"The third account of Nagash, fifth prince of Egypt," the professor translates slowly. Ancient Egyptian is not easy to translate and with something like this, even the smallest mistake could be devastating. It doesn't help that the symbols seem to dance and shift as if they are trying to trick her. "Usurper, lord of the black pyramid. I understand future generations will not regard me well, and I well deserve it. I have done terrible things, murdered my own family, seized the throne from the rightful heir of Egypt, desecrated ancient graves, led armies of abominations against peaceful states. I am a monster. Already, though I am not yet dead, there is talk of blotting my name from the history books. Advisors and viziers and high priests and low priests all mutter that I have betrayed Egypt when they think I cannot hear. But my ears are everywhere. Through my magic, every dead thing large and small serves me. Clever though my advisors may be, they do not notice the half rotted beetles swept into the corners by lazy servants. They are correct of course, that I have betrayed Egypt, but I serve a far greater mistress. I serve humanity entire. I serve the old gods and the new, and I serve myself though I hate to admit to it. I have spent Egypt's armies on my own projects, emptied her treasury to erect my great necropolis, and executed many of the greatest and noblest of Egypt's children. Many say that Egypt will not be able to defend herself against the depredations of her neighbors, but Egypt's enemies are not mine. I do not strive to defeat the fools who live by the Nile, or the proud Greeks across the sea, but rather to defeat death itself, and the gods Isis and Osiris who rule over it, for no true god has any part in death. I fight so that one day, humanity will be able to look forward and see only eternal life. One day, even if it takes a hundred years, death will only be in the past, and we will be able to stand tall as even the gods do.
"Even as my eyes grow dim, and my hand starts to shake, I think I have one last effort in me. In all of my experiments, one final piece has eluded me; memory. My advisors conspire against me, my servants uncover a dozen assassination plots each day, and I know the end must come soon, but when it does my hard won art must not die with me. The cost of this knowledge was thousands of innocent lives and uncountable atrocities. I take these crimes upon my shoulders willingly, for we humans must have this knowledge, but these crimes must not be repeated. I set my quill to parchment so that even when my flesh turns to dust and every text bearring my cursed name is burned away, this knowledge carries on. Or perhaps I am deluding myself. Ever have I been selfish; my work could have been done with me as only fifth prince, not pharaoh. I told myself that my family would not understand, but it was I who did not understand; I could well have hidden my labors from my brothers, but I chose to murder them and seize the throne for myself. Perhaps my reasons for this work are the same delusion? Perhaps I do not need to give this account of myself, and could instead only present my knowledge with none of my history? Perhaps I am only a deluded old fool who hopes that someone will be able to remember me as something other than monster, usurper, unnamed and reviled.
"Within this tome and those like it, I give to you my art. Read, and discover the method of binding flesh and bone to your will, the method of binding yourself to life and of vanquishing death, the method of forging all manner of undead horror both corporeal and otherwise. In this tome oh reader, I shall give to you one hundred spells and I shall continue to pen these works until I have relayed all of my knowledge, or death has taken me.
"Spell the three-hundred-and-first: to breathe life into a corpse, or the Invocation of Nehek:
"Begin with a corpse, recently dead or pile of bones it matters little." Professor Gottle grins triumphantly. Her student had asked her to translate this ancient text, and translate she would. But silly little Anna doesn't understand the power contained within. Oh, Gottle intends to return it, she doesn't think of herself as evil, but who would object if she kept a copy for herself? Begin with a corpse? Well the school has a cadaver lab. Start small, and one day… Gottle doesn't have to die. Doesn't have to grow old and ugly. Begin with a corpse, and then what? The hieroglyphs swim before her eyes.
"Seattle College medical department reports theft of a cadaver from…" Anna tunes out the TV and glances at Kristoff. He crosses his arms and leans back. The chair complains.
"Think she'll do it?" Anna bites her lip.
"No idea," Kristoff grunts. "I've never seen her cast a single spell. Maybe she doesn't know magic? Like, can someone else make you a Litch? I know I'd use my magic if I was her. Off days look like shit."
"Nah," Anna shakes her head and glances at the double doors that lead to the back of the shop. No Elsa yet. "She's got a spell book. I think she said something about not wanting us to see?"
"She knows magic," Pabbie says simply. He sits off to one side, as if to say that he's only here to enjoy a cup of coffee, but the barista isn't awake yet and Kristoff has asked Pabbie to be here on the off chance that he could help.
"That's fucking silly," Kristoff says.
"Well, she's kinda silly sometimes," Anna agrees. "Still though. I kinda get it. Like if it's really really horrible? I feel like people have abandoned her before. Just a sense I'm getting."
"Yeah, maybe," Kristoff uncrosses his arms, seems unsure what to do with them, and recrosses. "Well, we're not shit human beings."
"We aren't," Anna nods firmly.
"So we're not going to freak out," Kristoff nods. "No matter how scary it is. I know Elsa. She wouldn't hurt anyone."
"We are so totally not going to freak out, and hi Elsa, we weren't talking about you," Anna flushes brilliantly at the tangle-haired Elsa pushing through the double doors.
"Alright," Elsa rubs her eyes and makes her way over to the table. She glances briefly at Pabbie as if to ask what he's doing here. He gives a little wave as if to tell her not to mind her pretty little head, and Elsa shrugs.
"You had an off day yesterday," Anna says, and pulls a chair out for Elsa.
"I kind of figured," Elsa sits.
"We have something to talk to you about," Kristoff says gently, and puts his hands slowly on the table.
"It was bound to happen sooner or later," Elsa nods sadly. "I'll grab my things."
"What?" Kristoff snorts. "The fuck?"
"You're… not firing me?" Elsa frowns, and Anna feels the pressing need to give her a hug. Anna restraines herself.
"Why the hell would I fire you?" Kristoff demands. "You make the best coffee in the state. Should be working in a freaking five star restaurant. I fire you and my ratings plummet, and no way in hell can I afford to hire someone half as good as you. Why the hell would I fire you?" Pabbie snorts in the background.
"I thought," Elsa sniffs daintily. "Because I'm a litch. I thought I must have finally done something yesterday?"
"No!" Kristoff exclaims. "Of course not. Jesus Elsa. You're worth more than that."
"Well," Anna says. "There were the cops. And the ambulance."
"Oh," Elsa drops her head into her hands.
"But it's ok because they were really nice and they took good care of you, and nothing happened and they were very helpful." Anna's words tumble out in a rush.
"Oh," Elsa repeats. She doesn't lift her head.
"That's actually kind of what we wanted to talk to you about," Kristoff says gently and rubs her back lightly. Elsa jumps at the contact so he pulls away with a grimace. "You can't be having off days," he continues. "Not because I'd fire you or anything, hell I can't think of anything that WOULD get me to fire you. It's just, we're worried you will draw attention to yourself."
"I'll be fine," Elsa mumbles. "I always am."
"But you're not fine," Kristoff says. He lowers his head to the table to be on her level. "You have days that you don't remember. Where you aren't yourself. Where people confess important things to you and you don't have any idea about it the next day." He directs a pointed glance at Anna and then continues, "and you have these days because- as I understand it- because you're denying a part of yourself. You're not going to scare me off, you're sure as hell not going to scare Anna off."
"I've heard that before," Elsa says. There's no emotion in her voice, but there doesn't have to be for her feelings to show through.
"Well, whoever said that before was a shithead, and we're with you," Anna glares as if she could protect Elsa through her righteous indignation.
"She wasn't a shithead," Elsa says quietly. She lifts her head, brushes her hair back from her face, and suddenly she's the same elegantly refined beauty Anna had first met. Anna momentarily loses track of the conversation. "I'm not going to use magic," Elsa says. "Humans don't need another reason to hate me. I'm different, and that's been giving you lot plenty of ammunition for longer than you two've been alive. I will never cast another spell, and if that means I have to deal with off days, so be it."
Anna closes her eyes. She hates herself for what she's about to say, but it needs to be said. She opens her eyes. "Elsa," she says. It takes all of her considerable determination not to cry. "When are you going to stop being a victim?" Elsa flinches as if hit, and Anna loathes every fiber of her own being.
"I…" Elsa folds in on herself. "That's not fair."
"It's not fair," Anna agrees, "but it isn't wrong either." Elsa flinches again, but Anna plows ahead this time. "I don't care who hurt you in the past, I don't care how they hurt you, you've got to move past it. I'm not going to run, Kristoff isn't going to run, and Pabbie is a grizzled old goat who just doesn't give a shit, so suck it up and stop being such a fucking victim."
"Anna," Kristoff warns. His voice is low and menacing.
"She's right," Elsa mumbles. "I'm a victim. Can't do anything right. I just sit here and wait for people to hurt me."
That isn't what Anna had been going for. "That's not…" Anna trails off.
"No," Kristoff says. "You're brave, and you're… um… you don't take shit from anyone…"
"That's Anna," Elsa says. "Anna's brave. Anna went through a crowd of protesters just to go dance. I'm a fucking coward. Anna gets in people's faces when they insult me. She 'doesn't take shit from anyone.' I just sit here like a useless fucking CORPSE and let other people deal with my problems for me."
"Well," Anna bites her lip and wipes furiously at the corners of her eyes. "If you feel that way, you can change it. Do the magic."
"No," Elsa seems very small. Like a bedraggled cat sitting out in the rain. "That's not me. I'm a fucking coward."
The door chimes. Who- just the wind. Anna turns back to Elsa. "You're not a coward. I shouldn't have said you were a victim. I'm sorry. You're not a coward. You're letting me write about you. You're helping me show the world that litches are alright. You're making sure that America doesn't become another Nazi Germany. You're brave."
"It's not brave to let someone else save you, Anna," Elsa says. "It's time I left. Before you see what a pathetic victim I really am." Elsa stands slowly. Anna winces.
"Elsa Arrendel, don't you dare," Pabbie's voice is sharp. Devoid of any of the reedy raspiness of age. He's interrupted by a full bodied cough. It bends him double and stains his kerchief with red spots, but when it releases him, Pabbie hauls himself upright. His cane wobbles under his liver-spotted hand. "You're the bravest person I know," Pabbie says. "I fought alongside some heroes. Saw kids charge machineguns. Saw people refuse to fight even though the Nazis would execute them for it, or saw their corpses at least. You're the bravest person I know. You survived the holocaust, and did that break you? No. You did what you could to keep me and the other boys in the action. You had to take it upon yourself to decide who lived and who died. I can't think of anything harder. You saved my life."
"That's not bravery," Elsa says. She walks toward the door. "I just did what anyone would have in that situation." Her hand is on the doorknob, and Anna gets the sense that if she lets Elsa out the door, she will never see the damaged little litch again.
"Elsa, I love you," Anna cries out. Elsa freezes. "Don't you go out that door, because then I would have to follow you, and these shoes will murder my feet if I walk anywhere in them."
A brief, resented smile flits across Elsa's pale dead face. "You don't know what you're talking about," Elsa says. "You don't know me."
"I know enough," Anna says. She catches Kristoff and Pabbie sneaking out through the back door, but chooses not to mention it.
"You're going to run away when you see my magic," Elsa says.
"I'm not," Anna says, and steps in close. She throws her arms around Elsa's thin shoulders. The litch flinches, and moves to pull away, but Anna pulls her into a crushing, heartfelt hug. "I'm not going anywhere," Anna releases her and steps back. "I'll prove it. Do the magic and you'll see."
Elsa lets out a low wheeze. "No," she says, and folds her arms over her abdomen. "I can't handle you leaving. Not right now."
Anna brushes Elsa's long silvery bangs back from her eyes- such beautiful clear crystal blue eyes. Nothing like a corpse's eyes. She takes the litch's pale wrists, pulls them apart, and steps in for a hug. "You're a silly litch," Anna says. "You can't deal with me leaving so you were going to leave?" She can feel Elsa's thin shoulders shrug against her. "Don't leave," Anna says, and rests her chin on Elsa's shoulder.
"I won't," Elsa sighs. "This is a bad idea."
"Maybe," Anna says. Elsa squirms, so Anna releases her and continues. "Who knows? But that's life. Do things. Sometimes they're mistakes, but you won't know until you make them, and the alternative is just doing nothing and that sounds like a shirt way to live."
"That's all I do," Elsa confesses quietly, and moves to the counter for something to occupy her hands.
"Then maybe it's time you made a mistake?" Anna sits on the counter- she has to hop a little to reach- and drapes herself over the glass display. Cleavage showing? Elsa's beautiful blue eyes glance down, and Anna feels a small jolt of triumph in her mortal heart.
"I've made a lot of mistakes," Elsa says. Her hands work over the machine's levers with practiced familiarity. Her eyes stay locked firmly on her work.
"So have I!" Anna grins broadly. "Guess we've got something in common."
Elsa sighs and passes over a steaming mug of- well it looks like coffee, but it smells so much sweeter than any coffee Anna has ever tried before. She gives it an experimental sip. It's like fairies dancing on her tongue. All light and soft and warm. Creamy and sweet and chocolatey and… is that caramel?
"This is really good," Anna smiles.
"Only thing I can do right," Elsa grumbles.
"Maybe," Anna shrugs and takes another sip. "But you'll stay?"
"I'll stay," Elsa sighs.
AN: happy(ish) chapter. Yay! Ahem. Sorry to steal the magic system from warhammer fantasy (and Nagash, kindof) but... I thought myself so clever to work Nagash into previous chapters, and that kindof became its own plot? Anyway, its not REALLY a crossover, right?