AN: I hope everyone enjoys the chapter, thank you for the reviews and don't forget to tip you ice blue paint bucket on the way out!


Markkus had so far been true to his word. Elsa was being treated well; a sweet girl with red hair and freckles who reminded her so much of Anna it stole her breath, brought food to her room regularly. She checked in on Elsa several times a day, making sure she had everything she needed. Or at least, anything she needed that they'd allow her to have.

Elsa knew she should sleep more but felt like she'd done enough of that already, having slept through her first night here and late into the morning. A cheerful Rayna woke her with a smile, asking what she wanted for breakfast. Elsa had hesitantly, and with little hope, asked the young girl if they had any coffee.

"Oh, yeah, we have that stuff," Ray said, scrunching up her nose. "The old people around here drink it all the time. Uh, not that you're old. Just the people here who drink it—you shouldn't drink too much of it, though." She leaned forward like she was sharing a big secret. "I think they're addicted to the stuff; they turn really cranky if they don't get it."

Elsa couldn't help but giggle at Ray's very serious concerns. "Thank you, Ray," she said, "but I think I'll take my chances."

Ray shrugged. "Okay," she said, sighing heavily. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, the girl had bounded off, leaving Elsa alone once more in the suddenly oppressively quiet room. She got out of bed, trading the robe she had fallen asleep in for the simple black dress Ray had left for her the day prior. She had just finished pulling her hair into a bun when Ray returned with the requested beverage.

Elsa took the cup and at first, just held it in her hands, breathing in the strong, earthy aroma, taking a moment to relish the first cup of coffee she'd had in far too long. She took a sip, enjoying the bitter smooth taste, which was nuttier than what she'd grown used to in Arendelle. It wasn't surprising, as she doubted Vindarr and Arendelle shared any trading partners. A contented sigh rolled off her tongue as she let herself forget, just for the moment, the mountain of problems she still faced.

"See?" Ray spoke up, interrupting Elsa's drifting thoughts. The girl folded her arms and shook her head, tsking. "Addicted. They already got you."

There was a sharp pain in Elsa's chest as she realized once more how much this girl reminded her of Anna, even sharing the same view on her favorite drink. She smiled, attempting to cover the sting. She perched on the edge of the bed, gratefully drinking the coffee. She had a lot to think about before deciding her next move, if she even had one to make, but for now it seemed she was here for the short term. Elsa saw no harm in getting to know the girl that was likely going to be one of the few people she was going to interact with for the foreseeable future.

She and Ray spent the next hour talking. Elsa learned that the girl was fifteen, three years younger than Anna. She had worked in the fortress since she was thirteen, as a seamstress. She had even made the simple dress Elsa was now wearing. She learned that Ray's mother had passed from illness some years ago, and her father had very recently died during a battle with the Sirma. Elsa's chest seized at that, and frost crawled around the sides of the empty mug in her hands. Before she could form a response, Ray shrugged it off.

"I didn't really know him that well," she said. "He spent most of his time away. And..." She chewed on her lower lip. "Markkus already told me the Sirma forced you to fight for them. So, I don't blame you. I know you didn't have a choice."

Her forgiveness made Elsa feel even worse. This girl was an orphan at fifteen, and it was at least partially her doing. With a start, she realized she had made Anna an orphan at fifteen as well, when Elsa declared their parents lost at sea. She knew in both situations circumstances had been far beyond her control, but that didn't keep her stomach from twisting painfully. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

Ray shrugged again. "It's okay. Like I said, I barely knew him, which is normal around here. Well, not for everyone. But for warriors. They spend a lot of time training and fighting, or other stuff, so they aren't home very long. Their families are well taken care of in the fort, though. We get room and board and the chance to apprentice under other castle staff."

As the girl spoke, Elsa's frown deepened. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a parent so absent from your life. Even in her isolation, she'd still had her parents, a constant support that she would never have made it through without. Even if they hadn't always made the best decisions, they still tried, and they were always there. That meant more than anything.

"Though," Ray continued, "the guy who manages the rooms and families here wanted to give me the boot when he found out. Markkus told him he couldn't, that my dad had died in service and I was to keep my room even though it'll be a few more years before I can 'earn my keep'." She said the last part like she was quoting someone.

"That was good of him," Elsa said carefully.

"Mmm. All he wanted in exchange is for me to look after you while you're here. I even get a break from my normal duties. So, I know you don't want to be here, but think of it this way: your presence is giving this poor, overworked girl a much-needed break." Ray crossed her arms and nodded sharply.

Elsa smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

They talked a bit longer, with Ray telling her about herself and the Vindarr, and a little about Markkus, all with an endearing sort of innocence that Elsa wondered if she herself had ever possessed. As far as she could tell, Ray thought the man was nice but intimidating, a perhaps obvious quality, given that he was the leader of all the Vindarr. The girl thought that was impressive, but that it sounded like a really demanding job.

Elsa was careful about what she shared in return. She described what Arendelle was like, the food and customs, but was careful not to talk specifically about herself or her sister. At least, not until she could be sure the information wouldn't be used against her.

At some point, Ray left to fetch lunch, and then she disappeared for the afternoon. She reappeared around dinnertime with an offering of food, making sure there was nothing else Elsa needed before retiring for the night.

She spent the night restless, tossing and turning in bed, before giving up on sleep entirely just before dawn. Being locked in a room like this felt familiar, in a claustrophobic way that had her shoulders and back aching from folding in on herself. In a way, Elsa thought she had left in the past. She sat up and hugged her arms around her middle, wincing from the feel of the cuffs around her wrists.

Her body still ached from the fight with the Vindarr mages, in a disconnected sort of way, and her head felt light and detached. But she didn't feel tired. There was a buzzing in her head, an odd kind of energy she didn't recognize feeling before. It wasn't unpleasant, just different. Elsa figured she'd been through more than enough the past few weeks to warrant a strange feeling, a sleepless night. She rose from bed and crossed the room to the bookshelf to study the books there, her gaze roaming the titles for anything that caught her attention. Curiously, the books seemed to be in a variety of languages. Some Elsa recognized, some she could read, and some she had never seen before. It made her wonder who had been in this room before her, but other than the books there was no evidence that anyone might have occupied the space before she arrived. It was possible that the books were here just for her. Neither Markkus nor Ray would have known what languages she could read, so it would make sense for them to leave an assortment.

The thought caused her chest to tighten once more, and she glanced over her shoulder at the locked door. Claustrophobia and anxiety washed over her like a wave. She was trapped. A prisoner in another country. Elsa wrapped her arms around herself and walked away from the bookcase, moving to the wide window. The night sky was overcast, fog dimming the moonlight and blotting out the horizon, but she could still make out the waves crashing below her window. She laid her forehead against the cool glass, trying to steady her breathing and calm the pounding within her chest.

She had to do something; she couldn't just stand here, trapped and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Except Elsa didn't know that there was anything she could do. She had to find some way to get a message to Anna. She thought about asking Markkus, as he'd so far given her no reason to think he wasn't on the level. But she was afraid that he would use Anna the same way the Sirma had, and she didn't want her sister in that sort of danger again.

She wanted to have patience, knowing that was her best play, but Elsa wanted to see her sister so badly she ached. She wanted to make sure Anna was okay, that the army had gotten her out of the Sirma camp. She wanted to drink hot chocolate in front of the fire, with Anna curled up at her side. She didn't want to be confined in a small claustrophobic room with her magic bound behind cuffs that were draining her energy away like water through the floorboards of a slowly sinking ship.

Elsa turned away from the window and slid down the wall to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her legs, curling in on herself until her forehead rested against her knees.

She wanted to go home.


Elsa sat against the wall with her knees pulled up to her chest. As the night melted away and hints of light started to seep into the room through the window, she realized the sense of claustrophobia and anxiety weren't going away or calming. She drew a shaky breath and pushed herself up from the floor, made her way across the room to the bookshelf. There had been days growing up that the crushing weight of isolation became too much, and she couldn't calm herself down, no matter what she tried. On those days, Elsa did the next best thing, and distracted herself with a book, a story of far-off places and wide, open spaces. Losing herself in story didn't always work, but it was a far better option than sitting on the floor for hours, just trying to breathe.

She ran her fingertips over the row of stiff leather spines until one drew her attention, a book with a black cover and silver lettering, and she pulled the volume from the shelf. The language on the front was of a country far to the southeast of Arendelle, and Elsa could read it well enough, though she wasn't nearly as fluent in it as she was in others. Perhaps working through the words she didn't know would be enough to distract her racing mind and calm the persistent thudding in her chest.

A few hours later, Elsa was curled up on the bed, deeply into the book. A fantastical tale about the last dragon and the man who expected to slay him. The story had succeeded in drawing her focus away from the weight pressing down on her. Occasionally, she stumbled over an unfamiliar word and had to work out a translation based on the context of the sentence. The tightness in her chest was still present, but had lessened significantly, allowing her to breathe easier.

A knock at her door startled her. Before she could say anything in response, Ray poked her head in. Seeing Elsa was awake and sitting up, the young girl entered the room fully, a dark blue bundle tucked under one arm, and a steaming mug of coffee in her other hand.

"Morning," she said cheerfully, passing the mug off to Elsa.

"Good morning." Elsa set the book aside on the bed and took the cup. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

Ray wrinkled her nose as Elsa took a deep drink from the mug, then shook her head. "I have some good news," she said, sitting on the bed facing Elsa. "Not the good news you probably want to hear," she added quickly, "but you know, okay news. I guess."

Elsa would not admit to the girl that for just a second, Ray's words had allowed her to get her hopes up, just enough to feel the painful sting as they came crashing back down. She covered it with a smile and another sip of coffee. "What is it?"

Ray held out the blue bundle. "It was not easy, but I managed to get all the... stains out of your clothes. And mend the tear in the tunic."

"That's rather impressive." Elsa's smile grew, becoming more genuine. "Thank you, Ray."

"I'm here to help." Her face took on a playful seriousness. "Literally, that's my entire job. So, whatever you need."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Ray dipped her chin sharply. "Good." She hopped off the bed and spun around to face Elsa. "Oh, I almost forgot. Markkus was hoping to talk to you today, if you are up for that. He said you're under no obligation to do so, but if you are willing, just let the guards at the door know once you are ready, and they will escort you to his office."

The tightness in Elsa's chest returned in full force, but she managed a tight nod in response.

Ray turned back to the door and exited the room, leaving Elsa alone once more. She looked down at her half-full mug. This was the other shoe, the one she had been waiting to drop. She wasn't wholly sure what Markkus wanted to talk about, but had a good idea that at least one topic that would be on the table would involve her magic.

She had noted the first night they talked that the man seemed keenly interested in her magic, but had been careful not to ask her about it at all. Markkus had only asked about her ability to hear the spirits, a revelation that had thrown them both for a loop, but for different reasons. Elsa hadn't meant to say anything; the words had tumbled out before she had a chance to stop them. She didn't know no one else could hear them, and the idea that she was the only one that could, left her uneasy. Perhaps it was because her magic had come naturally that she could hear them when no one else could. It was possible that the Sirma could hear the spirits, since they had created a pact with the Landvættir. Unfortunately, there was no remaining shaman for her to ask, so all she could do is speculate.

Elsa finished the rest of her coffee and placed the empty mug aside on the table. She changed into the washed and mended dark blue tunic and grey leggings Ray had brought. She was grateful for the dress Ray had lent to her but immediately felt better being in her own clothes once more. She already felt like herself, and more importantly, better prepared for whatever it was Markkus wanted from her.


When the guards walked past the connecting corridor that she remembered led to Markkus's office, Elsa stopped. One of them turned back to her, his expression bordering on exasperation. "This way," he said curtly.

She wrung her hands together, anxiety churning in her chest and climbing her throat, and nodded. They continued down the dim hallway until they reached to another door. Elsa took a deep breath, steadying her nerves as she stepped through the doorway, only to find it opening into an unexpected, spacious courtyard. The yard was framed on three sides, with castle walls behind her and to her left, and across the way the rough cliff-side formed a third wall. The edges of stone melted into each other so seamlessly, it was as though the fortress had grown out of the mountainside. The open sky and vast ocean clouded in a grey mist drew her attention almost immediately. A short stone wall that came up to her waist, stretched along the edge.

"Being confined to a single space for so long," Markkus said from the other end of the courtyard, "I thought you might appreciate being outside while we talk."

She did, more than she was willing to admit out loud, Elsa hesitated before walking up to the stone wall. She placed her hands on the flat, cool stone and leaned forward, deeply breathing in the scent of salty ocean air. She allowed herself a moment to let the cold open-air wrap around her, loosening the tightness in her chest a fraction.

Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from the sea and turned back to Markkus. The man was standing mere feet from her, and Elsa realized with an embarrassed blush that he was watching her. Studying her. She chided herself for the slip, knowing she should exercise more caution, but she doubted this one slip held any real significance. In fact, perhaps this one unguarded moment would help to encourage Markkus to let his own guard down.

He smiled warmly. "I trust the accommodations are to your liking?" He tilted his head, considering, before adding, "as much as possible, in what I'm sure you see as a gilded cage."

Elsa folded her hands in front of her, at least mildly appreciating that Markkus wasn't pretending that her confinement here was anything other than that, confinement, even if he was the one keeping her here. She wanted to snap at him, to show defiance and refuse to play this game, but standing in the open courtyard, facing the man responsible for her current situation, Elsa found herself less bothered by the imprisonment than she had been earlier. She still was desperate to check on her sister, to make sure Anna was okay, but realized that she didn't feel threatened here, only restricted, something she was painfully familiar with. Perhaps it was because of everything Tyr had put her through, but a room with an actual bed and warm food felt heaven sent.

"It's far better than the pole the Sirma kept me chained to while I was with them." Elsa kept her voice soft as she spoke. "And Rayna has been very kind to me."

A shadow of a look crossed Markkus's face, almost like the idea of her being chained like a dog upset or offended him. Whatever the look was, it disappeared the next moment, leaving Elsa to wonder if she had imagined it. "I'm glad to hear that," he said. "Again, I am sorry to put you through this. I know it's not fair to ask."

"It's fine." The words tumbled out of her mouth without thought. Elsa frowned; it wasn't fine, not even close. She attributed the response to a lifetime of training to always display proper decorum no matter the circumstance, though she highly doubted the tutors that had drilled it into her, had imagined she would ever find herself in this situation.

He nodded sharply. "I'm sure you know that I didn't ask you out here just to see how you're doing."

Elsa resisted the urge to wrap her arms around herself. She had a good idea what he wanted, but remained quiet, allowing him to lead the conversation.

"I've studied magic my entire life," Markkus said. "The crystals, the cuffs, the way our mages use and interact with it. Even the Sirma, when possible. In all that time, I have encountered no one born with magic. Not even our oldest texts suggested the possibility of it." He shook his head. "Something like that is completely unheard of here."

Elsa tightened her grip around her other hand, turning her gaze toward the ocean. She let out a small huff of air. "Well, people with any kind of magic at all was unheard of back home."

Markkus's eyebrows arched. "Really? No one has any sort of magic?"

"No." Elsa said, feeling a pang of aloneness and isolation settle in her chest. "You can imagine my parent's shock the first time I sneezed snowflakes all over them."

He nodded, folding his hands behind his back. "I get the feeling that you're conflicted with your magic. Did your parents..." Markkus let the question hang in the air between them.

Elsa shook her head, knowing what he was asking. "No, they..." This time she did wrap her arms around herself, wondering what had really happened back then, when her parents first realized she could create snow. She had heard stories from them; they spent her childhood telling her it was a gift. Even in her isolation, they tried to convince her of that. There had been a time when she believed all of it and loved her magic, when she thought it was a gift, until the day when it suddenly wasn't.

Born with the powers, or cursed? The troll had asked her father that night so long ago.

Both, Elsa thought bitterly, her experience only reinforcing the belief. She sighed heavily. "They feared what might happen if the wrong people learned of my magic."

"The wrong people? Like Tyr and the Sirma?"

Elsa shrugged. "They were more afraid of what I could do, that I might hurt someone... again."

"Again?"

Elsa bit her lip. She knew that she shouldn't be sharing this much information about herself, about her magic. She didn't know Markkus, and didn't understand what his end game was, but the voice that had been warning her to be careful was quickly drowned out by a gentle buzzing in the back of her mind, and the words spilled past her lips before she realized she was saying them.

She kept parts of the story vague enough, so he didn't know about Anna, the rock trolls, or glean any hint she was more than a commoner. But standing there with the rolling sea in below them, Elsa found herself telling him everything else. About how she used to play with her best friend, how they snuck downstairs one night, how she had struck the girl in the head by accident, and the thirteen years of isolation that followed.

The entire time, Elsa kept her gaze fixed on the waves crashing below them. Many people in her kingdom had heard the story, at least the highlights of it, but it was the first time Elsa had ever told anyone in such detail.

They stood next to each other with a weighted, but not entirely uncomfortable, silence between them. Elsa didn't speak, allowing Markkus to process the information and take what he would from it.

"It sounds like your magic has caused you a lot of heartache and pain," he finally said, breaking the silence. "I can understand why you would be so at odds with it. It's a shame that those around you encouraged you to hide and suppress your powers as a child rather than allowing you to explore and accept them as a part of who you are."

"My parents did the best they could," Elsa returned. There was no heat in the words, but she felt a need to defend the people who raised her.

"They did," Markkus agreed. "But that doesn't make it right."

This was a disagreement she and Anna had many times in the past, but he was right, just as Anna had always been. Their parents panicked, as Elsa herself had after the incident, but for all the good they tried to do, the way they separated her from her sister, the isolation they kept her under had only ever fueled Elsa's fear of not only her magic but of herself, which led to years of being unable to control the growing power within her. Even now, her control was tenuous at best. She understood how to dismiss what she created, but just like her coronation, all it would take was the right mix events for her to lose complete control.

Markkus turned to her. "You shouldn't fear your magic. If I understand correctly, it's a part of who you are, and would be like fearing the air in your lungs. It accomplishes nothing and will only hurt you."

Elsa snorted derisively. "My magic is dangerous. I've hurt people with it, and it—" She broke off, her arms tightening around herself. "Every day, I can feel it grow, getting stronger." She had never spoken these fears out loud before. Not to anyone, including Anna. She didn't want her sister to worry, or give her council even more reason to fear her magic. But as the words flowed out, she felt lighter for it, finally sharing her greatest fears with someone who just might understand.

"Your magic isn't dangerous."

Elsa looked to Markkus. She opened her mouth but shut it, cocking her head as she waited for the man to elaborate.

"Your lack of knowledge and control is what's dangerous. In the same way that a sword in the hands of an untrained soldier is dangerous. I can't imagine it was easy, growing up alone in a world where no one understood what you were going through. What you're still going through." He rested a hand on the stone wall and tilted his head to the side, his lips pressing into a thin line. "But what if you didn't have to?"

Elsa tensed. "I don't understand."

"For better or worse, fate has seen you to my doorstep. And while I know you want to go home you are stuck here, however temporarily. I have taught many of our warriors how to harness and control their magic, and I could do the same for you. Help you learn to embrace your magic, so it becomes an extension of yourself, as natural as breathing, rather than something you fear and struggle against."

Elsa studied the expression of the man standing in front of her, trying to process what exactly he was offering. Some muted part of her mind said that she should say no, unequivocally turn down his offer, and demand he allow her to return to her people. But that odd, warm buzzing, and the enormity of what he was offering her, quickly smothered that too-quiet voice. Markkus had grown up around magic. He understood not only how to use it, but how to control it. And he was offering to teach her how to do the same.

She felt torn, knowing that, as Queen, she had a responsibility to return to her people. But she also owed it to them to be fully in control of her powers, no matter her emotional state. There was an obvious allure to slipping out from under the mantra of 'conceal, don't feel,' to experience and express the full scope of her feelings and emotions without the added stress of inadvertently causing a snowstorm, or creating an explosion of ice shards that might hurt someone. It was something that Elsa had been desperately striving for since the night she first struck Anna.

She wasn't blind to what was going on, or to what Markkus was doing. He wanted something from her. You didn't drug and kidnap an enemy combatant simply because you wanted them off the battlefield. You didn't offer to help them and take them home out of the goodness of your heart. She might be younger than most leaders, but she was far from naïve.

Elsa wanted to go home, to see her sister and make sure Anna was okay. But even if she got rid of the cuffs blocking her magic, and even if she made it past the guards at her door, past the combat-trained mages, and through the maze of this giant fortress... what then? She didn't know where she was, or how far they had traveled from the gorge to get here. It might have been hours, days, or even weeks. She didn't know how far from the Sirma camp they were, what direction it was in, or if they were even on the same continent. She figured they had to be within a few days' travel, considering the war being waged between the Vindarr and Sirma, but that was merely an assumption. The Vikings used to travel for weeks to wage war on their enemies, and there was no reason to think the Vindarr wouldn't do the same.

She didn't recall being drugged more than once, but also didn't recall having a conversation with Anna and Alarik in the Sirma command tent, nor apparently calling Tyr an honorless thug. Since this entire ordeal had started, her memory was spotty at best, the days blurring together.

For now, Elsa was here at Markkus's mercy and, so far, he had treated her well. If he wanted to offer her the very thing that she had spent her entire life striving her, it would be foolish to turn him down just for the sake of defiance.

"Okay," she said, with an odd thrill of excitement running through her.

Markkus nodded, seeming satisfied. "I should warn you; it won't be easy. We expect a lot out of our mages, and the training can be very challenging, but the result is complete control. It's doubtful you will be here long enough to reach that level, but I can at least set you on the path to one day reach it yourself."

Elsa nodded. She was responsible for an entire nation; every failure and success it experienced rested squarely on her shoulders. Even without her magic, 'not easy' and 'challenging' were concepts she was intimately familiar with.

"Okay." His face twisted thoughtfully. "The first order of business then, is for me to better understand how you magic differs from the Vindarr's. Would you be willing to give a demonstration?"

Elsa frowned, dropping her gaze to her arms. She held them out, displaying the softly glowing cuffs. "I would if I could."

Markkus dug something out of his pocket. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he pressed the pendant Tyr had previously used against the indentation in the cuff. He turned it, then repeated the action with the other cuff. The stones dimmed, going dark, and just like that, Elsa had her magic back.

She could feel it rushing through her, a comforting cold racing through her veins. She flexed her hands, rubbed her fingertips together, and looked up at Markkus. "What do you want me to do?"

"Anything you want," he said. "I'm curious to see how strong your magic is."

Elsa pressed her lips into the thin line as she considered. Her mind went to the book she'd been reading earlier that day, and a thought struck her. Perhaps she could accomplish two objectives in a single move. She turned toward the stone wall and rubbed her fingertips together once more, then twisted her hands in the empty space. Snow built up on the flat surface of the wall, swirling together, rising and taking form. The snowflakes soon settled, revealing a tiny white dragon that was small enough to fit within her palm.

Markkus leaned forward to closely examine the small creature. He appeared only mildly impressed until the dragon yawned and stretched its wings, where icy rosemaling formed delicate patterns across the snowy surface. The creature flapped its wings experimentally as soft light glistened off its body, sending prisms of light across the stone surface.

The man's eyes widened. "An animated statue?" He looked to Elsa, now properly impressed with what she had created. "The level of detail is amazing."

Elsa shook her head. "Not quite, but close. This little guy will last only a short amount of time, but back home I created a snowman, Olaf. He is fully alive. He can think, reason, follow commands, learn, and experience emotions."

Markkus straightened. "You can create life with your magic?"

She shifted her weight. "I can, though I prefer not to. They are complex, and what I am feeling at the time of their creation has an enormous impact on their own personality."

"What you're feeling?"

Elsa nodded, feeling self-conscious. "My emotions and my magic are closely entwined. It's why I have issues controlling it. When I'm stressed, scared, or in any heightened emotional state, my magic will manifest in response."

"Interesting." Markkus rubbed his chin, once more leaning in to study the small dragon. "I have to say, I was not expecting this. Do you know where the limits of your power lie?"

Elsa chewed on her bottom lip, thinking about her ice palace on the North Mountain, the life she had created, the storm that buried Arendelle under twenty feet of snow. "I don't," she answered honestly. "I always tried suppressing it, so I suppose I've never had a chance to find out. Even what I did for the Sirma wasn't hard, just . . . different." She twisted her wrist and the tiny dragon dissolved into a flurry of snowflakes.

Markkus watched as an ocean breeze carried the snowflakes out of sight. "So - and, please correct me if I'm getting this wrong – your magic is tied to your emotions, and during heightened emotional states, you lose control?"

Elsa nodded once more.

"So, you don't need to control your emotions," Markkus said. "You need to learn how to control your magic while experiencing those emotions. I think I can help you with that."

It sounded simple enough, but thirteen years of experience had Elsa knowing that couldn't be further from the truth. Still, for the first time in forever, she felt the tiniest bit of hope spark in her chest. If she could come out of this with better control over her magic, then maybe, just maybe, everything she'd been through over the last few weeks might just have been worth it.