Jack was finishing up his Slavic tour of winter, heading west toward Europe. He had successfully made one Russian diplomat slip on ice in front of the French consulate, encouraged 3 Estonian kids to start a snowball fight, and watched as more than 40 teenagers in Belarus decided simultaneously to ice skate on a nearby pond. Of course, Jack reinforced the ice many times over keeping an eye on the thinnest parts for cracks. Every once in a while, he would wet a patch or two making an entire line of skaters fall flat. Laughter, of course, ensued from the other side of the pond. Their laughter was the energy he breathed. It was the life-force that kept him sustained. He cherished every chuckle and every hearty wail. He was the harbinger of fun and it fulfilled him like nothing else ever could or ever would.
Jack smiled thinking of the dark, moody college kids (that were around the same age as he…before he had stopped aging) laughing and smiling. They had been completely interrupted from their morose reveries. And Jack had done that. He would never get over the satisfaction it gave him to make someone happy.
While he sailed over Finland, that's when he heard it for the first time. Heard her. It was the saddest sound he'd ever beheld. It was the quiet sobs of someone alone. It called to him – her sadness – and it came from Norway. Without question, he gathered the north wind behind him and rocketed toward it. Toward her. There was nothing else in his mind except getting to the source of the despair. He could help, he could chase the sadness away with a well placed ice patch or cold wind.
Upon arrival, Jack watched as a lone, beautiful woman, in a slow, precise pace escaped a palace party. She stood upright, like a woman of regality, her head held high, but her shoulders slumped forward just enough to exude the sadness Jack had heard from the skies. Her hands were in front of her, fingers interlaced, making a 'U' with her arms. It was open and yet it was a gesture of protection. It closed her off to the world. It was clear to Jack right away that it was a practiced gesture. She sought comfort in the concealing posture.
The woman had long, white hair, just like his. But hers was somehow softer, no, maybe it was just blonde. He hopped closer, drawn to her. Her hair was tied back, braided and pulled away from her face. Her long dark blue dress had a train that signified she was either royalty, or someone of close importance. The gleam of her crown caught the light from the party. Princess, Jack confirmed. The large celebration inside raged behind the full windows, orange and yellow light flooded the white snow outside. With her back turned to it, the woman was trying to escape it. And no one followed. Or noticed. As Jack landed gently on a roof above her, the princess' tears were evident. She may have held her head high, but she was the source of the sadness nonetheless.
No one saw her leave the party? Jack thought incredulously to himself. He watched her turn a corner into the gardens, away from the light of the party. All that lit the grounds was the full Moon. Almost like the Man in the Moon was lighting her darkness. Jack flew to a nearby terrace, trying to get a better look at the sad princess. Maybe he can spur some fun to brighten her night and chase away those tears. Jack accumulates soft snow patches in the embankment a few steps behind her but stops suddenly when the princess summons snow of her own making. Dark, ominous clouds form above her as the tears begin to flow freely. Snow falls softly at first then flurries around her, picking up the naturally fallen snow that surrounds her.
Jack's mouth hangs open. His hands have dropped limply to his sides. His staff hangs dangerously close to the concrete terrace banister that he is perched on. His fingers loosen ever so slightly then and a loud wooden clanking sound resonates through the garden, breaking the silence. Jack scurries to catch the fallen staff. But not before the woman jumps at the sound. She looks around frantically for the source of the noise. Noticing then the sudden flurry that surrounds the small area she inhabits.
"Oh, not again." She silently curses. The woman wipes the tears frantically from her cheeks and tries to smile. It seems to chase away most of the clouds circling above her. Most of them anyway. The snow stopped falling but if Jack looked close enough, he could see the barest hint of dark mist following her back into the ballroom. She turns the corner away from the dark gardens and faces the light now, her head held high once again. It is then that Jack could see that this woman was younger than he initially thought, younger even than she presented herself as – she was 21 at most.
"Queen Elsa!" A tall, burly man had opened the large glass door of the ballroom and called outside.
"Yes, I'm here." The woman, Elsa, responded reassuringly. Elsa.
"You're needed in the ballroom to christen your sister's engagement."
"Yes, of course." She smiled sincerely, picking up the front hem of her dress and hurrying inside. Jack descends from the terrace, leaping to the same corner she had used as her protection from prying eyes. He stepped into the light as Elsa began to speak candidly inside. Her gestures were small and measured, but her large smile showed a happiness that Jack was suddenly relieved to find. You don't even know her. He caught himself. Nevertheless, he walked into the light, drawn to the ice queen. No one had actually seen him or heard him in centuries. But she had. "She heard me," he whispered to himself unsure of the new reality.
The ice queen had heard him and he was suddenly bolstered by the realization. "She heard me!" Jack yelled with more confidence. He leapt into the air, cheering the whole way up and even louder on the way down. The girl had ice powers and she had heard him! He propelled a bolt of snow and ice into the air from shear excitement. It rained down on the paved stones below him creating an unnatural circle of black ice. Jack shook the fresh ice from his hair, laughing at the thought that he was not alone. He hadn't ever considered how alone he felt as Jack Frost. The only winter spirit. But he was not alone. He was smiling uncontrollably when he looked back into the ballroom to catch a last glimpse of Elsa before he launched himself into the sky, chasing the next snow day. But what he saw inside made all hope of returning to the winter nearly impossible. Jack's breath caught in his throat when he saw Elsa staring back at him through the window. She could see him. She couldn't just hear him, she could see him!
Jack lurched into the sky, pressing the air below him to gain more distance.