a/n: Revisions: Technical edits; introduction of Rapunzel and Judus.

Chapter 3: Light Invisible

Dawn illuminated the streets, casting an iridescent sheen on an already glorious kingdom.

Corona was known as the Land of the Sun, and for good reason—Anna had never seen a place as vibrant.

They had arrived early in the morning, early enough to see the dawn set the blue waters ablaze with an orange hue. As light stretched outward to illuminate the colossal clock tower set in the center of town, its glorious panels of blue glass glittered like diamonds. Even Elsa seemed impressed.

Across town was an explosion of colors. Rather than the grey cobblestone used in Arendelle, the streets of Corona were paved with pale yellow travertine that caught the light and glowed almost gold. Lamp posts stood on the corner of every street, solid black metal buffed and shined to flawlessness. Homes alternated between shades of peach and yellow, the many window ledges decorated with plant-life, bushes of pink roses sitting neatly on the sill and carefully trimmed vines framing the woodwork.

If only she could enjoy the sights.

Anna had almost managed to convince herself that all was well, that there would be no repercussions for what she did, but reality had come rushing back the previous night. If she were the only one suffering, then that was only what she deserved. But those dying people back in the village? All of them, good, innocent people, dragged into spiraling madness through an echo of her own.

Even sleep had been no reprieve from reality. She could only sleep for an hour or two at a time before waking inexplicably with miserable feelings, dried tears stuck to her cheeks. If she dreamed at all, she could not remember them. It was for the best. She had no desire to see what would most likely be memories, because nothing else her imagination could conjure would be even half as horrifying.

Elsa seemed to sense her mood and said nothing as they made their way to the castle.

As they left the docks and passed through the gates leading to town, Anna noticed a mural painted on an arched wall. It couldn't be missed. Anyone who came in would have to pass by this wall. On it was painted a little girl who couldn't be older than four or five years old, with wide, brown eyes and golden hair, smiling as she looked towards the sun. Anna wondered why this memorial was here. Flowers had been placed at the base of the wall, and she could venture an unfortunate guess.

Sometimes the world was cruel.

Corona Castle was similar enough to Arendelle Castle, positioned strategically on the cliffside and overlooking the rest of the kingdom. Its courtyard, though, was less of a court and more of a yard. Only one narrow path had been paved, leading straight to the castle, while either side boasted vast lawns of well-trimmed grass. Great trees circled the border of the walls, thick trunks evidence of their longevity, and Anna suspected they had lived, and would live, for much longer than either her or Elsa. Their branches bore full leaves and the fruits of spring, casting shadows that swayed with every pass of the wind. Anna rather wanted to sit down under one. Maybe it would be relaxing.

But maybe that was for another time.

Elsa passed through the open gates, impressing Anna by somehow managing to be imposing even while pushing her and her wheelchair along. Of course, they weren't stopped. Awestruck guards stood ramrod-straight, hardly daring to draw breath, as Elsa passed by without sparing them more than a glance; Anna sent them apologetic nods, but judging from their tight-lipped expressions, she did nothing to soothe their nerves.

"I know the way already," Elsa said, when one particularly brave guard offered to lead her inside. Anna almost winced, but Elsa had never been one for tact.

"Could you please tell the king and queen that we're here for an audience?" Anna asked, and the guard vanished to some unknown reach of the castle.

Once inside, Elsa demonstrated that she indeed knew the castle well, leading them through the halls without stopping for even a moment of consideration. On the way, Anna noticed paintings of the royal family, both past and present. There was a strong family resemblance there, but what interested her was one particular portrait—the same blonde girl from the mural before. She was holding hands with another girl, brunette and around the same age. Sisters, maybe. They didn't look too alike. On the left, the blonde had a vivid lightness to her complexion; but on the right, the brunette child was frail, her face thin and her smile weak. It looked as though her sister was half-carrying her where they stood.

"And now we wait," Elsa murmured.

Anna hadn't even realized they arrived at the throne room. Either she had been too distracted, or Elsa moved too quickly. Perhaps both. Anna remembered this side of Elsa, the Elsa that became fixated on her goal and worked towards it without considering anything else. "Weren't you only here once?"

"Last time I was here, I still had perfect recall," Elsa said. "Before, I could have drawn a map of this place blindfolded, but admittedly, some of the memories are a little…foggier now."

"Do you…miss it? Having eidetic memory, like back then?"

"It's a small sacrifice for everything else." Elsa shrugged, but the motion wasn't as nonchalant as she tried to make it. "I can give up some memorized details of the past, for being able to feel the present."

Anna nodded, unsure how to respond, but she was saved from it regardless. Just then, the doors opened, and Elsa shifted her attention to the arrival of the King and Queen of Corona.

"Friderich, Zuzanna," Elsa said.

Neither of them looked too happy, but apparently not because, as anyone might have assumed, Elsa was there. Rather than being angry or even suspicious about Elsa, they looked…weary. Much more aged than simple discontent. Friderich must have been a tall, imposing figure at one point, but now he walked slowly, with a slight hunch, as though time had set in his bones and he had been trodden upon by some invisible weight. Zuzanna, too, though she kept more of her old beauty and composure, and she now appeared a wintry figure in her somber black dress, frost-bitten in aspect like a petrified statue. It was in her eyes, drawn tight around the corners and reflecting bitterness and regret all at once.

Anna feared for a moment that they, too, had contracted the wasting sickness.

"Elsa," Friderich greeted, voice gravelly as one roused from a deep, unforgiving slumber. Zuzanna kept up her stony expression and only nodded. "And…Princess Anna, I presume." He had seen her before, of course. Friderich had been present during the battle of the Southern Isles. "King Agdar is a good man and an old friend. Please extend my well-wishes to him."

"...Of course," Anna said.

"I'll cut to the chase," Elsa said. "On the way here, Anna and I stopped at one of your islands—Wolin. An illness has taken root there, something the locals call serglige. If you'd like I can describe it for you, but I assume you already know the intricacies."

"Wasting sickness," Friderich said. "Yes, I know of it already. An appropriate name. Only a few have contracted it here, but they are…unresponsive."

"And most likely suffer from ramblings and delusions," Elsa finished. "I thought you might. Hans would like me to inform you that something similar has emerged in the Southern Isles, too. "

Anna whipped her head around to stare at Elsa. She had never heard anything about this before—Elsa had been hiding it. It made sense. It didn't surprise Anna, not really. Elsa just wanted to spare her from the guilt, but Anna needed to know. Just how many people had she…had she…?

"We don't know the cause," Elsa said, squeezing her shoulder briefly, but Anna already had an idea.

"It's my fault," Anna murmured. "When I…the Mirror must have…"

Elsa might have stopped her from freezing the world, but that didn't mean damage wasn't already done. Magic from the Mirror had touched people already. Anna could feel it within them all, those people in the ward. She could hear the pain she sent rippling across the world, echoing within those wretched shells of people—people who once had full lives and had dreams yet unfulfilled. She had ruined them.

"It's not," Elsa said.

"You don't understand, I made them go—I made them sick—"

"No, Anna—"

"Stop making excuses for me!"

Elsa went silent. Anna heaved out shaking breaths, her entire body trembling. She had to clutch the arms of her wheelchair just to keep her hands occupied, to make sure she didn't fall.

"It was a mistake bringing me anywhere," Anna said, teeth clenched so tight she thought they might shatter. "You saw it for yourself that I made those people worse once they saw me. You should have never brought me here. You should have—back then, you should have just…"

"Please don't say it," Elsa whispered.

"It is not the time for self-pity and martyrdom," Zuzanna said, finally stepping forward, and Anna flinched at the caustic spite in her voice, cutting as the edge of a serrated knife. But Zuzanna was not just looking at her, was looking to and from her and Friderich, and that confused her just as much as the comment stung. "What's done is done. What matters is the here and now, so handle it."

Just like that, Zuzanna stormed away.

"I – I apologize," Friderich said, shaking his head while rubbing his eyes with one hand. "I'm afraid that you two came at an unfortunate time. So close to the Lantern Festival, my wife, she…she hurts, still."

"Why?" Anna asked quietly.

"It began as a memorial to our daughter. I'm sure you've seen the murals." Friderich cleared his throat, small, wry smile trembling at the corners. "Chrysaa, she was five when we…when she died. It will have been her seventeenth birthday soon, on the day of the festival."

Anna wanted to hit herself for saying something so stupid, for asking and hurting this poor man. All the condolences she had to offer wouldn't be enough. But before she could apologize, she was interrupted by the doors suddenly opening again, swinging apart with visceral force to reveal one furious girl.

"All right, who was it that upset Mama so much—!" Then her gaze fell on Elsa, and her lips pulled into a frown. "Oh. Oh, that makes sense now. I don't know who else I was expecting."

"…Rapunzel," Elsa said.

It was undoubtedly that brown-haired girl in the painting, but her countenance was almost entirely different. If not for the same wide, green eyes, Anna would never have recognized her as the same person. Her hair had been cut short and her cheeks were healthily rounded, rosier than her depiction as a child, and frail was the last word someone might use to describe her now. Rapunzel stomped into the room with deliberately strong steps, ignoring her father's soft protests as she strode towards Elsa, and she was just starting to roll up the sleeves of her dress when Anna spoke up.

"A-Actually, that was…me." Anna cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset her so much."

Rapunzel glanced down and blinked, seemingly seeing her for the first time. "Oh. It's…all right. Mama has been touchy lately, so it probably wasn't your fault. I'm Rapunzel! You're, umm…?"

"Princess Anna, of Arendelle," Friderich said, and Rapunzel widened her eyes.

"I've heard about you! It was so brave what you did, sacrificing yourself for Arendelle," Rapunzel said. She turned and fixed Elsa with a baleful stare. "I'm just sorry you have to deal with her still."

Despite Rapunzel's bravado, Anna saw it, and she knew that Elsa saw it too. Rapunzel was afraid. So afraid that her hands were clenched tight enough that her palms might bleed, that her heart must have leapt in her throat to say any of her strong words. Anna could only imagine the devastation that Elsa had wreaked here. Except she didn't have to imagine, did she? Anna had seen it for herself in Arendelle. She knew just what Elsa was capable of. And for a time, she herself had been capable of even more.

"I know Elsa's done a lot of harm, but she was being manipulated," Anna said, nudging Elsa when she didn't respond. "I'm sure she'll do everything she can to make up for the past."

"…I hope to make amends," Elsa said.

"Okay, that's really weird coming from you." Rapunzel frowned one last time before shrugging. "But if Anna says you're all right, then…fine."

"At any rate," Friderich said gently, "Rapunzel, I believe that you should currently be at the Temple. Not here mouthing off to our guests. Why are you back so early?"

Rapunzel groaned.

Someone behind them cleared their throat, and Anna swiveled her chair to see an elderly man stride through the open doors. But elderly seemed the wrong word. Whoever he was, he was indeed advanced in years – easily older than even the king – and his hair, combed back, was completely white; but his shoulders were broad, his back was straight, and he walked with such obvious strength and authority that he could easily have passed for a younger man. From head to toe he was dressed entirely in white, save for the gold embroidering on his coat; Anna noticed a rose design on his breast.

"Your Majesty," said the man, placing his hand over his heart and making a slight dip of his body. If it was meant to be a bow, it was a miniscule thing that he granted. "I apologize, but Princess Rapunzel's training needed to be delayed, so I accompanied her return. Lazarus was needed elsewhere."

"Yes, of course, and thank you for taking the trouble to do that." Friderich motioned from the man to Anna. "Princess Anna, this is Justiciar Judus, head of the Order of the Rose—and, more importantly, the most trusted advisor of my grandfather, my father, and myself."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Judus said. "Please feel free to visit the temple at any time. Perhaps Princess Rapunzel could guide you when she comes for her lessons."

"L-Likewise, thank you," Anna said.

"Papa is making me learn how to fight," Rapunzel explained, giving Friderich a dirty look before grinning again. "Lazarus is a good teacher, but I hate having to learn with Gwen."

"King Friderich only wants you to be able to defend yourself should the need arise." Judus's smile was thin-lipped, and his eyes narrowed as he fixed his gaze on Elsa. "As we might have learned from the last time Elsa…visited. I cannot say I was looking forward to a reunion. Your Majesty, I take my leave."

Judus departed without waiting for a response, and Elsa let out a slow breath that sounded like a hiss. Even Rapunzel, despite her dislike of Elsa, seemed to wince at Judus's implication; but Anna felt that Rapunzel was embarrassed for her rather than Elsa's sake. Either way, Rapunzel's apologetic smile was directed to Anna instead. Anna had no doubt that Elsa noticed too.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Anna," Rapunzel said. She looked towards Elsa for a brief instant, almost involuntarily, and then away again. "I'm going to check on Mama for now, but let's talk again soon!"

With that, Rapunzel left as well. Anna wondered if she might have stayed longer if Elsa were elsewhere, and judging from the slight discomfort she noticed from Elsa – something only she could have picked up on – Elsa wondered the same. Was it really fair, though, that Elsa was so blamed for her actions when she barely knew there was another life to be had? But, Anna thought, she had certainly known…

Suddenly she felt suffocated inside this room. Like all its air had rushed into her lungs, hot and cloying in her chest, leaving no room for anything else.

"My apologies, once again, for the interruption," Friderich said.

"It's fine." Elsa waved her hand with a sharp flick of her wrist. "But this illness is…important to me, and I will do whatever I can to help you find a solution. And I suppose I might as well start making my amends here. Tell me everything that you know."

"If you two don't mind," Anna breathed, already turning her wheelchair in the opposite direction, "I'm going to leave."

"Anna—"

"I really need to be outside," Anna said. She didn't look back, furiously pushing herself forward. "I'll see you later, I'll be back soon, but I just really, really need to be gone right now, all right?"

Footsteps.

Anna didn't need to look back to know that Elsa was following.

"It's not safe, please—"

"I'll be fine!" Anna still didn't look back. If she did, Elsa would see just how weak she really was right now, how fragile. Even she thought she might break at any moment. One stray word and she might come undone, like a manikin with strings unraveled. "I'm not helpless. I'll be fine alone."

And Anna left before she let Elsa stop her again.

"Will she be…all right?"

"Anna will be fine," Elsa said.

But her words rang hollow even to her own ears, and she didn't know what had stopped her from following. Surely not because Anna had asked her not to. Anna might not have been in her right mind, but Elsa should have known better than to let her go alone. Anna didn't know Corona. She didn't know anyone in Corona. Corona was safe enough, especially in broad daylight, but—Anna couldn't even walk.

"You don't know what she was like before," Elsa continued, staring at the closed doors. "If you knew her back then, you would know that she's going to recover from this."

"True enough, but perhaps that is why I can see her more clearly now," Friderich said.

Elsa whirled around. It had been some time since she felt the old instinct coming back, the impulse to hurt whatever and whoever had the misfortune to be in her way. It would be easy to give in. She refused to do so. "What are you trying to say?"

"It is good that you were there for her when she needed, but—"

"That's enough," Elsa said quietly. She could finish that thought with any number of her own. None of them were pleasant. "We should discuss serglige."

Elsa didn't want to admit that, without Anna's presence like a splinter under her fingernail distracting her from her thoughts, all of her weariness finally caught up.

She was exhausted.

Flower, gleam and glow…

Let your power shine…

Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine…

Heal what has been hurt. Change the fates' design. Save what has been lost…

Bring back what once was mine…what once…was…mine.

Rapunzel leaned her head against the mural of Chryssa, but no matter how many times she sang that nursery rhyme, she would never bring her sister back. She couldn't even find where her mother had gone, but that had been a guilty relief. She wouldn't have known what to say anyway, and she could imagine the invisible wall between them, the fretful silence as she struggled to form words of comfort.

Chryssa would have known what to say.

Rapunzel knew she was a poor substitute for Chryssa, so inferior that they couldn't even look the slightest bit alike despite being twins. Rapunzel, the sickly one who spent the majority of her childhood bedridden, was still here. Chryssa, vibrant and precocious, so bright that she must have contained the light of the sun within her soul, was gone. Her absence was a vacuum that would never be filled.

"I don't resent you, though," Rapunzel murmured. "I just wish you were here. I miss you, Big Sis."

Hey, you'll be all right, Punzie. Just be good and take your medicine, please? I know, I know it's bitter and kinda smelly, but—here, see, I have candy for you afterward! I'll even drink the medicine with you, but you have to take it!

Every night she would try to recall everything about her sister, and every night the memories became hazier. Rapunzel wondered if she would even remember her sister's face if it weren't for this mural that she could stare at every day. All she recalled were snippets of conversation, glimpses of a warm smile that could brighten even a feverish day. She only remembered that Chryssa had been perfect.

"It's not really fair that you were the one who…" Rapunzel trailed off. She could never bring herself to say it aloud. "When I was the one who was sick all the time. And I got better afterwards, like…I don't know. Like that was some really messed up trade. Like God just thought it would be fair to take you if he made me well again. I don't even know what happened to you. All Mother and Father will say is that you disappeared. Did you run away? Were you kidnapped? Are you…still out there?"

If you are, then why haven't you come home?

It was no better outside.

There were too many people.

Anna should have expected a crowd at the marketplace during the height of noon, when the sun shone at its brightest and the ocean breeze brought the refreshing scent of sea salt on cool winds. She couldn't be greedy enough to hoard the delicious warmth of the light on her skin. Everyone here had the right to enjoy the beautiful day of light and breeze—more right than she did, even, to witness this scene of brick roads glowing gold under the sun, to stroll through the line of vendors shaded by colorful buildings. She knew she would have reveled in the merriment of a bustling crowd once.

But Anna regretted her decision to explore as soon as she found herself lost within the tumult of people. Too much activity for her eyes to follow. Too much sound for her ears to process. Her vision tunneled and her hearing drowned itself with hollow ringing. Too many people. Too many people walking this and that direction, brushing past her shoulders and nudging her wheelchair and jarring her body this way and that. Anna froze, and that made it worse, worse, worse. They must be staring. They must find her so strange. Now people had their attention on her and they had to know, that girl stuck in a wheelchair and stuck in the middle of the street was a—was a—monster demon murderer—

"Excuse me! Miss!"

Anna snapped her head back and was greeted by a girl she had never met before, smiling the brightest smile she had ever seen.

Amber eyes stared into hers, and looking into their bronze-gold depths, Anna felt the miasma pulled over her senses lifting, as though burned away by the sheer radiance of the girl standing to her side. Anna was so taken aback that she was struck mute for a moment, and the girl seemed content to simply wait, humming a light tune under her breath while Anna recovered.

Her immediate thought was that this girl, whoever she might be, was beautifully, strikingly pretty. It was an entirely objective observation. There was no other way to describe her face. She had soft, gentle features, a thin brow and a slender face framed by light-brown hair that only accentuated the milky-white quality of her skin; but most striking was her smile. There was a brilliance about her smile, her person, which radiated such vibrant energy that it was impossible to feel ill at ease in her presence.

"D-Did you need something?" Anna asked.

"Nope!" When the girl smiled again, she revealed slightly crooked teeth and rather pronounced canines. Combined with the dimple in the side of her cheek, Anna had the distinct feeling she was younger than herself. "But I noticed you looking a bit lost, soooo. Anyway, I'm Solaris! But you can call me Sol."

"I'm…Anna."

"Nice to meet you! Or…something like that," Sol said, waving her hands. "I think that's the part where I'm supposed to offer you a handshake, but I'm not really good with formalities. I think we're around the same age, right? Let's be friends!"

"Do you usually just make friends with strangers?" Anna asked, but she wasn't offended. Surprised, maybe, but she was mostly just amused. It wasn't every day that someone came up and offered to be friends with such an easy smile, and she soon found herself relaxing despite everything.

"Do you usually just wander around on your own?"

"I never really had the chance to do that before, but…I think I would have," Anna said, and Sol grinned. "But you didn't answer my question. You don't know anything about me, but you want to be friends?"

"Not true, I know that you like to wander and that you get lost easily. Oh, and you're pretty." It was hard not to smile around Sol. Her grin widened when Anna did, her eyes curving into half-moons. "But there are no strangers anyway! Only people you haven't met yet, with stories you haven't heard yet."

"That's…" Anna trailed off, laughing softly under her breath.

That's how I used to think.

"So I'm guessing you're new around here," Sol said, looking thoughtful as she rubbed her chin with her index and middle fingers. "If you want, I can show you around!"

"That would…be great," Anna said. Her first instinct was to say no. Not because she didn't want company, far from it. She was just better off alone—Sol, that was, she would doubtless be better off without Anna. Without the constant shadow of Anna's presence clouding her own brightness.

Sol raised an eyebrow. "Is that a yes, or are you trying to lead up to a polite no?"

Anna smiled. "I'll take you up on that, thank you."

But for whatever reason, Anna didn't want to refuse.

Sol grinned and doubled around to take hold of the wheelchair handles. Anna sat back and allowed her to direct their course, more at ease than she had felt in an eternity.

"All right, but you'll have to tell me your story…"