As the voices on the stairs grew closer, the Elsa in the Mirror jabbed pointedly at the solid desk shoved up against the wall, covered in ancient looking scrolls, swamped with piles of books.

Anna didn't need to be told twice. She crawled in behind the desk, making space for herself in the dusty space between the antique thing and the wall.

If anyone leaned over the desk, she'd be undone. But there was nothing else she could do but squeeze in as tightly as possible and pray she wouldn't be spotted in the dim light.

There was space under the desk where you could put your feet, mostly filled with books. However, there was still a narrow crack where if Anna craned in close, the dust tickling her nose, she could see through to the Mirror.

She wasn't sure who she was expecting, but she was startled so hard she almost busted her head against the roof of the desk when Queen Matilda herself walked into her line of vision.

"The preparations for tomorrow have all been made?" the little old woman asked, hanging onto Ilia's elbow as they approached the black surface of the Mirror.

"Done, your Grace," said Ilia. She was wearing the fine brocade gown she must have worn to the wedding with an elaborate up-do, not a hair out of place. "I've asked Evelyn to slip the sleeping powder into Elsa's tea tonight."

Wait, what?

Straining better to hear, Anna pushed her nose further between the pile of books.

She really hadn't thought this through, because immediately the dust went up her nose, and she could feel the tell-tale pressure. Anna muffled the sneeze into her sleeve as best as possible, the tiny noise ringing in her head like alarm bells, heart hammering in her chest.

She could have sighed in relief when neither the Queen or Ilia paused in their conversation, neither seeming to have noticed.

I'm being way too darn jumpy.

"—You are aware of the strength of dosage you'll need to knock out someone like Elsa, are you not?" the Queen asked.

"I am. Tested it out on myself a few days ago. Slept sweeter than a baby, your Grace."

Covering her mouth and nose, Anna peered back out just in time to see Queen Matilda reach out and touch the Mirror. Under her touch, it glowed bright.

With a kind of nervous reluctance, Ilia said, "And what of Ada, my Queen?"

Wrapped up in the now eerie glow of the Mirror, the Queen said, absently, "I'll deal with it."

Again, Ilia hesitated. "My Queen, I'm certain we can trust her. She would give her life for you. And I know if she knew the truth, she would be glad to lose—"

"It's not a matter of trust," Queen Matilda interrupted her curtly. Strange it seemed, how now the Queen seemed to stand straighter, her voice stronger. "The situation is complicated enough. I've no wish to further entangle things. I will leave nothing to chance. She's vital in the completion of the Mirror, and I refuse to miss this window. I will not wait until the summer solstice." A shadow hung to the underbelly of her words. Anna wondered if what she really meant was: she would not last till then.

"I understand," Ilia acquiesced at last.

"What of you, Ilia? Are you still willing to make this sacrifice?"

"I long for eternity too, your Grace. I will sacrifice whatever necessary."

Sacrifice? Eternity? What on earth were they planning? Anna received a horrible, unbidden image of Elsa, drugged before the Mirror as the witch queen slit open her throat with a knife.

N-no. The situation was worse than she could ever have imagined. Anna had to get Elsa out of here now.

"Good," said the Queen. "And the binding spell?"

"The translators finished with it a fortnight ago." To Anna's panic, Ilia was heading straight in her direction. Heart pounding, feeling like her own breathing was too loud, she stifled her mouth under her hands.

A shadow fell over her as the top of Ilia's forehead and perfectly groomed hair loomed over the desk. If Ilia had looked, she would have seen her. Thankfully, the woman was focused completely on finding the correct tome. She pulled a heavy book free. The shadow disappeared. "Here, your Grace," she said, Anna breathing again.

For a few moments in silence Queen Matilda studied the book, the only sound the shuffling of pages. At last she said: "Yes, this will work. The words have power." She handed the tome back to Ilia. "When I touched the Mirror the first time those seventeen years ago, and all those pieces went flying: scattered, lost— well, I feared we would never find them all. And now here we are, on the precipice of achieving eternity. I can only thank you Ilia, for all the service you've shown me over these years. You've been my most loyal servant."

"It's been my honour, your Grace," Ilia murmured.

"Come, then. This time tomorrow, the Mirror will be complete and we will finally regain all of the things we've lost."

Thank God. They were leaving.

Ilia cleared her throat. "Actually, your Grace, I thought I'd check the texts one last time."

Oh, shoot.

With the Queen gone, Anna heard footsteps approaching. And then Ilia's shadow fell over Anna. She craned her head up, to see the magician looking down at her.

"I knew I heard something back here," she said, staring Anna down. "Who are you, and how did you get down here?" When Anna hesitated, agog for words, the woman demanded, "Get up."

Her hiding place was so horrible and cramped, with the prickly feeling of something crawling up her leg, that it was almost a relief to oblige her in this.

Apart from the the fact her head was replaying over and over a single dead note of panic.

Ilia looked her over. "I recognise you. You're one of the staff. The girl Lady Elsa's taken a liking to. How did you get down here?"

Maybe, just maybe, there was still a way to salvage the situation…

"I-I'm sorry. The door was unlocked, and I was curious—"

"You're lying," said Ilia. "There's an enchantment on that door. No ordinary person should be able to see it."

Welp.

Again, Ilia asked, "Who are you?"

It was a stand off, Ilia scanning her over with her eyes; Anna, preparing to bolt.

It happened at the same moment. Ilia eyes widened in understanding as she gasped: "Princess Anna of Arendelle."

Anna ran.

Buzzing with adrenaline, Anna vaulted over the desk, scattering a pile of books onto the floor like a deck of cards as she legged it to the stairs, thinking one thing only: Elsa. I've got to get to Elsa. Memories or not, she had to get her sister out of here.

But as her foot made contact with the first step, the stairs burst into flame. Anna leapt back with a shout.

"How did you get into the city?" Ilia demanded. Except that Anna wasn't interested in answering any of her questions.

The injustice of what they'd been put through, of the manipulation they'd forced Elsa to endure fed the flames building inside Anna. She wheeled round to face Ilia, fists clenched, the anger she felt burning hotter than her anxiety.

"You're not going to get away with this," she said, voice low and tight with fury. "I'm getting Elsa and taking her back to Arendelle, away from this place."

Ilia smirked. "And how do you intend to do that?"

"I know your secret," said Anna, and for a second that smirk faltered. She thought of the storm. The huge crashing black waves. The fear a tight stopper in her throat. When she'd refused to give up, to back down on love, the storm had dissipated into sea foam.

Anna's voice rang with jubilation. "You have no power over me," she said.

She turned to face the flames.

The heat was immense, an inferno against her skin, the licking flames towering above her.

Her heart banging against her ribcage, Anna took a deep breath and closed her eyes, stepping into the blaze.

Instead of burning her up, the fire gently tickled against her skin.

When she opened her eyes, the flames were gone. No; they'd never been there.

"Wait!" shouted Ilia, but she sounded desperate, now.

Anna ran.

A gentle breeze stirred in the garden, dressed up like a Midsummer's party. Long tables were laid on the lawn, garlanded with wreaths of crocuses. Bunting was strung overhead and hung with lanterns. Glasses chinked. Laughter trickled. The band played away.

The new bride stood surrounded by a group of nobles, all falling over themselves to offer their congratulations, her husband's hand resting upon her shoulder.

The ceremony was beautiful, but looking over the shoulder of the Countess, Elsa's eyes began to glaze. As the talk turned to the latest court fashions, Elsa's smile became fixed in place.

More and more, recently, this melancholy stole over her. A sadness she couldn't pinpoint. A feeling like some kind of loss.

The logical part of Elsa told her the notion was absurd. Today was her wedding day; the happiest day of her life.

And yet, despite that logic, it wasn't.

Analysing her emotions, it occurred to her: I never feel like this when I'm with Ann.

Remembering how upset the girl had been earlier made something twist inside her. I have to do something for her. Get her a present. Show her how sincere I am about this.

The pop of the champagne bottle. Laughter. Jareth's hand still rested, proprietorial, on her shoulder.

The sadness pervaded the sunny springtime garden like clouds, smearing out the margarine sun.

That dream… somehow, she kept coming back to that dream she'd had last night. What on Earth does it mean?

Elsa dreamed about a lonely queen living in another land, whose sadness hung over her as heavy as a cloak of snow.

And the queen… she'd worn her face.

Involuntarily, Elsa's hands tightened around her wine glass, knuckles whitening.

She felt the hand on her shoulder give a gentle squeeze. "Elsa?"

"Hm?"

"Our friend the Countess asked what you thought of the new spring fashions?" Jareth nudged her.

Brow tangled into a frown. The thought lanced through her brain as though thought by someone else: But it's always spring here.

What?

Pressing a hand to her head, she pushed away the nonsense notion. Always spring? That doesn't make any sense. How could it always be spring?

"Elsa… are you feeling alright?" As though she'd emerged from the bath, water unplugging from her ears, the sounds of the party surged back to life.

She felt Jareth's hand resting heavily on her shoulder, and for a lightning second, wondered what it was doing there.

"I'm fine."

She wasn't fine.

"I— I'm going to the bathroom," she stammered, brushing Jareth's hand from her shoulder along with his concern. She swept through the crowd, icy cape sweeping along the grass behind her, eyes locked to the ground.

When someone grabbed her arm, she barely noticed. Elsa forced her eyes up, thoughts trapped in a swirling blizzard, flinching when they jerked against startlingly green irises.

And the storm inside her ceased.

"Ann," she managed out, in polite surprise. "What are you doing here?"

She frowned when she noticed the wild look in Ann's eyes. Her flushed cheeks. She was breathing hard, as though she'd been running.

She squeezed Elsa's arm urgently. "Elsa, you need to come with me. Quickly."

They were attracting curious stares. Hadn't she already spoken to Anna about this? Wanting to get out the public eye, with the edge of annoyance in her voice, she said, "Come on, then."

She led Anna into the safety of the hedge maze, out of view. About to demand what the problem was, Elsa noticed just how undone Anna looked. There was a tear in her dress and her hair was unwinding from the tight bun she kept it in. Desperation clung to her. Elsa didn't have a chance to ask what was wrong. Hands clasped both of her arms, physically willing Ann's sense of urgency.

"Listen to me, Elsa. You're in danger. We have to get you out of here. You have to leave with me now."

Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't this.

"In danger?" Elsa asked, taken aback. "From who? We have to find the captain of the guards so you can explain, Ann-"

"No—" Ann interrupted. "No guards. I know this is going to sound crazy, but please try to understand Elsa—"

Speaking very fast, Ann started to tell a tale Elsa could make head nor tail of. Something about a sacrifice, a magic mirror and an evil scheme, like something out of a fairy tale. "—And we have to get back to Arendelle. We need to go home," she finished breathlessly, eyes bright and wild.

Back to Arendelle? "I don't understand what you're saying," Elsa said, slowly and with measure, because she wasn't sure in her state Ann would understand her. "I don't know what's come over you, but the Spring Palace is my home."

Elsa didn't understand. Why was it that Anna looked like she was about to cry?

"I know it sounds crazy. I'd think it was crazy, but—" Anna cut off her rambling, switching to another technique. "You said you loved me earlier. Please. Just this one time, you need to trust me."

"I…"

The sound of chinking armour, and running feet. Suddenly everything started happening very quickly. The guards rounded the corner, four of them. Because of what Ann said, about the danger— was Elsa's first thought, until one of the men roughly grabbed Ann, wrenching her arms behind her back.

"You didn't really think you'd get away with this, did you?" his colleague said.

For several seconds, Elsa just stared.

The man yanked Ann's arm harder than he needed to, and she winced. It spurred Elsa out of her confusion. She stepped forward. "What—" she asked, "do you think you're doing?"

The captain of the palace guards, differentiated by the flourishes on his uniform and the sour twist to his mouth, said, "No need to worry, your Highness. I assure you, she won't be bothering you again."

Despite the confusion, cold anger flooded Elsa. She demanded: "You will tell me what's going on this instant, Captain."

The Captain didn't even blink. "This girl is an impostor, your Highness. She's a thief, well-known to us. We believe she ingratiated herself with you in order to attain the Austenborg heirlooms."

"Elsa, don't listen to them." Ann strained from her captor's clutches. "It's not true!"

"You need to trust me."

Ann, in tears, telling her she loved her. The kisses in the dark. Feeling like she finally belonged. Was that all a lie?"

"I don't believe it," said Elsa. "There has to be some kind of misunderstanding."

"It's no misunderstanding." The voice was breathless, Ilia catching up behind it, flushed and breathing hard. For the first time, with several hairs out of place.

What did she have to do with this? The question was swallowed by the growing anxiety that crushed Elsa's chest.

Ann threw daggers at the woman as she approached her. "I'm afraid—" she said, dipping her fingers into Ann's apron, "—it's all true." Like a magician pulling pennies from behind a girl's ear, Ilia withdrew from Ann's apron a long string of pearls that belonged to Elsa's mother.

Seeing those pearls swinging in Ilia's hand, it wouldn't been more painful if Ann drove a knife and cut right through her heart.

She felt like an utter fool. Letting this girl get close to her like no one ever had. Letting her climb right into heart. Worse: giving her the key. She should have known what her instincts always told her: there was no such thing as intimacy in this world.

Only snow. Only ice.

Elsa didn't shout or scream at Ann. Her hands closed over her elbows to hold herself together, and she turned away.

"Elsa, they're lying to you," Ann begged her. "It's one of Ilia's illusions. Just a trick."

"And why would Ilia do something like that?" Elsa said, voice cold.

"There's no point listening to anything she says, Highness," said the Captain. "She's a conwoman. A born liar."

"Elsa, please."

Elsa gripped herself tighter, fingers digging into the soft flesh under her elbows. For once, she lost control of her powers, ice creeping and crackling into the material of her sleeves.

Dimly, she heard the Captain say, "Take her away and lock her up."

"You need to recognise me. Please, Elsa, I'm your sister!"

Her sister. Why did that sound familiar? With a click of the cogs in her mind, everything snapped into place. She forced her gaze back to the girl, taking in her features.

"I know you," she said, Ann's eyes widening. "You're that girl who broke into my room a few weeks ago. You were dressed like a guard. And you were spouting all this nonsense then, too. That you were my sister," Elsa scoffed. "Ridiculous. I don't have a sister."

She was startled to see that Ann— or whoever she was— was crying. Wasn't this taking the act too far?

Part of Elsa's dream returned to her, slicing through her mind like a ribbon of ice:

Tears hanging to her lashes like diamonds. Ann's wet cheeks.

"I guess… I guess I don't understand anything about what it means to be Queen." Breathy, self-deprecating laughter. "I don't really do anything after all. I'm just the screw up."

Where had that come from? Elsa shook her head, to clear the image of a dim landing, full of secrets and whispered, unheard words from her mind.

"Take her to the guardhouse and question her," she heard the Captain say.

"No!" Ann struggled as the guard attempted to lead her away, and through a lot of wriggling successfully managed to pull one of her arms free. "I'm not giving up on you, Elsa," she said.

Ice, spilling from her to crackle across Ann's skin. A helpless sob wrenching itself from Elsa's throat. "Please—" she begged.

But Ann continued to embrace her, despite the frost threading its way through her gown and up into her hair. "I won't let you go," she said.

Ann didn't get far. One of the other men grabbed her loose hand, and with a mouth so sour he looked like he was sucking on a lemon, the Captain backhanded Ann across the face. Smack! He hit her so hard it split her lip and incensed, she spat a glob of blood in his face.

"Impudent girl." Smack! He backhanded her other cheek.

The world faded to white.

The snowstorm hung, frozen. She cupped cold, lifeless cheeks. "No. No. Please, Anna, no."

Not Ann. The sound was different, and there was another syllable.

Ar-na.

Anna.

A pain like a migraine split down Elsa's skull. She didn't realise she'd crumpled to the ground until her knees hit hard earth.

"I want you to meet your little sister, Elsa. Her name's Anna."

So soft. A baby swaddled with blankets, pushed gently into her arms. She was so tiny and fragile looking she was afraid she' d drop her, but her father kept his arms cupped beneath hers.

"Can she play with me now?" she asked.

Her father's laughter. "When she's a little older, Elsa."

Elsa.

Elsa.

Who is Elsa?

Shards of memories full of sharp corners. Elsa's head hurts. She sees them, all at once: elocution lessons in her bedroom, with her stuffy old tutor prodding at her posture with her ruler. Geometry and arithmetic. A trip to the seaside one summer. Striped bathing suits, and burying Anna up to her neck in sand. Even months later, finding sand in her shoes. The private lessons with her father in his study, untangling the complicated tapestry of world politics. Above his desk is a painting of her papa in his crown, holding his regalia.

Her papa: the King of Arendelle.

And the latch clicks open. Wind and rain: everything rushes in.

Rise, Queen Elsa of Arendelle.

It's a torrent now: battering down with hail and snow. The gloves, and the end of those seaside trips. Her parents' deaths. Anna's knocks on her door, growing ever quieter. The fear. Oh God, the fear.

Collapsed on the ground, Queen Elsa stared at the frost leaking from her fingertips into the blades of grass, her head aching as though it had been cracked open. Where in the world am I?

She pushed herself up onto her feet, gazing in confusion at the unfamiliar hedge maze. This wasn't Arendelle.

"Elsa!"

She snapped round, to see Anna restrained by several men in uniform. Her hair wild. Her lip split.

The storm pulsed inside her.

Magic flowed through her and Elsa raised her hand, ice crackling in her voice, "Let go of my sister," she demanded.

Anna hiccoughed, tears running down her cheeks in relief.