Author's Note:

Next chapter! I had fun with this one! Thank you to everyone who has commented/reviewed! It really makes the writing that much more enjoyable and exciting. Planning to update soon!

Stellan and Thomas were waiting in the dining hall when Freja found them. Worry was etched over their faces, and they picked at the beautiful meal that the palace staff had laid out before them. As she entered, her head swimming with emotion and exhaustion, the men both stood quickly. Stellan guided her to a chair and sat her down.

"Well? What did he say? Can he help her?"

Freja nodded and pulled out the enchanted map. Pointing to the small, glowing spot of light, she explained:

"It's the Cronin Wood, see? Alazair says that we need to go there to find a magic golden flower of some sort. It will be able to heal Rosie."

"A magic flower? Really?" Thomas said.

Stellan looked worried. Freja knew what he was thinking. Magic. Not again.

"It's the only way," she said, looking down at her belly.

"Well, then!" Thomas stood, motioning to the guard at the door. "Gather up as many people as you can. Soldiers, townspeople, anyone who is able. We need to find that flower tonight!"

The guard nodded and hurried away. Arching her back, Freja pushed herself out of the chair.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" Stellan stopped her.

"To get my cloak. I'm not sitting here doing nothing."

"You haven't had a real rest in three days, Freja. Don't you think we can handle this?"

Freja eyes were hard in his.

"She's my sister, Stellan. I'll be fine."

Her husband took her hand in his own and kissed it, concern filling his face. Freja sighed.

"I'm alright, really. I promise, as soon as we get back I will go right to bed."

Stellan wrapped his arms around her, as if to protect her from the world. In his arms, she felt totally secure. She almost told him about Alazair's demands. But she caught herself. What would be the point, anyways? All it would do is make him even more nervous. With any luck, they would be far across the sea in Arendelle by the time Elsa made her first appearance. Alazair had no power over her. Everything would be fine. Everything would be fine.

He pulled back and looked down at her. "Alright, but as soon as this is over, it's straight to bed with you, young lady,"

"Yes, sir," Freja grinned.

The clear night air was cool and refreshing, and Freja leaned carefully over the edge of the boat into the channel. The water was black, reflecting the overcast sky, and all that could be heard was the steady slosh, slosh sound of the dinghies working their way through the current and the gentle whooshing of the wind in the small sails. A large brigade of boats was drifting across to the Cronin Woods tonight, full with soldiers, men and women, all intent on finding the miraculous magic golden flower. Freja heart went out to them. These were her people, her wonderful townsfolk of Corona, and tonight they were helping save her sister. She looked across the rowboat to where Stellan sat, regal and upright, his eyes on the shoreline ahead of them. He looked so calm, so perfectly at ease, but Freja could tell by the way his jaw was set, rigid and clenched, that his nerves were wound about as far as they could go. She wondered if he had slept at all, those three awful days. Realizing she hadn't even checked up on him, Freja felt a small pang of guilt. He could be just as exhausted as she was.

"As soon as we get back," she whispered to him, reaching out to hold his hand. Her husband rubbed her palm with his thumb and continued to stare off at the growing woods. They were dark and gloomy-looking in the overcast night. She looked at King Thomas, sitting next to her. He tried to smile sympathetically, but ended up just straightening his mouth a bit. Freja patted his knee. She had a good idea how he was feeling.

The boats were very near the bank now. Freja could tell by the extremely loud chirruping of crickets. In that instant, Freja heard something. Or thought she did. A faint, slow singing, just barely audible over typical nighttime forest noises. She couldn't distinguish words. She didn't even know if the voice was real. But she strained her ears toward the looming wood, and as her boat slid onto the beach, she was sure she heard a young woman's voice.

"Alright, let's move out!" called the commander of the guard as the soldiers and townspeople stepped out of the boats.

Freja grabbed Stellan's arm. "Listen."

But the voice was gone, dissipated into the noise of the people stomping around on the gravely beach, pulling up the dinghies, and chattering as they made their way into the Cronin Wood, armed to the nines with lanterns and torches and candlesticks.

"What? What is it?"

Shaking her head, Freja pulled him along, following the crowds. "Nothing. Never mind." It was probably just her mind playing tricks on her. Heaven knew that she was asking for it by now. She stifled a yawn.

"C'mon," said Stellan, "Let's find that flower."

They had hardly started into the woods when a cry rang out, quite close to them.

"Over here! We found it!"

Suppressing a whoop of delight, Freja ran (or rather, waddled very quickly) toward the voice. A duo of guards were standing near the water's edge. In front of them, a single flower bloomed. It was large and shone bright gold, just like Alazair had described, and it was open to the night sky, as if gazing up at the blackish-gray clouds. A sort of yellow light radiated from the flower. It glowed brightly, like a smaller, less intense version of the sun.

Creeping closer to it, Freja held out her hand and touched one of the petals. They were soft and surprisingly warm.

"This… this is it!"

Thomas made his way through the gathered throng. He nodded at the guards.

"Dig it up."

Shovels and spade came out instantly. Within seconds the magic flower was freed from the dirt. Soil fell away from its roots effortlessly.

They made their way back to the boats. Stellan eased his pregnant wife into her seat again.

"Well," he said, "That was… easy."

"It was, wasn't it? See, I told you I'd be fine."

"Yeah, yeah," her husband sat next to her, putting his arm over her shoulder. Slouching so her head leaned on his chest, Freja listened to the soft churning of water as the boats made their way back to Corona. She closed her eyes. Just for a minute, she told herself. Just until we get back.

In a dingy inn, the miracle man saw sitting alone at a corner table. The tavern was practically empty tonight. Everyone who was awake at this horribly late hour had left to search for the magic golden flower. The bartender mopped the counter with a sloppy rag, muttering to himself. Alazair grinned. It was nice to have the whole place to himself, for a change. Last time he was here, it was so loud he could hardly hear himself think.

The door swung open. The red-haired man entered, having to turn sideways slightly to get his broad shoulders through the narrow doorframe.

"Carney," Alazair said in greeting. It was as friendly as he could ever be to Carney. The man annoyed him.

"Evenin'! Wow, the place is really cleared out, huh?"

Alazair glared at him, then nodded at an empty chair. Carney sat down quietly, looking embarrassed. He tucked a small telescope into his belt.

"Did they find it?" the miracle man asked, his voice a hiss.

"Yup. Right where you said it would be. They're on their way back across now."

"Good."

"Did you get what you wanted?"

Alazair smirked, narrowing his eyes. "That I did. The Arendelle queen's tears proved it. That child is going to be powerful. More powerful than Beteran, maybe."

Carney whistled loudly, and Alazair gave him a warning look.

"So," Carney whispered, making sure his voice was hardly audible, "She's the one, then?"

"Oh, yes," Alazair hissed, "She's the one."