For the first few months, it was everything Freja could have wished for, asked for. She spent most of her days engrossed in learning about human culture and reading their recorded words in the castle library. Evenings were spent with her prince, and in all her joy and as the wedding planning began to commence, there never seemed to be time to sit Randolf down for a conversation about her origins.

It wasn't until a few weeks before the wedding, as the kingdom began to make preparations for their new queen-to-be that the paradise Freja lived in began to crumble. It began slowly, a night or two with debilitating headaches, sensitivity to sunlight and an unusual moodiness. By the next week, the headaches kept her mostly secluded to her room with the curtains drawn. A concerned Randolf was allowed admittance once, and then as her condition worsened, only a handmaiden was allowed in to relay wedding planning and take medicine to Freja.

What no one could know, was the changes Freja was suffering behind her locked door— the dangerous process of going through withdrawal of the powers that had sustained her all of her life. The pain and sickness was warping her fragile body into something, someone else. It was a secret that would not last for long.

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

Elsa's eyelashes fluttered against wet cheeks, and as she became aware of her own body and reality, something bright pulsed against her eyelids, she was wrapped in something warm-- rough cloth muffling her mouth. She pushed back weakly, gasping for fresh air against the pain and fear that had enveloped her within the world of the diary.

"I'm so sorry." Warm breath tickled her ear and she forced her eyes open, realizing the warmth around her belonged to a person.

The bright light around her were refracting ice crystals. The bed she had woken up on in the monastery was now a glistening frozen block. Cold hung in the air, puffs of warmth exhaled in front of her from Francis, the young monk whose arms were holding her up.

"Wha—"her voice was cracked, dry... the effort to form a sentence through her fuzzy mind proved too difficult.

"I'm so sorry, your majesty; I should have pulled you out sooner... I didn't realize how much it would affect you. I never would have subjected you to that if I had known--"

"There is so much..." Elsa trembled with the overwhelming emotions that didn't belong to her. "Pain, fear... what—"

"Please don't push yourself, milady." Francis pulled her into his shoulder. "You need to rest. Just calm your thoughts. Let it go."

"I-I'm sorry about the bed; I can replace that..." she leaned weakly against the monk, unable to even lift her head.

Did she really want to know anything more about that poor girl? All the effort to answer questions only lead to more questions... would she ever get a straight answer? Maybe there was no cure, nothing she could do to rid her family of the curse, after all...

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

As the young queen's breathing evened and deepened, Francis could feel her relax in his arms and the ice surrounding them began to recede. He prayed she would fall deeply asleep quickly, despite the fluttering pace of his heart in her ear. Without thought, he had leapt forward to catch her as she collapsed when Freja's pain came through the magical link of the diary, and now the awkwardness of their frozen position was too obvious for comfort.

As soon as he could move his legs numbed by the cold, he pulled her off the soggy mattress and carried her over to Master Belgr's chair. He quickly rekindled the fire and pulled a musty blanket from the closet to wrap up in. He plopped down in front of the fireplace, his back to the warmth. In his rush of concern, he hadn't realized how cold it had gotten—and his cloak was soaked. Still, he leaned on his knee, watching the light dance across her pale, calm features, he couldn't help but wonder—

"Francis, my boy." Grand Master Abbot Belgr swooped into the room with the Abbey physician. "How fares the queen? Are you hurt?"

Francis snapped to attention, but his legs did not cooperate with the 'get up!' command, so he toppled helplessly on his side.

"Shhh!" he hissed. "She's asleep!"

"Aaaahhh—"Master Belgr examined her sleeping form, checking the pulse in her wrist. "It was too much for her, then. I was afraid of that."

The physician kneeled to check Francis. He felt his temperature and then pulled up his robe just enough to properly examine his ankles.

"Frostbite." The physician clucked, pulling Francis upright. "Sit here, I'll go fetch what I need."

"What about the queen—"

"She's fine." Master Belgr smiled. "She's fast asleep, but she's fine."

"Thank goodness." Francis sank against the mantle.

"Still." Master Belgr waited until the physician left the room. "I am surprised by her reaction to the same flow of magic that binds her curse."

"It was different." Francis shut his eyes, taking a moment to breathe and calm his own thoughts. "Carrying her into the fairy-script dream illusion made it so much different than last time."

"Different?" he could almost hear the Abbot's brow furrow. "Different, how?"

"It was like..." Francis remember the sensation, through the cold, of her fragile frame leaning on his. Under all that cold, under all that power, there was a warm, frightened girl in pain. It was that which had driven him to be so inappropriate and hold her... just to give some comfort, however small. "She resonated with... no, it was like she became Freja. The emotions, everything was more intense, as if it was happening to her; not just being observed."

"She... became Freja?"

"There was little discernable difference between her conscience and Freja." Francis frowned, opening his eyes. "Is that... normal?"

"No." Master Belgr's expression was tight with concern. "No, my dear Francis. I have never heard of such a thing."

Francis watched Elsa sleep for a moment. "Yet, she's so different... she's nothing like Freja; how could she feel her emotions so acutely?"

"I wonder..." Master Belgr muttered as he began to thumb through the books on his shelf. "Is this a design in Alva's script?"

"It was written to make her sympathize with Freja?"

"No—empathize with Freja." Master Belgr tapped his chin thoughtfully. "It's like, Alva wanted someone, some specific person, to understand her daughter... but why?"

Francis was mesmerized by the glow of the fire turning Elsa's pale hair into spun gold. "Master... I never got much further than this in the diary—I worry for her majesty if we were to try to go back in.... you sad the tale is terribly sad. How does it end?"

"You are right to be afraid for her." Master Abbot Belgr pulled an old healing book from the shelf. "However, if she is determined to break the curse, she must be able to endure it. You cannot protect her from her own will, Francis. She will need someone trustworthy to help her through. Are you up for the challenge, or should I guide her the rest of the way?"

Francis glanced to his mentor, chewing his lip. "I want to see it through to the end, Master."

"Very good, then." Master Belgr smiled gently. "You've done well so far, my boy. The young queen could not ask for a better guide."

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

Anna paced through the palace courtyard. She was running out of time; and lying had never, ever been her strong suit...

"Anna!" Olaf skirted through the cypress border, his snow cloud struggling to keep up with him.

"Olaf!" Anna hissed. "What are you doing out here? You're supposed to keep out of si—"

"Kristoff's back!" Olaf skidded to a stop in front of her, giddy as always.

"Kristoff's back?!" she glanced around. "Where is he; did he find Elsa?"

"I'm not supposed to say anything, just come and get you." Olaf gently pulled her hand. "C'mon, he's in the stables!"

"Let's go!" Anna wound up pulling the adorable snowman along as she began a ferverent run.

All she could hope was that he had found Elsa, and she was all right... but why the secrecy? Why the stables—nothing to worry about, he must have a good reason, she'd just have to see what was going on.

She rounded the corner to see Sven peering into the far stall.

"Sven!"

The reindeer glanced her way and gave some happy barks, prancing around as she approached.

"Easy, easy!" Anna laughed, rubbing his muzzle. "I'm happy to see you too! Where's Kristoff—where's Elsa?"

"I couldn't find her." The sound of his voice was tired, and Anna noticed the layered dust from two days of hard riding as Kristoff meandered out from the corner of the stall.

"Kristoff—"Anna rushed to him, eager to help, but he held his hand out to her, collapsing into the fresh hay with a sigh of utter exhaustion.

"Oh—Oh..." Anna knelt beside him, unsure of what to say.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you. I really did try."

Anna winced. "No, thank you Kristoff... it's all a mess. I'm so grateful you went to look for her, but I guess it can't be helped..."

"I did find something out there." He took a swig out of his canteen. "I thought you would want to see.... I'm not quite sure what to make of it myself."

A low groan travelled up from the stall. Kristoff pushed off the ground and Anna followed him into the darkness of the stable, curious. Something moved in the hay when Kristoff got near, and he bent down, offering his canteen. A pair of tan, polished yet dirty feet poked out of the pile of hay and she could barely hear a deep, murmuring voice from where Kristoff knelt. Had he brought home a vagabond—

"Oh." The voice was a bit clearer, and Kristoff motioned her forward. "Thank you, kind stranger."

"I brought someone to see you." Kristoff shifted so she could see the man on the floor.

She gasped in horror and shock as Prince Stig Rusul Sala weakly smiled up at her from the hay bale, his face flushed and bruised... and most certainly as dirty and disheveled as he was nude.

"Pardon my appearance;" the same voice that had raked her nerves only an hour ago now seemed gentler, smoother, despite its parched tone. "I am Prince—"

Anna quickly knelt, taking the canteen from Kristoff and helping the poor man drink. "Shush, it's all right. I know who you are. Rest up sir, I'll fetch a doctor immediately."

Prince Stig drank greedily and then gasped for air. "Thank you madam. Your hospitality warms my heart."

"I'm Princess Anna. We'll take good care of you."

Exhausted, his head fell back and his weary eyes closed. Anna stared at him with utter terrified amazement until his breathing slowed to almost nonexistent.

"He's asleep.... We need to get the doctor." Kristoff whispered.

"Yes—where did you find him?!"

"On the East road, this morning. He was half dead under a bush. I think someone robbed him, best I can figure. He's feverish and that's the most lucid I've seen him since I found him."

"This morning.... That's impossible—"Anna blinked slowly. If this was really Prince Stig...Then who was in the palace?!