Hi there! My apologies for being dead for so long. ^^" Real life killed me and I had to wait a long time before I was fully regenerated. In the meantime, have an updated chapter!
If the writing style is too convoluted or tedious or something, drop me a note and let me know so I can make the appropriate adjustments. I have this bad habit of tying details together in a way that makes them fit either or both of the descriptions above.
Warning: This thing is going to get updates for old chapters even as the new ones are being written and posted because I am Not going to let lousy starts ruin the beautiful ends.
Summary: A title is a heavy thing. You can't always run away from the responsibilities it brings. Prince! Jack and Bandit! Elsa.
For Prince Jackson Overland Frost, a typical morning consisted of waking up in his posh, four poster bed when the first hint of sunlight hits his face. Next, comes washing up in his delicate porcelain basin with a towel of hundred percent fluffiness, followed by a delicious and nutritious breakfast at the Frost family's overly large dining room table. If he was lucky and woke up earlier that particular day, he might be able to eat with his parent, the esteemed King of Burgess.
A regular afternoon would be a day spent in his lonesome company, wandering the halls of the palace and entertaining himself with his own business. Most times, that meant pranking the unfortunate castle staff (who soon learnt to be wary of the nimble and witty young prince whose presence was as undetectable as the snow spirit he was named after). Sometimes that meant training in the courtyard, with sword and fist, archery and leg. (Because despite the willingness of knights who'd been on the butt end of one too many pranks to spar with him, contact was forbidden by the King himself, and so they would evacuate the area when he came in, and whisper mutual dreams of overthrowing the King of Pranks from his regime.)
Other times, he would seal himself away in his empty bedroom chambers and play with the forbidden. Those times, he would stay inside the room long after his session was over, just so he could wait for the ice he had created to melt before he leaves, because this special ability of his is something no one else is supposed to know about.
But he can't help using it either way, because it's too much fun not to. (And because it's his, in a way that little else is despite his status as royalty.)
On the sad days, Jack would be crying inwardly as his personal tutor forces him to study up on etiquette and other princely things that he would rather not have to learn about. Like the lay of his future kingdom, and how it related to everything else. It's not that he's not interested in being the future ruler, but he just doesn't care about geography! If they want to take over his kingdom, let them try. He can zap their asses with a cold, icy blast and win any day!
The life of Jackson Overland Frost is just sad and boring in summary, but that was all about to change.
It all happened the day he decided to follow his sire on one of the latter's diplomatic journeys to a kingdom close by. It was a quiet, rustic kingdom named Arendelle and celebrations cum negotiations were supposed to last a week at most, so the young prince was tasked to stand in charge for that brief period.
If only that worked out.
On the same afternoon when the royal assembly had set off in their carriage, the naughty Frost left his father's trusted adviser in charge, and chased after. He went without any of his royal trappings, choosing only simple necessities and absolute basics, things that anyone would have. Unlike his parent in the fine gilded cage on wheels, Jack traveled undetected via air, and relished in his freedom and control.
Then, he wondered why the man had forbidden him the use of these abilities in the first place, because why keep him away from something so wonderful? Why should he keep them hidden as if the ownership of was a sin and a burden? This feeling of freedom, of dancing with the wind and going where he wished to, with the endless blue sky as his territory and the inhabitants as his prey. Why was it so wrong?
How was it wrong?
This bliss and release. His Eden.
(And his only escape from the prison that was his title.)
Safely concealed from sight among the puff balls in the sky, Jack scans the limitless blue of his current playground and abandons the fickle plans for amusement simmering in his mind for the first crowd of migratory birds he spots in the far distance. He arrows straight towards them, pitting his speed against that of the bewildered group, laughing as the incredible gust of pressure he leaves in his wake disturbs their harmonic formation. Paying attention only to the screaming need to just be, he closes his eyes, trusting the wind which carries him, watches him while he flies higher and further, faster and faster until the tumultuous roar of approval in his ears is the only thing he can hear (and if the quiet voice of a child asking for his parent's support and acceptance still remains, he pushes it down, buries and shackles it like a Pandora's box deep in the depths of his deprived soul.)
Jack has flown enough to cover the distance between Burgess and Arendelle at least thrice before the urge is finally spent.
He lies on his back with his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms behind his head, basking in Father Sun's warmth while his trusty sidekick (and almost mother) cools the red that physics and emotion had wrung into his pale cheeks. The deep blues float open, swimming with lazy tranquility behind the white lids and he yawns, loud and careless with happy fatigue as he floats on the breeze towards the kingdom sitting next to his own.