Author's Note: I have not vanished from the face of the earth, I promise. And I've corrected the typos from when I first posted this, because I obviously needed to go to bed when I finished the proofreading.

Cover Art for the story is from the LexaRecovery tumblr. Stay strong together.

I do not own the television show "The 100" or make any claims upon it or its characters. Similarly, I do not own Frozen, its characters or any Disney characters or property. All these characters are used under the concept of Fair Use, and I make no profit or income from using any of them.

Our Fight Is Not Over

by Jo K.

Chapter 18: Intimate Betrayal

The world is full of compromise and infinite red tape

But the music's got the magic, it's your one chance for escape

Turn me on, turn me up, it's your turn to dream

A little magic power makes it better than it seems

-Triumph, "Magic Power"

—O—

—O—

It was somewhere between Polis, where the majority of the Coalition forces were resting and recovering after the battle with Nia, and Arkadia that Clarke noticed something was wrong with Harper. The two days of rain during their return from the valley battlefield to Polis had been unpleasant for everyone, but Harper seemed to have been hit harder than anyone else.

When she had first noticed that Harper and Monroe had started doubling on one of the larger horses again, Clarke didn't think much of it. The two of them had done it several times before, and both Harper and Monroe were petite enough for it not to be an undue burden on a good horse.

When Harper nearly fell off the horse, though, causing Monroe to nearly lose control while trying to hold onto the blonde while taking control of the horse, that was a clear sign that something was seriously wrong.

"WANHEDA!"

At hearing the cry coming from farther back in the convoy, Clarke and Lexa both stopped and moved their horses to the side, allowing the rest of the Coalition forces to continue on a steady pace to Arkadia. As they watched, one of the mounted Coalition warriors, this one from the River Clan, rode toward them at a full gallop, panic on his face.

"What is it, Aris?" asked Lexa as the rider approached.

"Jusdonosir!" he gasped out. "She is worse! Much worse!"

"Shit," Clarke swore softly as she nudged her horse into motion, Lexa behind her.

Less than a minute later Clarke reined her horse to a stop, sliding out of her saddle and swinging down onto her feet. Monroe awkwardly sat on a grassy rise off to the side of the dirt-packed road, holding Harper in her lap.

Clarke dropped to her knee beside them. This close, she could see the sweat glistening on Harper's forehead and neck, despite the coolness of the early evening. She reached out with her left hand and pressed the back of her middle finger to Harper's forehead. "She's burning up," Clarke said softly.

"I'm fine," Harper mumbled. "Jus' need... back to home. Rest... there."

"She started coughing last night," Monroe said, her face uncomfortably close to the edge of panic. "And she's gotten worse all day. She didn't want me to tell anyone because she just wanted to get back to our tent."

"Stop being so goddamn stubborn," Clarke softly swore at Harper, getting the other blonde to weakly open her eyes wide at the comment.

"Coming from you... tha' means a lot," Harper feebly retorted, making both Monroe and Clarke smile slightly despite the situation.

"Fair enough," Clarke admitted. For a moment she debated turning around to see if Lexa was amused by Harper's reply, but Clarke was able to resist the temptation. Catching their Heda in a smirk might not be good for her reputation. "You're pale as a ghost, Harper."

"Kind of felt like shit for the last two days," the other blonde admitted, speech getting slightly better with use. "Got cold... during the rain, right after we left. Haven't been able to warm up since, despite my babe cuddling with me."

"We're putting you two on a wagon," Clarke said, looking up at the warrior Aris. "They'll need dry clothes and a few blankets. And a change of clothes for Jusdonosir, because she'll probably sweat through whatever she's wearing in a few hours."

"I can make it on a horse as long as Zoe helps me," Harper said, trying to raise her voice but without success.

"No, Harp, you can't," Monroe replied, using her right hand to gently comb Harper's hair back from where it had fallen over her forehead and face. "You almost pulled me off with you when you blacked out a minute ago."

"Short but sexy," Harper said, weakly but lovingly. "Stronger than you look. Love it when you hold me."

"Well, she can hold you in the back of the damn wagon," Clarke said firmly. "No arguing, even if you're a goddess."

Harper opened her mouth to continue to argument, but a series of hacking coughs forestalled any words. After several painfully congested coughs, she turned to the side and spit up a large chunk of yellow-green phlegm onto the damp grass, a streak of red blood visible in the sticky glob.

Clarke looked at it for a second. "Turn her, Monroe, so I can get to her back." When the redhead complied, Clarke leaned over and pressed her right ear to the right side of Harper's back, where she listened for a few seconds, then to the left. She then moved her head lower and repeated the process, this time left first, which caused Harper to shout and reflexively jerk away from the pressure on her ribs, followed by the right. "She's got crackles in both lung bases," the blonde as she leaned back to a seated position. "Definitely pneumonia, and likely broken ribs too. FUCK!"

"We're almost back to Arkadia," Harper said, trying to channel her strength. "Your mom's got stuff you don't have out here."

"Yeah, that's true," Clarke admitted. "But you're riding in a wagon, out of the rain and the cold."

"Not arguing there," Harper managed to get out before she was overtaken by a sudden and vicious shivering that shook her entire body for a full second and reignited a searing pain in her left side, leaving her clutching weakly at her left side and in obvious discomfort.

Together Clarke and Monroe got Harper to her feet, then they guided her to the nearest wagon. Several Coalition warriors were already at work moving supplies around and layering blankets on the wooden floor of the wagon. More blankets were used to create a pillow, then to cover Harper after Clarke and Monroe managed to position her on the makeshift bed.

"Stay with her," Clarke said, softening her voice as she looked at the normally fierce redhead and seeing dread on the shorter woman's visage. "She'll be okay."

Monroe's face shifted into a frown. "Don't lie to me," she whispered sharply at Clarke, the sudden venom catching Clarke off-guard.

Clarke held the shorter redhead's angry glare for several seconds of internal consideration. "Mom stands a better chance of saving her there than I do here." Clarke said truthfully.

Monroe's green eyes danced around for a few seconds as she stared into Clarke's eyes. Her angry expression then shattered, revealing utter despondency on her face. "She's my life," Monroe whispered painfully. "Just... be honest with me, Clarke. No matter what. Give me that."

Clarke felt her own eyes begin to burn with watery emotion. She nodded. "I... I can do that. You deserve that. You both deserve that."

Monroe nodded once, then she turned and crawled into the wagon with Harper. She peeled off her wet jacket and set it to the side before she slid next to Harper, carefully laying her left arm over her lover's rapidly rising and falling chest.

Clarke closed her eyes and took a moment to compose herself before she turned and walked away from the wagon, dismissing the Coalition warriors with a nod.

"How bad is she?" asked Lexa as Clarke remounted her horse. The brunette had remained quiet and atop her horse through the whole scene, but her hearing was outstanding.

"She's pretty sick. Pneumonia hits hard and fast, even young people, but still..."

The clip-clop of hooves drew their attention. Anna and Elsa were guiding their matching shimmering ice steeds toward them.

"What's wrong?" asked Anna.

"Harper's really sick," replied Clarke. "Pneumonia."

"Will she make it back to your city?" asked Elsa, her face turning more pale than usual. "Do you have anything that can help her there?"

"I'll have Lincoln make an herbal medicine for her. Hopefully that'll help at least a bit until Mom can do something. We've not been able to make any new antibiotics since the Ark came down; that equipment was damaged beyond what we can repair. Maybe she still has a few doses of antibiotics left. Or maybe she can come up with something."

"What's an anty—" Anna asked, never afraid to be curious.

"It's a medicine that kills bacteria that cause infection," Clarke replied calmly

"What's a bac—"

"We should continue onward," Lexa said, her face serious. "Delay is not helping."

Clarke nodded. "Yeah, you're right, hon," Clarke said, not even realizing she was using the term of endearment in front of a small gathering of Coalition warriors until it had slipped from her lips. She felt her face flush slightly, but the Coalition forces were too respectful to laugh or comment. She did get a little smile from Lexa, and wider knowing smiles from Elsa and Anna.

—O—

It was shortly before dark the next day that they split the group, with the majority of the caravan stopping to make camp with plans to reach Arkadia the next day. However, after a brief private discussion between Clarke and Lexa, Lexa placed Indra in charge of the caravan while she, Clarke, Anna, Elsa, Monroe, Harper and eight Trikru warriors all continued on to Arkadia despite the darkness. Harper was notably worsening, more pallid than she had been even that morning, and her fever was spiking again despite another dose of the willow tea Lincoln had brewed.

Monroe had to devote a significant amount of effort into keeping Harper partially upright in the back of the smaller wagon, chosen for its light frame and able to move more swiftly than the larger one they had been using for transport. She was thoroughly soaked with sweat from Harper's increased body temperature by the time the metal gates of Arkadia, lit by flickering torches atop the guard posts, came into view for the rest of the party three hours later, well after the sun had retired.

"Who's on guard duty?" Clarke called out as they drew near, slowing and stopping their horses just inside the field of light cast by the orange flame of the torches. "It's Clarke Griffin. I have thirteen others with me, and one of them, Harper, is sick. She needs to get to Medical right now."

The familiar face of David Miller looked over the crude battlement running atop the city wall, assessing the group of mounted people and the light wagon in the center of the party. "Opening the doors now, Clarke." Seeing the others with the blonde, he nodded toward the mounted brunette positioned next to Clarke. "Commander," he said politely, acknowledging Lexa.

"David Miller kom Skaikru," Lexa spoke in reply, holding his gaze. "Your son lives and will be here tomorrow. I am proud to say he fought bravely in battle. Be proud of the warrior you have raised."

A sudden pang of pride mixed with relief shot through David's heart with the force of a Grounder arrow. He blinked away the unbidden emotion stirring at his eyes. "Thank you, Commander," he said, his voice slightly softer than usual but still audible to the small group below.

"You are welcome," Lexa replied, allowing herself to smile as the heavy doors to Arkadia began to rumble open.

Rustling of the canvas flap at the back of the wagon made Monroe jump slightly; she had fallen asleep in the back of the wagon. Then she looked at Harper's gray, sweaty face and her heart nearly exploded. "HARP!" she shrieked, reaching over to shake the pallid woman as the blonde weakly opened her eyes and turned her head toward her partner.

"What the fuck, Zoe?" Harper mumbled thickly; her tongue didn't seem to want to work right, and her entire body felt like she had been rolled down the side of a mountain, hitting every rock along the way. "Was tryin' to sleep."

Monroe rested the palm of her left hand on Harper's forehead; she winced at the heat she felt there, despite the feeble attempt at cooling produced by the sweat dotting Harper's forehead and scalp. "God, you're still burning up," she whispered to herself, but it was audible to Harper too. "Clarke!" Monroe shouted, turning her head away from Harper so as not to scream in her lover's face. "CLARKE!"

"Zoe..." Harper spoke softly, though to her own ears it felt like she was shouting underwater. "I love you, baby. I love you."

Monroe turned back to Harper; one of her own tears splashed onto the blonde's cheek as she leaned over the woman she loved with all she had. "I love you too, Harp. Don't you fucking die on me. Don't!"

Now the canvas flap rustled loudly as it was shoved aside, revealing the upper body and half-curls of blonde hair of Clarke Griffin. "We're here," Clarke said.

"She's worse, Clarke," Monroe said, trying to blink away the tears. "Her fever's still going. She's—"

"Help me get her out," Clarke said, grabbing the end of the blanket beneath Harper. She looked up at Monroe, who hesitated only a second before nodding and scrambling out of the wagon. Clarke pulled the blanket down, grimacing as Harper's legs limply bent as they cleared the bed of the wagon. "Harper, can you stand up?" Clarke asked, but there was no coherent response, only a soft moan.

"I can help carry her," Monroe said, moving around Clarke to Harper's other side.

"Wait," Clarke said, considering something. After just a few seconds of weighing their options and the need for urgency, Clarke pulled Harper out more from the wagon. She smoothly slipped her left arm under the other blonde's legs and her right arm under Harper's back, then lifted as she stepped back. Despite being close to the same size as the other girl, Clarke was able to lift the weight of Harper's limp body with little strain.

Thank you, Nightblood, Clarke thought to herself.

"Jesus," Monroe swore, eyes wide despite the tracks of dirty tears down her cheeks as she took in the sight of Clarke, who wasn't much bigger than her or Harper, carrying the sick blonde by herself.

"Call me names later," Clarke blithely said to the surprised redhead as she turned and began to run to the gates of Arkadia, Harper's dangling hair, legs and arms slightly swinging with each step.

—O—

Lexa's green eyes widened at the sight of Clarke, carrying an unconscious Harper in her arms, hurrying toward her. By the time her houmon reached the front of the caravan, Anna and Elsa had dismounted and were hurrying toward them, Anna at a full run and Elsa at a more dignified pace.

"She's bad," Clarke said, concern drawn on her face as she quickly walked toward Lexa, not slowing down. Monroe was only a few steps behind, her face a blend of anguish and terror.

Clarke's display of strength was a bit more obvious than Lexa was comfortable with. "Would you like me to—" she began, extending a hand as Clarke reached her.

"No time," Clarke said, breaking into a jog as she passed her wife. "But thank you! Love you!" she added with a smile as she increased her pace to an easy run, showing no strain whatsoever. "Hey David!" she added in a friendly voice as she passed the older Miller. "Can you call my mom and tell her we need her?" she called out over her shoulder as she steered toward the massive structure of the Ark.

David Miller watched Clarke recede, Harper's arms and legs dangling on each side, for several seconds before he turned to the shorter brunette, who had walked closer to him. He turned and looked at Lexa with barely-disguised amazement, only to be met with that implacable look of stoic neutrality the young leader was so damned good at. There did seem to be a hint of flushing to her cheeks, though.

David smiled. Clarke Griffin tended to have that effect on people.

"Your people all fought well," Lexa said, eager to change the subject from her adorable but sometimes "extra" (as Clarke had put it) houmon. "The addition of gunners to the Coalition army was an enormous benefit. Our losses were minimal, though still painful."

David swallowed. "How many?" he asked.

"Of total coalition forces, eight hundred injured, one-hundred-seventeen dead. Of Skaikru, six with minor injuries, two with major injuries, and two dead. Their names were Walker and Uzmadi. Both fought bravely until the end."

David nodded. He had trained both Clayton Walker and Asari Uzmadi. The big man's fearless manner and the kind-hearted woman's prescient smile would both be missed.

"We have returned their bodies, along with their weapons and ammunition. Your son gathered the items and the fallen warriors' personal effects himself." Lexa extended her forearm to the older man. "Thank you for sending your people to fight with us. To the Clans, there is no act more worthy of remembrance than sacrificing one's life for an ally. Now they have seen that Skaikru are willing to make that same sacrifice should it be necessary."

The older man took the smaller woman's forearm in a shared clasp, both gripping the other's forearm firmly. "We want to make this alliance work," Miller said quietly.

"As do my wife and I," Lexa replied, letting her facial expression soften slightly. "Tonight we will free the souls of your fallen warriors as we remember their bravery and honor their sacrifice. I will speak the blessing myself."

"I... appreciate that, Commander. I should tell their survivors first, though. Walker had a girlfriend, and Uzmadi has a nine-year-old daughter."

"I will tell them," Lexa said firmly. "But I would be honored for you to accompany me in this grim duty."

With a single nod, David agreed.

Lexa turned to look behind her. "Octavia," she said to the woman who had silently moved to just a meter away, her face flickering with burnished orange in the glow cast by the torches along the main gate. "When they arrive, our forces will make camp outside the walls, except for the wounded. Bring them and some of the healers inside the walls. They can set up a tent inside the perimeter for the time being, while Clarke and her nomon work to save Jusdonosir."

"Sha, Heda," Octavia replied quickly.

A soft clinking mixed with the soft rustle of fabric drew David's attention to three others who had approached them: Monroe, whose grimy face was lined with the clear tracks of tears down her cheeks, and the peculiar blonde and redhead Clarke had called Elsa and Anna. The copper-haired Anna was wearing what looked a simple shirt and trousers, and the fair-haired Elsa was again wearing a long gown that could have come out of an old movie about elaborate balls, royalty or both.

"We're going to take Monroe to be with Harper," Elsa said, gesturing to the petite redhead who was leaning on the slightly taller redhead.

"Of course," David said, as Lexa gave them both a silent nod of agreement.

Elsa's eyes bore the distinct look of sadness in them as she met Lexa's gaze, the two rulers both wordlessly acknowledging the seriousness of the situation.

Jusdonosir had been a symbol powerful enough to make the Azgeda surrender. What would happen if she died?

—O—

"You're definitely right on the pneumonia. Bilateral, too," Abby said as she, Clarke and Jackson all looked at the projected radiographic image of Harper's chest as it was displayed on the large monitor in Medical. "And the broken ribs. Two of them."

"But she's got a pleural effusion on the left, too." With a press of a button to change the scan parameters, the fluid obscuring the left costophrenic angle shifted from an opaque white to a soft pink. "Hemothorax. Great. The ribs have probably punctured her lung."

Abby turned to look at Clarke. "She didn't develop a tension pneumo on the trip here?" she asked, more than a bit surprised.

"Surprisingly, no," Clarke replied softly. "I was watching for it. Seems par for the course, for the most part, but it never happened. Just this fucking fever that won't go down."

"Did she take any of the—"

"Yes. I had Lincoln give her two doses a day of that stuff they use as an antibiotic plus that willow tea that tastes like shit—"

(Abby had to fight to keep an unexpected laugh from bursting from her lips at Clarke's candor, so frustrating when the blonde had been as a small child and now so rarely expressed in Abby's presence as to be precious.)

"—But all it did was bring her fever down just a hint. It didn't do anything about the rigors and chills. I think poor Monroe's got bruises from how much Harper kept rattling her body with all the shivering."

A soft chime from several feet away, announcing the completion of the blood count analysis, drew the attention of all three doctors. (While Clarke never officially finished her training, Abby already found herself thinking of her daughter as a colleague at this point, not a subordinate.)

"I'll slide the results over," Jackson said, moving to the lab monitor.

As the radiograph of Harper's chest vanished and was replaced by a column of abbreviations and a parallel column of numbers, Clarke, Abby and Jackson all looked up at the result.

"Oh, well, that explains a lot," Clarke said, a tinge of darkness creeping into her voice as well as her gut as she took in the numbers and what they meant for Harper.

"Severe pancytopenia," Abby said, her voice softening in that way it always did when she had to tell someone bad news. "White blood count less than one, hemoglobin two-point-three, hematocrit seven-point-one, platelets eighteen."

Clarke swallowed, her throat suddenly thick; she turned to meet her mother's concerned gaze looking back at her. "Fuck," she swore softly but bitterly, more at the situation than at her mother.

Jackson turned back to the auxiliary monitor. "Plasma analysis confirms sepsis, but her body's not mounting a response. Bands are almost zero. Reticulocyte count is only zero-point-one. It should be twenty, thirty times that, with this level of acute anemia."

"Her bone marrow," Abby said, her voice just above a whisper. "She's probably developed myelofibrosis after all the damage they did to her in Mount Weather."

Clarke felt tears form in her eyes as she looked down at the unconscious Harper's pale, sweaty form, her cheeks flushed in stark contrast to the pale gray of the treatment table she was lying atop. "We... we should let Monroe in. To see her."

Abby was giving Clarke a look that clearly conveyed what a bad idea she thought that would be, so Clarke shook her head to forestall any argument. "Do we have any antibiotics left?" she asked.

For a few seconds, Abby's face was neutral. "We have a few doses left. But Clarke..."

Anger flashed in Clarke's blue eyes at she defiantly met her mother's sad eyes. She knew exactly why her mother didn't want to give Harper the antibiotics, and why her mother didn't want to say the words aloud.

Antibiotics were too valuable to waste on someone who was going to die anyway.

"We can give her some synthetic morphine. That way she won't be in agony."

Clarke, for once, had nothing to say in return. She just glared at the numbers displayed on the large monitor, as if they were going to change because she willed it so.

"Jackson," Abby said, her voice calm as a result of years of hard-won professionalism in the face of death. "Go let Monroe in."

The younger man nodded, then moved past them.

"We could do a bone marrow transplant," Clarke said quietly.

"And who would be the donor?" asked Abby, irritation detectable in her voice. "You?"

Clarke met her irritation without restraint. "If need be. Monroe would do it, too."

"And how do you suppose we'll deal with the possibility of histocompatibility mismatch, Clarke? Or the agonizing death that it would be?"

That tone in her mother's voice was like boiling water poured down Clarke's back. "They figured out a way around that in Mount Weather!"

"This is not Mount Weather! I have no access to that monster Singh's notes or records! All of that was destroyed when that part of the facility collapsed in the explosion!"

Running footsteps preceded Monroe by bare seconds. She made her way around the table, looking to see if the field was sterile for surgery before she took Harper's clammy right hand and lifted it to her lips, pressing a weak kiss to the back of Harper's hand.

"Her bone marrow's not working right," Clarke said, glad for someone, anyone else to focus on besides her mother. "It's probably all the marrow harvesting they did to her in Mount Weather."

"So what can you do?" Monroe asked, her voice ragged. "I'll donate blood to her."

"You can't," Jackson said. "You're A-positive. Harper is O-negative. I looked that up right before I went to get you."

"I'll donate," Clarke said.

"Clarke, you're O-positive. There's still a mismatch."

Clarke held her lips tightly closed for a few seconds as her mother turned from her to Monroe.

"And Zoe, even if we give her blood, she's still septic. Her body can't make any more white blood cells to fight the infection. Her heart rate is over a hundred and thirty. Her blood pressure is seventy-two over forty-five. She's in septic shock. Her heart's in overdrive and is burning itself up, and her kidneys are beginning to shut down."

"No," Monroe mumbled wetly, her already-red eyes welling with more tears somehow. She bent over, resting her head on Harper's belly, ignoring the unpleasant dampness of the sweat-soaked fabric.

The feeling of fingers weakly passing through her loose hair startled her, so much that she jerked her head up to meet familiar brown eyes looking up at her.

"Hey," Harper rasped weakly. Despite her body feeling like it was burning from the inside out, Harper managed to smile at the woman she loved.

"H-Hey," Monroe replied, ignoring the tears sliding along her face.

"You look like shit," Harper said tenderly, still smiling.

"I—I bet I do," admitting Monroe, the corners of her mouth trying to turn into a semblance of a smile.

"I bet I don't look too good either, huh?" asked Harper, her eyes briefly fluttering closed before opening again, more slowly this time.

"You look—" Monroe began, only to haltingly stop and then start once more, "You look beautiful."

"You're only saying that because you love me," Harper said, running her fingers through Monroe's red hair once more, despite her arm feeling like it was encased in lead.

"Damn right," Monroe whispered back. "I love you more than anything."

Clarke looked at Abby, then she gestured to the next room.

Abby looked in that direction, then realized what Clarke meant. She nodded, and Jackson followed with them as they went into the hospital bay, the six beds empty at the moment.

Neither Harper nor Monroe noticed the three of them leave, nor did they notice the two new additions to the main medical suite as Anna and Elsa quietly stepped into the room, remaining close to the door as they watched the two partners caught up in grief.

"I don't want to watch this again," Elsa whispered, memories of their friends Ygrit and Idunn still burning in her memories despite the years since.

"We're not going to," Anna said, wiping at her own tears as Monroe leaned over and kissed Harper's lips tenderly.

"You heard Clarke's mother, Anna, just the same as I did," Elsa whispered back. "Her body is failing. She can't fight off the infection. Her heart can't work properly because she's lost too much blood, and her body can't replace it. And I appreciate Clarke not wanting to give up, but it sounds like she can't come up with a viable alternative, either."

The redhead turned away from the sad picture at the surgery table to look at her wife, and there was a fire burning in those blue-green eyes that Elsa had seen many times in the past, usually right before Anna did something incredibly reckless, broke something expensive, or both. "Clarke isn't going to save her," Anna said firmly. "And neither is Doctor Abby or Doctor Jackson."

It took Elsa two seconds to realize what Anna was saying without saying it. "Oh," she said softly, getting a cocky smirk of determination from Anna in return. "I'll get the horses."

Anna lifted up onto her toes and placed a quick kiss on Elsa's lips. "Thank you. Love you."

"Love you always," Elsa replied, then she turned and hurried out the large door, her skirt swirling behind her, leaving a faint trail of snowflakes fluttering to the metal floor as she hurried away.

Harper and Monroe had run out of words for the moment. Monroe had her face pressed against Harper's, her forehead to Harper's lips, when she felt the gentle touch of fingers at her shoulder. She looked up to see the concerned look of Anna standing next to her.

"We can't promise anything other than we'll try," Anna said softly. "But we have to hurry. She doesn't have long."

Monroe looked back down to see Harper unconscious once more, her cracked lips slightly parted as she breathed shallowly and quickly. She then looked back up at Anna, who was waiting patiently.

With a heavy exhalation, Monroe closed her eyes and nodded slowly.

—O—

"We have to do something!"

Abby recognized the timbre of Clarke's voice, that rising note of righteous outrage that signaled her daughter wasn't going to back down. "Clarke, our job is to care for Arkadia. ALL of Arkadia. Giving Harper one, two, even three doses of antibiotics might help her sepsis, but it's not going to help the severe pancytopenia. Even if she doesn't worsen enough from the kill effect of the antibiotics to push her kidneys and heart over the edge, she's still going to die from the hypovolemic shock!"

"We're not even TRYING!" Clarke hissed at her mother.

"Abby," said Jackson, trying to stop the argument before it worsened.

Now Abby's own temper was responding to Clarke's defiance. "Her broken ribs have almost certainly punctured her left lung. Her platelets are bottomed out. She's going to be bleeding into into the chest cavity, which is lowering her hemoglobin faster."

"So we drain it off!"

"And how do we stop the bleeding?"

"Cauterize it. Suture it. Pressure dressings."

"ABBY!"

Abby and Clarke both turned to look at Jackson, who was looking rather frustrated.

Jackson pointed to the vacant treatment room, where the surgery table was empty except for some shallow spots of sweat, dirt and blood.

—O—

Clarke beat her mother outside, an accomplishment she took particular pride in as she burst out into the night. She looked at a trio of people she semi-recognized, but before she could ask anything, two of them pointed toward the main gate.

Clarke turned in time to see one of Anna's and Elsa's glimmering white horses launch into a trot, kicking off from the ground and climbing into the air as if it were simply following an inclined trail. A flurry of snow and ice crystals trailed behind the creature's hooves as it ascended into the sky and turned slightly before heading into a roughly northeast direction.

From this distance, she couldn't tell exactly whom was on the horse's back, but it certainly looked bigger than Anna, Elsa or Harper, adding to her confusion.

"Do you see them?" asked Abby, looking around as she caught up with Clarke at the entrance to the Ark.

"I'm looking," Clarke said from over her shoulder as she started toward a gathering of people at the main gate.

When Clarke reached the small crowd of maybe a dozen, she saw Elsa toss two blankets over the back of the second ice steed. "It was Anna on the other horse?" Clarke asked, making note of Monroe standing there but not seeing any sign of Harper.

"Yes," Elsa said, stopping what she was doing and turning to look at the other blonde. "She can ride faster than I can, so we sent Harper with her."

"But she's unconscious!"

"I tied her to Anna's back," Monroe spoke quietly. "And into the saddle"

"But it's made of ice! Like the horse! She'll have tissue damage in, in... minutes!"

Elsa caught Clarke's eye, holding her gaze for several quiet seconds before she whispered, "I took care of that."

Clarke remained silent for a few seconds herself, before softly inquiring, "You mean like..."

Looking directly at Clarke, then casting a glance toward Lexa, who was now walking toward them, Elsa nodded carefully.

So she made Harper immune to the cold like she did Lexa and me, Clarke considered. And knowing how using her powers in this world drains her, she probably needs to rest before she can ride anywhere, so Anna went ahead on her own. Remembering Monroe's presence at the horse with them and the addition of extra blankets over the ice mount's back, Clarke mentally added, Or before she can do it again for someone else.

Now that she knew to look carefully, Clarke could see hints of perspiration on Elsa's forehead, only visible against the faint freckles because of the faint reflection of torchlight dotted across her fair skin. And the blonde queen did seem to be the slightest bit wobbly as she stood next to her mount.

"I'm guessing Monroe is going to be going with you, once you finish... packing?" asked Clarke carefully, maintaining eye contact with Elsa.

"Yes," replied the monarch, smiling both politely and with relief at catching Clarke's covering for Elsa's current fatigue without outright drawing attention to it. "But Harper couldn't wait."

"Aurora?" Clarke asked, already sure that was the answer.

Elsa nodded. "If anyone can, it's her."

Clarke looked up to the sky, where Anna was now just a shining pinpoint of white light in the distance. She started to say that she hoped that Anna made it in time, but hearing Monroe beginning to weep quietly stopped that sentiment before she could voice it.

"If she doesn't make it..." Monroe said slowly, anguish in her voice, "then I won't be there with her when—"

"Monroe, there was nothing we could really do here," Clarke said, fighting to urge to put an arm around the smaller woman for support. Monroe was never touchy-feely with anyone other than Harper, and she likely wouldn't appreciate any such gesture now, either. "Anything we would have tried would have been terrible odds, because her bone marrow itself had stopped working.

"Lexa and I know Aurora. We've seen her heal others. And magic's stronger in their world than it is here. Anna getting her to Aurora is the best chance—well, the only chance's Harper's got."

"I'll take you to your beloved's side as soon as possible," Elsa said, ignoring her own fatigue as she carefully reached out, laying the lightest touch possible on the tiny redhead's left shoulder, grasping it for bare seconds before politely letting go. "Focus on your love for Harper and don't give up hope." Elsa smiled, and despite the touch of sadness in her expression, there was a mother's vast compassion as well. "For love—especially True Love—is capable of wondrous things."

—O—

Bellamy sat quietly on the floor outside the cell in Polis, the only light a candle burning on a wall sconce several feet away. The soft noise of cloth sliding against cloth on the other side of the metal bars made him open his eyes.

"There's food here if you want it," he said, keeping his voice low; the sound was still enough to feel harsh to his ears after hours of near silence.

"Bellamy?"

Echo's voice sounded raw to his ears. She had been asleep for hours after they had made it back to Polis, where she had immediately been placed into one of the jail cells in the basement of a mostly-intact building near Heda's Tower, and for the last several of those hours, he had held vigil outside the door to that cell.

"Yeah," he finally said, unsure of what else to say despite the swirl of thoughts buried inside him.

There was a long silence, with only the seemingly distant sound of Polis's people going about their lives barely audible above and around them.

"I'm sorry."

Bellamy looked up at the sound of her pained words, turning his gaze back in the direction of the cell. "For what?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"For using you. For betraying you. For trying to destroy the alliance between Skaikru and the Clans."

There was no reply for over a minute, and the longer the silence reigned, the more Echo felt her heart ache at the lack of response.

"Why did you do it?" Bellamy finally said, his voice weary.

A soft sigh was audible in the darkness of the cell, the light from the solitary candle positioned so that most of the cell remained in darkness. "Because I was given an order by my queen. Because my aunt was a scary bitch who absolutely would have had me killed without regret if I had refused to do what she told me to do."

"You're her niece. You're her heir. If you die, she has no one to pass her power down to."

The laugh that rang out from the gloom of the cell was anything but happy. "My aunt didn't give a shit about that. Did you not ever stop and ask yourself why I was the last member of her family, the last of her line?" She paused for a second or two, then continued. "It was because I was the only one who had never given her a reason to order my execution. I was her loyal follower, because I knew very well what she was capable of."

She closed her eyes, but the darkness of her eyelids was no better than the darkness of her cell at keeping unwanted memories at bay. Images of her own hands slick and crimson with wet blood, of hurt and anguish in the dying eyes of people she had loved, swam through her mind, and she suddenly wanted to vomit as her past roiled up from deep inside her, where she had tried to bury it but without success.

"I'm... I'm a demon," Echo whispered, but her voice was still distinct in the somber environment of the prison. "I'm no better than my aunt was. She may have given the orders, but... I carried out her deeds."

Bellamy swallowed, uncertain if he was setting himself up for heartbreak by still having feelings for someone who had deliberately betrayed him at least once already. His own eyes were burning, tears glistening in the candle's yellow glow, but he remained out of Echo's sight due to her position in the cell. "You were, what? Her assassin?"

The pause was sufficient answer in itself.

Bellamy closed his eyes tightly, once again wondering if there was anything on the Ground that wasn't utterly, hopelessly fucked beyond repair. If anything in this world was still good.

"Nia had several assassins."

He looked up, blinking a few times.

"She prided herself on picking the right person for the right job. Some were brutal, intended to send a message or exact punishment as they killed. I was the one she sent for more delicate jobs, when she required utmost dedication and loyalty. Like—" She choked once before regaining some self-control. "Like when she needed a relative killed."

A harsh intake of breath marked a pause before Echo spoke again. "You don't understand. You have no idea what Nia was like. What she was capable of doing. She—"

"I saw people killed for taking an extra cup of water," Bellamy interjected. "Clarke's father was floated—killed—because he wanted to tell people that things on the Ark were starting to break down. My mom... My mom was killed because she had Octavia, because a second child was too much of a drain on our resources. That was the only punishment for adults on the Ark. You stole food, you died. You hit somebody, you died. You broke the law, you died."

A bitter laugh came from inside the cell.

"And you called us monsters."

—O—

The massive form of a snow-white dragon, resting on the snowy ground at the foot of a steep mountain, was curled into a neat package reminiscent of a sleeping cat—if cats were the size of large sailing ships.

Icescale had patiently kept watch over the shimmering portal since his mistresses had crossed the boundary between worlds nearly three weeks ago. He had split his time between flying a patrol for miles around the magic gateway and holding station on the ground, but he found himself missing his creators.

It was a peculiar sensation, longing. He had known nothing before he had been created, yet it felt as though he had always existed. His existence simply was, now, and that existence was inextricably tied to the two humans who had created him, from cold, ice, magic and love.

And he missed them.

He loved his mistresses' three hatchlings immensely. The older two, who had come into existence together, were quiet and thoughtful, and the two dragons they had created to be their companions were growing into strong, brave fledglings, much like their humans. The third was more rambunctious, loud and excitable in the way of youth but as brave and determined as any human the great dragon had ever met. She would make her mothers proud one day, and whether she led armies or countries (or both), she would be someone spoken of in legends for long beyond her mortal life.

The hatchlings made sure to visit Icescale every few days, the older two hatchlings by themselves mostly, usually in the company of their own growing dragons, and the youngest with her sisters and the two sorcerers who were friends to Icescale's family, the taller one who had dragon in her soul and the shorter one whose mind sometimes fought with itself but in return loved enough for two. They patted his cold snout and rubbed his belly, talking to him, thanking him for his vigilance and reminding him that he was loved and appreciated. They were good humans (and a good whatever the tall one was exactly).

A sudden surge of familiar emotions from just beyond the portal roused Icescale from his pleasant thoughts. Urgency, concern, worry, determination, all spoke to him in a hurried, jumbled rush.

He uncoiled his great body, lifting himself to a wary crouch as he bent forward and sniffed at the gate, tasting the familiar magic of his creators with nothing out of place.

It was only his caution that allowed him to jerk his large head out of the way as a mass of churning legs and frantic motion burst through the impossibly thin pool of shimmering magic just in front of his snout.

"Hi, Icey! No time to rub your nose, got to get to the castle and can't stop to switch over to you!" shouted his copper-haired mistress, astride a crystal horse and carrying a second human who appeared to be holding on to his mistress.

Shall I carry you and your friend, mistress? the great dragon thought, uncertain whether to escort her and her companion to the castle or to hold his station at the gate.

"Thanks, Icey, but Elsa and several others will be coming through before too much longer, and I need you here to help her!" Anna cried out, trusting the wind to carry her words to Icescale as she oriented her mount in the direction of Arendelle City, the glittering horse's ice hooves starting to glow with power as it increased its speed.

Here, back in its home, magic once again flowed into the mystic creature, and Anna now called upon all of that surrounding magic to speed their journey. Harper had stopped replying to Anna's voice over twenty minutes ago, the blonde's limp body only held in place by the rope binding her to Anna's torso. "Got to get our friend to the castle!" she cried out. "No time to waste! But it's good to see you! We missed you! We love you!"

The dragon smiled as much as its reptilian mouth would permit as its equine cousin and its riders raced away, across the snow-covered tundra. Welcome home, Mistress, it thought happily.

—O—

"Mother's back!"

Briar Rose looked up from the small army of snowpeople she had been helping Kari construct in the castle's courtyard for the last two hours. They already had an army large enough to conquer most cities, but Kari had bold ambitions for her snow forces. "Your mothers are back?" Rose said, raising her voice enough to be heard clearly by the blonde girls standing on the balcony two stories up.

"Just one mother," said one of the girls.

"Our mother Anna," added the second, with no pause between the two as they spoke.

Rose tilted her head slightly. "Curious," she said. She sent a mental signal to her mate, almost immediately receiving a mental acknowledgment that somehow managed to convey a smugness that made Rose's and Aurora's girly bits tingle. "Strange that Anna would return without Elsa."

Rose turned to look at the young red-haired princess, who was brandishing a sword made of ice as she shouted commands to her snowy troops. She then looked back up to the teenaged princesses, both of whom looked notably uneasy. "Why don't you two watch Kari?" Rose said. "I'll take Mal and go meet your mother."

Erin and Elin turned their heads to look at each other silently for a moment before they smiled and climbed up onto the balcony's railing. A swipe of Elin's hand over the balcony created a shimmering of light that coalesced into a curving slide made of crystalline ice, solidifying just as Erin flung herself off the railing and onto the slide. The first twin laughed as she shot down the slide, quickly followed by her sister doing the same. Erin had just come to a standing stop at the foot of the slide when Elin barreled into her from behind, still laughing as the two of them fell forward into a bank of snow that expanded upward to help cushion their fall.

Rose's laughter bubbled up without warning at the sight, and that laughter erupted again when Kari, having temporarily abandoned her role as general of the snow army, jumped onto the two teenagers, who were trying to extricate themselves from the mound of snow. All three of them toppled back into the powdery snow, with a delayed shriek from Elin punctuating things.

"You stuffed snow down the top of my dress!" Elin shouted, somewhat breathless.

"Yeah," Kari said defiantly, her seven-year-old head popping up where Rose could see it again. "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

The three sisters momentarily stared at each other before Erin, whom Kari was not looking at, stuffed a handful of snow in Kari's face, followed by Elin pressing her hand to Kari's chest and shoving the younger girl backward into the snowbank once more. The twins cackled this time, clambering to their feet and running out of the snowbank before Kari could dig her way out and regain her footing once more.

"Don't run away from me!" Kari shouted as she spotted the retreating figures of her older sisters, heading toward the nearest door back into the castle. "I'll bring my snowman army after you!"

The flutter of thick fabric above made Rose look up, still laughing quietly. She saw her love's dark cloak flutter in the light wind as Maleficent levitated down to the ground, the fabric tongues on the sides of her cloak flapping in a dizzying illusion of linear progression, seeming to move from her booted feet toward her shoulders.

"Have you changed your mind?" the tall faerie asked, her voice unusually subdued, nearly a whisper that could be easily lost in the swirling breeze as she looked at the retreating girls. "After spending time with this brood?"

Rose's gaze lingered in the direction of Kari's small form, which disappeared into the castle as she watched. She continued to look at the emptiness of the open door, which would no doubt be closed by a servant any moment. Finally she turned to look at her mate, and despite the hint of moisture in her blue eyes, there was clear conviction as well. "No," she said, quietly but firmly. "We have not."

Maleficent was silent, her striking but intimidating beauty softened by the adoration that she only showed to her True Love. Her face said enough: understanding, empathy, hope, acceptance, even though only the blonde gazing up at her could read that striking face so well.

Rose smiled, beauty and pain coexisting in her fair face. She reached up and caressed Maleficent's left cheek with her right hand, letting the warmth of her palm linger against her lover's face. The faerie closed her eyes and pressed her face against Rose's hand, the skin not quite as soft as one might expect from a princess. "A child would be too risky in our line of work right now," she spoke gently. "We both know this. But perhaps one day, when the world is safer because of our efforts and the work of our friends..."

Maleficent turned her head, pressing her dark lips against Rose's palm. "You will be aglow when you are with child," she whispered, ignoring the way her heart stuttered as she spoke.

Rose's hand moved, fingers spreading to lovingly run their tips up the length of Maleficent's left spiraling horn, then slowly back downward. The way the taller woman's body shuddered at the sensation was most evident to Rose, who smirked at her mate's reaction to her suggestive touch. "Who says we're going to be the ones carrying our baby?" she inquired teasingly in the same measured tone they had been using.

For once, Maleficent was utterly dumbstruck. Her bright green eyes were so wide that Rose giggled at her lover's expression.

"You are taller, of course. And your back and hips are much stronger than mine," Rose said, stepping close enough to slip between the front halves of her lover's cloak, her dark green dress nearly vanishing into the ebony darkness. The motion allowed Rose to slide her left hand over Maleficent's right hip, continuing to advance until it rested over the curve of the faerie's rear.

"You're quite sassy today," Maleficent spoke, managing to achieve a calmness in her tone of voice that was practically a challenge to her lover.

Rose grinned up at the woman she loved. "Just how you love me," she said confidently.

"Perhaps we should go check on our returning friend," Maleficent murmured against the smooth warmth of Rose's forehead.

"Or we could return to our chambers for a bit first."

"A tempting offer to say the least, but a bit of anticipation would likely sweeten the fruit even more."

Now it was Rose's turn to shiver with delight. "Gods, you are thrilling," she whispered. "We want you to take us hard when we get back in our rooms."

Maleficent pressed a soft kiss to the blonde's head. "Count on it."

Rose purred, and the grip around Maleficent's waist shifted ever so slightly, becoming slightly more rigid. "We love you," Aurora spoke softly, pressing her head against Maleficent's shoulder.

"And I love you too, my princesses," replied the normally-stoic faerie, who seemed to be the verge of a maudlin display of emotion nearly every time she visited Arendelle.

Perhaps the magic of Arendelle's queens—and of Arendelle itself—extended beyond the cold and ice into the realms of emotion itself. She'd have to look into that one day.

"Someone is approaching!" shouted one of the guards from the northeast tower of the castle.

Aurora stepped back slightly, looking up to meet Maleficent's blue eyes, now brightened with curiosity once more. The two lovers stepped apart, the edges of Maleficent's cloak sliding silently across the forest green cloth of the blonde's dress as it reluctantly released the smaller woman from its embrace.

The magic that sparkled into existence around the blonde princess was distinctly purple as it manifested, but almost instantly it shifted into a bright green as Rose lifted off the ground and flew toward the battlement, followed by Maleficent's wings of jet-black feathers unfurling through openings in the rear of her cloak, beating twice to launch her into the air after her mate as they flew toward the north walls of the castle.

"What's going on?" Rose asked as she neared the top of the wall, hovering as she looked at the guard in the corner parapet who had cried out.

"Truth be told, Your Highness, I'm not exactly sure," said the weathered-looking guard, a look of confusion on his darkly bearded face as he took another glance toward the north and the tall mountains rising in the distance.

Rose regarded the man curiously as her slippered feet settled onto the stones of the walkway, turning to look toward the same mountains as she leaned against the wall's crenelations.

Just before the foot of the mountains, a plume of white snow flew upward, creating an evanescent line of powdery spray that appeared to be drawn from the mountains in a straight line toward the castle. At this distance the cause of the strange phenomenon wasn't entirely visible, but at the speed it was approaching Arendelle, it would be very soon.

Wind buffeting her back told Rose that Maleficent had joined her atop the castle's outer wall. "It appears Anna's in a hurry," Maleficent said calmly, her otherworldly vision sharp enough to see Anna's head of cinnamon hair practically shining amid the vast white of the snow-covered plain she was crossing. The steed's hooves and legs were pumping so fast and hard that it was throwing a churn of snow and frost into the air in its wake, creating the illusion of a ghostly line floating in the air from the spray of slowly descending flakes and crystals.

Rose felt caution rise up inside her breast. "If Anna's in a hurry, and she's by herself..."

"Elsa," Maleficent breathed out, suddenly concerned for their friend. Her wings beat powerfully, launching the faerie up into the sky, the gust of wind blowing Rose's ponytail of golden hair to her right. The human sorceress lifted up into the sky, quickly flying in pursuit of her partner, the green tint of her flight spell again wrapped around her body.

—O—

When Anna saw the dark dots in the gray sky flying toward her, she felt relief for the first time in hours. Her entire body ached, pounded by the relentless riding and worn out by having to support Harper's unconscious weight for the last hour.

When she was able to make out the distinct outline of dark wings on one of the dots, her sense of relief tripled. If Maleficent was coming, then so were Rose and Aurora.

Anna kept her mount going at full speed until the two women flying toward her were close enough for her to see details on their faces, then she yanked hard on the reins and gripped the horse tightly with her legs. The mass of Harper's limp body pressed Anna forward, bending her uncomfortably for a few seconds before the unconscious blonde's body shifted to the left, nearly pulling Anna off the horse.

Then hands were at her sides, and Anna looked down to the see the worried eyes of Rose. Or Aurora.

"Is Elsa..." asked the petite blonde.

"Elsa's good," Anna said quickly, her throat tight. "And the baby's good. She's a few hours behind me. I went on ahead because Harper's dying." She punctuated her last sentence with an inclination of her head toward her back.

Rose's eyes slid to the ashen face of the girl hanging loosely toward her, held up only by several strands of rope wrapping around both the unconscious girl and Anna. At the sight of the stricken girl, the boldness of Rose instantly yielded to the concern of Aurora. "Oh dear," Aurora breathed out as she used her magic to assess the girl, grimacing at what was revealed. "Sweet gods and goddesses."

She turned to Maleficent, who was standing beside her. "Help me get her down, my love, please," Aurora said, her normally soothing, restrained voice revealing a distinct note of anxiety.

Maleficent reached up, using her surprisingly strong arms and shoulders to catch the weight of the limp girl as Anna used her ice knife to cut the rope binding Harper to her. Not feeling any heartbeat in the girl's chest, Maleficent glanced over at her mate. "Aurora..." she said, softly enough to make Anna's heart surge with worry as Maleficent carefully lay Harper down on the clean snow next to them.

"I know," Aurora said, both her hands raised as bright but translucent purple ribbons streamed back and forth between her hands and the unmoving body of the blonde girl, small and streaked with sweat and dirt in multiple places across her clothes and pale skin. Aurora made a noise that wasn't quite a grunt and wasn't entirely a sigh, and the color of her magical streams shifted to pink, then back to purple, then to a dark indigo.

"Is she..." Anna asked, hesitant to say the word aloud lest she invite disaster among them, as she stood over Aurora, who was now kneeling beside the still Harper.

"Oh, she's dead," Aurora said calmly, not looking up.

Anna gasped as she felt her heart turn to lead inside her chest.

"BUT she's not gone," Aurora added, right before her mouth shifted into a rather unladylike grimace that showed quite a few white teeth.

Suddenly the glow of her magic increased in brightness startlingly, shifting back to a rich, royal purple so intense that Anna had to squint her eyes nearly closed against the brilliance. Aurora breathed in sharply, intensifying her magic as she focused her will on doing the impossible.

The girl's spirit was still present; it clung to the lifeless body with a tenacity that even Maleficent would have respected. The tether of True Love bound to the girl's spirit was evident to Aurora's mystic senses, and that gave Aurora a powerful foundation upon which to challenge death.

She poured her magic into the bond of Love that ran, invisible to normal vision, from the dead girl's soul toward the mountains, passing through the gate between worlds as it bound two souls together with a grip more powerful than anything in existence. She then redirected some of that magic back toward the body lying on the snow beneath her, reversing the damage to Harper's body and cleansing infection and toxins as she strained to pull the girl's spirit back across the veil into the mortal world.

Aurora hissed between her teeth as the exertion of performing two grueling ordeals at once, healing deep, widespread damage and reining in the girl's now-panicking soul, began to overwhelm her. She felt sweat beading on her forehead and trickling down her back as she gritted her teeth and refused to yield, but pain lanced through her temple like a burning arrow, and she still felt herself losing mystical ground. Swallowing her pride, Aurora made a desperate decision. "Rose," she whispered to herself. "I... I need you."

Suddenly indigo vines streaked with dark green shot forth from Aurora's hands, threading between and around the colorful ribbons of magic, bracing and reinforcing the blue-violet streams as they wound their way toward Harper's body, encircling the still figure and drawing taut the connections between Aurora and Harper's body. Aurora's blue eyes shifted into a glowing purple as her magic intensified into a crackle of power that was audible to Anna and Maleficent.

Beneath Harper, flowers began to sprout and bloom, green stems began pushing up through the snow, the lilac and purple leaves of crocuses rising and opening proudly as they surrounded the pale girl. Yellow-orange stamen stood upright in the centers of the blooms ringing the dead girl's body, as magic suffused the entire area with so much power that it could be tasted on the air.

A shudder swept through Harper's body, followed by the same stillness as before for long seconds that seemed to last ages. Suddenly Harper's whole body spasmed fitfully, followed by her brown eyes shooting open as she gasped deeply and loudly, sitting upright with the force of her inhalation.

Anna dropped to both knees beside Harper, trying to miss as many crocuses as she could as her knees kit the snow-covered ground. She grasped the terrified girl's shoulders, holding her firmly and turning her upper body slightly to face her as Harper began to hyperventilate and shiver forcefully, eyes open but unseeing.

"Harper! Harper!" Anna said, sounding every bit the mother she was as she stared into the younger woman's eyes, the black of the younger woman's pupils so wide that it nearly eclipsed the brown surrounding it. "Harper!"

The blonde's frantic eyes darted around briefly before finally meeting Anna's, latching onto the redheaded queen's blue-green gaze with a desperation that made Anna's heart ache. "Wh-Where..." she mumbled, her body still trembling.

"Arendelle," said Maleficent, who was now holding a visibly drained Aurora upright.

"You should probably get her a blanket, Anna," Aurora said, her voice weak but her smile proud. "Not everybody is immune to the cold, you know." She closed her eyes as she felt Maleficent sweep her bodily into a bridal carry. Aurora happily nuzzled her face into Maleficent's cloak, clutching to the imposing black fabric and breathing in its scent as if it were a comfort blanket.

"Elsa told the cold not to harm her while we were back on her world," Anna said. "But a blanket might make her feel better right now." She stood and quickly retrieved one from a saddlebag, shaking it out before kneeling next to Harper and wrapping it around the shaking girl.

"I-Is... Zoe..." Harper mumbled, chin quivering as she tried to form words. She couldn't seem to focus her eyes properly, but Anna was close enough and familiar enough for her to latch onto and not let go.

"She's coming," Anna said, smiling in as a comforting manner as possible. "She'll be here in a few hours. Elsa's bringing her. But right now we should probably get you back to the castle, so you can lie down and warm up."

Confusion flashed in Harper's eyes. "C-C-C-Cas...tle?" she stammered. Color was starting to refill in her face, but she was still more pallid than her normal complexion, her hair was a sweaty, stringy mess and her mind continued to jangle and whirl in ways that made her dizzy trying to keep up with her chaotic thoughts.

Anna's smile was warm as she helped the shaky Harper to her feet, lifting with her legs to solidly bear most of Harper's weight. They stood there together for nearly a minute, letting Harper regain some semblance of balance before Anna started to slowly, cautiously guide Harper to the horse.

Anna looked up at her horse, its white coat gleaming in the light that made it through the cloudy sky above them. It stood notably taller than either woman, which posed an obvious problem. Anna turned to ask Maleficent and Aurora for help when Harper's weight suddenly lifted off of her arm and shoulder.

"Hey..." Harper said weakly as she lifted a meter off the ground. "Am I flying, or I am just really fucked up right now?"

"You're levitating, not flying," Maleficent said crisply, her voice back to its usual sardonic tone. She held a dozing Aurora with one arm, using magic to levitate the small blonde as she used her free hand to hold Harper off the snowy ground while Anna swung herself into the frosted horse's saddle. "Now be quiet."

"M'kay," Harper mumbled, closing her eyes. Maybe when she woke up things would make more sense.

"Maybe you should put her in front of me," Anna said, seeing how Harper was drifting in and out, much like Aurora. "That way I can help hold her steady."

"You'll wear yourself out that way," Maleficent spoke. "And perhaps succeed in throwing you both out of the saddle."

"Good point," admitted Anna. "Maybe I shouldn't have cut that rope."

"A trifling matter," said the tall faerie, gesturing with her right hand as she settled the floating Harper onto the saddle behind Anna like before. A shimmering yellow band encircled Anna and the drowsy blonde, coalescing into a softly glowing golden rope coiled around them. "That should get you home safely while making her weigh a little as a feather, so long as the rope remains tied."

"Thanks, Maleficent," Anna said, smiling warmly at her friend. "You're pretty nice sometimes. But I promise not to tell anyone else."

The stern look that appeared on the imposing faerie's face would have terrified most mortals, so Anna made sure to not laugh.

"Yes, well," spoke the faerie as she once again cradled her mate with both of her arms. She shifted her cloak, and once again her powerful ebon wings unfolded behind her, stretching out in preparation for flight. "I am only 'nice', as you put it, to those whom I care about, and since two-thirds of that group are here presently, I have little concern about such rumors becoming known to the world in general."

Anna gave Maleficent a sad smile. "Yeah, unfortunately, I don't think anyone would believe me anyway," she admitted, then she urged her snow mount into motion again, toward Arendelle once more.

Now it was Maleficent's turn to have a wistful look cross her elegant face as she watched the redheaded queen set off for Arendelle Castle. Not everyone could be loved and respected like the Queens of Arendelle. Some had to walk a darker path, whether by choice or as a result of the cruelties of men, gods or both. And those who followed the path of darkness had to be more fearsome, more dangerous than anything else in that darkness if they hoped to survive.

And yet, despite the danger, sometimes a sliver of light pierced the darkness, forcing itself into the evil and anger and chasing away the gloom and despair. Sometimes that light refused to be frightened away, defying the threats of the darkness and choosing to shine there instead, casting love and hope where rightfully none should exist.

As she lifted into the air, wings beating behind her, Maleficent tilted her head down and placed a kiss on the light that had pushed back her darkness, pressing her lips against Aurora's light blonde hair.

"Sometimes the darkness must be the one to protect the light," Maleficent softly spoke to herself, letting her piercing eyes linger over the face she loved, her mate's fractured mind at peace for the moment, before she lifted her head once more, tilting slightly to reorient her path back to Arendelle.

Buried deep in the folds of Maleficent's cloak, the lips of the sleeping blonde briefly parted as Aurora murmured the words, "Thank you," in her sleep, too softly for Maleficent to hear. But that was fine, for Maleficent wasn't the one for whom those words were meant.

And in Aurora's slumber, she clearly heard the reply from her own mind:

You're welcome.

—O—

Author's Afterword: Thank you for your patience on this story. Life and work have battered me for months now, but I'm hanging in there. I hope all of you are doing well and riding out the storms in your lives, keeping warm with thoughts of happiness and love when life and the world can be cold and harsh. I hope these stories continue to bring some positivity and cheer to you, because all of us need more of that. Stay strong together.

We have two chapters left, one more proper chapter in this story, then an epilogue chapter to wrap things up. (Because I do love epilogues.)

If you're not familiar with Ygrit and Idunn, you can find them in another story of mine, "Feel, Don't Conceal," on FFNet. You're certainly welcome to read it if you'd like, but it's not necessary for this story, and it's a long read, so consider yourself warned.

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you in the next chapter!