Prince Randolf found Freja in the palace gardens at midnight. She had taken great care in picking out a gown and a cloak that would properly hide herself from her love until she could explain... how could she?

"I-I'm glad you got my message." She forced a smile, though he could not see it.

"My darling, what is wrong?" concern laced every word. "I haven't seen you in weeks, have you changed your mind about marrying me? Do you no longer love me, dear heart?"

"N-No!" she cried. "Never... but I have been ill... and I fear this illness will make you change your mind about marrying me. In truth, this is why I haven't seen you—I.... I couldn't bear your rejection."

She took a seat on the nearby bench. "I put it off too long; I was too happy to find time tell you... but now I must, and exasperated by my condition... oh, Randolf! I'm so scared!"

"You have nothing to fear." Randolf took her gloved hand. "Tell me what's wrong; we'll work through it together."

She sniffed, trying to hold back the tears and calm herself. "I... I was abandoned as a baby... I was raised by the fae, their court lies within the forest where we met, my love. It was my dearest wish that my mother, Alva, would bless our marriage and everything would have been revealed then; but she did not, and we eloped... I thought little of it, but now—"

"Wait." He frowned. "You were raised by the fae?"

"Yes, the Queen of Summer, Alva, is my mother. Do you know of her my darling?"

"Dear God." Randolf's hand slipped from hers. "Would that you have told me sooner... my father has explicitly outlawed magic and there is such a strong prejudice against sorcerers..."

"I am no sorceress!" Freja protested. "I know no spells, I had not yet started my training in fae magic—I'm a human girl, Randolf. Like any other..."

"How can you be?" he stood. "Raised by fairies... how can you be a normal human girl like any other? Do you not know how their magic twists nature? My dear heart, this is difficult to accept. Why would you keep this secret from me?"

"I did not mean to keep it secret!" Freja felt hurt by his turn of mood. "Why do you turn from me and talk to me as though I have committed some crime?! I had no control over what happened to me as an infant—why should that matter when we love each other. I apologized for not telling you sooner—"

"What is this illness that afflicts you, then? Is it something magical?"

She bit her lip. For the first time in her life she was tempted to lie, her fears of losing Randolf seemed so real, worse than her nightmares the past few weeks. If she said no, would this be overlooked, or would he hate her for lying? It was such a strange, unnatural thought to lie to him, but something inside was shrieking not to tell him about the sickness, even if it meant her death.

"Freja, my love." He once again sat next to her on the bench. "I do not fault you for circumstances beyond your control. Believe in me, please. Tell me the truth. The illness that has kept you from me—is it because of the fae? Can my doctor help you?"

"I..." the tears began to fall, her resolve crumbling. "I don't know! I don't know what's wrong with me... I long for the forest, so... oh, Randolf... I hardly recognize myself in the mirror, and I can hardly breathe... the air around the castle is so thick... sometimes I feel like everyone in it is whispering at once and my head begins to ache... then it hurts so bad, like someone is hammering a nail into my temples--I can't take it anymore! Please, please, my love, help me!"

"Take off your cloak, dear heart; let me see how bad it is."

"N-No." She sniffed, trying to vainly wipe away the tears. "That's something I cannot do. My reflection frightens me so... I don't think you could bear to look at me. Please, have the doctor examine me. If he can fix me, then we can marry and put this whole sickness at our backs."

Randolf was silent for a few moments. Scared, she looked up at him, doing her best to still keep her face hidden in the shadow of her cowl. She saw it, for only an instant before his face broke into a reassuring smile, but it sent a shiver of cold down her spine. The hard look of his eyes, a calculating, pensive expression... one that she should have never glimpsed on the face of her beloved.

"You need your rest, my darling. I will send my best physician first thing in the morning to examine you. I'm sure he'll be able to heal you and we'll be married in a fortnight."

A lie.

"Meanwhile, I will talk to my father—"

No, you said he hates anything to do with magic!

"—and let him know we're postponing our nuptials until you are better."

"Will..." her mouth was suddenly dry. "Will he still bless our marriage when he knows who I am, where I come from?"

"You shouldn't concern yourself with such things, my love. I'll take care of everything with my father. Please, take care of yourself so you can be well again."

He stood and bowed. "I will visit you for luncheon after your exam tomorrow. "Good night, Freja."

She sat in stunned silence as he walked away. Not even a kiss on the hand as a farewell...

Something dark and foreboding twisted in her chest, some inkling of what was to come stirred in her brain, but not yet coherent enough of a thought to make a difference.

-----------------

Elsa gasped for air, her chest clenched painfully. It felt like someone had reached into her rib cage and was squeezing her heart.

"Your majesty!" Francis reached for her, but she slapped his hand away.

"I'm fine." She croaked, clutching her chest.

"That's enough for now." Grand Master Abbot Belgr observed. "It's time for lunch in the kitchens. We can take an hour."

Elsa nodded as the pain began to fade enough to catch her breath. She had only felt heart break that deep once, when she thought Anna dead, and she had absolutely no desire to feel it again, especially vicariously. If this Prince Randolf rejected Freja... something told her that's exactly how it would play out, but it still left the mystery of the curse and how it was related to the diary. Master Belgr had been forthright that the curse was not fae magic, so it couldn't be some retaliation from Alva... but then why was this all magically recorded inside of a book by her?

With a frustrated sigh, she stood up. Which was a motion she immediately regretted when the world slanted and grew dark.

"Milady?" Francis caught her, and this time she didn't deny his help, but slumped against him gratefully.

"I'm sorry, I stood up too quickly."

"Just take a moment to let your body fully recover." He held her loosely.

"You must have a sorted opinion of me." She laughed humorlessly.

"Hmm?"

"I mean, I'm always falling all over the place. I must seem very weak to you."

"I... I think quite the opposite of you, your highness. You're strong and determined, if not very familiar or used to withstanding deep magic. I find you courageous, and I'm honored to offer my strength to you... if there is something weak in you, it's that you don't let anyone help—"

She started to laugh. A deep, cleansing laugh. In two days, this monk understood more about her than anyone, and he said so, so earnestly. All she could do was laugh.

"Did I say something funny?" he blinked, confused.

"No, no... I'm sorry." She gently pushed him away. "You said that so honestly, I just—it's kind of a relief. Thank you."

"You're welcome?"

"Let's go to lunch." She offered her arm. "Care to escort me down the stairs?"

"Uh... sure—I mean, yes Your Majesty!"

"Elsa." She smiled. "You can just call me Elsa, Francis."

A blush heated his cheeks as he took her arm and led her down the stairs.

"Ah, youth." Master Belgr sniffed, placing the leather journal back on the shelf.

------------------------

Kristoff urged Sven onward. "Faster, Sven!"

They had made good time, only stopping for a couple hours during the night. The sun was almost at its highest and they'd just crossed the foothills. The reindeer was doing his best, pulling the small cart with two people. Kristoff glanced at the wrapped cocoon of a prince in the back. Damn, but he looked pale. He'd have a hard time forgiving himself if the man died in his care.

This whole thing stank, and he couldn't put his finger on what it was, exactly that bothered him the most. Was it that they had no idea why someone would masquerade as Prince Stick, or if that was the real one and he was trying to save an imposter, or that Elsa just ran off willy-nilly whenever she wanted-- or —that he had left Anna alone with a suspicious man who may be hatching a nefarious plot... probably the last one. Grandpoppy would know what to do... Kristoff firmly believed that his family knew more about humans than humans did sometimes.

They crested the first ridge, and Kristoff could barely make out a dark geometric shade on the side of the next mountain over.

"Almost here!" he cried with relief.

Sven snorted in tired agreement.

------------------

Elsa laid on the bed on Master Belgr's orders, and he placed his hands on Francis' shoulders. Francis glanced at the book in his lap, then gazed into the turquoise depths of the queen's eyes. He chewed his lip. If Master Belgr was acting as a stabilizer—this dive was going to be really, really rough. He had little concern for himself, but the pain the queen—Elsa, felt at every turn, it hurt him to watch her struggle.

Some part of him realized he was over-concerned for her well-being, but he couldn't seem to help himself when she was near. He wanted to touch her, comfort her, and keep her safe. He almost protested going in again, but she laid her hand across his resting on the diary.

"I'm ready." She said resolutely, her eyes not wavering from his.

"Are... Are you sure?"

Her fingers gently squeezed his, and his heart leapt. With his free hand, he pulled the book open, clearing his mind in preparation to read the letters beginning to form.

"Wait—"She said. He glanced up to meet her eyes again. "This time, don't pull me out. No matter what happens. I'm ready to finish it."

A gentle squeeze on his shoulder from Master Belgr was both comforting and discouraged him from protesting.

"Let's begin." He swallowed, gently squeezing her hand in return. This deep feeling that begun after her arrival, so different than what the diary showed him—yet he was beginning to recognize the similarities, and it scared him almost as much as the thought of losing her to the ghost of Freja.