Author's Acknowledgement: I should like to thank both Ash and J very much for their contributions to and encouragements of this story. But most of all, I should like to thank Jennifer (SGT Nerd Y. Fangirl on Discord) for her patience, direction, and conversation. Without you, Jennifer, this story would not be; and I am confident that so much that is good in it comes from your inspiration, direction, and eye-rolling. May the Frozen be with you.

Author's Notes: This story has a ways to go, but is intended to contain three parts. New chapters will come every month (at a minimum). The story takes a bit of time to get going, with the first major plot point occurring at the end of Part I — Chapter 3.

Elsa smiles to herself. The air is warm, with a light breeze, and the late afternoon light slants golden through the trees. There is no magic here but hers; but the forest is so peaceful it seems to possess a magic all on its own. The birds chirp lazily from their perches, watching her as she passes by. She knows the path so well, has walked it so many times in years past, that she knows every stone, every root, every turn. Indeed, this forest path winding away from Arendelle has become a touchstone in her life.

"Mama always loved you," Elsa says as she walks. "Right from the beginning when you came to the castle, she doted on you like you were a favoured son."

"There are many things I understand. I know what happened to my mother and my father. I know where my magic comes from. I know how to be a good sister," she says.

She turns on the path, almost as if she were stepping under the arm of an invisible dance partner. Her turn is precise, regal, but with an effortlessness that belied years of practice. Her gown and cape flares out as she does so. "I know how to be happy now, Mama," she says. The sun was lower now, splashing the trees with its long orange glow, the shadows growing.

"But other things elude me," she says, as she stops to touch a branch and look into the distance. "Once in my life, I was loved by choice. I would like to know why. The most cherished relationships—with my mother, my father, my sister, my creations—are all prefigured. They began before I was even aware of them. But to be loved as an act of will, that is different."

She looks down, and smiles at a ptarmigan who was edging closer. She bends down and flicks her pale wrist; a small mound of ice crystals form. The ptarmigan froze, but then took courage and hopped forward, licking the ice at the edge.

"I did not ask for it. You gave of yourself. But the greatest prize for you was not me, but my happiness. You were my friend. You fought for me. You were a fool," she says, standing up and folding her hands in front of her, still looking at the bird. "You loved me."

"And I think I should like to understand why, if only for a moment. Why did you love a girl who shut herself away from the world? Why did you love a woman who was not whole? Why did you choose to love me?"

Elsa slows her steps as she walks past a majestic wych elm. She stops, touching it with reverence. And she remembers.

Peals of laughter could be heard in the forest. "Hey! No ice magic!" shouted Anna from below. "She's such a stinker!"

It was a beautiful morning. Elsa and Anna and Alexander were climbing, racing to the top. The Crown Princess of Arendelle had no intention of not getting to the top first. The chief threat was Anna: she was a real monkey, even at the age of four. So as she climbed, Elsa surreptitiously slicked the trunk and branches with frost, slowing the other children down.

Alexander was close—almost able to reach the hem of Elsa's dress; but not quite. He lost his footing on the frost, and by the time he had regained his balance he was staring up at a triumphant Elsa smiling from the top. The children started shimmying down the tree in turn.

"You can't add rules once the race begins," said Elsa, making her way down. "Rules are to be followed. Or we could say climbers should not have dark hair after the fact."

The boy stepped back, watching Elsa. She could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, preparing to deploy a scintillating retort to the "dark hair" comment, when she slipped. She hit the ground with a shriek.

Alexander was at her side in a flash. "My lady," he said in shock. It was a customary form of address that he used for Elsa, even as a child. Her ankle began swelling. He removed her shoe, and swept her up into his arms. She could see that he was trying to appear calm, but even through the pain she could detect his alarm and worry.

He carried her the whole way back to Arendelle Castle. It was a long walk from the wych elm, and Elsa could see him strain. But he refused to put her down. And he would not accept Princess Anna's offer of waiting while she got help.

For the next while, Alexander visited Elsa every day as she reclined in her chambers with her leg elevated. He would bring her bouquets of flowers from the forest. He would read to her, fairytales and mythology mostly, usually of magical and courageous princesses who never had need of rescue.

"Sometimes, our playmates turn out differently than we expect," she says. She laughs to herself in the forest, and walks on.