A/N: Elsa raised by trolls.

Their horses tore up the mountain, following the trail of lights blazing in the sky. Their hooves thundered. The wind screamed. But over it all, Elsa heard her own hammering heartbeat.

She looked to her mother's horse, to her sister cradled in her mother's arms while the queen steered one-handed. She saw the streak of white hair, and the scene replayed itself in her mind

"Catch me!"

"Anna-!"

Elsa forced herself to look away and buried her face in her father's shoulder. Her hands fisted in his thick coat, arms wrapped around his waist. She pressed her eyes shut, but still she saw Anna falling, lying still, freezing. Elsa felt her heart pounding its way out of her chest. Guilt and anxiety and raw fear for her sister's life clawed its way through her, like it might tear her in half. She held tight—tighter—tighter—to her father as the horse raced on.

The Northern Lights faded, leaving the moon hanging heavy among the stars. A sturdy boulder watched the last of the light disappear. Unrolling, it stood on two feet, sighed, and scratched its grassy mane, puzzling the lights' sudden departure.

The wind sang softly to him. Something was amiss. He — the not-rock was a him — he scanned the valley below from his vantage point on the cliff. The ground was littered with his boulder kin, all of them looking out towards the fjord, panicking, freezing so they resembled nothing more than rocks and stones and boulders.

The rock-like man curled in on himself and began the long roll back to the valley. Under his skin, the ground trembled with the speed of two desperate horses. The earth hummed strange songs of ice and snow.

He rolled faster.

The sled was all but useless in the thick grass, but Sven pulled valiantly. Kristoff was sprawled on top of their hard-earned ice block. The cold didn't bother him. It was comforting. Familiar.

But mostly he and Sven were now low enough on the mountain that the summer night was really hot. The only relief was their precious ice. Kristoff squirmed, rolling over to hug the ice block. Sven stopped pulling with a loud bray.

Get off and help me push! Kristoff imagined him saying.

"You're a big reindeer now. You can do it." Kristoff made no effort to move from his cool perch. Sven huffed and rolled his eyes. With an expert flick of his hind legs, he bucked the sled just hard enough to send Kristoff sliding off the ice and sitting hard on the ground.

"Ow," Kristoff groaned. "Okay, okay," he finished with a half-grin at his friend's antics. "I'll get up."

A gentle rumbling made them both turn and look down the mountain. Something—no, two somethings were approaching fast. Two saddled horses flew past them, close enough that the sled bounced with the force of their hoofbeats. But before he could yell or think about the riders that nearly killed them, he saw the frost glistening on the grass.

"Ice?"

He and Sven looked at each other for one disbelieving second. They dropped sled and harness. Their cube of ice was long forgotten. Kristoff leaped onto the reindeer's back. Sven ran as fast as his little legs could carry them both.

"Faster, Sven!"

The ground sped under the rolling troll, his speed blurring the things the earth was telling him. He could tell the horses halted, two, maybe three riders dismounting. He felt the ground move as the entire valley of trolls revealed themselves and inspected the humans.

And still the wind sang with strange magic.

"The king!"

"It's the king!"

Their cries carried in the night air. Pabbie rolled himself into the center of the mass of trolls and presented himself before the Royal Family of Arendelle.

The Queen carried her youngest daughter in her arms. The girl was in a fitful sleep, a shock of white hair blazing in the moonlight. She pushed forward, but Pabbie's eyes fell to the older princess. The wind was screaming in his ears.

Only the natural magic of the valley kept the ground from freezing beneath his feet. He took the frightened girl's hand.

"Born with the powers or cursed?" The cold pounded in her veins, chilled his earthy hand.

"Born," he father replied, a protective hand on her shoulder. The queen could not bear waiting one second more and threw herself before the troll.

"Please," she begged. "Save her." It was not a question.

Pabbie stretched his hands over the girl till he felt the ice in her head. He pulled it from her, pulled the traces hiding in the corners of her memory. The icy ballroom morphed into a snowy hillside. Two girls in light nightgowns were suddenly wearing heavy coats. Pabbie rolled the altered memories back, placed a gentle hand on the girl's head, and the pain vanished from her face. She sighed, smiling faintly. The queen held her close, and the princess looked like she wanted to do the same.

"She will be alright," Pabbie reassured them all. The elder girl's brow was still creased with worry.

"But she won't remember I have powers?" The magic buffeted around inside her, like a raging storm, fierce and uncontrolled. Pabbie shook his head.

"It's for the best," the king promised, drawing his daughter close.

"Listen to me, Elsa." The king was not pleased the troll kept addressing his daughter directly. "Your power will only grow.

"There is beauty in your magic," Pabbie conjured the lights, drawing them into Elsa's likeness, Elsa forming a beautiful snowflake in the sky. "But also great danger. You must learn to control it."

Elsa's eyes widened at the sight, the snowflake dissolving into swirling red shapes, consuming her. She trembled, afraid. Pabbie cautioned, "Fear will be your enemy."

She buried her face in her father's shoulder.

"She can learn to control it. I'm sure of it." The king circled his arms around his family, drawing them to him. Away from the trolls.

Pabbie's round face creased with worry. "Yes. She can. But not with you."

The king tightened his hold. "What?" Pabbie drew a deep breath. Even the trolls had to pay due to the royal family of Arendelle, but he could not let the king destroy the country.

"You will shut her away. You will lock her in."

The king's eyes betrayed him. "Until she can control herself." His voice was steel. But Pabbie stood his ground, his footing sure and firm.

"That will not teach control. Practice. Acceptance. Knowledge of magic. These are the things she needs." Pabbie braced for the protests he was about to endure. "Your majesty, I recommend the princess stay with us."

Now the queen echoed, "What?"

"Impossible," the king replied. "She cannot. She is the heir."

"She will freeze the kingdom she is to inherit if you do not."

Parents looked at their children. Anna, sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms; Elsa, clutching her father's hand, but nodding at Pabbie's words.

"She won't," her mother replied, confidently, foolishly. Elsa looked at the sleeping child in her mother's arms.

"I don't want to hurt anyone ever again," Elsa said still looking at her sister. Turning to the trolls, she met Pabbie's deep eyes.

"I can teach you," he nodded. "But you must stay here."

"Will I ever see them again?" she whispered, her grip tightening, still holding the king's hand.

"Of course!" He huffed. Apparently rumors of trolls kidnapping princesses had not entirely disappeared over the centuries. Elsa was not reassured by his annoyance. Pabbie cleared his throat, regaining his composure. "You will return home as soon as you can. Your parents may come and go as they are able until then."

"Just my parents?" Pabbie followed Elsa's gaze to her sleeping sister.

"Yes."

All eyes were on Elsa. The king barely held back his protests. The queen was resigned. Her child lay heavy in her arms. She knew what choice her daughter would make.

They all stared at her, but Pabbie's eyes caught hers and held fast. It was like looking into the ocean, into the spaces between the stars, black and vast and endless. Elsa pulled out of her father's tight grasp. The night air was warm and thick, and somewhere in the back of her mind she registered how rare that warmth was.

Her father whispered her name—Elsa?—as she took a trembling step towards the wizened troll. Her mother said nothing, but Elsa could feel her eyes on her back, loving but distant, struggling to accept her daughter's choice.

"I will stay."

The riders had dismounted and were standing in the middle of a stone circle when Kristoff and Sven slid behind a boulder to watch. The ice had disappeared. The father called to the boulders around him, and suddenly they started to move. Kristoff and Sven peered father out when their rock began to shake.

Kristoff tried to spring away, but suddenly the rock was a person—well not a people-person but a… rock-person… no, a troll! The troll grabbed him and Sven around the neck. Kristoff vaguely recalled stories of trolls living deep in the mountains, but never imagined them looking like this.

"Cuties! I'm gonna keep you!" she beamed.

His first thought was Um, no. We're a couple of kids and you're a random troll. Don't you teach your troll kids not to talk to strangers?

And then she held onto them, her strong rocky arms surprisingly warm and gentle. And he thought this isn't so bad. When was the last time someone had cared whether he stayed or left, huh? The ice harvesters tolerated him – but they didn't care. If he and Sven didn't show up at their camp tonight, no one would come looking for him. No one would lose sleep. No one would likely even notice.

He watched the royal family – he'd never seen them before, but one, the troll lady was whispering narration to them, and two, anyone with eyes could see 'regal' in every inch of them; the man with his stern face and medaled jacket; The woman's crown and tightly pinned hair; the little girl with her perfect posture and powder-blue nightdress – and then the mother shifted and he saw the last figure, a smaller girl, covered with a blanket, eyes closed and face scrunched in pain. The troll next to him ceased her narration of the history of the Arendellian crown with a small gasp.

There was no doubt they were the royal family. But in this moment they were not king and queen and princesses, but parents and sisters, helpless and scared. The mother knelt, pleading for her daughter. Pabbie waved his hands over the little girl. There was a blue spark of magic, a flash of memories, and then Pabbie's hands were resting on her head and she relaxed and slept peacefully. Kristoff exhaled sharply, relieved. He didn't even notice he'd been holding his breath.

Pabbie painted blue lights in the air, a woman throwing snow – was it supposed to be the little girl in the blue dress? Kristoff watched her clutch her father's coat as the lights turned red and attacked the image of her. The troll-lady murmured something indistinct as her brow furrowed. Her eyes flicked down to Kristoff, and he hastily pointed himself at Pabbie and the royals, who were now having some kind of discussion.

Sven snorted and shook his head. Can we go now? This is boring, Kristoff imagined him saying. The troll shushed him. Sven stuck his head out, sending pleading eyes at Kristoff, who only shrugged back at him. Sorry, buddy. I think we're stuck here. Sven huffed.

Raised voices interrupted them. There was an argument in progress. The older girl was halfway between the King and the old troll. The king and troll traded shouts in a verbal tug-of-war for the girl's future. But she stood firm and accepted the troll's extended hand.

There were teary goodbyes. The woman knelt down, and the older girl wrapped her arms around her mother and sister. The king touched their shoulders. The queen pulled back, whispering to her daughter, who nodded, once, twice, continuously, like she didn't trust herself to just say the words yes, yes, I love you too. They stood. Pabbie spoke to them, the king barked a curt reply.

Kristoff wondered what they were saying. He felt strangely attached to the situation. The king and queen were mounting their horses. The girl stood in the grass, watching them. She shivered in the moonlight. Her shadow was long and black as the night, and it shivered with her, her only companion. He stared in awe at the princess with the power to create ice. She was alone, just like him.

Pabbie was motioning to the crowd of trolls in the rocky circle. One by one, they curled up and rolled out of sight, off to other parts of the valley. Soon there was no one left watching the princess but Pabbie, and their unseen group at the edge of the forest. Kristoff cast a sidelong glance at Sven and their new guardian.

Maybe not alone.

A chill wind whistled through the valley.

Elsa watched her father lift Anna onto the horse. Her mother wrapped one protective arm around her daughter and tugged the reins with a practiced hand. Elsa wanted to run to them.

She wanted to say goodbye to Anna.

She wanted to cry.

Elsa did none of these things. Her parents waved, all their goodbyes spent. It wasn't goodbye forever. But something had changed in all of them that night. Suddenly life was very serious and dangerous. A great pressure settled over her - of an entire kingdom; her mother and father; Anna – and she couldn't tell which was the worst.

The hoofbeats faded into the humid air. The trolls, prodded by Pabbie, had rolled away to give her privacy. All but the elder were gone, scattered about the valley, back to their nightly routine. Pabbie settled into the ground just out of earshot, but in plain sight. He seemed to be intently studying a patch of ferns.

Elsa wrapped her arms around herself. The night was warm, but she barely felt it anymore. Dew sparkled on the grass at her feet. With a shudder, she realized she'd frozen it. She looked anywhere that wasn't the frost clinging to her shoes, and finally settled on the clearing sky. The lights had been there only an hour before. She and Anna had been asleep and safe and happy and together an hour before. But Anna made her think of how everything had gone so very wrong, so she stared at the stars and willed herself not to think anything at all.

Pabbie glanced back at his new charge. He felt her magic through the ground, veins of ice threading through the solid earth. There was great power in her. Pabbie knew this was the right path, to take her in and teach her, but still he worried. With a sigh, he sunk into the ground until she was ready to talk to him again.

Everyone else had dispersed and gone about their nightly business, so a sneaking figure near the edge of the forest caught his eyes. Quietly, Pabbie rolled towards it. The earth said nothing suspicious, no traces of magic to be found. He was less worried and more just curious when he righted himself in front of the figure.

The three figures.

Pabbie sighed. "Bulda."

The troll froze mid-step, arms askew, hiding her newfound human and reindeer children behind her. "Yes?" she asked, nonchalant, as if her strange posing to cover the awkward shapes behind her was completely normal.

"We can't take in human children."

"Excuse me?" She nodded at Elsa, still hovering on the edges of the circle, watching the trail of her parents' horses.

"That—she has magic. She is different."

"Mm-hmm," Bulda crossed her arms. Kristoff and Sven stared sheepishly at Pabbie. Bulda jumped and tried to throw her hands back up to cover them.

"Bulda. I can see them," Pabbie deadpanned. She signed, dropping her hands and any pretense of hiding them, and now pushed them forward with what she hoped was an appropriately tragic and sympathetic expression. Pabbie looked to the princess, alone and fragile in the moonlight.

"They're the same age," Bulda encouraged. The elder troll cast a wary eye at Kristoff. Somehow he did not think the king would like this boy living with his daughter. Though after the way the king had spoken, Pabbie did not much care what the king would like. The boy fidgeted, trying to decide the most presentable way to hold himself. He pulled his arms to his sides, then clasped them together, then tucked them behind his back, all the while trying to look innocent and helpless. The reindeer shook its head.

I'll regret this someday.

"Be careful. I do not know what magic the princess holds. I leave you responsible for him, Bulda."

Sven snorted indignantly.

"For them," Pabbie corrected.