A/N: This chapter follows along right behind the last one.

Oh, and look! New readers! :D Hello and welcome!

Standard disclaimers apply.


*A Beautiful Inevitable*

"You have powers of your own," Elsa said.

He was in an impatient mood that night, and the words came out sarcastic and rude. "Ah, so you've finally noticed."

Pitch saw anger flare in Elsa's eyes before her etiquette training kicked in. "Forgive me for not being more observant," she said, placidly throwing his words back at him. "I had assumed - "

"Then take it as a lesson," he interrupted. "No doubt it's only one of many more to come in your life, princess."

She schooled her face into passive stillness. "Right. Then may I ask if you have complete control of your powers?"

"Completely," he affirmed.

Elsa was silent for a long moment. Eventually she murmured, "how?"

He watched her with hooded eyes. "How what?" he taunted.

She looked at him. "How did you learn how to control them?"

Pitch smirked. The answer was easy - deceptively easy. Elsa, he knew, would think so, too. "You have to accept them."

"I... I accept them," she mumbled, almost stubbornly. "The powers are mine. They're my... my... "

He knew the words she didn't say: burden. Curse. No, she didn't accept her powers. Not yet.

"Those gloves." He nodded to her hands, which were clothed in blue woolen gloves that came above her wrists. "Did your father tell you to wear them to sleep, too? Or was that your brilliant plan?"

Elsa flushed. "I just... don't want to make any mistakes... "

Pitch snorted. "Afraid to take risks - I'm not surprised, a pampered royal like you. So long as you're too scared to challenge your limits, you will always lose control of your powers."

Elsa stared. Pitch turned away, letting more annoyance show than he really felt. "Goodbye, princess," he said.

Perhaps she thought his parting words were a vow to never return, because her voice rose sharply. "Pitch, stop!"

He glanced back as she scrambled out of bed. She pulled hurriedly at the fingers of her gloves, flinging them half-turned inside-out onto her rumpled blankets. "Wait," she said, holding out one pale hand.

Pitch looked down at the girl, still half his height, and snorted. "What?" he asked, throwing every ounce of amusement that he possessed into his voice. "Do you want me to hold your hand?"

She shook her head once. "No, just... I want to see if..." She didn't finish, but Pitch already knew what she wanted.

He gazed down into Elsa's face. There was determination there, and the same bravery that had impressed him those years ago. But underneath it all was uncertainty, and... apprehension? He looked at her steadily, waiting until she glanced up to meet his eye. Then he silently reached out his hand, his slim fingers looking like the dark shadow of a skeleton against the pale, fleshy skin of her hand.

When they were a few inches apart, ice suddenly crackled between Elsa's fingers. Pitch, expecting that the outburst might happen, kept himself perfectly still, but Elsa snatched back her hand. She twisted her face away, hiding her expression. "I can't... I can't control it," she said, her voice strained.

Pitch didn't answer. He waited for the question he knew would come.

"Pitch... " Elsa turned to look at him, her eyes wide. "Pitch, will you teach me how to control my powers?"

His mouth curved with pleasure. "I thought you would never ask."


A/N: There will be more.