AN: Hi! My name is MoonShadow, and this is the first ever fan fiction I have ever done. I hope you enjoy it! I don't really know how often I will be updating, as I don't really get a lot of free time, but rest assured I intend on finishing the story. Alright! Enough from me, I hope you enjoy!

DISCLAIMER! I do not own Frozen or Rise of the Guardians, I just own this plot.

It was a cold night. A fair, blonde girl sat near her window. Her breath began to freeze up on the icy pane. She leaned forward a little and removed her pale blue gloves. Gently touching her hand to the window, she exhales slightly. Suddenly, ice crystal patterns shot up the arch window. The girl quickly slid her gloves back on. "You fool, Elsa! Why would you even bother? As if tonight would be any different from all the other nights." She whispered to herself. Even in the frigid cold of her room, Elsa still felt warm inside. She turned her back to the window and slumped down, staring around the white halls of her bedroom, that were all now frosted over, like a glazed pastry. Unbeknownst to anyone outside, her room was full of delicate ice sculptures, intricate and beautiful.

Sculptures which would have taken anyone else months to complete took Elsa mere minutes. The room was filled with sculptures of anyone and everyone. Her father, whose freezing, sculptured hand held that of the Queen's, Elsa's mother. Each statue carved with incredible delicacy. Each hair on her mother's sculpted head was perfectly in line, and the carved crown upon her father's head was studded with snowy jewels.

Even Anna featured in Elsa's collection. Perfectly modelled, with her simple dress and snowy, white streak in her hair, Anna was the crown jewel of the sculptures. Well, almost. For in the back row, there was an even more beautiful sculpture. Standing proud and tall, was a sculptured Elsa. But not the way Elsa knew herself. The sculptured Elsa wore her hair in a long plait, running across her shoulder, just touching the top of a long, snowflake patterned cape, positioned upon a cyan coloured dress, which went down to her knees.

This was Elsa that Elsa really wanted to be. Not afraid to let her inner self show. To be able to let go of all her inner power. But alas, in truth, Elsa was bound to the confines of the castle. She never wore her plait over her shoulder. Instead, she kept it pinned up, wrapped around the back of her head. And there was no snowflake covered cape, rather a long, purple one. And the gloves. How she hated the gloves. Even when it was summer, she was forced to wear the silly things.

Elsa stayed slumped on the couch under her window for a very long time. She was almost asleep before there was a call for dinner. She straightened herself back up, and gently repositioned the tiara on her head. As she touched it, a great sadness overwhelmed her. It had been a long time since she had seen her parents. Woefully, she got up and left her room for diner.

Our story continues much further away from here. Upon a snowy mountain, way up on top of the Earth, in a chilly place called the North Pole, it was another cold night. This, although, was not a rare occurrence. At this time, a large, almost comical looking man sat at his desk, chipping away at a tiny train. It seems ice sculptures must be a thing in this world, as this jolly old man was carving a train from ice. Once he was content, he dusted to top of it with snow, and set it on its tracks. Immediately, the train gained speed, before looping the loop and corkscrewing down, down, down, and then off a small ramp, into flight. The old man laughed in content. "Marvellous!" he exclaimed in a strong, russian accent. The train gracefully swerves in and out of the bookshelves and trinkets hanging from the man's ceiling. It's suddenly smashed to pieces as the door swings open.

"Bu, bu, ah," The man looks confused and saddened for a few second before his attention turned to the monster in the doorway. A huge, yeti like creature clears his throat. "Aaugh, um.." he stammers in a gruff voice. "Sorry North." He looks down as he addresses the man. "Well, theres naught to be done about it now, you buffoon. What is it? You look flustered." The yeti nods. "Yes," he hums lowly. "It's Jack Frost. He wants to see you. Something about a far off kingdom and a raging winter." North's eyes grow bigger than their normally larger than life size. "Send him in."