So this is my fifth attempt at this plotline... Originally I was writing this as a multi chapter fic but it wasn't working out, so here's a really long one shot instead! And if you like this then please go and enjoy my other Jelsa stories; 'A Winter's Promise', 'A Winter's Spell', and 'Unveiled'.
The song I used is from norwegianmelodies . com, and the credit for introducing me to that website goes to the lovely Ladylionhart, who has become one of my best friends, (even though we live on different continents!), and is also a spectacularly talented writer here on fan fiction . net. So go check out her jelsa stories guys!
Winter's Kiss
The kiss of winter flies on the wings of the wind in the early month of December, carrying with it what will be a long and bitter yet sweet winter to the land of Arendelle. And it is this wind that comes bursting through my window at the crack of dawn.
I am awakened by the flapping of my burgundy drapes against the sill, to which the panes have been left hanging crookedly agape. I draw the covers to my neck, trying to conserve what little warmth I have left in my body. But I was never really warm to begin with. I was only ever able to keep the cold, which was something I learned about myself long ago. But that's okay because the cold never bothered me anyway.
The curtains dance wildly in the windowframe as though they are alive and too restless to sleep. And then I hear it, the whisper in the wind that seems to carry his voice on it. I feel his cold lips brush against my pale skin. And feeling his touch once more makes my skin feel like more than skin. And I suddenly feel whole again. And it's like being complete, and completely alive. Like being happier out of your skin than in it. And it feels better then anything else has ever hurt. And I yearn to feel that way as much as possible.
A knock comes at my door, and I feel the lust of his touch slowly ebbing away. The aura of his presence seems to slip from my grasp just as his hand does through my fingers, and his lips become the wind pricking at my flushed cheeks once more. And he vanishes on the breath of winter just as easily as he appeared from it. I close my eyes and find myself endeavoring to persuade my conscience that he was actually here, with me. That he returned to me at long last. But I fear my heavy heart is trying to convince me otherwise.
"Milady?" Gerda, my ladies' maid and most cherished confident, has opened the door a crack and stands with half her body in the room. "Is everything in order? I heard a frightful clatter and wanted to-..." Her voice trails off just as her eyes do to the window, which still remains ajar and allows the crisp morning breeze to drift in.
Like a shot, Gerda dashes to the window and fastens the latch into place. "Dear me, it appears the hinges have come loose," She sighs to her utter dismay. "I suppose I'll have to fetch a handyman to mend them. You won't mind the racket will you?"
"Actually, would you mind if we delayed the repairs? I must admit I'm feeling quite unwell at the moment."
"Shall I bring you anything? Something from the kitchens? I hear Chef Alec has whipped up a scrumptious krumkake."
"That's kind of you Gerda, but I'm fine."
"Of course milady. After all, bed rest is the best remedy for all ills."
"Oh, but I'm not ill. Simply a little short of energy."
"More like sapped of energy. The flu is an awful sickness." She says, touching the back of her hand to my forehead. "You don't appear to have a temperature just yet, but I'll summon the doctor all the same."
"That's because I'm not suffering from the flu." I pry her hand from my cheek and give it a firm squeeze in between my clammy palms in an effort to explain to her. To make her listen. But she won't listen, and I can't be heard. I'm not ill. I'm not. Not really. At least not of the flu. Just of a broken heart.
"It is what the doctor says it is. But do not fret, I'm confident it's nothing krumkake and a cup of tea can't solve." She gives my shoulder a comforting pinch and leaves the room in a flurry of skirts en route for the kitchen quarters.
As soon as she disappears through the door, I lift the weight of my frail body onto my feet and stumble to the window that overlooks the palace gardens down below. I haven't ventured as far as the gardens in several days due to my condition. Gerda would undoubtedly have a fit if she saw me on my feet now as it is. But if I am to be confined to my chambers until this sickness passes, then I may as well be allowed to do as I please. That is, if this passes.
The sky begins to drizzle of snowflakes that aren't quite frozen but are well on their way into winter. An ominous grey shades the horizon with the threat of a storm that is just beginning to brew in the distance and blustering its way to Arendelle sooner rather than later. Slush flecks the window in a series of rhythmic taps, the path of the water obscuring my view of the outside as it streams down the glass.
Gazing at the plains of my kingdom now whilst sprinkled and glittering of freshly-fallen snow, I cannot begin to fathom how some may find this the most unpleasant of the four seasons. Some say that winter is the time for nature to hibernate and grow anew again come spring. That winter could never be beautiful because of the mess it makes of all that surrounds it. But I know better. Winter is not the time to sleep. It is the time to flourish. When the true beauty of the earth is revealed to us in surprising and even dangerous ways. Winter is the coldest time of year when you find the warmest of hearts.
And I knew one once. It was so long ago. Almost feels close to a lifetime ago, and it nearly is. A lifetime far more different from this one. I was a different person to begin with. I was a version of myself two decades younger, with bones that were stronger and more flexible than the stiff and brittle ones I'm stuck with now, dressed in skin that was smooth of the wrinkles and creases I'm clad in now.
He was the coldest of souls with the warmest of hearts. He opened doors for me where they were locked shut. Opened my eyes when I blinked. Created fun when life was dull. Turned on the lights when life grew too dark to see. Woke me up when I fell asleep. Made me feel alive when I was dead inside. He was everything I ever wanted and everything I ever needed and I took him away.
All ten of my fingers curled around the fabric when I grasped it in my hands and pried the drapes from the window. I watched the floor at my feet vanish into darkness as it spilled in from the night sky. And up above the world so high like countless diamonds in the sky glittered stars that appeared no bigger than the snowflakes fluttering to the earth at the time.
I knew from the moment I was tucked into bed to the second the candles were put out to the minute the hands of the clocks struck twelve. I felt it in the twitch of my fingers and toes and the restlessness of the energy bubbling up inside of me as I tossed from left to right and turned from front to back. And I knew. I knew that there was no way I was going to sleep that night.
I threw open my wardrobe, from it I pulled out the thickest coat I could find and slipped my thin arms through the sleeves and buttoned the collar all the way up to my neck. I fled the room in silent yet quick footsteps, evading the guards and maids on the evening duty around every corner, and it was through the kitchens that I found my ticket out of the castle.
I clicked the door shut behind me and skipped down the steps two at a time one bare foot at a time. I darted through the labyrinth of the gardens with a prance in my step and my fingertips leaving a touch of frost on every last plant I brushed past.
There was a luscious plot of grass where Mother and Father would take Anna and me to have picnics in the summer. We would sit there, the four of us, on a quilt and enjoy the warm afternoons spent in the sun gobbling up slices of egg salad sandwiches and sips of tea. Mother would read us stories until she couldn't focus and the words started dancing before her eyes. By then, Anna and I would be stirring up fun from the snow I created. Angels were made in the snow and snowballs were pelted between us. And if we weren't careful enough, sometimes Father would come to join us if a snowball or two ended up in his lunch. As the afternoons drew to a close, Anna and I would fall fast asleep in our Father's arms from the merriment of the activity. And from there he would carry us, one daughter in the crook of each arm, to our shared bedroom.
It was this plot of grass where I lay in the snow and drew an angel around the outline of my body. The clouds had long since emptied of the snow that filled them and now rolled by under navy skies. I reached out to the sky, extending my fingers to the moon that was suspended above me, and from the tip of my finger spiraled a snowflake. It fluttered to my lips, and upon releasing the breath I hadn't known I was holding, the snowflake was whisked away. Up into the sky it rose to the moon, never to return.
"How did you do that?"
I bolted upright, searching somewhat frantically for the source of the voice and the lips to which the words belonged to.
"No need to be afraid," It spoke, its tone soft and gentle as if terrified of scaring me off. "I won't hurt you."
"Is that a statement or a promise?" I demanded, my hands trembling more than my voice allowed to show. I was still surveying my surroundings. Still searching for the person to whom the voice speaks from. But there is not a shadow in sight amongst the darkness.
He was silent for a moment, and then, "A promise."
There came a scuffling sound that was immediately followed by the rustle of bushes and snapping of twigs. And then there was him. His feet were pale against the snow and flushed pink despite the cold. His brown trousers practically touched the ground and his lanky frame barely filled out the white shirt draped across his shoulders. Brown tresses fell into brown orbs when our eyes met. His glance was icy at first and mine was cold. But it was with what we said next that thawed the ice frozen between us.
"What is your name may I ask?" He asked, cautious with his words just in case he said the wrong one.
"Elsa. Elsa of Arendelle," A brief pause ensued before I thought to ask, "And you are?"
A crooked smile found its way to the corner of his lip, as if it was drawn with the wrong quill. Wrong quill, but in all the right curves. "Jack. Jack Overland."
Their footsteps could be heard from several leagues away. But they're only a few corridors down and already sounding like a stampede before they come stumbling into my chambers. The three of them are an entanglement of bodies and limbs in the doorway, and it's even prior to tripping into the room that the bickering begins. Words are spat and yelled amongst them as their quarrel unravels, and it isn't until I clear my throat slightly that all three heads quirk up with grins of pearly whites dominating their faces.
"Children, how kind of you to drop in." I say with a warm smile but without teeth. There was only ever one person who was capable of drawing a smile like that out of me. And never again will these lips bend or curve in that angle. Never again. Never again...
They all three scramble to their feet and all at once words spill from their mouths as they come scuttling up to me. They have the wits and blond locks of their father and are just as stubborn as their mother with whom they share a sweet tooth for chocolate and beady blue eyes that just seem to get bigger every day. Adgar is the eldest at eleven and possibly the kindest as well. He is very fond of his younger sisters and is true to the generosity in his heart. Then it is Adelaide at seven, who is probably the meanest of sport. She adores a challenge but never likes to lose one. But underneath all that sour, I know she's sweet. You just have to know how to reach it. And then there is little Lenette at barely four years, who is more often then not referred to as Lenny. She always succeeds in filling the dampest of rooms with laughter and is the only one out of the three who shares her father's fascination for ice. Though I cannot determine if she is intrigued by the ice so much as her reflection in it. Almost as if she cannot comprehend how they are the same person.
From behind their backs they produce a bouquet of Galanthuses, which is one of few flowers that bloom in winter and is more commonly known as a 'Snowdrop'. I breathe their scent in deeply, catching a strong whiff of their pleasant fragrance, and notice that some of the white petals have been crinkled or gone missing. I smooth them out between my fingertips, strongly suspecting that they were trampled or smothered in the ruckus.
"Auntie Elsie," Adelaide says, tugging at my sleeve to capture my attention. "Will you tell us a story?"
I smile at her and lift her onto my lap, all the while hoping I don't fall apart in doing so. "Of couse I can. Which tale am I telling today?"
"Tell us the one about Jack Frost." Adgar pleads, resting his chin on my knee.
Lenny gives a little cheer of applause that follows in agreement, and I soon find myself submerged in an ocean of past memories and the sight of belief that only ever existed in dreams as I recount the true tale of Jack Frost for them.
"Once upon a time," I begin. "-now what time was that exactly you may ask? Well, it was a long time ago my dear children. For the spirit of winter has and will always be around for a long time. You see, our favorite Guardian of fun awoke in darkness long ago. It was dark and it was cold. That was the last thing her ever remembered. His name was Jack Frost. How did he know this? The moon told him so. It was all he ever told him..."
It was long after the sun had set that I found myself standing on top of the world. Below, the labyrinth of hamlets built the village and the trees rising up from the ground sketched the valley beyond that. And from the slanted rooftop of the castle, Arendelle looked like a city that should belong to insects. The night sky was freckled with stars that looked like fireflies from underneath. It was strange how you could look at the world from so many different angles and find every corner open your eyes as if you weren't quite looking through your own anymore.
They said that everything was uglier up close. But they could never be more wrong. From afar, you were just another observer. But up close, you were the insect trying to navigate its way through the winding maze. Or the bird discovering new roads near, wide and far in the skies. There was more detail up close and where there were finer and smaller details, there was a whole new world to be discovered.
I found my lips moving and the words emerging before I could bite them back. "If my sister were here, she would say that the sky is awake."
Our eyes locked and I felt the ice thawing just beneath the skin. The eyes that were such a rich ember shade of brown they could catch fire and so deep there was no end to them. They said that the eyes were the key to the soul. I never quite understood what they meant until I caught Jack's gaze when it seemed like he was losing his balance.
His brow quirked up with the corner of his mouth, smiling as crooked a smile as they came. "I didn't know you had a sister."
I felt the color rise in my cheeks and my heart flutter in my chest. But all I could do was harden my gaze.
"I had a sister."
My eyes softened around the edges as every muscle in my face fell.
"Her name was Eleanor." His voice was distant and he suddenly sounded hollow inside. As if uttering her very name bore a hole through his chest. His eyes fell from mine and I couldn't catch his gaze.
"We were out on the ice one blustery winter day, and I convinced her it would be fun to play a game of hopscotch." I watched his fingers clench and unclench in his lap. "She was scared and I kept telling her that it was going to be okay, coaxing her into believing that we were going to have fun. But there was no fun to be had. Only the lies I told her."
"The ice started cracking from underneath us. I tried to reach out for her, tried to catch her. But she slipped through my fingers and fell through."
I slid my hand into his palm and our fingers entwined the way a spider weaves a web. His eyes flicked up but I could only focus on our hands grasped in one another and all five of his fingers as they came to life around mine. I glanced up at him and held his gaze between us, refusing to allow it to fall again. A light breeze brushed by, and it stole the only word I knew how to speak at that moment.
"Sorry."
Though for what I did not know.
The door opens with a creak halfway through the story. Just after Jack Frost nips at your nose but just before he swoops down from the skies above in a whirlwind of wintry fun for the children. And I have the children on the edge of their seats. Their features alight with excitement and their hands gripping the velvet cushions they sit on in anticipation. We all glance up to find Anna's head poking in the doorway with a grin much to big for her face upturning her lips.
"Hope I'm not interrupting." She says almost apologetically.
I offer her a soft smile. "Not at all."
Her face burns all the more brighter, and I almost have to squint simply to look at her. She mumbles something under her breath to Gerda, who stands in the corridor, and takes a platter of warm tea and krumkake from her before closing the door behind her.
The children all leap up at once and stumble over each other in an attempt to make a grab for even the smallest of crumbs from the pastry. Anna shifts her weight onto her toes and holds the platter over their heads and far from their reach. She sends them off to their lessons with a roll each cradled in their palms so as not to spoil their dinners.
"They didn't have to leave you know." I tell her with a slight smirk in my features.
"Of course they had to. Gerda told me how stubborn you were being this morning and I have half a mind to berate you for allowing the kind of commotion that my children are responsible for causing into your quarters when you should be resting."
"Isn't it the elder sister's duty to give the orders?"
"Not when she's sick in bed with the flu it isn't."
"When did you become so grown up?"
"The day you became so old. Now drink this." She tilts the cup against my lower lip and into my mouth spills the warm liquid. It oozes down my throat and boils in my stomach. Before I know it, the cup is drained dry and empty of its beverage. I thank my sister, and am met with surprise when she buries her faces into the soft flesh of my torso and I feel her long arms come to life around my body.
"Please don't leave me Elsa." Her muffled voice comes, and it isn't until her words begin to break and her tone starts to crack that it dawns on my that she's crying.
"Shh. Hey, it's okay. I won't be going anywhere." I try to soothe her. Try to coax her into believing a lie. But even I know my words are false and are only meant to spare her the anguish of realization of the inevitable. And they can't even do that.
"Don't say that," She unties herself from around me, but doesn't go far. "You don't know that. You don't know it's going to be okay and nor do I. So please, for my sake, spare me the lies and broken promises of comfort."
My teeth dig deep into my lip, hard, until I taste the few drops of blood that have broke the skin upon my tongue. Something that I haven't caught myself doing in years. Not since that day on the fjord...
"I will promise you one thing," Her eyes meet mine and the blue in them is paler then usual. Almost grey like the clouds when even the sky sheds itself of its tears. The tears brim at the corners and I see through her smiles just how vulnerable she is. How close to falling apart she truly is. And I feel my heart breaking in my chest, just between my lungs.
"I'll still be here come morning."
"Promise?" She sniffles, and I wipe the tears from her cheeks where they have stained them.
"With a cross of my heart."
I grip her hands in mine and kiss them where they are cold and clammy. On every knuckle and all ten fingernails. She does the same to mine when I've finished and we share a laugh. It was something our mother did to chase away the pain when we were ill or to lift our spirits when they fell from the wounds life inflicted upon us. Of course, it never really cured us of the physical pain but it always helped to know that she was there to pick us up onto our feet when we fell down.
With a few creaks and cracks from my bones and a wince or two here and there, I make space for Anna on the bed. She lies with her head of auburn locks on my shoulder, and we become an entanglement of bodies and limbs and sheets on the bed. An entanglement of promises and broken hearts.
The windowpane flaps against the frame in the wind and a cool breeze manages to find its way into the room. A shiver creeps into my body, but it's not from the cold so much from the emptiness I begin to fill with. Or that I have been filled with for a long time. But something is well on its way. I can taste on the bitter wind. Something is coming to Arendelle, and its coming soon.
Her body shivers against mine and I can already feel the goosebumps rising all up and down her arms. I hold her close, squeezing her tighter than I would have thought possible because that is the way of human nature. It is a natural and reflexive response to hold taut when you feel as though you are about to fall. Anna is the edge and I'm the one about to fall off the earth. Our bond is almost like a scale and we are balanced only by one another's presence. And it is my fault that the scale is about to be tipped.
I can protect Anna from many things. Just as an elder sister should. I have the authority to build her a kingdom to live in security and prosperity. I have the ability to defend and shield her from any threat of harm. I have the shoulder to lean on and support to carry her when she stumbles. But the one thing in the whole wide world I cannot save her from is myself. I know this with a heavy heart. But I also know with a twist and churn of my gut that there is no preventing this. I am the worst threat she could possibly face. The most agonizing heartbreak that could be inflicted upon her. I know this just as I know the inevitability of my demise. But I won't be leaving her alone.
The kingdom will flourish and fair well under her reign. She will be well cared for with the army of royal guards at her disposal. She will have gentle shoulder to lean on and kind words of Gerda to take heart in. And then there is her beloved family, in which she will find the happiness and bliss she deserves. I know father and mother would be proud in the woman she has grown into. In the kindred and clever spirit she has always been. She won't be alone. I have to convince myself to trust in these words the way I was never able to find trust in a soul whilst growing as a child. She will be safe. She's in good hands...
"Perhaps there will go
Both winter and spring,
Both winter and spring,
And next summer also,
And the whole year,
And the whole year,
But one time you will come,
I know this for sure,
I know this for sure,
And I shall surely wait,
For I promised that last,
I promised that last.
God strengthen you,
Where you go in the world,
You go in the world,
God give you joy if you
Before his footstool stand,
Before his footstool stand.
Here shall I wait
Until you come again,
You come again;
And if you wait above,
We'll meet there again, my friend,
We'll meet there again, my friend."
The last words of the lullaby leave my lips with a final breath. And I can still hear Mother's voice singing from all those sleepless nights we found ourselves wide awake with the sky. The vocal chords deep in her throat still tuning into harmony with the words in my ears when my eyelids flutter closed until morning's dawn.
There was pounding in my ears, faint at first but grew louder as its pace quickened, and I thought it was my heart beating in my chest. That is, until my eyes fluttered open and I was lured from my dreams. I saw nothing at first, nothing but the darkness smudging my vision around the edges as I adjusted to the lack of light in the room.
I drew the covers aside and tiptoed as silently as the floorboards would permit around the room, my ears straining and my head swivelling in every possible direction. But it was a few moments that ticked by before the knock could be heard again. A single stream of silver moonlight spilled into the room in between the slightly parted drapes and it was from the shadow that the windowframe cast upon the floor that I noticed the silhouette drawn in the darkest of shades standing on the sill.
I steeled myself where I stood, every bone in my body going rigid, and held my breath as if standing still would make this a dream. Or perhaps a nightmare. Whichever came first really. Another knock came like it was trying to reach me. Or waiting for me. My breath trembled on the way out of my lungs as I brushed the curtains aside to find two eyes staring back at me. The brown in them was so dark in the twilight that it looked as if he had two holes borne through his face over a grin of pearly whites.
His name escaped my mouth before I could catch it, but he only pressed the tip of his finger to his lips before proceeding to help me jimmy the window open. He offered me both his hands, in which I slid my palms into, and from there he whispered to me where to place my feet as I climbed onto the roof under a night sky illuminated by a trillion stars. We trotted down the slanted slope of the roof, our hands intertwined the entire time we made our descent. Jack hung from his fingertips and stretched his body as long as his limbs could expand. But try as he might, his toes just barely grazed the blanket of snow that covered the ground. Upon releasing his grip, he fell to the earth with a thud and brushed his cloak off before beckoning for me to jump.
I'd never jumped from any height higher then my bed. And all the countless times I did so I felt only the air pricking my cheeks as I plunged to the floor. But that night, when my feet left the roof and my eyes opened wider than I would have thought possible to watch the ground grow into view, I felt only the flight catch in my extended wings before Jack's hands came to life around my waist.
He wouldn't tell me where we were going. Only that I was to keep my lips sealed and my eyes closed as he guided me by the hand to our destination. Upon arriving, he whispered with his breath on my skin into my ear to open them. And his breath smelled of peppermint mingled with cinnamon, like Christmas was being celebrated inside his mouth this year. Laid out before my feet and shimmering under the beam of moonlight streaming through the tree limbs was a lake entirely frozen.
"The ice is thin," Jack told me. "But stable enough."
I clasped his hand in mine, realizing for the first time that evening that I never let it go. We stepped as one body with two pairs of feet onto the ice, and already I felt myself beginning to slip away. But he only held tighter. Our feet slipped and slid from under us as we began to swivel and glide. We sprinted from one end of the bank to the other, our feet trying to out skate each other. But the challenge ended in only laughter and tripping over one another until our bodies were all up in knots. Jack pulled me onto my feet, and it was staring into that deep shade of brown that gave me the courage to place my trust in him. That convinced me there were still souls out there beyond the walls of the palace you could believe in. You simply had to know where to find them.
Our feet slipped from beneath us, and we soon found ourselves on all fours. My eyes darted frantically around, trying to make sense of what was happening. But it didn't dawn on me until I examined the ice between us, which was melting away before my eyes. I felt the cracks begin to sew themselves into the surface between my fingertips and I wanted to shut my eyes. I tried to shut my eyes because even I didn't want to watch what was to happen next. But they wouldn't remain closed, leaving me with the only sight being of the fear settling in Jack's eyes. It was both a strange and frightening color. But I supposed it was because fear did something strange and frightening to people. It shut people down, and in that moment everything from your thoughts to muscles to your lips were left paralyzed. But not Jack, if nothing, anything, and everything, he was wide awake.
He grasped my hands in his and yanked me toward him with such force that my shoulders felt like they were on the verge of popping out of their sockets. I thought I felt my body tumble across the ice but I wasn't entirely sure. Nothing around me seemed to register in my mind. But the time what was blurry began to sharpen in my senses, I was lying at the edge of the bank. My limbs suddenly began to rouse from their stupor as I propped myself on my elbows in time to see Jack's smile one last time before the ice collapsed from under him. My throat was still raw with his name on my lips long after Jack slipped through my fingers.
But why he was smiling, I could never explain.
The moonlight comes creeping in between the shutters. My eyelids flit open the way you fall asleep but in reverse; slowly, and then all at once. And it's all at once that my vision begins to focus. That the shape of his face is measured, the color of his eyes is painted, and the corner of his mouth is drawn in the crookedest of lines.
His smile becomes mine just before his lips are lain on my mouth, and its on my tongue that I taste winter's kiss. And my mouth becomes fresh of peppermint and my tongue tingles of cinnamon. My fingers thread themselves through his silver tresses when I deepen the kiss and try to fool myself into believing that he is here. That after all this time, Jack has returned to me. But there is no need to persuade my conscious. Because when I open my eyes again, I stare into orbs so blue that I realize I stare into the very depths of winter itself.
He extends his hands to me, and into them slide my palms until my fingers fill the spaces between his. And it is then that it occurs to me exactly why the spaces between them were made. Just for another's to fill them in. No words pass between us as he carries me onto my feet and guides me to the open window through which he entered, but there is no need for words. His smile tells me plenty enough.
As I climb onto the sill, I feel the emptiness that filled my heart begin to fade. Begin to with the life it had long ago been drained of and mend into a whole once more. Something has come to Arendelle. I taste it on the wind, and I am leaving with it. I glance behind me at Anna's frame on the bed. Her eyelids fluttering and her lungs easing into the rhythmic breaths of sleep as her body twitches slightly in shell of my body's clammy palms. A smile reaches my lips because I know she will be safe. I believe that she is in good hands.
He wraps a lanky arm around my waist and beckons the wind with the stave he grasps in in his opposite hand. And it is on the wings of the wind that we fly into the horizon where the sun begins to ascend with the colors of dawn. And I leave Anna one final smile in the wind, knowing that my promise has been fulfilled.
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