Jack's Point of View

The city of Arendelle was a prosperous city. It was a hot spot for trading, a bountiful producer of fish and baked goods, and home to plenty of citizens and even a bountiful castle. Those citizens have everything they'll need. Food. Friends. Loved ones.

I am not them. I'm just their usual pest, barely keeping alive as it is.

Every day, people display their baked goods and fresh fish to attract customers. Women hang their clothes to dry, taking advantage of the beautiful city weather. Everyone chatters, either gossip or polite talk, they still have someone who listens.

I'm just doomed to steal for the rest of my life, keeping my family alive by being popular only as a street rat.

"Thief! Guards, I saw him with my own eyes, that rat stole from me!" The old hag yells.

The guards turn from calm, laughing brothers to terrifying hunters.

"No, I didn't! I didn't steal!" I scream, trying to figure out my next move.

By the guards expressions, I can see their doubt in me.

"Get him! He stole! I saw him with my own eyes!" She continues screaming, drawing more and more attention to me.

As the guards walk towards me, I, in a split-second, sprint the opposite direction. I chase through the crowd, ignoring their faces of offense and surprise.

Don't stop running, don't get caught. Not this time.

I continue sprinting, not daring to take the time to look behind me. I race through the streets, darting different ways in confusion. I didn't know where to turn, or which way to run. I've never been to this part of town, the part closest to the sea. It's unfamiliar. It's confusing, and everyone is shouting deals, trying to get people to buy things.

Suddenly, I stop running in a quick halt. I don't know where to go. The adrenaline from running and tiredness hit my head hard, and I don't know what to do now.

"Halt! Thief!" One of the guards shouts, pointing to me.

I can feel people's stares, and their whispering gossips about a rat such as me. The three guards surround me.

Why fight? They know where I live. I do this too much for people not to notice. I'm a joke by now. I should just accept the punishment.

I stay still, breathing heavily.

"7 lashes!" one of them orders.

One of them gets in front of me, and I stare at the ground. He kicks me down on my knees, ripping my already torn brown pants against the rough pebbles. He takes of my cape and white, well once white, shirt.

Better accept it now. Just get it over with.

My back and chest are bare, and I can feel myself tensing up already, preparing for the harsh lashes. This is the worst part. Waiting. Waiting for the stinging ache of a lash after lash. Hearing people gather the commotion, whispering their common whispers.

"What a street rat." "He's steeling again. Ugh." "Disgusting little thing." Their taunts burn even more. I can take the pain. I can take their laughs and mockery. Luckily, my mother and sister aren't here. They are the one thing that hurt most.

My younger sister, watching her brother whom she idolizes, being beaten for trying to keep her alive, would be the worst pain. My mother, watching her son whom she tried so desperately to raise right, being punished for things she vowed against. I do this for them. I steal to keep them alive, since our father doesn't exist to us. I am what keeps them alive, but if they learned how, it would crush their hearts. I could never erase from my memory their reactions to this.

I just have to get it over with.

I clinch my fists, preparing for the blow.

WHACK!

I can't help but scream, reacting to the intense pain.I felt it rip through my skin. I felt the blood already pooling in my back, which holds previous scars from years of this treatment. It is a price to pay for being a street nuisance.

I prepare for the next one. People mocked me, they were laughing. They were entertained. I just wanted to die. I just want to curl up and sleep forever. My skin tightens, amplifying every pain in my back. I clinch my jaw, tears threatening to spill over.

I can't cry. That's weak. I'm not weak.

WHACK!

I hear the whip swat again in it's terrifying force, but no trash comes to my back. I stay still, convinced it was just to rial me up. This is humiliating. This is torture.

"You're interfering with a guards duty!" I hear one of them scream.

I look up, tracing the black slippers up a pretty dress to an even prettier face hidden by a hood. She takes off her hood, and I see the trash on her arm that protected me. It ripped through her cloths, breaking her skin, causing blood to drip slowly.

"I'm- I'm sorry my Princess, we will punish the guard who hurt you- I- I" The guard stumbles to speak.

"Who is this boy?" She asks.

"Th- that's Jack Frost. He's just a street rat; a-a nuisance. Nothing much." The guard reports.

"Why are you hurting him?" She asks softly.

I keep my eyes focused on her shoes, which are hidden by a large, purple cape that covers most of the back of her body as well.

What a dimwit, spoiled brat. Her pity should not be cast on me. I don't want her pity or sympathy. The anger inside me boils.

"He stole a piece of bread. He's a usual threat to us villagers, we're just doing our job, Princess." The guard says.

I keep my eyes to the ground that hold small bits of my back blood. I can feel her eyes focus on me. I hear the murmurs and gossips of the town around me. I can hear their judgement for me being in such a state in front of a princess.

"You're going to end his sentence now." She says.

Stupid princess.

I can hear the outrage of the towns people. They scream, demanding for my sentence to be finished. They begin chanting to finish me. They scream, engulfed in the drama. I just want to curl up and die. Disappearing forever would be better than this humiliation.

"Be quiet!" The princess calls, but the people still chant.

I look up, and I can see her fear. There's a cold whisper that comes from her in front of me. Her shoes seem darker, and little ice prints appear under her shoes, but no one else sees because her cape hides it.

Her hands tremble, shaking. She looks around, terrified of this crowd that might just trample me right now. They practically want me dead. They hate me, and I can't argue with them. I hate myself for the state I'm stuck living in. I hate myself for having to do this to keep my family and I alive.

"ENOUGH!" She screams loudly, as a large gust of winds seemingly explodes from her. Everyone is too preoccupied with fallen fruits or flopped over hats to put the pieces together.

Everyone remains silent, as if they were dead. I keep my focus on the pebbled group, which holds a few drips of my blood and the princess's blood. I can hear her turn her attention to me instead of the now silent crowd.

I feel her eyes looking on me, examining my disgusting person. I'm ashamed to be seen like this by a princess. I'm ashamed to exist like this.

"Why did you steal?" She asks to me softly, but I ignore her.

I don't want her pity.

She kneels down, and her hand lifts my face to meet hers. I hold a angry face, ashamed the Princess has to see me like this. A street rat, a disgusting existence to this village.

"Why did you steal?" She repeats, louder and sterner, yet still soft.

Her eyes are a precious blue, prettier than anything, but I hold my harsh face. She was around my age, but just a spoiled brat.

"Why do you think!?" I shout in anger, turning my head away from her eyes. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

"You are to erase his punishment. Now." She demands again, standing up and speaking to the guards.

They argue, but she demands they leave me alone. I keep my focus on the ground,still in a shameful position. The surrounding citizens mumble to themselves, grunting on how I deserve twice as much for being seen by the Princess in this state.

"You are not to mention this incident, and I won't mention this." She says, probably pointing to her tattered arm.

"Yes- yes Princess." They say, and I can hear the crowd dispersing.

I stay seated down, and grab my shirt and cape to try and put back on. The lash is pretty painful, and I'd think after being beaten so many times I'd have adjusted to the pain.

"Wait, don't stain your shirt." The princess says, leaning down again.

"You think they won't tell anyone? Maybe the guards no, but there's a whole bunch of people here who saw too!" I say in anger.

"I- I didn't think about that, but don't put your shirt back on, you're going to ruin it." She says, as if she actually cares.

"Look, I do what I want, and excuse me your highness, but I have places to be." I say, standing up and avoiding her eyes.

"Well I'm sorry for ending that little show down for you." She says a little harsher, but her voice couldn't get harsh for anything.

"Whatever." I mumble, walking away from her.

Now I still have to get some form of food for my sister and mother, and find an excuse as to why I'm only wearing my cape, and there's a bloody slash across my back.

"Don't walk away from me!" She calls as I'm distantly away.

"Go enjoy your castle and endless luxury, princess."I say, walking away without even looking behind me to see her reaction.

I don't care. She's a spoiled brat who hasn't had to worry about a meal in her life. She dines on the finest things with mounds of extra while I scramble for scraps like a rat. She is nothing to me and she never will be.

Elsa's Point Of View

What a brat! I just saved his skin! How could he just walk away?!

I clench my fist, fitted with rage and anger towards this ungrateful punk who stole a loaf of bread. Yet, though he seems ungrateful, stupid, annoying, and flat out rude, the conversation of moments past repeats itself in my mind.

"Why did you steal?"

"Why do you think!?"

I guess I didn't think. Is he really so desperate for food as to steal for survival? This idea is weird. It's foreign. I've never thought of the life of the commoners here in Arendelle. It was hard enough to sneak out of the castle without my parents noticing. Surely, with this much commotion, they'll be furious.

But still, my mind can't shake the boy who stole bread. He was so thin, so frail. I didn't even look at his back to long, but I saw the thinness of his body. I saw the depravity of food. I saw the hopelessness in his face. But he walked away! UGH!

I should've just stayed inside the castle, practicing painting or trying to control things. Thank god no one seemed to notice. Maybe that boy did. Who was he? Jack Frost?

Why did he just ignore me? Why didn't he accept my help?

The questions I have for him pile high in my mind. The conversation resurfaces.

"Why did you steal?"

"Why do you think!?"

Then, it occurs to me. That boy, Jack Frost, received one lash, as I did. But he didn't get his bread. He will still be hungry.

So, I put my hood back on, hoping the commotion didn't draw to much attention to who I was. I head towards the town, looking for a bakery. I find one bye the fjord, and it smells amazing. I decide not to eat for myself, since I'm sure the castle's dinner will be delicious tonight, as always.

"Ma'am, I'd like a basket full of every kind of food you sell. Enough to feed someone for a long time." I ask the elderly lady who owned the shop. She wore a simple, faded soft blue dress with an apron stained by her baking.

"Yes'm, coming up." She says cheerfully.

Maybe the towns people aren't so bad.

"Oh, and do you know anything about a boy... Jack Frost?" I ask, hoping to figure out where he is or how to find him.

Her face, once soft and sweet, turns to bitter. "That disgrace? I know plenty too much, but who doesn't." She scoffs.

"How often does he steal?" I ponder.

"You must be new here, sweetie. He takes at least once a week. Luckily, they punish him far from my shop, so costumers aren't grossed out by him." She says, gathering breads of all sorts for a large basket.

"Where could one find him?"

"Jack Frost? You'd have to be willingly insane to want to find him. That scoundrel lives in the woods up that hill." She points towards a hill covered in dark pine forest. "I think he has a sister. A shame really, that a little girl has that thing to call a brother. His mother must be embarrassed to her wits end. I honestly don't know how they've lived so long, because you know what I heard?" She leans in, gossiping her stories to me.

"What?" I am intrigued by this boy.

"I heard his father left them a few years back, when Jack started stealing. And you know what else I heard?" She whispers to me.

"What?" I ask.

"I heard that father of his used to beat them. A retched family. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?" She mocks.

She totals the price, and I pay her. I am about to take off, when the lady asks who I am and where I'm traveling. I walk away, ignoring her questions, and she just scoffs me off like another commoner. Little does she know.

I hold the basket full of warm breads that smell fantastic close, heading up towards the hill in which Jack is supposed to live on. I don't know how, but I have to find his house and give him this. Him and his family needs to eat.

Though peculiar, Jack Frost intrigues me. He is different. I don't know if that's good or bad, but I guess I will find out.

A/N: So far, this is a one-shot. Comment if you think I should continue! Thanks for reading! -K (author)