I pull the needle out of my pocket

Gothel's eyes alight with fire when she sees the needle. Her head wobbles as she lifts it. "You did it. Thank-" A cough cuts off the rest of her words.

"Do you want water or something?" I look around the tiny, dank tower. "How can I help you?"

Tears run down her dirty cheeks. "You have already done so much! You found my needle. You are a dear, sweet girl." Her trembling hand presses against my cheek.

Tears spring into my own eyes. It has been years since I have felt a mother's touch. I cannot ask her to take away my powers now. Not when she is lying on her death bed.

"Why the tears?" Gothel falls back onto her pillow. Her gray hair tangles around her shoulders.

I sniff. "You're dying. And I can't help you." I think of the battle below us. They are all dying and I can't help anyone. My last chance at hope will die with this woman.

"Don't cry for me." She gently separates my fingers and takes her needle. "Could you please-?" She wheezes. Her entire malnourished frame shakes. "-take me to my spinning wheel?"

I smooth the blankets over her. "No, you can't sew now. You need to rest."

"No, but I have to. My needle. I have to-" Her face crumbles as she sobs.

"If you are sure?"

She nods. "Yes."

I sigh and help her sit up. "Do you want me to carry you?"

Her head dips down slightly, as if speaking pains her too much.

I slip my arm around her shoulder and place the other underneath her knees. I stand with Gothel in my arms.

She weighs as little as a child. Her skeletal legs hang limply under her patched and faded dress.

Sadness twists my heart. Who is this miserable, forgotten woman? Why does she need her needle so badly?

Questions swirl inside my mind. But for now I ignore them.

I gently set her on the chair next to her spinning wheel. She squeezes my hand weakly. With shaking hands she slips her special needle into the spindle of her spinning wheel.

"You came here...why?" Gothel exhales slowly, struggling with every word.

"Why did I come here?" I kneel beside her. "Well, I-I thought that you could help me."

"Help...you?" Her eyes stare unseeingly at the spinning wheel in front of her. She lays a trembling hand on the scratched wood. "How?"

"Uh..." I twist my gloved hands together. "Last time I visited, uh, you said that you could fix me. That you could-with the help of your special needle-take away my powers."

Gothel sways slightly. "I can."

"You can?" Hope bursts inside me. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" I cry. I throw my arms around her, forgetting to be gentle.

I pull away. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No." A faint smile ghosts across her face. "But first, you must-" Her finger brushes against my glove.

I gape at her. "No, I can't. This helps me not to lose control. I don't want to risk hurting you."

"You won't...hurt me." She nods. "Please. I can't-help you if..."

"If I don't take them off?" I exhale deeply. "All right." I slowly, carefully pull off my right glove. My bare hand trembles in my lap. I force my shaking fingers to slip off my other glove. "There." I hold out my hands. "Now what?"

"It won't hurt." She breathes. She whispers something under her breath and passes her hand over the needle twice.

My eyes widen. "Wait-you want me to prick my finger?"

She nods.

"But why? What is your needle going to do? How will this help me?" I hide my hands behind me. How do I know that I can trust her? She never told me how she knew that I was a queen.

"Only way." Gothel lifts her thin shoulders.

This is the only way to save my sister. To save my kingdom. To stop the prophecy from coming true.

I refuse to be the Snow Queen.

"All right." I stand. I lift my hand-my bare, trembling hand. My finger hovers above the needle's wicked, gleaming point.

After this moment, there will be no going back. Everything will change. Do I really want to lose my power?

No.

Ice has always been a part of me. But it is a small sacrifice if I am able to save my kingdom and my sister and stop the storm raging inside me.

"Elsa, no!" Jack throws the door open.

But it is too late. He's too late.

"I'm sorry." I whisper.

I press the tip of my finger against the sharp point of the needle. It sinks into flesh. Blood darkens the needle.

I fall backwards. Strength drains from my body as my power leaves me.

She lied. Gothel lied.

It does hurt.