AN: So… chapter one hundred. That's a big number, and well past what I thought this would be when I first started writing. It's kind of crazy how much this has grown over its lifetime (and probably how much more it will grow before it's finished). I'm just rambling here because I want to celebrate a big number is all. So, enough rambling, on with the story…

Anna sat cross-legged in the snow, her arm around her sister's shoulders.

"So I guess that's magic practice over for tonight."

Elsa's nod felt quite weak.

"Elsa, are you okay?"

"Just tired," she sounded it too. Then she fell against Anna, sliding down slightly.

"Elsa?!" Anna couldn't keep the concern from her voice.

Elsa squinted up at her. "You don't have to shout."

"I wasn't." Anna took her sister's hand. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?"

"I don't think I should be this hungry, but I am," Elsa was almost slurring her words. "I feel like I've run fifty miles underwater."

"I'll get us to the kitchens then." Anna rose and helped her sister transfer herself into the wheelchair. "Ready?"

Anna didn't like how weak and tired Elsa's nod seemed. Or the fact something had just fallen from Elsa's leg onto the floor. Something dark, and hard to see in the light of the gaslamps. She stopped for a moment to investigate, but when she reached for it her fingers nearly froze. She tried tapping it with her toe instead—and bit her lip against the pain. It was beyond cold, and her stockings hadn't helped at all to stop it. Stepping gingerly on that toe—the pain was gone, but the cold remained—Anna returned to moving Elsa in her wheelchair, heading towards the kitchen.

Almost at the kitchens, and Anna noticed another small chip of something on the carpet. Something radiating the same intense cold. She turned Elsa around so she would be able to see it. But how to pick it up so they could investigate it. The kitchens! Anna's mind raced. There had to be something there they could use. Like a fork, or a spoon, or—

"Tongs!" Anna dashed for the kitchens, leaving a bewildered Elsa in her wake. "I'll be right back!"

It only took a moment to find a pair of tongs hanging from a rack, and with that Anna dashed back out. At least picking the chunk of ice up didn't hurt. She could almost feel the cold, and as she held it up for Elsa to inspect there was a blast of frigid air that seemed to fill the hallway. The tongs clicked against nothing. Anna could her sister's brow knit in confusion.

"Ice isn't supposed to do that." Elsa's words were slow, but sure. "But I know it's ice."

Anna sighed, hanging the tongs over the bar behind the seat of Elsa's chair. "Maybe the food will help you figure it out."

"Maybe," Elsa agreed absently, her mind obviously elsewhere.

In the kitchens, Anna started by finding some fresh fruit, then half a loaf of bread. There were a few slices from a cold cut of ham as well. The scary thing was how much of it Elsa seemed to be eating. Small bites, and carefully, but still far more than she would at any meal time—even counting desserts. Anna sat atop a counter, her arm crossed in front of her, trying to think of what might be going on, and why her sister might be so ravenously hungry. It was something she'd never seen before, and the only thing she could connect it to was the effort Elsa's magic must take. But never before had it affected her so.

"Anna?" Elsa sounded confused, or perhaps concerned. "I'm still hungry, but I just can't eat any more."

"Then don't, for now," Anna looked over the remains of what Elsa had been eating. "Maybe make a sandwich or something as a snack for later."

"I think I will," and Elsa was already collecting items to do so. "But I want to know why I'm so hungry—I've never felt this hungry before. Ever."

"I was thinking it might be your magic."

Elsa sighed. "You might be forgetting when I made an entire ice palace and froze the kingdom without suffering anything like this."

"Not forgetting, just tonight was different—I saw you standing there, just for a moment."

"You think that did it?" It was clear Elsa didn't believe her. Perhaps couldn't believe her. After all, how could simply standing, supported somehow, take so much energy?

Anna's mind was racing with that last thought. "Maybe. I don't know. But what was holding you up. I mean we've tried big frames, and armour shapes, and benches and other stuff in the past, but this time I couldn't see anything at all supporting you and it's not really clear, but I think I saw you actually stand from your chair, but it was so fast, and then you were reaching out and everything stopped and maybe, I don't know, it was the stopping that took all your energy but it has to be one of those things, right? Right?"

She heard Elsa's sigh, and watched as Elsa just shook her head. "You have to breathe when you talk," then Elsa held up a hand. "But I can see where you're going with this, and I—"

Elsa's speech was interrupted by a soft clink against the floor of the kitchen. They just looked at each other for a moment before Anna dived for the tongs, searching around for what she knew had to be another piece of that strange ice. She managed to place it on the table in front of Elsa, who picked it up for a moment before dropping it.

"How is it that cold?" Elsa rubbed her hands together, obviously trying to warm her fingers.

"How can you even touch that?!" Anna couldn't hide her incredulity. "I nearly froze my toe off just brushing against it."

"The cold doesn't bother me, Anna—you know that." Elsa frowned momentarily. "At least, not normally. This is different."

And with that the ice once again exploded into a blast of frigid air. Tiny crystals of frost covered the end of the table, and the sandwiches Elsa had been preparing. Anna hadn't really been watching that—because the blast of air had ruffled Elsa's dress, and when it did so, Anna had seen something glinting on her sister's leg in the light of the gaslamps. Something dark, and very narrow.

"Elsa, can you lift up your dress?"

"What?"

"Just to… your knees, I guess—I thought I saw something on your leg."

"Saw what?"

"Ice."

Anna knelt as Elsa lifted her dress. Sure enough, broken in places, but still visible, was a narrow line of very dark, intensely cold ice. It also wasn't a complete line, but almost looked like overlapping scales like on a fish. She also wasn't going to touch it, despite the temptation to try and run a finger down it to see if Elsa could feel it. Elsa was also leaning over now, trying to get a better look.

"That's the same kind of ice, isn't it?"

"It has to be," Anna tapped at a scale with the tongs she'd taken from the table. "But how, and why?"

"Something like this happened a while ago," Elsa's voice was slightly distant, trying to recall. "I'm not sure what I was thinking of at the time—" and Anna could tell that was a lie from the way Elsa's cheeks suddenly coloured. "—but strange patterns of frost traced down my legs. This could be… more… ?"

"Maybe…" Anna wasn't convinced. "But the line these scales follow, it has to be deliberate. I can tell they go past you knee."

"How high do they go?" Curiosity seemed to be overriding everything else. "Will you check for me?"

"Then hike up your skirt a little more, because I think this might go all the way up…"

And as Elsa pulled and rolled up her skirt, Anna was uncomfortably aware of how close they were, and suddenly recalled her sister's desires towards her. She put it out of her mind, following the lines. Lines? Anna blinked, making sure she wasn't seeing double. The line split, just above mid-thigh. A third line curled down and over, joining the upper line, obviously coming from the inside of Elsa's thigh. She bid Elsa to lower her skirts again.

"I think it goes up to your back," Anna quickly traced the pattern with her fingers. "And another line was coming over from inside your thigh."

"Will you check for me?" Elsa blinked as Anna blushed. "My back, I mean." She added quickly.

"How?" Anna asked, gently placing a hand against Elsa's back. "It's not an ice dress."

"Sorry," Elsa sighed and shook her head. "I still feel a bit tired. I guess my mind is tired too."

"I could still check," Anna kept her voice low. "But I don't think we should scandalise the servants."

Elsa waved a hand, and Anna watched as ice filmed over all the doors and windows, sealing the room and keeping it private.

"Do you mind lying on the floor?" Anna helped transfer her sister out of the chair and down to the floor. "Face down if I'm going to check your back, silly."

"Right," Elsa's smile was bright and full of mischief.

Anna took a deep breath before continuing, carefully rolling up Elsa's skirt, and tugging lightly at the back of the dress's bodice. She could see the lines of ice around the outside of Elsa's legs. Another line from heel to calf, branching from the inner line. Four lines from each leg tracing up past Elsa's undergarments, and then beyond. Just above the small of her back was a small star of the same dark ice, the scales radiating from it like branches on a tree. With another deep breath she relayed all of this information to her sister.

A few minutes later and Elsa was back in her chair, the doors and windows were thawed, and Anna was once again sitting atop the counter.

"What do you think it means?"

"I honestly don't know," Elsa chewed thoughtfully on the sandwich she'd made earlier. "I think I have to ask doctor Arnesen."

"That's actually a really good idea. He can tell us about anatomy stuff and under your skin there and like the reflex stuff—oh, oh! What if this is like the reflex stuff?"

"Then how does it work?"

"Umm…"

"I'll talk with doctor Arnesen tomorrow evening. I think I should tell Hank as well, because this is significant."

"You should," Anna let a very mischievous smile cross her lips. "You should get him to inspect your back as well."

"But you ju—oh." Anna couldn't help but notice the way Elsa blushed at that, though it didn't seem quite the same kind of blush. There was only one way to find out.

"Unless, of course, he already has…" and Anna smiled even wider at her sister's nearly incandescent blush. "And I thought I was the only one with such scandalous stories to tell. Elsa, you've been holding out on me."

"Why are you so smart?" Elsa just buried her head in her hands. Much quieter, but Anna still heard it: "Why can't he be?"

Kristoff blinked against the sunlight just lightening the sky behind the curtains. He felt an arm around his shoulders try—very strongly—to pull him back. For a moment he resisted, then he fell back, pulling the blankets back up to his chest.

"You're a bad influence."

"So I've been told," Anna nuzzled sleepily into his shoulder. "You an' Elsa both waking up waaay too early."

"Because we both do work," Kristoff turned to face her. "And it's easier to do when I've got some daylight. And now Elsa wants to make you—and me—envoys to the Trolls?"

"…makes sense," Anna mumbled back. "You know them. Seem to like me an' you together." She shuffled towards him, holding him closer.

"Will you let me get dressed?" Kristoff brushed some hair aside so he could kiss her forehead. "We can still talk."

Anna mumbled something through her tangle of hair as Kristoff managed to extricate himself from both her arm and the tangled bedsheets. Not a problem he was used to having, but one he didn't really mind. Having a warm bed was nice. He was rummaging through the drawers, looking for a clean shirt, when another thought occurred to him.

"Also, where did Rask get to this time?" Kristoff scanned the room somewhat warily. The little snow ferret was well behaved enough, but he still liked to chew things. This time it was the handle of one of Anna's hairbrushes. He just gave the ferret a scathing look. Rask took another bite, then hopped down, scurrying over to Anna. "Keep her company for me, okay?"

There was a chirrup in reply as Rask circled around the covers before curling up next to Anna's legs.

"Fine." Kristoff hid a laugh as Anna's angry huff turned into an enormous yawn. "At leas' he un'erstand snapsh… wait. Understands. Naps." The yawning was not getting any better, nor was Anna's obvious tiredness.

"I had an idea about my mountain trip too," Kristoff turned around as he pulled on the shirt, making sure Anna was still awake enough to pay attention. "I could write letters."

"Better if you st— wait, letters?"

"I'm not very good with writing—not Norwegian, anyway, but my Tålrunic is fine—but I can write some things for you in these letters."

"Things?" It was obvious her curiosity was piqued. Kristoff strode over and whispered in her ear the kind of things he would write. She blushed for a moment before turning to smile at him. "You'd do that for me?"

"I would," he kissed her cheek, stepping back again, looking for his slacks. "But… you have to let me go up there first."

"I can't sto—stop you," Anna yawned, interrupting herself again. "Not really."

"And I know you still don't like it, but I have friends up the mountain—who will be working there with me, I mean—and they're counting on me too."

"Unfair…" Kristoff was pulling on his slacks as she said this. Something else came to mind about fairness.

"Oh, I know they'd say it was unfair, me getting to court a princess and all," he dropped his voice for the next part. "And especially what we did together…"

He turned just in time to catch her blush. But there was also a sleepy, happy smile at the memory. There were other times too, but he wasn't going to bring that up right now.

"You'll write back to me, when you can?" It was an honest question.

"'course," Anna yawned again. "Even write some 'things', like you said."

"Thank you," Kristoff patted her shoulder as he finished pulling on his vest. "Now get some sleep. I'll see you at lunch. We've got a lot to do today." He turned to the ferret. "And you, Rask, you behave for her today."

Anna's giggles became quiet breathing, and Kristoff left her to sleep. It was true that there was a lot of work to do, but the castle's staff were so good it often left him with little to do, except care for Sven, and try to help where he could—when he could get away from Kai's lessons on royal etiquette. Another reason to head back to the North Mountain for the winter season—to be useful again. Avoiding Kai would be a nice bonus. Kristoff sighed. Kai wasn't a bad person, and he probably wasn't doing a bad job either, it was just so boring, and so many rules to remember, and all the noble rankings, or hierarchy, or whatever it was called that put them above each other.

Then he remembered what he and Anna had spoken about in the evening. Elsa wanted them to serve as envoys to the trolls. That would require all sorts of official things—even though she knew he could simply go and talk to them, or ask things, or whatever. It seemed odd, given their friendship. The revelation struck him like a blow. Elsa wasn't asking for the Trolls' help as his friend. She was asking as a queen, on behalf of Arendelle. And just like that, a whole lot of what Kai had been saying just made sense. Especially the part about making deals and using words to wield power. All he'd needed was a real example.

There were still more things that didn't really make sense to him, about the whole deal with noble etiquette, but it was a start.

"Well, that's certainly a different take on the myth of creation…"

Bishop Gudbrand looked up from the volume he'd been poring over—about occult lore—and motioned for Justicar Kristoffersen to continue.

Kristoffersen placed a finger against the passage and began to read. "Here: And so with the power granted by—Ahallan, I think; the translation is odd, missing letters—could life be quickened, its form becoming that of its master's choosing."

"It's not a transliteration of 'Allah'?" Gudbrand sighed. The morning's research had not been going particularly well—because so few things mentioned actual magic, and fewer still that connection to the trolls. Or even distinctions between types of trolls.

"I don't think so," Kristoffersen continued to read down the page. "There's more, listen: Away to the north, where there is Ahallan, the spirits of the world begin to shape the elements—water, fire, earth, and air."

"It's certainly not in reference to the north pole," Gudbrand closed the volume he'd been trying to read. "And on the surface, this Ahallan seems related to the elemental philosophy of the ancient Greeks."

"I'm wondering if it's a local legend," Kristoffersen supplied.

"But from where?"

"That is the more pressing question." There was a pause as Kristoffersen put that tome into the pile of 'maybes'. "I have no idea if it even connects to the trolls, but the information on magic—assuming that's what it refers to—could still be valuable."

"The knowledge is so obscure now; and not just about the trolls either," Gudbrand sighed. "The king's collection would have been so much more helpful."

"You realise that might be our own fault?"

"What?" Gudbrand couldn't help his accusatory tone.

"Queen Elsa was recently witness to a public execution. We both know her magic is somehow tied to her feelings. Her hand was forced by the laws I must uphold. I have to think she came to you for solace, but perhaps could not ask for as much as she needed—because I would not cast doubt upon your ability to tend to the needs of others' spirits. Feel free to stop me if I haven't spoken truthfully on the matter."

Kristoffersen sat back, not really smiling. Gudbrand shook his head in annoyance—because his old friend was right in his analysis. It still stung to realise he might have missed a more pressing need, but everyone on the council knew the queen often kept a tight reign on her emotions because of the magic. Which only brought him back to the scriptures' teaching on the dangers of magic, and powers not given by the Divine. It hard to reconcile that with everything he knew of the queen. Her kindness and compassion, along with her grit and determination to always try and do the right thing. Her motives were pure.

It was also difficult to accept that the scriptures might be wrong. Some things in there had little basis in fact, or were perhaps exaggerated for effect. The ages of certain prophets, or what happened to the fallen cities—of which no evidence remained. But fighting against magic—usually the powers of the Infernal—was a constant refrain. Now he knew of at least four different kinds of true magic, at least one case of possession, and several instances of the trickery that could easily be construed as the touch of the Infernal.

"Clarence?" Kristoffersen took another book from the table as bishop Gudbrand snapped from his reverie.

"Sorry," he smiled. "My mind is racing in circles about magic, the scriptures, and just how all this might connect. Or not."

"What about this Ahallan—do you think it's a good lead?"

"It's a lead, Hanne," Gudbrand selected another vast tome to leaf through. "One of very few we have right now, I'll admit. Now, speaking of leads, was the hall of records any help in finding a source for some of those more obscure works?"

"A handful. Some were apparently translations of translations. At least two were simply records of oral histories that someone thought to transcribe when they had a spare moment—I doubt we'll find those again. The less esoteric works might still have copies somewhere, Albion, or somewhere in the Orient. Nothing likely to reach us in a timely manner to help with this particular crisis."

"That is something of a disappointment, but not unexpected."

Any further conversation was stymied by a gentle knock against the door. Bishop Gudbrand looked to Kristoffersen, who simply shook his head. He wasn't expecting anyone either. Another quiet knock, and an unexpected but familiar voice.

"Bishop Gudbrand?"

What was the queen doing there?

"Yes, your majesty?"

"May I enter?"

"Of course," As the queen opened the door, Gudbrand hastily pushed aside a number of books from his desk, several of which fell further than he intended. "You'll have to forgive us the mess in here."

"I… wow." She almost sounded impressed. "Wait, you said 'us'. Who else is here?"

"Your majesty," Kristoffersen stood and offered a perfunctory bow.

"Justicar Kristoffersen?"

"We were attempting to find information about these new trolls, or their magic."

"Without success I take it, judging by the pile of books I see there." Gudbrand watched as the queen sat there in here chair, hands held demurely in her lap. "There are matters I wish to discuss with the bishop; in private."

"I shall take my leave then," Kristoffersen offered another short bow. "Clarence; I'll not go too far."

"Very good," Gudbrand waited for him to leave before speaking again. "I doubt this is a social call. I also know you wouldn't need to oversee our research in person."

The queen didn't speak, but worried at the crucifix beneath her blouse. That was not a good sign. The last time she'd done that she had admitted to being possessed.

"You want help, or guidance, on matters of the soul?"

"On matters of—" and here she paused for a moment, clearly searching for the right word but not quite finding it. "—of creation."

"Creation, your majesty?" Gudbrand kept his tone neutral, but had a feeling he knew where this was going.

"I made something for Anna, and when I did so, I think I touched something almost as powerful as the Divine—but I'm not sure what it was, only that it wasn't evil. I think. No; I'm sure it wasn't evil. Is there anything like that in the scriptures?"

"You will have to be rather more specific, your majesty."

"I…" Gudbrand remained silent, letting the queen choose her words, which she seemed to be doing with great care. "I created… another… another… life—yes, a life."

"You have told me before; how you created your snowmen."

The queen sighed. "Also that I did not know what I had done—or rather, how I had done it."

Gudbrand fought to keep his expression neutral. It was clear the queen was admitting to both creating another snow creature, and that she knew how it happened. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, about creation. The queen's apprehension was also all too clear. He wished he could have taken back the first time; done it all over again. That was simply another cross to bear. At least she was willing to seek counsel in him—or from him—on such a delicate matter.

"I might know too much now," Gudbrand couldn't help but see the very real fear in her eyes. "I needed to reach out, further than I ever had before. I felt something reach back. It was so powerful, so forceful, and yet somehow benign. In that moment—that instant—I felt like the Divine. I felt pure. Now, looking back, I still don't know what I touched when I reached out—or what touched me. But I know it was powerful, and it helped me breathe life into Rask."

"Rask?"

"A ferret," the queen's smile was something to behold, shy, but beautifully warm. "For my sister. I told you it was her idea, but I don't blame her. I doubt I would have been bold enough to attempt this on my own. I might never have known—though I still don't understand it, I know what it was. I know what it felt like. There is a word, and I don't use it lightly. The instant I channelled that power to breathe life into Rask, it felt transcendent."

Gudbrand allowed himself a small smile. There were, after all, similar tales in scripture. Perhaps not so graphically elaborated, but in essence the same. Said tales tended to be at the very beginning, suggesting something almost blasphemous, but he couldn't put it from his mind. Then there were the powers of the son. Raising a dead man; curing the sick; feeding the hungry. Powers granted by the Divine. It was possible, after all. Tales like Jeanne d'Arc. Those had been visions though, not channelling a spark of the Divine's power—and once again the nagging thought, about creating things; shaping them.

"You came to me seeking absolution."

The queen nodded in reply.

"Why?" Gudbrand used his best 'kindly old man' voice. He held up just one finger as she started to answer. He smiled at her slight confusion. "Because you have felt the true power of the Divine?"

"I…" she paused, her voice soft, unsure of what to say. "You really think so?"

"He works in mysterious ways. We do not demand that he makes sense."

The queen laughed softly. "I guess not." There was a pause. "Should I send the Justicar back in?"

"He'll be out there somewhere, but you need not go out of your way."

As he waited for Kristoffersen to return, Gudbrand turned the situation over in his mind. Because whatever the queen had touched was most likely not the Divine. He hated having to lie about that most of all. It wasn't the infernal—of that, he was sure. But she had been so worried, needing reassurance. As much as she wanted—even deserved—the truth, this time, a comforting lie was needed. Because it seemed she was afraid of this power. Not of what it could do, but of what she might be made to do. He could still remember Marshal Gerhardt's insistence on using her powers as a weapon—and to be forced to create only for the purpose of war…

Gudbrand shuddered. Even without her powers or responsibilities, he could feel how reprehensible it would be. To shape a life fit only for war, one that would always eventually be destroyed. It just wasn't right. Shaping… his mind stuck on the word. Shaping life. A different shape—shapes. A snowman. A monster. A ferret. Made of snow and ice, but given life from elsewhere.

Was it possible?

He rocked back in his chair at the thought.

Could Ahallan be real?