This is what happens when I watch the Sleepy Hollow winter finale and have Jelsa feels at the same time. Sorry for the vagueness. It was done on purpose, for readers to fill in the blanks. Thank you for reading!
The young princess of Arendelle had always dreamed about him: a young boy with snowy white hair and the ability to make the snow dance. Someone like her. So she embraced the idea of him. Suddenly, winters seemed to happen when a twinkling dark figure streaked across the sky. The young princess would watch happily, and knew deep in her heart she was not alone.
Then the accident happened.
She locked herself away, concealing, never feeling. She learned to hide, to encase herself in a frozen cage, to never hurt anyone again. Conceal, don't feel. Everyday on repeat. A mantra she desperately tried to hold on to. She never had dreams then. It was all a swirling black mess and thousands of tearful mornings.
They were taken away one stormy night, in a ship out on the sea.
And she didn't know what to do. They were the only ones who truly understood. They were also the ones who feared her the most. A hundred knocks to her door that day, never answering any. Where has she been? She's been here the whole time, but it was quite clear to her early on that she had to spend a lifetime in her room. That night, just like countless others, she cried herself to sleep. But for the first time in forever, she dreamed. The young boy who never made her feel alone, had come to rescue her, to take her away. She woke up to feelings of bliss, before reality brought her crashing down. There came a knock, but not from her door. Her window burst open in a flurry of snow and apologies. In front of her stood a boy clad in tattered rags, a hooked staff of gnarled wood in his hands. Stark white hair and sparkling blue eyes didn't take away from the fact that the boy was covered in beautiful patterns of ice.
Had she summoned him? Maybe. Did it really matter when she didn't feel so alone?
They loved to play in the snow, but always in the comfort of her room. He didn't really take her away, not like in her dream that night they first met. But he rescued her, and something warm grew between them. The first time their lips touched it started snowing outside. Since then the people of Arendelle wondered at the frequency of sudden snow at any given time of the year.
Responsibilities to the kingdom drove them apart.
She was to be queen. She had to conceal, not feel. She had to be the perfect queen. So no more secret trysts in the evening, no more playing in the snow. A blizzard struck that day, fueled by the heat of anger. She lost him, and loneliness became her friend once more.
She let everything go, and even if she felt alive, there was still that void in her heart.
Her sister saved her, and she was eternally thankful. Love, not fear. She was happy, everyone was. No one knew that deep down there was one person she yearned for. She wanted to cry herself to sleep, but no tears came. Only dreams. A knock woke her. Her window burst open to a flurry of snow and apologies, apologies to more than just the breaking in. Their lips touched, and it started snowing.
A blizzard struck again that night, but out of a different heat.
Everyone could see there was something different about the queen. Just when they thought that her gates would be open, she had started to hide herself away again. Love, not fear, she told herself, but she was scared. Only her sister knew why. He was on the other side of the world, fighting a shadow that threatened to blanket the world. But rumors spread like wildfire.
It was a boy, brought forth to the world on the eve of the winter solstice.
Commotion. Scandal. The queen had no king, yet there was the boy. Brown hair, blue eyes; it could've been anyone. The day the boy cried for his mother was the day the worst blizzard in Arendelle happened. He could not be calmed, and the people realized the cause of the calamity. They knew better than to react in fear, and yet they still did. So she ran again; she didn't want anything to happen to him. This time she made sure she couldn't be followed.
Another ice castle appeared on the mountain overnight, and in a few weeks, Arendelle had a new queen.
A crown prince, destined to have become king. She had decided that he didn't need Arendelle. They had a kingdom of their own. She dreamed every day, of the young boy bursting through her windows, his eyes full of mischief. And playfulness. And love. Thousands and thousands of nights later, and still the queen had no king. At least she had her prince.
He woke up, with his last memory of seeing darkness cover him, and his last thought of her lips on his.
He made his way to her castle, and was about to burst in her window, like he always did. He stopped. It wasn't her in the room. It was a younger girl, blonde, brown eyes. Not her. He went to the throne room, and there the queen sat. But it was not his queen, nor her sister. He took off to the mountains and saw the brilliant castle of ice. Fearing the worst, he entered.
Sculptures of ice lined the halls: the Arendelle castle, his queen's sister, the iceman and his reindeer, the silly snowman who could talk. What stood out to him was the centerpiece.
Confusion. He went to his fairy friend and asked for a favor. To see the memories of a boy. The young boy named after his father, the prince to a kingdom that never forgot. His mother tried to be strong for him, and she was, but still grief took her away. Blizzards started overtaking Arendelle. The boy was alone, king of the palace, but before his last childhood tooth could fall, he was hunted down. The blizzards stopped, and the palace was empty.
But not for long.
Grief. It was what led him back. He curled up at the feet of the icy centerpiece and gazed at it for the longest time: his queen, standing proud, with a young boy in her arms, and him holding them both. All smiles, frozen in this moment that could've happened, but never did.
