Author's note: Hi! First off, I was reading the previous chapter and I felt that my writing sucked—please forgive me!—but please don't stop reading I promise I'll make it up to you guys. Anyways, I finished this chapter a little too early (I post weekly updates, usually on the weekends so yeah) so here you go! Reviews, faves and follows are very much appreciated. Thank you guys so much! Enjoy :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the story line and plot of this story.

CHAPTER TEN: Elsa
The Nightmare King

The first thing Elsa noticed when she woke up was the sudden cold. Oddly enough, she didn't think it was possible for her to notice that it was freezing in her room. She grew up knowing only the cold—it enveloped her entire being, manifested itself in the surrounding air. The cold was her ever-present companion, like a shadow in the day. It haunted her, reminded her that she was different and dangerous. She was never really bothered by it, up until today, when she woke up shivering.

A heavy material was draped over her petite body; she sat up slowly, realizing that it was her magenta cape, which fell off her shoulders. She felt empty, as if a part of her was missing. She frowned, looking around. "Jack?" she called, her own voice bouncing off the walls of her room back to her. She missed the familiar warmth of his body next to hers; she expected him to be beside her when she awoke. She yawned and rubbed her eyes. She was still in her ice palace, but Jack was nowhere to be seen. She ran a hand through her hair, down her neck, and on her right shoulder—on the very spot where Jack pressed his lips against while she slept.

She didn't know what made her do it, but confessing her feelings for Jack last night lifted a huge weight off of her chest. She wanted him to trust her as much as she trusted him. She wanted to let him know that she was there for him, no matter what happens. She wanted him to know that she loved him, that she had been loving him for so long now—and that deep down, she felt that he loved her, too. She sighed, stretching her arms wide before she got up from her bed. As she did, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Elsa looked down to see that a snowflake the size of her hand fell from the bed, landing near her feet. On the snowflake was a note—written illegibly so. She picked the snowflake up, and slightly struggled to read it:

G'morning, snowflake. Just went out to get food. Don't worry, I'll be back right away.

P.S. I'll try to pay for it this time. I promise.

P.P.S. I love you.

Elsa couldn't help but smile. She placed the snowflake note on her pillow and headed for the balcony. Her heels clacked against the icy floor as she crossed her chandelier chamber. She was just about to open the doors to her balcony when she heard a faint noise—like a pin drop—echo from the main atrium below. "Jack?" she called again. No answer. She smirked. "If you think you can jump at me, you're wrong," she said. She felt silly talking aloud; there was a weird tingling in her veins that made the hairs on the back of her neck rise in anticipation. A sensation that pumped adrenaline in her blood, causing her heart to pound against her sternum like a drum. It was a feeling she knew all too well—it was fear.

She slowly walked down the stairs, her eyes wary, her heart thumping madly against her chest. She wished that it was indeed Jack who made the noise and nothing, or no one else. When she reached the bottom, where her frozen fountain stood undisturbed, she noticed that one of the doors stood ajar. "Jack, this is not funny," she grumbled, trying to steady her voice. Blood pounded in her ears as she peeked through the partially open door. The snow outside was blinding; it was almost as if they gave out their own glow. There were no tread marks on the snowbanks, which calmed Elsa a little. She dismissed her thoughts, closing the door shut just as a voice reverberated throughout her entire palace. "My queen," it said, frightening Elsa. She couldn't pinpoint where it came from; it seemed to come from everywhere all at once.

"Who's there?" she yelled, unable to stop her voice from cracking a little in the end. She was shaking like a leaf, her hands clutched to her chest tightly. Her knees trembled, and she was afraid she would fall as she walked to her fountain, gripping the edges hard for support. A memory resurfaced, and she felt as though she was back in Arendelle, standing on the edge of the fjord. Shadow monsters, Jack had said, and upon recalling, Elsa's eyes darted to the shadows in the gloom that seemed to move on their own.

"Don't you know who I am?" it teased, it's voice deep and dark and mysterious. It was the kind of voice that burrowed deep into her soul, the kind that made her want to curl up into a ball on the floor. "I who lived in the dark with you, locked away like an animal in a cage? I who saw your darkest fears, knew your darkest desires? I who hid in the shadows of your bedroom?"

The voice multiplied, speaking as if a crowd was in the room with her, thousands of voices repeating their words over and over. She put her hands over her ears, closing her eyes tight, trying to steady the beating of her heart. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" she cried, running for the doors, ice shards protruding from the ground on which she stepped. Her cape and dress got caught on the shards, ripping the crystalline ice fabric to shreds as she forcefully pulled it free. She pulled the doors open, running outside hastily, the snow solidifying under her feet to help her run faster. She picked up what remained of her skirt as she ran, but she stopped, pausing at the steps of the stairs that served as a bridge over a deep chasm—for halfway down the stairs stood a tall man with ashy gray skin. His face was chiseled and angular, his hair spiked, slicked back. His long, black robe seemed to be made of smoke, hazy around the edges and more solid on his body. His fingers, which were long and spindly, were clasped in front of him in a leisurely manner, almost as if he was expecting her. Elsa stared into his eyes—eyes that had their own iridescent glow, which reminded Elsa of a lunar eclipse.

"Elsa," the stranger said, bowing before her. "At last, we meet."

"Who are you? How did you find me?" she said, clenching and unclenching her fists in an effort to steel herself. She backed away from the stairs as the stranger glided up, his robe never shifting to show the movement of his legs. Elsa was both mesmerized and frightened by this man's grace, which reminded her so much of a lion stalking its prey. "It didn't take long for my Fearlings to sniff you out," he said, "The smell of your fear is incredibly intoxicating. It drives them mad." He reached the top of the stairs, only a few feet away from her. Elsa swallowed the lump in her throat, her mouth suddenly turning dry. "My name, Your Highness, is Pitch, the Nightmare King."

"What do you want from me, Pitch?" she asked, acid dripping from her voice when she said his name. The sky above her darkened slightly as clouds began to form. Her initial reaction would have been to calm herself and stop her powers—now, however, she prayed that she had enough control over her powers so that she could defend herself if her conversation with the Nightmare King comes to a fight.

Pitch made a clicking sound with his tongue, waving his point finger at her. "The darkness only riles them up more," he taunted, extending his arm to gesture at the things emerging from the chasm. Elsa's heart dropped. There were at least twenty of them, Pitch's Fearlings, clawing their way out of the ravine. At first they seemed only like shadows. But as they stood, literally tearing themselves from the ground, they turned into smoke-like humanoid creatures with long arms and fingers. Their eyes were hollow and glowing, their mouths twisted into a ghastly sneer. Though their eyes were nothing but empty sockets, she could feel their hungry grazes trained on her.

"Stay away from me!" she cried, raising her hands, shards of ice popping up from the ground in a protective ring around her. Pitch smiled, baring his stained and pointed teeth. Then Pitch's Fearlings dissolved into shadows, all lunging at her, circling around her like a hurricane. Pitch disappeared into the dark, yet his glowing eyes remained. Elsa covered her face, squinting and looking for a way out. And the scene around Elsa melted away, bringing her back to the ballroom at her coronation fiasco. She saw the faces of the crowd, their eyes wide with fright. She saw Anna backing away from her, her sister's face pale with fear. "See what you do to them, Elsa? You're a monster to them, the source of their fear. And I know," Pitch whispered in her ear, his hands light on her shoulders, "that you only wish to understand why you are who you are—a monster, born of ice and snow."

"I'm not a monster!" she cried.

"Really? Then let me take you back, and help you remember."

She cringed away from him, stepping back so suddenly that she tripped over her gown. The scene dissolved before she hit the ground, the crowd and warm light disappearing, taking her back to that fateful night thirteen years ago. She saw eight-year-old Elsa once more, accidentally shooting Anna with her ice powers, their tiny voices echoing in her head. "Anna! Mama, Papa!" she had cried, clutching her sister's tiny body to her chest. She saw the entire ballroom freeze over, just as Pitch's voice started whispering again. "If you weren't born with powers, none of this would ever happen."

"It was an accident! I didn't mean to!" Elsa said, tears threatening to spill, burning the back of her throat.

"You could have lived a normal life, together with your sister. But you didn't. You blamed yourself for what happened, but do you know who's really to blame, for what you've become?" Pitch appeared in front of her, his eyes glowing like a cat's. "Because I do. Let me show you."

And the scene changed once more. The Fearlings swirled around her and through her, throwing her off balance, causing her to fall to her knees on the cold ground. She covered her face with her hands, and all of a sudden the Fearlings disappeared. She was on a mountaintop, apparently alone, with the wind howling loudly in her ear. It was dark, and the sky was covered by thick clouds that swirled overhead. Across her was Arendelle, sizable waves on the fjord crashing on the lake's edge. On the balcony, she could almost make out a female figure, standing outside with her dark hair flowing freely with the wind. Snow had begun to fall, just as strikes of white blue light blasted past Elsa, narrowly missing her. Her initial thought was that it was lightning—but when she turned, she froze, her mouth gaping open in shock.

Amidst the freak storm overhead, with snow swirling around him, was Jack Frost, his blinding white hair wildly ruffling in the wind. She stood in front of him, calling out his name, but he didn't seem to hear her. "Is this what you put me here to do?" he yelled. Elsa looked behind her to see the Moon peeking through the clouds overhead. Jack had mentioned that it was the Man in the Moon that had given him his powers, that he was the one that brought him back. But he never mentioned this—that he had been to Arendelle long before meeting her, or that he caused such a bizarre storm. "Is this what I was made for? Destruction? One hundred years of trying to understand why and all you do is stay silent and watch me fail! One hundred years and still, no one ever sees me! Why would you condemn me with this kind of punishment? WHY?"

It pierced her heart as Jack lashed out at the Moon, his cries and pleas that of a child's. She had never seen this side of him, the one who felt so lost and so lonely. "Oh, Jack," she whispered. Jack staff was glowing brightly, his thin body levitating a few feet off the ground. She had also never seen Jack's power on full display before—and she thought that she was powerful. Sparks of ice and frost enveloped him in a sphere of pure energy, snow churning faster around him. The clouds grew ever thicker, the wind ever stronger. Elsa was shivering—the sudden decrease in temperature caught her by surprise. She was still trying to decipher what Pitch meant and why he brought her here, just as Jack's rage took the better of him. With a scream and a wave of his staff, the sphere erupted, sending bolts of ice everywhere. Elsa turned and saw that the bolts reached across the lake to the palace—where the figure was still standing on the balcony outside.

Jack saw her too, and was shocked when he saw her collapse to the ground when the ice hit her. The snowflakes around them paused, hanging still in mid-air. The clouds disappeared as quickly as they had formed, revealing the night sky. Jack's face was a mask of horror—he had tears in his eyes, and he didn't wipe them away, suddenly shooting through the air like a bullet, heading straight for the balcony. Elsa was somehow able to follow him, and her heart sank in horror when she realized that the figure was her mother, Queen Iduna. They both watched as her father, King Agnarr, came rushing to her, holding her in his arms, shaking her frail figure, trying to wake her up. They watched as her father carried her away, closing the doors behind him. "No, no, no, no," Jack whispered, perched on the balcony's edge with his head in his hands. His head perked up when he heard the sound of hooves on the cobblestones below. It was the King, with his wife in his arms, riding his steed through the gates of the palace and out into the forest beyond. Jack took off once more, following pursuit, taking Elsa with him.

They were headed for the Valley of the Living Rock, Elsa realized. "Please! Anyone, please! Help my wife!" King Agnarr cried. The trolls appeared one by one, disguised as round rocks that rolled to the King's feet. One rock, slightly bigger than the rest, rolled nearer, and Elsa saw that it was Pabbie, the trolls' wise elder. "Please," the King plead, "help her." He set the Queen down on the ground, and Elsa noticed that her mother's belly was swollen and huge; it appeared as though she was a few weeks away from giving birth. Pabbie held a hand to her mother's forehead, closing his eyes in concentration. Jack stood behind her parents, not caring about the trolls that surrounded him; he knew that he couldn't be seen. His forehead creased with worry, his grip on his staff tightening nervously, his free hand tugging at the collar of his shirt as if it were choking him. A few moments later, Queen Iduna's eyes fluttered open. "Oh, Iduna," the King said, hugging his wife dearly, kissing her forehead.

Jack let out a sigh of relief, running his hand through his white locks. He brushed the snow off of his overcoat, a nervous smile on his lips, and was about to leave when Pabbie spoke and said, "I'm glad your wife is safe. But I am afraid I cannot do anything for the child." Pabbie's brows furrowed, his eyes forlorn. Jack turned around, confusion wiping his smile away. Iduna looked at Pabbie, then at Agnarr, and lastly, at her belly, fear traced on her face. "What happened to my baby?" she asked, her voice shaking, her hands protectively wrapped around her stomach.

"She is alive and well—however, this phenomenon, I have never seen anything like it before. It seems that when you were hit by the cold, it manifested itself in the child you are carrying. I fear that she may be different."

"Different?" the King asked. "How?"

Pabbie sighed. "I fear that she will grow with powers over ice and snow."

Elsa felt cold all over. She looked at her parents, then at Jack, her mind racing, unable to grasp what Pitch showed her. No, she thought. Jack... you couldn't have... "Oh, but he has," Pitch said, his taunting voice ringing in her ears. She didn't even care anymore. She felt numb, her breathing shallow, her cheeks wet with fresh tears. She heard someone scream her name, but it was faint and it sounded as if it was from somewhere far away. Then everything faded to black.