I'm being as realistic and historically accurate as I could but there are just some things I'm filling in because I haven't had any background knowledge about them. In the end, even if I try to recreate that 'Old Medieval' feel, it turns into the way I imagined it to be rather than how it should be. I could only truly achieve that decided outcome of having you, readers, visualize it the way it should have happened during that era only if I had time-traveled and lived in their times. But since time traveling machines are not yet invented (and even if they were, I seriously doubt I could afford to ride one) I really couldn't. Boohoo for me. I wouldn't really stay much long in that era anyway.

I've had enough of fictional stories romanticizing history even though I could call myself a hypocrite because I basically am romanticizing Medieval History, but in my defense, I've done my thorough share of intensive research (books and internet and documentaries for the world!) rather than just writing with no knowledge about it whatsoever. I'm seriously blaming Disney for making me think that being a princess in any era is the grandest thing ever. They're not even accurate. =_=

Without further ado, this is where the actual story begins…

After all those meetings, Jack knew deep down inside that the two of them were bound to meet again. He just didn't think that their fourth meeting would commence under Lord Bastion's intervention, in a way, it wasn't on purpose, but it was because of his orders that seeing her often was made possible.

Back then, he had no idea why he was summoned and neither was he given the exact detail as to why he must make haste to that old man's personal quarters.

Psh. Make haste, they said, he sure took his sweet time walking there and was even relishing the moment as he did so.

His head was afloat with a cheesy grin on his face as he recalled the fun event that happened one moonlit night in the king's public garden. After he told her of the importance of that handkerchief, she carefully tucked it away in her corset, said she'd take good care of it before pelting his face with a barrage of snowballs and catching him off-guard. He didn't even have the chance to sigh in relief nor did she allow him to regain his balance after falling on the soft patch of grass that was then covered with random clusters of snow. After burying him in ice and laughing at his face (which was quite fulfilling, he dared to think, he never heard of a lady openly showing her gums), he counterattacked too, although he was at high disadvantage since he couldn't control ice and all but he tried his best.

Nevertheless, he enjoyed it.

He remembered how they parted with silly grins and flushed faces, smudging each other one more time with ice before formally bidding their goodbyes.

Then she left without giving him the chance to ever know her name.

He smacked himself right on his forehead. Ugh. What an idiot. What an absolute idiot! What would he address her when they meet next? Probably a 'milady' would suffice, but they bonded. He sincerely believed that they established some sort of rapport and a distinct kind of intimacy that could be present between two friends who didn't know each other's names. Shouldn't there be some obvious distinction?

He snorted. Well, he's going to pretend that what he just thought of made some sense.

In reality, it didn't.

And even if it did, the (great) difference in their social status wouldn't have allowed it.

He was a peasant for goodness sake!

Well, used to be, he's a freeman now…sort of…he's not really sure because the way the servants and the maidens of the household were treating him with more respect than what he should normally receive—but really, his social standing was no different than before, he was still of the lower class.

"Ow!"He grumbled, rubbing the sore spot on his forehead down to his nose, as he stepped back and looked at the intricate floral designs embossed on the enormous door that led to Lord Bastion's study. He sported a lopsided smile, amused at himself and his apparent ability to have walked all the way to the old man's quarters with ease despite being immersed in his own thoughts. He hadn't tripped once. He silently noted with a discrete chuckle as he knocked the door three times, as was the proper courtesy, and listened, with slight amusement, as the empty hallway echoed the noise.

"Come in." A gruff voice, audible yet muffled, called from the inside.

Taking that as a cue, he carefully twisted the doorknob before poking his head in. He scanned the room briefly, eyeing the extravagant and lavish furniture that decorated the interior before coming in and closing the door behind him. He whistled, not bothered by the ominous atmosphere lingering in the vicinity, as he made his way towards the opulent man's study table.

Every time he came here, there was always something new decorating the old man's room. Like now, for example, that painting behind his chair depicted three young children, which curiously looked like the royal couple and Lord Bastion's younger selves, having picnic by a cliff. A sunny background highlighted the light blue skies and the way the shadows were painted looked animated as if it were moving with the wind along with everything else. It looked so alive that Jack swore he could almost hear the three kids laughing.

It certainly was a brilliant masterpiece.

But it's strange... His lips curled into an amused smile. The painting didn't seem to suit his master's taste. He was not one for cheerful innocence after all. But then again, it was none of his business and so he shoved the thought aside. "You called?" He asked.

Lord Bastion grunted as he leaned his elbows on the sturdy wood, a serious expression on his face and a mad glint on his raisin colored eyes. His shoulders were rigid and his back was stiff as he hunched over to rest his freshly-shaven chin on the knuckles of his interlaced fingers. His expression was contemplative, albeit with a strange leer, as if he was cooking up a plan that would involve vile means.

And then he looked up, staring at Jack with a slight hint of admiration as if he just saw his key to everything. The gaze he gave him, however, looked more predatory than it was admiring and to say that it felt a little unnerving and unpleasant was an absolute understatement.

Fortunately, Jack had grown accustomed to this kind of stare and had long ago concluded that it's just a part of that old man's permanent expression making him shrug it off just like all the other times before.

"Ah! Jackson," He sported a sneer as his eyes glinted with evil promises, his tone attempted to sound affectionate and fatherly but he came out sounding like a greedy lunatic eyeing his prize instead, "My son." He added with a definitive tone, stating it in such a way as though it was a fact that no man could change. He rolled his shoulders and leaned back against the cushions of his chair, sinking in the comfort and looking down onto the young lad like how an eminent king would at his loyal servant.

Jack felt the need to raise his finger and correct him; to tell him that he was not his father and that he was only his employer, but he held it down knowing that no amount of correction would get it through his thick head. Trust him; he tried countless times before only to realize that it was nothing more than a futile effort. He opted, instead, to stand silently in his place and dared not to make a sound as he waited patiently for what the old man was going to say. He was asked to rush here, right? There must be something of absolute importance.

"I was thinking of paying respects..." The old man started. His lips twitched slightly, as if he wanted to gag just by saying the word, "…to the king." His nose wrinkled a bit, a snarl on his face, looking as if the very thought of doing so revolted him—which of course was exactly the case but he continued, "And you, my dear boy, are going to play a big part in it."

-x-

"There."

Elsa murmured to herself as she carefully tugged the rose into place. She allowed herself a simple smile as a fleeting thought passed her mind. Surely this would brighten up her grandfather's office and clear the air from unwanted impurities.

She hummed as she tucked the shears away, silently hoping that putting some color in his office would cheer him up.

She had noticed how his normally jolly eyes lost their spark and how the fine lines on his forehead had suddenly become more apparent those last few weeks and he even sported this distant melancholic expression on his face—a sign that he'd been dealing with problems he didn't want to share.

She sighed as she cradled the porcelain vase within her arms. Sometimes, he just worries her. She thought as she took graceful steps towards the castle's kitchen door and drifted father away from the garden.

Her grandfather was old, in his late 50s, and was vulnerable to all sorts of diseases. It was a major feat how he was still able and alive after all those years when the mortality rate in her time wasn't much considering more people die than they were born and the fact that the air was ridden with all kinds of diseases proved no worth in comforting her.

She sighed for the nth time that morning before fixing herself and giving the cook and the scullery maids a court nod as she passed by them; they curtsied in return and kept their eyes cast on the floor. Normally, Elsa would've scolded them, wanting none of those formalities (unless of course, noble guests were present), but her thoughts were far too eroded with concern to care. She calmly passed by the narrow hallway and thought, for a moment or two, that she saw a familiar set of chocolate brown hair down the corridor, however, when she stopped and stared to where she thought she'd seen it, there were no trace of human presence and certainly no young lad.

She raised a brow, and fought the urge to shrug, as she daintily hiked up her skirt no further than the ankles of her feet with one hand (anything more than that was appalling to the eyes of the society) and carefully climbed the stairs.

What would that peasant boy do here, anyway? She was quite sure that he served in a different manor since the last time she saw him he was carrying a wicker basket filled with all sorts of herbs and meat.

Funny how she seemed to be seeing things

Once she reached the top of the stairs, she lets go of her skirt and hastened her way towards the door she knew so well. She was about to knock to announce her presence when a loud yet muffled, "Father, can't we talk this through?!" stopped her from what she was about to do.

That sounded like her father.

Puzzled, she cautiously cuddled the vase against her chest as she tentatively pressed her ear on the old wooden door.

"You know that Elsa is more than capable of handling the kingdom."

She felt her heart sink, an expression of recognition and evident sadness gradually etched itself on her face. They're still not over this? She wondered ruefully to herself as another silent sigh passed through the caverns of her lips. Her eyes strayed on the floor, the flowers blocking her field of vision. She was looking intently at their pretty hues, somewhat allured, but her thoughts weren't praising the glory of their beauty since their jovial iridescence simply proved no worth in soothing the guilt and shame that churned at the pit of her stomach.

"My decision is final, son." A voice, sounding both old and rasp, rang with unparalleled wisdom and refuted in a tone she rarely heard her grandfather use—it was cold. "As much as I love my granddaughter…" He trailed off, and Elsa could vaguely imagine him crossing the room from wherever he stood to sit on his rickety old wooden chair adjacent to the vast bookshelf beside the fireplace, "…my duty as the head of the monarch is more important. We simply cannot forget the fact that Elsa is a threat. She is dangerous, son!"

A threat…? Her thoughts echoed as hurt pierced beneath her skin like a perfectly sharpened dagger, digging into her heart and embedding itself within her stack of memories.

She is…a threat?

She sucked in air to calm herself as tears started to prick at the corner of her eyes. She had long since known that, but, Tsar! It hurts so, so much to hear him say it out loud.

"Milord!"

"Father!"

The two voices sounded scandalized by what the old monarch had said. No one could blame them, they both knew how he loved his family equally and he was also especially doting on his eldest granddaughter, however, they all knew that it was his way of hiding his guilt and confronting his fear. He loved Elsa but he feared her more and they knew he felt guilty for feeling that way. She was family, a person related by blood—his blood and he also knew that she didn't ask for the powers she possessed.

But it was normal for him to fear her. Elsa knew that. A single tear slid down her cheek. She knew all of that. In a place where religion matters most, where blood and death was a constant sight to see—the people in her kingdom feared all things unknown more than anyone could ever imagine.

And she, born with the gift of ice and snow, was an anomaly.

It just hurts how he finally snapped and said it out loud. She knew her grandfather thought of her that way but he loved her nonetheless and he treated her right, for that she was sincerely and wholeheartedly thankful, but it just hurts hearing it come straight from his mouth.

She let out a shaky breath.

He never once voiced it out, not once—not until now.

"Milord," She heard her mother speak up in a frustrated and restrained voice, a sure sign that she was personally offended about how the old monarch was blunt and straightforward about calling her such…things, "In my daughter's defense, she is not dangerous. Sure, she possessed the power over ice and snow, but she knows how to control them." She reasoned, her voice ringing with a high pitch she never once used with the former king, "She might be able to use it in battles and protect the kingdo—"

"You know how religious the kingdom is!" He interrupted, a mad fury in his voice that hinted his own frustration about how his own family seemed to be misunderstanding him, "If the church finds out, have you ever thought of what might happen to her?! They might strike a rebellion and demand her be drowned in a river after she was tortured!" He cared for his granddaughter, he really did and as much as he knew of her potential to be queen, he feared for what might happen to her once everybody finds out of her powers and when that happens, he knew how torn his son would be and he didn't want him to reach a point where he must choose between being a father to his daughter or a king to the kingdom.

Elsa silently sighed as her own guilt weighed her down. She failed to notice how the emotions of her heart had reached her fingertips and caused a small coat of ice to wrap around the vase. But perhaps it's a good thing, because if she sees that she still lacked control over her own powers, she'd go berserk in agony and will have a quick trip with panic. She moved away from the door, her skirts sweeping the floor as her crystal blue eyes stared up at the stone ceiling.

In the end, it was because of her.

Her family was in a conflict because of her.

She should just rot.

Then there was silence and Elsa couldn't help but interpret it as her parents realizing the truth of her grandfather's words.

Tsar, this hurts.

Finally, her father spoke, "Father, please, think this through. The throne is still Elsa's birthright."

"I already made my decision. Crown the second princess as the heiress of this kingdom."

"But—"

Then she stopped listening, too sad and too down to hear anymore as pain seared in her chest. It was as if the dagger that hit her earlier twisted itself deeper and further into her heart. By this time, she wanted nothing more than to be deaf and block out everything she had heard out of her memory. She placed the vase down on the floor as she sunk to her feet, her back pressed against the wall. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop on their conversation but she couldn't help it.

Now it brought her this.

And like a big giant wave, the realization washed her and dragged her to drown in her own miserable thoughts.

Her own grandfather thought of her as a threat—a danger.

A shaky breath escaped her lips as she blinked back the tears that rebelliously fell. She fisted a handful of her skirt and deliberately ignored how the pearls that were delicately embroidered into the dress dug too painfully into the flesh of her palms, but she continued to do so as if such act would spare her from what she feels— and for a moment, it did. A thin coating of frost started to appear and it created erratic sharp-edged patterns onto the otherwise smooth velvet cloth. They were jagged but they were beautiful—too bad she was too distressed and too concerned with the storm she was dealing with inside to notice, much less, spare it a glance. Everything just hurts and she's just so tired of it. She lifted her head as her chest heaved along with her breath. Oh Tsar Lunar help her.

It wasn't her fault that she was born with…this, was it?

She never asked for this.

She let out one huge breath as she mustered every ounce of her strength to put on her royal façade as she abruptly stood. She firmly pressed her lips together; neither smiling nor frowning as she held her chin up and squared her shoulders. She clasped her hands tightly together before she walked out of the scene and carried an air of regality around her, opting to look like a dignified royal instead of looking like a damsel in distress.

And she might have had done it well if it weren't for the fact that her cheeks were still stained with tears.

She looked like a child putting up a front.

And to make matters worse, she even bumped into a wall she didn't knew existed.

She immediately flinched as she stumbled a few steps back and shut her eyes tight. Her hand flew to caress the nonexistent bump on her forehead to numb the dull pain as the offending wall grunted simultaneously with her movements.

Wait, what? Do walls even grunt?

Tentatively, she looked up and let out a gasp.

"I'm sorr—oh." The wall, more precisely, the person, mumbled meekly but stopped midway as his eyes widened with recognition, "It's you!" His smiled, his beautiful brown orbs twinkling with unspoken delight and childish thrill—but then he frowned, the light automatically dying, overridden by concern. "Hey, were you crying again?"

She looked away—even though she knew doing such couldn't really make him un-see what he had already seen. "N-no." And she cursed in her head at how her voice cracked ever so pathetically.

"Don't lie." He frowned even more, shifting his hand so that it could comfortably cup her cheek and gently make her face him. She avoided his gaze. "What's wrong?" He murmured, his thumb wiping away the last traces of tears.

She kept silent.

"It's okay if you won't tell me." He gave her an understanding smile and Elsa nearly felt… sinful with how she enjoyed this stranger's touch, of how it was capable of washing her insecurities and worries away—to simply feel secure and comforted.

When was the last time somebody comforted her this way? To touch her in a way that didn't feel obligatory or compulsory but wholeheartedly and out of genuine kindness…?

She almost scoffed at her own ridiculous thoughts.

"But you should know that I'm here for you."

"Elsa?"

She quickly slapped his palm away, ignoring his semi-apologetic and semi-hurt expression as she hastily turned on the balls of her feet to face the owner of the voice—Anna, her preppy and lovely sister. A small part of her lamented the loss of contact, but a bigger and more dominant part of her berated it for feeling such. She gave her sister a curt smile, picking up her pace to be by her side.

"There you are, Elsa." Anna beamed a smile before her eyes, an identical color to that of her sister's, flickered towards where Jack stood. His eyes were wide with shock and with a hint of utter disbelief. "Who's that?" She asked, as she tentatively peered closer, having had no memory of ever seeing him before.

But seeing the intimate stance the two were having before she appeared, Anna grinned a wicked smile without even bothering to be discrete as a mad glint appeared in her eyes, her older sister was obviously familiar with him.

And Elsa wasn't the type to be familiar with just anyone.

Elsa held her back by holding her wrist and bringing her close to her. "I don't know, Anna." She muttered, perhaps with more conviction than what was intended or necessary, inadvertently making her look more suspicious rather than ignorant, and for the younger girl to be more rather than lose interest. It sounded like a lie, but she technically wasn't lying. She didn't know him. She didn't know his name nor did she know who he was. She just knew him by what she had seen—but surely he was more than a man who's okay with comforting just about anyone.

Although as a princess, she's not just anyone.

Oh dear, she's contradicting herself.

He dumbly echoed her name, "Elsa…?" His muddy brown eyes shone with nostalgia as he looked at the platinum blonde's back with an inquisitive stare.

And even without looking, Elsa knew that there were questions forming in his head.

"Doesn't seem like it~" Anna sang, moving to step forward in order to acquaint herself with the young lad but found herself unable to do so because her sister had dragged her away, "I'm Anna, Elsa's sister and it was nice to meet youuuu—" She tried anyway, hollering her name along the corridor before they turned at a corner and vanished.

He stared into the emptiness of the hallway with relieved and jovial eyes.

He had found her all along.

And from what he had seen, he had the chance to redeem himself and return back the favor.

Honestly, this was rushed and un-edited. I hurried this because I want to let you guys know that I'm not abandoning this and that I am still continuing this story. This chapter was cut short in my haste, that and the fact that I don't want to tire your eyes reading such a long chapter like the last one. On the bright side: I AM STILL ALIVE! YAY!

I got busy with student stuff, plus I got myself checked by a doctor. I'm currently taking some medication and was advised not to stress myself too much. Seeing as I was stressing myself in school, I'm not doing a very good job at following that advice. Nyahahahah~ Anyhoooow~ hope you guys have a nice read. Some feedback would be nice too! Tell me how you like this chapter and how I could improve, also, which part of this you liked and which part you didn't. Tell me how you felt while reading this. Long reviews gives me so much inspiration and motivation and I thank the very few people that bother to let me know their thoughts! Again, thanks so much for being so patient! Until the next chapter~ adieu~!

Rose