Author's Note: This fanfic takes place after my other fanfic, Frozen Wight. I recap everything important, so reading it isn't crucial to understanding this story. I'm pretty sure making a 300,000 word fanfic a prerequisite to this one would hurt its traffic somewhat. That being said, Frozen Wight probably provides some better context for Mary's backstory.

Also, THIS FANFIC WILL HAVE SPOILERS FOR FROZEN WIGHT. You've been warned.

Lastly, many thanks to the wonderful Comickergirl for drawing the commission of Mary currently serving as the cover image.

Scrtch, scrtch, scrtch...

A white chair dragged across the grass. It was elegant and expensive and absolutely did not belong in the middle of the garden. The chair was deposited in front of a polished wooden coffee table that also didn't belong in the garden.

A teeny tiny girl with silvery hair overlooked her work proudly. The table was now surrounded by three chairs, and a nice selection of china was set atop it. The china didn't belong in the garden, either, but they had, like, eight thousand salad plates, so if one or two got lost, who was gonna miss it?

The girl held up a shapeless stuffed rabbit. Whatever fur remained on it was matted and frozen together. The rabbit's texture wasn't particularly soft anymore, but it was a familiar texture, and to a three year old girl, that counts for a lot. The girl tossed the toy onto one of the two brown chairs, then pulled herself onto the other one. This took a bit of climbing, though, seeing as the girl was hardly taller than the chair leg. Now that everyone was finally seated, the girl held her hands above the three plates and wiggled her fingers. The plates were filled with a light dusting of snow, then passed out to each guest.

The pretend partygoers were just beginning their pretend meal when a beautiful, non-pretend woman very, very slowly approached them.

"What are you up to, Elsa?" she chuckled.

"Having a solstice feast." Elsa spoke in the clearest, most regal voice a three-year-old was capable of.

"Didn't we just get back from one?" Mama laughed again. "Was it not enough for you?"

Elsa shook her head. "My friends weren't there, so we're having another one."

"Oh, I see. It looks delicious." Mama eyed one of the snow-filled plates. "Wow, you made a lot."

"I had to hold it in all day," Elsa said simply. "It always wants to come out when I hold it in."

Elsa scrunched up her nose at the memory. She was too polite to say anything, but she hadn't particularly liked today's solstice feast. Her parents had warned her about strangers and imposed this pointless rule where Elsa couldn't make any snow in front of them. It'd felt like Elsa had gone the whole feast without scratching an itch. So, obviously, it was necessary to have a second solstice feast to improve things.

"I'm sorry, Elsa." With a bit of effort, Mama knelt down to kiss her forehead. "Your papa and I love your magic, but there are some people who wouldn't understand it, and we don't want them to bother you. You can show off your snow to the whole world once you're old enough to handle them, I promise."

Elsa's only reply was a small nod.

Mama put on a smile. "Mind if I join you?"

She moved for the white chair, but Elsa suddenly cried out, "Wait! Don't sit there!"

Mama halted. "Why not?"

"You'll sit on Mary!" Elsa pointed to the patch of empty space seated in the chair.

"Ah. Of course." Mama pulled away, then mimed patting an invisible person on the head. "Sorry about that, Mary."

"You can have Sussebassen's spot." Elsa grabbed the stuffed rabbit and tossed it into the dirt.

"Thank you." With a bit of struggling, Mama managed to seat herself. "Don't you think you should be more careful with your toys, though?"

Elsa shook her head, then glared at the rabbit. "Sussebassen was bad."

"No." Mama feigned shock. "What did he do?"

"He... He got mad when..." Elsa grasped for words, but her three year old vocabulary could only supply so much. "...when I couldn't use my magic at the feast. He wanted me to use it. He didn't want me to mind you. So he was bad."

Mama's eyes fell on Elsa. "And why do you think that made him mad?" she asked softly.

"'Cause people don't understand him," said Elsa. "Sometimes people don't understand Sussebassen, Mama, and it makes him mad, and then he does bad things. But Sussebassen isn't always bad, and he's sorry."

Mama ran a hand through Elsa's hair. "Elsa, honey? I wish you'd spoken to some of the other children at the feast. You're the princess – you won't have too many chances to meet kids your age."

Elsa shrank back. "I have Mary."

Mama smiled and shook her head. "Well, I suppose that's true. You'll always have Mary." She gave Elsa another kiss, then, after some more struggling, rose to her feet. "I love you, Elsa."

"Love you, too, Mama."

And with that, Mama walked away.

The king was waiting for his wife at the garden entrance. "How is she?"

"She's making more and more snow," said the queen. "I don't think she realizes it's anything out of the ordinary. I'm just afraid one day she'll use her magic in front of the wrong person, and then..."

The king took her hand in his. "We don't hire any staff we don't trust. Elsa is perfectly safe."

"Not when she's in public," said the queen. "It's hard enough for a princess to make friends already. Did you know she's started making up imaginary people? She needs a real friend. Someone who can know about her snow."

His wife's face was full of concern, but the king just chuckled. "You worry too much, dear." He pecked her cheek. "Elsa will have a friend soon enough. You know that. It was the whole point."

The queen let out a wry laugh. "I know, I know... I just-" She stopped mid-sentence, an odd expression overtaking her face.

"What's wrong?" frowned the king. "Are you alright, dear?"

"Elsa's friend is coming sooner than we thought," the queen said faintly. "My water just broke."

Elsa, being three, did not have the clearest understanding of female biology. However, when she heard Papa screaming for the midwife, she got a pretty good idea what was happening. The next instant, Elsa hopped out of her seat to run after her parents, painting the grass white in her excitement, while some servants chased her in a frantic attempt to spare Elsa from satisfying her curiosity.

In the chaos, the white chair was knocked over and smashed into the dirt. It stayed that way for the rest of the night.

All was calm and silent in Arendelle castle. The Northern Lights flooded through the nursery window, illuminating the figure of a silvery-haired little princess curled up under the covers, her chest rising and falling steadily. It was an angelic image. Well, until the demonic princess poked her head into view.

"Elsa! Psst!" The little gremlin climbed her way onto the mattress and gave her sister's shoulders a shake. "Elsa! Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

"Anna, go back to sleep."

But there was no reasoning with the beast. Anna flopped onto her back and threw out her arms theatrically. "I just can't! The sky's awake, so I'm awake, so we have to play!"

"Go play by yourself." Elsa's next strategy was to give Anna a good strong shove. Anna's butt hit the carpet, and for a minute, it seemed that Elsa had won the battle.

Then Anna played her trump card.

"Do you want to build a snooowmaaaaaaan?"

Somehow, Elsa ended up in the ballroom, shutting the door behind them as Anna dragged her by the hand.

"Do the magic! Do the magic!"

Anna's excitement was contagious. With a quick gesture, Elsa eagerly conjured up a snowball amidst a flurry of glowing blue snowflakes. "Ready?"

It'd taken a bit of experimenting, but Elsa had eventually figured out that the trick to making it snow was to hurl your snowball as high in the air as you could and then explode it. The glowing snowflakes blasted across the ceiling and fell gently to the floor.

"This is amaaaaaaaziiiiiiing!"

"Watch this!"

This next trick, Elsa was especially proud of. For the longest time, she'd thought she could only channel her magic through her hands, but as it turned out, her feet worked just fine, too. With a stomp of her slipper, Elsa transformed the ballroom floor into a skating rink.

Once Elsa made enough snow, it was just a matter of stealing a carrot from the kitchen along with some charcoal and twigs from the fireplace, and viola – the girls had themselves one lumpy, bucktoothed snowman.

Elsa wiggled its stick-arms and put on a goofy voice. "Hi, I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs!"

"I love you, Olaf!" Anna tested out their creation. Yep, perfectly huggable. The girls carried on playing and didn't give it much more thought. Why should they? It was just a snowman.

Except no, it wasn't just a snowman. It was a snowman built by children, and children, in case you never were one, have imaginations. When Elsa put on a goofy voice and said, "Hi, I'm Olaf, and I like warm hugs," what she was actually doing was creating a vivid and elaborate personalty. From that one sentence, Elsa had subconsciously decided on Olaf's thoughts, dreams, likes, dislikes, interpersonal relations with her other imaginary friends, everything, all in the span of a split second.

And that meant Olaf was a person. A lovably inept person, maybe, but a person nonetheless. Olaf was not, however, quite the same kind of person as you and me. For one, he lacked the somewhat important ability to think. And as some wise person probably once said, I do not think, therefore I am not.

Another difference between real and imaginary people: When you don't remember imaginary people, they go away. Which meant that when Elsa watched a freezing cold five-year-old tumble to the ballroom floor, Olaf stopped existing long before his physical body tipped over and crumbled.

All was calm and silent in Arendelle castle. Elsa was sitting up in bed, staring at the wall, her chest rising and falling. She wasn't in the nursery – she had her own bedroom now. A bedroom with no little gremlins begging to play with her in the middle of the night.

Elsa fought to keep her face blank. It wasn't fair. The rules had changed on her. They weren't "Don't use your magic in front of strangers" anymore. They were "Don't use your magic." Even now, Elsa could feel it squirming against the inside of her gloves, waiting for its chance to escape.

"Mrowr?" There came a pawing at the door. That was Cocoa Beans (Anna had done the honors of naming her). Cocoa Beans had a habit of coming to Elsa's room whenever she wanted someone to pay attention to her. She hadn't realized yet that the rules had changed. She was going to keep asking Elsa to play with her like she always did, and her every invitation would be rejected again and again until she finally gave up and forgot about Elsa.

Elsa stared at the blue gloves on her hands. She wouldn't be wearing them forever, Papa had assured her. They would come off once she had mastery of her ice. Once she could safely touch things with her bare hands.

"Mrowr?" When the door failed to open, the pawing intensified.

Elsa took a breath. This was ridiculous. She pet Cocoa Beans all the time! Sure, Elsa had frozen her tail once while horsing around with Anna, but Elsa had never hurt Cocoa Beans. Elsa could see it now: Mama and Papa would come to check on her, only to find Elsa with her gloves off and Coco Beans curled up on her lap. They'd laugh about how worried they'd been over nothing, and then the gates would reopen and there'd be plenty of snowman-building and everything would be fine.

Elsa hopped out of her covers, unlocked the door, and opened it just enough for the dark brown tabby to squeeze inside before locking it back. Cocoa Beans purred and rubbed against her legs. Elsa laughed anxiously.

Faintly through the walls, Elsa overheard the sounds of an argument. Apparently, one of the servants had made a smart remark about the king's and queen's new parenting methods. Elsa had never heard Papa raise his voice before. It made her shiver (which Elsa didn't do too often).

"Mrowr?" said Cocoa Beans.

Really, this whole situation was silly. That "frozen head" ordeal hadn't happened because Elsa couldn't control her powers. She'd just slipped on her own ice and had bad aim, and then, in the ensuing panic, Elsa had simply lost her nerve. That was the only reason her ice wasn't obeying her. Elsa would just be more careful next time, and it would never happen again. Problem solved.

Elsa locked eyes with the cat, then slowly slipped off a glove. She let her bare hand hang in the air for a minute. No frost was shooting out, so that was a good sign. Inch by inch, Elsa brought her palm nearer to Coco Beans, hovering it above the cat's head. Elsa found herself holding her breath. No sense dragging this out. On the count of three, she'd bring her hand to the fur and commence petting.

One... two...

You'll kill it, said Mary.

Elsa froze. Her eyes wandered towards the mirror resting above her dresser. Elsa's reflection looked back at her.

Everything you touch dies, said Mary.

Elsa stared somewhat stupidly at the mirror, her hand still hanging over Cocoa Beans. Elsa thought she'd outgrown her imaginary friend years ago. Now that she thought about it, though, Elsa had only ever imagined Mary's presence when she was left alone for too long, so it wasn't that Mary had gone away – there just hadn't been much need for her these last few years.

But now, here Mary was, the same as when Elsa was three. She'd always have Mary.

Maybe saying imaginary people can't think isn't completely accurate. It's not that they don't have thoughts – It's just that they have someone else doing the thinking for them. Mary was little more than a puppet guided along by Elsa's strings. When baby Anna had been busy sleeping, when Mama and Papa had been busy in council meetings, Elsa had wanted a friend who would always pay attention to her, who cared about her more than anything else, and that's exactly what Mary had been. Mary herself had had no say in the matter.

That being said, Mary did have a way of voicing the thoughts Elsa never dared think.

You'll kill it, Mary repeated.

Elsa's eyes drifted back to the cat. But if I don't kill it, she told Mary, I can see Anna again. Her hand hit fur. A moment passed. Cocoa Beans purred contently. Elsa allowed herself to smile.

But it always wanted to come out when she held it in.

I tried to warn her, Mary thought.

Mary... thought? Mary thought!

Elsa stared at the cat as it writhed about on the carpet, hissing and twitching. Its brown fur was rapidly whitening. Mary was right.

That hadn't been Mary's thought. It'd been Elsa's thought. Those were different things now? There were "Elsa's thoughts" and "Mary's thoughts?"

All her strings were cut at once, and now Mary was expected to figure out how to move all on her own. Her first impulse was to scream, but she couldn't. She didn't have a body. She didn't have a body! Mary's entire world was chaos. This wasn't right! Mary wasn't supposed to think all on her own! She had to return to normal! Mary instantly retreated deeper into Elsa's mind. That's where she'd come from, after all. It was a soothing, womb-like place.

Mary was right, and now Mama and Papa were going to find the cat, and they would see what Elsa had done to it, and Elsa would be locked away forever and she'd never be allowed near Anna again-

Mary could feel Elsa's heart pumping, her stomach churning. An intense, intense sense of empathy washed over Mary. This was her Elsa, the dearest thing in the world to her. Mary had literally been born to love her. She'd barely been sentient for five seconds, and already Mary wanted nothing more than to comfort her Elsa, to make everything alright.

Elsa wanted to hide the cat, wanted to stop anyone from ever learning the truth, but somehow, her body refused to cooperate. Instead, she found herself shrieking at the top of her lungs.

"Elsa, what's wrong? Are you hurt?" Immediately, there was pounding on the door, followed by the jingling of keys. The door swung open, and a woman dashed into the room. Her face was instantly familiar to Mary – this was Mama.

No, not "Mama." This was Elsa's mama. Mary had never met her. How could she have? Mary had been born seconds ago. So then... Mary had Elsa's memories? She must have had them because she was inside Elsa's mind, Mary realized. She had to get out. There weren't supposed to be two people resting behind Elsa's eyeballs. Mary couldn't even move in here. She was nothing but an observer – a prisoner in Elsa's body.

Mama looked from the cat to Elsa with a mixture of revulsion and horror on her face. She ran towards her child.

"Stay back!" Elsa screamed, stumbling backwards. The ice was out in an instant, forming a protective line of icicles that stopped inches from Mama's stomach.

When the ice erupted from Elsa's hand, Mary felt something stir inside her, like a tension easing. Suddenly, Mary understood – She was Elsa's magic. Mary's entire being was composed of it.

Mama returned to the bedroom with Papa in tow, her chest heaving from sheer panic. For a moment, Papa merely stared at Elsa while she wept.

"Elsa... why?" he said faintly. "You know you're dangerous!"

Elsa's heart hammered her chest. She would be punished for this. They were going to lock her away. They couldn't know it was Elsa's fault! They couldn't know!

Elsa weakly raised her head. Her answer was barely audible. "Mary told me to."

Had Elsa just acknowledged Mary's existence? She... She could feel Mary was in her mind? Mary immediately tried to convey her deep sense of love and devotion to her creator. She would always be there for Elsa! She'd love her more than anything!

Elsa couldn't bring herself focus on the strange, disconcerting thoughts in her head. All Elsa's mind would dwell on was the lifeless cat at her feet, the terror on her parents' faces... She would never be allowed to see Anna again.

A knife had driven through Mary's entire being. Elsa had... had cast Mary aside like she was nothing more than a stray thought? What her creator, the one Mary loved above all else, truly wanted was... Anna?

The memories came flooding into Mary – all those times Elsa had abandoned her play dates with Mary to hover over Anna's cradle. What had been so interesting about her? She'd just been a stupid baby! But the more time had passed, the less often Mary had been called into existence. The less she was needed or wanted. How many years had it been since Elsa last played with Mary? Since she'd last thought about Mary?

Through Elsa's eyes, Mary caught sight of her mama and papa. How dare these people lock Elsa away? Mary would never do that to her. Mary could never hurt Elsa, and she could never be hurt by Elsa, not like Anna. In fact, it seemed to Mary that shewas exactly what Elsa needed... and these people were not.

"Mary was right. Everything I touch dies."

"Elsa-"

It was like someone had wrenched control of her body. The next thing Elsa knew, she was sobbing hysterically as a freezing wind swirled around her, faster and faster, sending her second glove flying off her hand. In the span of seconds, Elsa's bedroom transformed into the heart of a snowstorm.

"Elsa!" yelled Papa. "You're letting your emotions control you! You have to control them!"

Mary couldn't laugh in this bodiless form, but she still felt humor well up inside her. Elsa wouldn't listen to this man anymore. She belonged to Mary now. Mary could feel the magic pouring out of Elsa, the magic that was Mary. Most of it manifested as a violent snowstorm, but some of the snowflakes clumped together behind Elsa, stacking until they became a wiry, humanoid shape, like veins of ice. Soon Mary would have a body of her own, and she and Elsa could be together.

Mary felt more humor welling up in her. See, Elsa? she thought. You don't need Anna to build a snowman.

It was working. Mary could feel it. She wasn't seeing through Elsa's eyes anymore, she was seeing through the face of the snowman. Mary turned her newly-formed head towards the door. Out in the hall, Elsa's parents seemed to be devising a plan. Mary saw a servant hand them something that she couldn't quite make out through the blinding snow.

Then Elsa's papa brought his lips to her mama's. This gave Mary pause. What Mary had just witnessed was pure passion, captured in this one, picturesque moment before the king dived headfirst into the snowstorm. Mary had never thought about it before – though, to be fair, she hadn't been sentient for very long – but it was a beautiful concept. These two people had married, had taken vows that they would never be apart. Never abandon each other.

Mary stared at her wiry, half-formed hand. Whatever it was Elsa's parents had, Mary wanted it.

But Mary didn't have long to dwell on her newfound desire. Elsa's papa fought through the blizzard and brought a rag to Elsa's face. This confused Mary. What was he giving her? Some sort of medicine? See, Mary only knew as much as her creator did, and, being an eight year old, Elsa had no idea what chloroform was.

Elsa's sobs finally quieted, and she collapsed into her papa's arms, her eyelids drooping. The snowstorm crawled to a halt, and the rest of the snow drifted gently to the floor, looking far more tranquil than it had a minute ago.

Every inch of Mary's new body trembled with rage. What had this man done to Elsa? Had he hurt her? But Mary barely had time to realize what was happening before her unfinished body crumbled back into snowflakes.

Without a proper body, Mary's consciousness snapped back into Elsa's mind. There were once again two people behind Elsa's eyeballs, and, since Elsa happened to be passed out at the moment, Mary quickly followed suit.

Mary had never fallen asleep before, so she had no idea what was happening to her. All she knew was that the world was growing dimmer. She fought for a few horrifying seconds before surrendering to the blackness.

After what felt like an eternity, Mary came to. But even though she was awake, the world around her was still blackness. Mary sensed Elsa's thoughts – they were vague and disjointed.

Oh, Mary knew what was happening. She was awake, but Elsa wasn't. Mary had almost been euphoric right before Elsa passed out, but now she was terrified. What was happening? What were Elsa's parents doing to her? Mary was starting to seriously miss being an unthinking figment of Elsa's imagination.

She felt the steady rise and fall of Elsa's body. Elsa was bobbing up and down, wind blowing through her hair. A pair of arms were gripping Elsa tight. The most Mary could tell was that Elsa was on horseback. She had no clue how much time passed, but eventually Mary felt Elsa's body come to a halt, then get carried off the horse. They'd reached their destination, wherever it was.

"Hello?" The voice of Elsa's papa sounded like it was miles away. "We need you again! Elsa killed a cat, and then her powers went completely out of control!"

Something clicked in Mary's head. She couldn't remember it herself, but Mary had Elsa's memories, so she knew where they were. Elsa's parents had brought her to the trolls.

She caught hushed voices, but they spoke too softly for Mary to make out the words. Then, a blue light shone through the back of Elsa's eyelids. Magic, Mary realized. The troll shaman who'd saved Anna was using magic on Elsa. But what could he be...?

Mary felt a shiver run through her entire being. All of a sudden, she wasn't alone in Elsa's head. There was a third mind. If Mary had had a heartbeat, it would've beaten faster. The troll could sense her. He knew she was here.

Fear gave way to anger. What was he going to do? Was he going to hurt Elsa? Was he going to take Mary away from her? She wanted to scream at the troll, but Mary found herself struggling to form words:

El... sa... is... mine...

Mary felt the troll's mind pause. He seemed to be hesitating, indecisive.

Not... sis... ter's, Mary spat. Not... pa... rents'... Mine.

Mary pictured Elsa's face. That was something she hadn't been able to do back before she could think: make a picture in her head. Elsa was a beautiful, wonderful little girl with silvery hair and deep blue eyes, and Mary wanted nothing more than to be with her creator and hold her and love her and kiss her and assure her everything would be alright, her Mary was here, there was no need for sisters or parents anymore, nothing would ever hurt her again.

But then Mary felt something... changing in Elsa's memories. The image of a cat growing limp changed to an image of Elsa nodding off with a book in her lap. With a pang, Mary realized what was happening. No. No! Elsa couldn't forget her Mary! She needed Mary! Without her Mary there to love her, Elsa would be alone and locked away and- The image of an imaginary friend in a white chair changed to an image of Elsa having a solstice feast completely alone.

When you don't remember imaginary people, they go away.