingers, etching a crest with a large, purple diamond shape, and two more points angled up to the sides. It looked like amethyst inlaid against smoke. She concentrated on the detail of the band, smiling softly as it turned yellow, reflecting more clearly. Then, the hard part, drawing upon her fears of the past, of what her magic had done, turning the setting around her 'gems' the colour of jet. She let out a quiet breath, then placed the crown upon her sister's loosely bound hair.

Anna let it sit for a moment, knocking it slightly askew, before taking it off to inspect it. Her eyes were wide with wonder as she set it upon one raised knee and traced the details with her fingers. She smiled, fumbling slighty as she placed it back upon her head at that rakish angle. Elsa smiled back.

"Wow…" Anna's voice was a breathless whisper. "When you said you'd discovered something, I had no idea you could do—well, all of this. I mean, your palace is amazing, but you said you basically imagined it into existence, and then your chair, and the desk right there, and the picture you made of us, and that whole adventure where you messed up the entire castle for me, and the whole me-statue thing and I guess maybe I knew you could do all of this, but only when…"

"Only when I let my guard down," a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Only when I knew it was safe. Or when I couldn't hold it back—because the magic is… hmm—" Elsa searched in vain for the right words, still not quite sure of how to say it "—not alive, per se, but it has a… spirit, I guess you can call it. I can feel it, and for long it's been trying to tell me things. I know how to listen to it now—I think Thyrí showed me that. It's also easier. I don't know how to define it, but I can control it much better, I can see it doing something, and if I will it to do so, the magic flows from me and creates those things. There's still so much to learn, to discover—and I want you to help me."

"You wan—" Anna almost flew from the floor, her arm wrapped around her sister's shoulders. "Of course I will, you big dummy. That's all I ever wanted to do for you."

"You should do some things for yourself, too," Elsa smiled, mischief behind her eyes. "I know I took some for myself when I was with Hank there."

Elsa hid another laugh as Anna sat back, cross-legged, arm folded, waiting expectantly.

"We kissed," Elsa beamed, eyes closed as she recalled the feeling. How Hank had lifted her, just a little. Their breath mingling, and the warmth of their lips touching. "More than once."

"Wow, you've known him a few months, and you're already kissing?" Elsa almost squealed with laughter when Anna stuck out her tongue. It was the delivery, so thick with mock disgust. "All I wanted to do was marry a man I'd just met."

"If I'd just met you, I'd want to marry you too."

"Wait, what?"

"You heard," Elsa grinned, the mischievous glint back behind her eyes. "I like Hank, I might even be in love with him—not that I know much about being in love. I like you—love you—too. I realised love isn't some kind of equation that has to be balanced. Just because I start loving Hank more, doesn't mean I want or have to love you any less. You are, after all, the most important person in my life. You saved my life. More than once."

Elsa could see the colour rising in her sister's cheeks as she spoke. "But you still want Hank, right?"

"I still want him. And you. I like both of you. Love both of you," she saw Anna's slightly disapproving frown. "Yes, in that way too. And as Queen, why can't I have both?"

"I… you… wait, what?"

Elsa laughed softly, taking Anna's hand in her own. "I think I would be a greedy tyrant," her voice turned sombre as she continued. "Even if I have no idea whether or not I could. Is it so wrong that I'm afraid to find out?"

"It's not wrong to be afraid," Anna's voice had taken on an unnaturally serious tone. "I was—am—scared too. After what happened when I was kidnapped, it makes sense, right?"

Elsa let a sad smile show as she spoke. "But it's not something you want us to explore together."

Anna shook her head. "No."

"I understand." Elsa couldn't hide her disappointment. "I just wish—or maybe I think—it would be less scary to find out if you were close."

"Maybe on the other side of a door?" Elsa just stared at her sister.

It hadn't been meant as any kind of insult. In actual fact, it had been an honest question—and one showing that her sister was still open to supporting her, quirks and all, if certain boundaries were established.

"I mean, I don't want to—I don't think I can see you that way, and maybe it's weirdness from me because there was that time in the bath or more than one time actually, and I think it's amazing you'd trust me enough to want me to help you but I'm not sure about the whole thing, and being with Kristoff, and you with Hank, and—ohhhh. Because if Hank ever asks—unlikely, but—or you two decide to… and you haven't done anything before…"

"There are times I find you disturbingly perceptive."

"But it's useful, right?"

"Of course it is," Elsa rested her forehead against a palm. "I just don't like admitting my best advice comes from a scatter-brained princess."

Anna held up her finger, waving it mockingly towards Elsa. "I will have you know that I resemble that remark."

This time Elsa couldn't hide her laughter.

The fort was not completely ruined. It was badly damaged, and parts of it had fallen, but it would be a place to stay the night. Søren slung his pack back around his shoulder and walked through the gates. Gates that lay in the courtyard, twisted and torn, brickwork ripped from the walls scattered around them. Every few steps he was forced to shift some rubble to the side, or back, or off the gates themselves. There had been an arch above them, but when they were ripped from their hinges—taking part of the wall with them—the arch above had collapsed from lack of support. Søren inspected several pieces as he shifted them around, noting that they were broken from impacts, rather than shattered, or turned to shrapnel. The force was like that of a bomb—but there was no scorching, no jagged chunks missing. But he knew the queen had been here, once.

He shivered at the thoughts filling his mind. Of how easily he might have died in a battle like this. And also of a time he had goaded the queen—successfully—into attacking him. He'd only been saved by the swift action of her houscarl. He still wasn't sure he deserved being saved. Not after failing Konrad. Especially not after the way he'd insulted Vanja before running off like the coward he was. Maybe it was simply better to make a clean break, to try again. Something had given him another chance. He knew he'd wasted at least one before. But it was clear that the world had other plans for him. Plans to fill him with suffering before he could even begin to think about making amends.

He pushed on, his gorge rising at the smell coming from within the fort's main hall. The door was gone, and inside it smelled of death. He tried to think back on how long ago the raid had been. Not more than two weeks. Long enough for rot to have set in, and—from the looks of some of the corpses—for forest scavengers to start taking their fill. It didn't seem right. The dead deserved more respect than that. Even if they were the ones responsible for the suffering of the crown princess. Even if he couldn't do the same for his own son.

A shovel was not hard to find, placed in a disused groundskeeper's hut. Something about that—and that the fort had been so easily occupied by Weselton—hinted at something more significant happening in the shadows. But that wasn't his concern. Instead, he just started digging, outside the fort, towards the western edge of the clearing. He dug, and dug, the sound of the shovel hitting the earth, and dirt raining away his only companion. Some time during the process he'd stripped off his shirt, sweating profusely despite the autumn breeze. The sun was hanging low on the horizon, and he couldn't help but feel disappointed in himself. He'd managed to dig out only three plots, but three was still better than none.

He dragged the worst of the corpses from the main room, grunting with effort. He'd been a big man, felled, it seemed, by a single blow to the chest, a deep wound caked with blood and other things. The epaulets on his shoulder looked more ornate than those of the others. Possibly he had been their commander. Søren dragged the corpse to the first grave, taking up the shovel once more to inter the unfortunate soul. It was hard, back-breaking work, and by the time he'd buried another two, the sun was close to setting.

There was no rush to enter Løkarna. No schedule he had to keep. Here he could rest, and spend as long as it took to bury the rest of these men. He thought briefly about queen Elsa taking umbrage to such an act, but he was beyond trying to please her. He didn't fear her retribution, though neither did he wish to harm her by his actions. The dead still deserved respect—and if he couldn't show his son, perhaps, by proxy, these men would help him atone at least a little for his past mistakes.

Søren let out a heavy sigh, dropping the shovel just inside the door—well, where the door should have been—and headed towards the back of the main room. There was another missing door there, and a staircase beyond. The cells at the far end of the corridor left little question about the use of this floor. At the far end of the hall was overturned statue that reflected the light of his lamp as if it were made of polished marble. Something like that definitely did not belong in a run-down fort. He walked closer, intent on discovering this artistry.

He nearly dropped the lamp in shock when saw the truth of the matter. The statue wasn't made of polished marble, or blown glass, or anything like that. It was made of ice. Solid, unyielding ice, stained a shade of translucent blue. Beneath the ice was not a sculpture, but a man, frozen to death, a soundless scream upon his lips. Søren swallowed hard. He had heard of what nearly happened to the crown princess. How her act of love had saved both sisters. But to see what so very nearly was… He shook his head violently. This was no place to stay. Not down here. He bolted back up the stairs, out into the twilight.

The groundskeeper's hut had a door that closed, and with an old rake he could bar it. The single window above the stove had only a single pane remaining, but an old shirt spread out was enough to cover that gap. The lamp was just enough to see by, enough that he could find a few strips of salted beef, and his old, old canteen. He traced the engraving on the canteen with an idle finger as he ate. Two 'S's, intertwined. So long ago. So many times he could have changed; been better. But all of this? All he'd managed to destroy?

He wept, wishing he had the courage to simply die, but knowing he was too much of a coward for even that.

Where would you go after? A treacherous part of his mind asked. What guarantee do you have you'd see either of them again?

Tears continued to fall as he finally realised that even death would not release him from this curse. He could do nothing else. There was no way forward, and no bridges he could cross once more behind. All he could do was what was right in front of him, and hope that maybe, through this act, he might eventually find a way back to himself.