A/N: Coming to you from Bucuresti, Romania. This one was hard to write, but I hope you enjoy it. I'll post feedback to reviews after Ch 20.

Chapter Nineteen – They are his

Voice trembling with trepidation, Elsa picked up the sheaf of papers and held Anna's non-injured hand tight. What other secrets would her… uncle… reveal?

Oh, God, Agnarr was not her father. Idunn was not her mother.

And Anna was not her sister. A cousin only.

Elsa took a deep breath and began to read out loud, and this time it was harder to force herself to see only one word at a time, and to allow Anna the privilege of experiencing this letter in the same moment she did.

"Here is your true lineage, Elsa. Our first king of Arendelle, King Henrik, begat Jens. Jens and Anna begat Marik and Erik. After Marik's disappearance, Erik inherited the throne. He and Ingeborg begat Queen Helena and Torstein Avundir. Queen Helena, my grandmother, begat two children, the elder being Ivar, heir-apparent, and my father. The younger was my aunt, Rosalie. Jens, the descendant of Prince Marik who returned to us, was nursed back to health at Chalet Avundir by Rosalie. They fell in love, and married. They had five children. Ivar and my mother, Lisbet, had two children.

"Which brings us to the present generation.

"Your true mother's name is Isolde. She is my older sister. As eldest in our family, she was to inherit the throne after King Ivar. We grew up in close proximity with our cousins, the children of Jens and Rosalie, spending much time at Lost Island Lake. It came as no surprise when Isolde fell in love with Henrik, Jens' eldest son, and our cousin.

"As chance befell, Henrik's younger sister was Idunn, and she and I were also inseparable as children, our affection turning into love and marriage. So it happened that the siblings of royalty on one side of our family tree married the siblings of our long-lost kindred, reuniting our families once again."

At this point in the letter, Elsa noticed ancient tearstains, and ink blots, and her heart moved in incredible love and sorrow for the man who had once been her father.

"I'm sorry, Elsa. This is hard for me to write about. Never forget how much I love you. Many times I wanted to tell you the truth, but Spoken Law binds even the king. There were reasons for our continued deception.

"Let me continue.

"Isolde and Henrik married when Isolde was nineteen years old. The kingdom rejoiced in her marriage, and even more the following year when she announced that she was expecting a baby. You, Elsa.

"You were born on Midsummer's Eve, in the height and glory of June, just as the kingdom made ready to celebrate Jonsvaka, St. John's Day. The bonfires were already lit, and the one in the castle courtyard was blazing the most brilliant of all in celebration of your arrival. From the moment of your birth we knew that the bloodlines had indeed merged again, for your magical power over cold and snow was evident even then.

"Just after your birth, Princess Isolde was plagued three nights with terrible dreams regarding the huntsman. That he would seek to capture you, and imprison you, for your magical blood would be desirable to him. But, just as the most ancient of our stories say, a sacrifice could avert this possible future. And not just any sacrifice, but a willing one, made in full consciousness, in free will.

"Our father, King Ivar, son and heir of the now-deceased Queen Helena, would not hear of it. No more dreams. No more sacrifices. In secret he assembled a company of two hundred hunters and trackers and soldiers, to hunt down and execute Erasmus once and for all time. To my chagrin, he sent me with the Royal Navy as part of a diplomatic and trade mission to Weselton. Already the rumours of troubles in our kingdom were affecting our trade and our alliances, and we had to keep up appearances of strength and modernity. Idunn and I were to be married in a few months, and I chafed to be apart from her, and from this most important moment of our history.

"Thus I was not home when King Ivar's body was returned to us two months later, carried by the slim remnant of that company who survived. He was laid to rest in our family sepulchre, and mourning began.

"I returned from my voyage just in time to watch my older sister turn twenty-one years old. She was then crowned Queen of Arendelle. In deference to her coronation, Idunn and I waited another month, and we were married in early October.

"The celebration of Winternights in late October had just begun when everything went wrong. In the middle of the night, Erasmus stole into the castle, somehow evading all the guards and soldiers who stood watch against him.

"We cannot know exactly what happened. We only know that we heard a strange voice suddenly shrieking from the royal nursery. We opened the door and saw you in his arms, and he was partially covered in frost. And at that moment, he put an iron band around your tiny wrist.

"The frost suddenly receded from him. A bowman shot at him from the doorway, careful to try for his arm or shoulder. We wanted to incapacitate him, for we had many questions to ask, and many grievances to air.

"The arrow grazed his skin, and you cried out, for the same wound appeared on your tiny white arm.

"Isolde shouted for everyone to stop. She entered the room, and bargained for your life. She said the life and power of a Queen must be greater than that of a baby, no matter how magical. The huntsman seemed to enjoy the bargaining, and said he would agree only if she made the choice of her own free will.

"She tried to bargain for your freedom for the length of your life, but that he would not agree to. He would only spare you for as long as Isolde would live. If and when Isolde would die, he would consider you fair game.

"And so Isolde chose, Elsa. Your mother chose to save you."

Elsa's throat choked up tight, and tears pricked her eyes, but there was no way she was stopping now. She wasn't even here. She was in that nursery where her mother was sacrificing her life and future. For Elsa.

And she never knew this. Any of this. How dare they keep something like this from her?

The taste of anger and frustration in her mouth was familiar, and it was tasted like leather kid gloves, like all those childhood years of isolation and fear. They said they loved her, but did they? How could they have done this to her, and Anna?

Seething with hurt and anger, Elsa continued to read from Agnarr's letter. "I will never forget the sight of Isolde making a blood oath with the huntsman, as he agreed to spare you the length of Isolde's life. Then he put an iron band on Isolde's wrist, and my sister shuddered as if in sudden pain. Then she and Idunn shared an unspoken pledge as Idunn rushed in to hold you and soothe you.

"I will never forget the anger and hatred that raged in my heart as we followed them out of the castle, going as far as he would allow. I knew he wanted some witnesses, for he also permitted Kai, and one palace guard to accompany us. I had an arm on Henrik the entire time, and I could feel his body trembling with rage.

"At the edge of the village, by the marker stones, the huntsman stopped and said it was far enough. He told us to say goodbye.

"And at that last moment, Henrik could not let Isolde go. He rushed to her side, and managed to kiss her one last time. A moment later Erasmus flicked his wrist, letting fly an arrow of fire that struck your father in the heart, killing him instantly even as he was in Isolde's arms.

"Isolde fell to the ground with Henrik's body, sobbing, and Erasmus just laughed. Then he said, 'You shall never be rid of me, little kinglet. The fear of me will live in your heart for eternity. Your citizens will fear to leave their homes. Once this story is known, it shall never be forgotten. Feel my wrath, and burn forever.'

"And then they were gone. Vanished, in one blink of an eye. Leaving us with Henrik's body, and a decision to make.

"In secrecy we got Henrik's body back to the castle. I sat up with Kai and Idunn the rest of that wretched night, keeping vigil over Henrik and deciding the best course of action for the future while Sera Avundir cared for you and tended your wound. Once morning came, I Spoke the Law, and it was done. Everyone who had witnessed the events of the night before swore their oaths, and forever after would say that the following was truth.

"That Isolde and Henrik had left for a remote cabin, leaving Elsa in our charge. They would be spending a week alone together as a holiday.

"And when two weeks had passed, and our hearts still sore with the awfulness of the truth and the terribleness of the lie we were perpetrating, we pretended to send out the search parties. Henrik was recovered, and, of course, Isolde was not.

"And to spare you the pain of being parentless, and to give ourselves the joy of your company, we took you as our own daughter. So we Spoke, and so it was done, and such was the strength of the law that no councilman or townsperson would ever say that you had been born otherwise. Several years later, when we were blessed with Anna, we raised you as sisters, and felt grateful.

"Why did we do such things? I can imagine this great question in your mind, my dear Elsa. We did it to deny the huntsman power. We did it to deny him the fear he would engender among our citizens. We did it to prosper our kingdom, to set to rest the rumours of tragedy and sorcery and thereby invite peace and prosperity. In the wake of my sister's sacrifice there could be only silence. The story of the huntsman would not be told, so it could have no power over us. He could not change us. Not if we denied him.

"Far harder it was to deny Isolde's own story, and erase her existence, and her brief reign over Arendelle, from our official records. She was never far from our hearts, though we did not speak her name. We spoke not of her, nor of Henrik.

"My Spoken Law did not rest easy with all the members of our families. Henrik and Idunn's siblings broke apart from me when the decision was made. Of the three of them that remain, only one has remained part of your life. Synneva Avundir, the Royal Physician, is Henrik's older sister, and therefore your aunt. She and Isolde were also very close as they grew up, as close as you and Anna had been. Isolde's dire fate seems to have broken her heart and made her bitter. She disagreed wholeheartedly with covering up Isolde's sacrifice and Henrik's death, and with our choice of practically erasing Isolde's entire life and history. Yet for all her anger towards me, she has always kept the Spoken Law, and was grateful for the small part she was allowed to play in your life.

"I must admit that Synneva disagreed once again when the accident with Anna occurred and we separated the two of you. She felt our solution would only make you repressed, bitter, and isolated. But once again I Spoke, and my word became law, though in later years I wished I could take back my own words. But for all my life I had been concealing the truth, and not allowing anyone to know or believe otherwise. This was my only power against the huntsman, and became my only answer to your magical power as well. I would fight fear with complete and utter silence and concealment.

"Now you have the truth, Elsa, or at least all the truth that is in my possession. Up to this point we believe Isolde lives, for the huntsman has not sought you out. Mikael, my youngest cousin, has spent his life seeking her and the huntsman, to no avail. Erik tends to the chalet at Lost Island Lake, the place where our ancestor, Princess Anna, once sacrificed herself and blessed the land in the process. Synneva will speak her version of these events, should you ask her.

"Queen Elsa, you are the ruler of Arendelle. This knowledge is your birthright, and is now your burden. I am sorry to lay it on your shoulders, but you are stronger than you realize. I could not be more proud of you. In my mind, you are my flesh and blood. Idunn and I will always love you, and cherish you, and find joy in you.

"There is one last thing I must ask, which will not surprise you. Please, Elsa, take care of Anna. You may not be sisters of the blood, but you are sisters of the heart. Protect her. Love her.

"I love you."

And with that, the letter was finished.

Elsa sat back, exerting all her energy on breathing, and on keeping the magic soft and tucked away in her spine. She could not submit to fear. Anna needed her.

For Anna had gone impossibly still. Hunched over. Curled over her heart. It looked frighteningly like that moment Elsa had struck her with her ice magic at her citadel the day after her coronation.

"Anna?" Elsa softly asked.

"No," Anna whispered into the sheets. "This can't be true."

Elsa waited for Anna to continue, still seeing the words as they had played out in her mind, as if she could actually remember that horrific night her father was killed and her mother captured. But Anna did not speak again.

"Pet?" Elsa asked, unable to keep a knife-edge of worry from her voice.

"NOO!" Anna screamed, lifting up her head. Her face was streaked with tears, and the raw agony in her voice tore off pieces of Elsa's heart.

Then Anna leaped from the bed, grabbed the nearest robe she could find to put over her nightdress, flung open the door, and went down the hallway.

"Nils!" Elsa screamed as she followed her sister down the dusky corridors, strewn with sunset shadows. "Anna, wait!"

But Anna did not wait, and Elsa heard other doors in the chalet slamming open as the occupants tried to understand what was going on.

Anna flung herself out of the back door of the chalet, in her bare feet down the grassy path to the lake, the sound of her weeping crystal clear in the evanescent silence of the encroaching night. Elsa paused and concentrated for a moment, somehow conjuring a pair of slippers for Anna's feet as she ran down the grassy slope that was bounded by forest and shrub, and conjuring herself a pair of slippers and a robe as well for the chase.

And she knew, oh how she knew the pain in her heart now as their roles were reversed once again. This was just like the night of the skating party, when Elsa had been too distraught for words, and had run up to the bell tower.

To feel this knifing pain, of a beloved sister, wait, oh God! Anna was not her sister!

How dare they take Anna away from her in this way? How could they have kept this from her?

Anna. And Isolde and Henrik, her parents. And her Aunt Synneva.

Erasmus, the huntsman.

How could this all be true?

And what could she do but follow the woman she loved? Down, down to the shores of the little lake, her Anna taking flight like those doomed snow-birds of the night before, flying as if to vanish in the weight of this thunderous silence.

Her Anna came to a skittering halt at the foamy edge of the lake, lifted her head, and screamed. Her fists were tight, lifted to the uncaring sky. A flock of sparrows took sudden flight at the commotion, and Elsa saw them streak across the clouded westering sky as she slowed to a walk.

Then Anna partly crouched, and pressed her arms around her middle.

Elsa walked to her over the trembling grass and stone.

But this terrifying knowledge could not be contained so easily, and Anna stretched forth once more, baring her heart and soul to the world, and screamed again. Her cries fractured the innocent silence, making it bleed.

The hurt was immense; an avalanche to Elsa's already torn and bleeding senses. With every step she willed herself not to return to the Elsa she had been. No gloves, no fortifications, no armour. She would not conceal herself, nor her emotions.

No, she would approach her greatest love with all the vulnerability in her great and salted heart.

Elsa halted at the edge of the rocky beach, just steps away from her… cousin. Now that she was here, she didn't really know what to do. She was barely aware of tears trickling down her face, the magic sparking and roaring in her nerves, pressing hard against her palms.

So she sent a streamer of snow into the evening air, curling and flower-like, to dance and sway like protective arms a meter away from Anna's quivering form. The magic only released a fraction of the pressure in her palms, but she dared no more. Not when her own heart and memory had been stripped raw, harrowed by ancient words and decisions.

"Anna?" she asked, voice quavering, as she took the last best step, able now to touch Anna's back, should she dare.

Her soul in her throat, making her raw, making her hurt, Elsa put forth her hand and put it on Anna's back, the same way she had been doing in every one of Anna's coughing attacks. It was a signal, an invitation, an open door, leaving Anna free to respond as she willed.

Anna's skin shook under her hand, but she did not turn around. She took great hitching breaths in and out, and then she spoke. "I've built my life on being your sister, Elsa. After our parents died, you were all I had left. But we're not. We're not sisters, Elsa. And if I'm not your sister, then who am I? Who am I?!"

Only then did she turn her head, and Elsa saw her in profile, the purpling sky in the mountains beyond casting her beloved face in soft and gauzy shadow. Her eyes were wretched with tears, her face contorted with barely imagined grief. "How could they lie to us like that? Elsa, how could they lie to us about everything? It's not enough to suddenly take away my sister and erase my memories of her powers, and then to force us to live apart and isolated, leaving me to wonder every single day why things had to be this way.

"I love my father, Elsa. But I have never hated him quite as much as this very moment." Her voice caught on the words, sharp and bleak like barbed wire.

Suddenly Anna whirled around, and buried herself in Elsa's arms, turning them sideways with the fury of her motion, their backs to the shrubs and forest at the lake's edge, their nightgowns shimmering in the twilight.

"Oh, Elsa," she cried. "What are we going to do? How do we move on from this? God, Elsa, why does this hurt so much?! I should be glad I'm not your sister."

Pause.

"Elsa. You're not my sister."

And Anna broke down into mewling and pitiful cries, as if she was no more than an orphaned kitten, left alone in a great and ravenous dark.

Nils was garbed in a sword, standing a dozen paces away, witnessing all.

The other occupants of the chalet reluctantly turned away from the tableau before them, returning to the dead echoes of Anna's screams in the house. The sky was bruised above them, in shades of navy and aubergine.

Anna's tears dragged out the last little beast of armoured resistance from its lair in Elsa's chest, and she opened her eyes in order to let the floodgates open, the true mourning begin, a new mourning now for the aunt and uncle who had raised her, and for the dire fates of her true parents.

And she saw the glint of a crossbow bolt being raised out of the heavy brush by the path's edge. It was pointing at Anna's back.

One thought, quick as lightning. Protect her!

Elsa harshly stepped away from Anna and lifted her palms. Her magic was quicksilver, reacting faster than her thought could command. She might have chosen a different form for her magic, had there been a single moment for choice.

But now, just as in the palace the night Anna stole her glove, her magic chose for her. Back then it had formed a protective and sharp fence of ice.

And now?

It took one heartbeat for her power to garb Anna in armour, magnificent, strong. The image of Anna in that armour had been haunting her subconscious since she had seen Anna in it earlier that very day. Head to toe Anna was wrapped once again in steel, cold and resilient. A second heartbeat and a sword appeared in Anna's bandaged hand, a shield in the other.

Anna's eyes were open wide, confused.

There was a twang, harsh and cruel.

And a little tink against Anna's armour.

And Elsa looked down at her chest, for a bolt was sprouting from above her heart, and the force of it penetrating her body had knocked her slightly forward, so the tip of it tinked against Anna's gleaming breastplate.

Another bolt crashed and splintered against Anna's armoured back.

Liquid acid and lightning agony ripped through Elsa from the source of her wound. Blackness swarmed her sight like malevolent ghosts. Her hands tried to grasp Anna's breastplate, but slid off immediately.

Anna couldn't catch her, or keep her from falling. Anna held a sword and a shield. She was protected.

Another twang, from somewhere beyond Elsa's sphere of consciousness. She was ready for it to hit her, but then she was vaguely aware of Anna whirling around with her shield, protecting Elsa's vulnerable back from the second archer.

And then Elsa realized she was on the grass. The midnight blue of Anna's greaves over her legs was shifting, moving, dancing to a symphony of death and malevolence. She looked again at the tip of the bolt protruding from her chest. It was fascinating, how such a simple thing could cause so much agony. She could feel the splintering break in her shoulder-blade where the bolt pierced her, so she tried to stay as quiet and still as possible, her breath shallow.

Another movement in the bushes behind Anna, close to the bowman, but lower to the ground.

A snout, gray and charcoal. Black eyes. Fangs bared, hackles raised.

The wolf stared at Elsa, wounded, prone. Vulnerable.

Elsa stared back.

They are his.

She lifted her palm, and nothing happened.

Concentrating harder, forcing herself to think beyond the agony, thinking of Anna fighting alone, Elsa marshalled her thoughts and her magic. An icy cascade lurched from her burdened spine into her palm, and then flew out in crackling sheets instead of the single bolt she had envisioned, coalescing in a freakish block around the front legs and head of the wolf. The beast fell to the ground, scrabbling with its back legs at the ice that was suffocating it.

But when another wolf stepped through the brush, Elsa realized she had no more magic left. It was leaching away through all the blood pooling under the crossbow bolt in her chest. She tried harder, but her magic stayed away. It wouldn't come at her command through nerves shattered by pain.

Elsa locked eyes with this second wolf, and opened her mouth to call for help, but nothing came out except a strangled and piteous cry, knocking against her front teeth to expire on the summer grass.

She called with her mind instead, as if this was a fairy tale, and that Anna could hear her, and save her. "Anna!"

But Anna had leapt somewhere beyond her sight and reckoning. There was a clash of sword against sword, somehow dull now to the roaring of pain in her ears, cries of indignation and fury rising in the air from strange and coarse male voices.

Another thud resounded on the earth next to her. "Nils!" Anna screamed.

In a moment that lasted as long as years, Elsa stared into the dark and malevolent eyes of the second wolf.

She had nothing left. No magic. No power. No Anna.

Elsa made the hardest choice she had ever encountered yet in her short life.

In later months, Elsa would realize that this was the moment that everything changed in her favour. This was the moment she defeated the huntsman, though he would not know it. No one would know it.

For Elsa saw the wolf, and she knew that the beast was his.

And Elsa knew the weight and measure of the love in her heart. She knew her worth. She had returned from the brink of a fever-death, only to come to this, and this was all right. This, however awful, was necessary.

Elsa looked into the eyes of the wolf, and she did not see fear. She did not see death.

She saw salvation.

The wolf leaped.

Elsa managed to curl in on herself, and covered her face with her hands, though the movement caused a cascade of white-hot agony to radiate from her wound. She could do nothing else.

And then it was there, hot breath in her face and ravaging teeth and claws in her arm.

And a message was given, there in the depth and fire of the wolf's claws that ripped deep into the muscle of her arm. It was a message of torment, of cruelty and anger, of everlasting hatred for the royalty of Arendelle.

"I mark you as mine, just as I have marked your mother," the message said, transmitted somehow in the rip of fang and claw through her skin.

Elsa took it; took it into the depth of her blessed and everlasting heart, and gave nothing but vulnerability and love in return.

"I am me and mine," Elsa responded, in the depth of her silence, and her pain. "And I am hers."

Thoughts of Anna flooded her mind.

She loved Anna. And Anna was protected.

By her own magic, Anna was given everything she needed for this fight. What need had Elsa for other defences, when Anna was there in armour, and sword, and shield?

But then there was a wolfish grin.

More claws.

And jaws, which swallowed her whole.

…

Nothing else existed except this. This desperate fight, Anna and Nils against two archers and five wolves. Two of the beasts immediately began to circle and attack Nils as he came running down the slope, his sword unsheathed. His yell fierce and futile.

Anna leaped over Elsa's fallen body in order to attack the archer who had shot Elsa. He was a raggedly clothed man desperately trying to reload his crossbow from a slimly defensive position behind a dogwood bush. He managed to raise it and shoot off one more bolt as Anna approached. Anna lifted her magical shield, and the bolt ricocheted out into brush. Then she was there, and though he raised a short sword to her, he could not withstand her.

The fight was messy and fierce and mismatched; he was no swordsman. She meant to pull her final strike, but her wrist was aching with strain, and she misjudged the terrain under her enemy's feet. Her final slash across his chest hit his neck, and blood spurted from him in a terrifying red flood that she had never before experienced.

Oh god! I've killed him!

She started to turn around to take stock of the battlefield, her eyes seeking Elsa as always, but first she saw the other archer shoot Nils through the eye.

The moment would not freeze for her to understand it. Not the way all his movement suddenly stopped. Not how his body toppled slowly to the ground, that horrible bolt sticking out from his head.

There were two wolf carcasses already surrounding him. His sword was stained with their blood.

He fell, and she screamed his name.

And, still turning, she saw Elsa, motionless on the ground, with one wolf partially frozen nearby, and another wolf leaping from the underbrush directly at her.

Elsa was at least seven meters away.

RUN!

One.

Elsa curled in on herself, and covered her face with her hands. The fletching of the bolt barely jutted from her back it was embedded so deeply. She had fallen with her robe awry and her nightdress rucked up, exposing her knee and part of a white thigh. Her ice slippers had fallen away from her feet.

Two.

The wolf tried to claw Elsa's arm away from her face. Elsa held on, though she used no magic.

God, why wasn't she using her magic?

Three.

The wolf tried again, using both paws and teeth, and this time he ripped deep slashes down her arm before pulling it away from her defenceless throat with his fangs. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

Too far. Anna was too far away.

Four.

The last archer was already attempting to reload his crossbow, his movements hurried and clumsy. Elsa somehow managed to curl herself tighter on the ground, trying to deny the wolf access to her neck.

Five.

The wolf struck with his paw again, and this time his claws ripped three long gashes down the perfection of Elsa's face, eye to cheekbone to chin.

Six.

A watery scream from Elsa's lips, which turned into a raw shriek as she fell back against the bolt that impaled her, her neck now open, unimpeded.

Blood. Elsa's blood was everywhere. Her face… where was Elsa's face?!

Anna could see Elsa's white neck, open to the beast.

She had kissed it just hours ago.

God, no!

Seven.

Anna lifted her sword in both hands to stabilize it over the splintering ache in her wrist and brought it crashing down on the neck of the wolf. She continued to run, jumping over the wolf, whirling on the other side to strike it a long and deep gash from neck to back haunches. It yelped as it fell on Elsa's legs, and then was still.

The archer lifted his bow.

Her advance was implacable as an avalanche, and carried her right into him. He might have thought that she would stop to check on Elsa, but she did not. Eliminate the greatest threat first.

Save her sis…

Save Elsa.

His shot hit her lifted shield, the bolt screeching away.

He was as untrained in blade-work as the first archer, dropping his crossbow and drawing a short sword that he held clumsily in his fist. There was no fear on his face, however, as she engaged him with her sword of ice and snow. His face held strangely deep anger and hatred that only grew as she fought him, stroke by devastating stroke. "Who are you?" Anna screamed as she engaged him, careful to parry and thrust defensively until she had her answers.

He did not reply, save for a grimace and an even fiercer scowl. By a flick of his eyes Anna knew that the last wolf was circling the carnage around Elsa. Anna carefully parried the archer, moving him around so she could see the wolf and the broken, bloodied form of her true love.

That slipper fallen from her foot. That white leg already covered by a dead wolf. That tip of crossbow bolt, coppery with blood.

That horrible, mangled face. Oh, Elsa!

And Anna saw Kai running down the grassy slope on this most horrible evening, Johan on his heels, each bearing a loaded crossbow.

But they would be too late. She had seconds before the last wolf would kill Elsa.

If she wasn't dead already.

Anna had been taught a perfect thrust, which would incapacitate an assailant without killing him. Anna stepped into the sequence, her sword piercing the bowman high on his side and kidneys, and then she grabbed his short sword, turned, and threw it at the last wolf charging at Elsa.

It was a near perfect strike, for it hit the wolf's front haunch, sinking deep, and it howled in pain and collapsed just before Elsa's corrupted face.

Anna turned back to the man who was sliding off her sword, and she was shocked when he suddenly grasped the hilt and dashed his neck against the blade. The spurt of arterial blood struck Anna high on her breastplate, near the tiny mark left by the tip of the crossbow that had hit Elsa.

And then he was dead.

From the chalet, a horn was blowing. A wild, clarion call that was too late.

Much, much too late.

The entire fight had taken five, maybe six minutes.

Kai and Johan kept running down the dark grass. Johan was screaming Nils' name. His face… Anna could not look at it. She could not bear his grief. His loss.

Her loss.

Was Elsa even alive after all this?

Anna dropped her shield but kept her sword. With one devastating thrust she killed the wolf that was almost dead of suffocation by Elsa's ice.

Anna stepped up to the last wolf, the one that she had impaled with a short sword in its haunches. It had fallen just short of Elsa, and bared its fangs at her as she approached, sword in hand.

Anna killed it, too.

Two men. Three of five wolves.

God was dead.

And now there was only silence.

And Princess Anna slowly turned, surveying the carnage of the little path that led to Lost Island Lake from Chalet Avundir. Full twilight had fallen, and the shades of night began to impose their will on the scene before her, leaching it of colour and meaning.

There was no more movement. No more threat. Was it over?

Could Elsa be alive? Or had she lost her, too?

Almost mindlessly, Anna bent down and ripped up hunks of grass, which she used to clean her sword, all while she walked to Elsa's side. Her armour creaked as she moved, and she noticed the joints becoming wet, all the armour taking on a sheen of melt. Her mind shied away from what that might mean, and she focused entirely on cleaning the rest of her sword and sheathing it as she reached Elsa's side.

It was Elsa's armour. She could have saved herself, but she chose to save Anna instead.

Oh, Elsa.

First Anna heaved away the wolf carcass that had landed on Elsa's legs, noticing that Elsa's leg looked broken.

And then she sat down carefully by Elsa's side. She stripped off her gauntlets and gently pressed her finger against Elsa's neck. She could barely stand to look at Elsa's ruined face, her mutilated arm, her broken leg.

Her knee was in Elsa's blood. It was a sticky pool, seeming black in the twilit darkness.

This was all her fault.

There was a pulse under Elsa's skin, and at her touch, Elsa's eyes fluttered open. "Anna?" she whispered.

Anna somehow smiled over the jagged barb of shame and regret in her throat and whispered back, "I'm here, lutefisk. I've got you."

...

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