A/N: We broke 200. That's insane. Man, I love you guys. Just for that, here's this little thing.

The painting was the first thing Elsa noticed.

When at first she saw it, she was confused. The two people featured had the faces of her mother and father - drawn so skillfully she could see the grey hairs on her father's mustache - but those people depicted could not possibly be her parents. Her father was wearing a simple white shirt and breeches, and her mother a scarlet dress that was ripped at the sleeves and hem, and both seemed to have come directly from the water. Elsa would have been insulted if she wasn't so astounded by the audacity and power of the art.

It was huge and brave and hung right above the counter, where it demanded the eye of anyone who entered the store. To depict royalty in such a way, much less the former King and Queen of Arendelle, was simply not done. It was scandalous, especially the state of her mother. Elsa should have been outraged. She should have stormed out of the store, demanded her men to tear it down and banish Jack Frost from the city forever. How dare this man do this? How dare he do this to her, the Crown Princess?

She swallowed, her throat blocked by a lump of emotion she did not welcome but was there all the same. Tears formed in her eyes but she kept them there; she'd be damned if she let them flow.

But what hit her the hardest was not the size of the painting, its skill, the colors or its curious composition. The smiles her parents wore took the princess back three years ago, when they were gathered at the foot of the stairs in the foyer.

"Do you have to go?"

"You'll be fine, Elsa."

They smiled at her, and that was the last time she saw them.

And now they were here again, right before her eyes, as if just for her.

CONCEAL DON'T FEEL DON'T LET IT SHOW CONCEAL DON'T FEEL DON'T LET IT SHOW CONCEAL DON'T FEEL DON'T LET IT SHOW.

"Princess?" Captain Raine asked, sensing her distress. "What's wrong?"

Suddenly Elsa was aware of everything around her. The sculptures, the figures, the shelves full of strange things, the cupboards and counter, but instead of marveling at their beauty, she felt as if the wide space was conspiring against her, and everything was pressing inwards, threatening to crush her until there was nothing left of the princess to coronate. Elsa gasped, the air treacherously forsaking her lungs, and stepped back. As she did, her feet tripped over themselves, and then she was falling, the floor opening up to devour her.

Nathanael cursed and caught Elsa before she could hit the floor.

"She's in shock," he said, grunting as he lifted the princess up. "Clear a space."

The guards immediately spread out, the captain gently holding Elsa's legs as they settled her down onto the cold wood. She was aware of movement around her but her head was spinning and she could barely keep track of her surroundings. Voices seemed muffled, as if heard underwater, and between maintaining control of both her powers and the resurfacing emotions brought out by the painting, Elsa did not know if she could keep herself controlled for much longer. They continued to deliberate as she retreated into herself, a dark cocoon in her head that was her most isolated of places.

"I've got a bed, we can put her there."

"Not a chance."

"Don't be a prude."

"My lord, he is right."

"Damn you, Captain."

"Listen to the soldier, Forseth."

"Don't waste your breath. Guards, help me pick her up…"

Elsa blinked furiously, trying to place faces with the voices she was hearing. Instead her vision was blurry and images unfocused, the faces of Forseth and her guards melding into one dark, indistinguishable mess. Her face felt hot, the corset tighter than before. She needed to get out.

"Let me… go…"

There was the sensation of being picked up, and before darkness overtook her she imagined herself flying, lifting off the floor and taking off through the window, out into the city and over the sea, where she would be one with the clouds and bask in the sun and go to places she had never gone before, where there was no one to tell her what to do, what to conceal, or what to feel, and she could show what she wanted to show, and finally be free.

XXX

When she came to, she was somewhere else, not in the main room where the painting was, and for that she was instantly grateful. It took her a moment to compose herself, and for a fraction of a second she thought she was dreaming, but then she heard the noises of the crowd outside, forcing her back to reality. She was lying down on a mattress on the floor, which smelled almost tropical, like the exotic goods her parents would show her and Anna when they were young and happy and free from the Curse. She frowned and sniffed the blankets. Strange.

Elsa realized she wasn't alone. Forseth was in a heated conversation with someone she hadn't seen before.

"I don't care. Take it down."

"I will not. And you can't order me around like that."

"Do you know where you are, boy? You are in Arendelle. You are in my city. Your property resides within its walls. When I tell you to do something, you will do it, because I am your lord."

"Screw you."

"You will regret that."

"Nathanael?" she groaned, getting up on her elbows from the mattress.

He was instantly beside her. "My princess," he said, his eyes searching. "Are you well? Can you breathe?"

"I'm fine, my lord, thank you. Where am I?"

"You're in my work room," the stranger said. "And on my bed. I was expecting the former, but I will admit the latter has only been the stuff of dreams."

"Watch your mouth, you knave."

"I shall, Nathanael. Here, let me help."

"Do not come any closer-"

"It's fine, Lord Forseth. Please, if you would."

She took his proffered hand and he helped her up.

Jack Frost was younger than she'd expected. Almost boyish in his thin frame and youthful face, but he had the air of someone who'd lived enough of a life to belie young innocence. However, his eyes were as blue as she'd been told, and his hair as white. He wore blue to match his eyes, a vest with a soft snowflake pattern on the cloth. He had his sleeves rolled up, and was barefoot like a child. His skin was very pale, like her's, and the stray thought that they could have been siblings, maybe even twins, in another life crossed her mind.

He smiled, and his eyes crinkled in a way that made the blue in them softer. "My name's Jack Frost, but you can call me Jack."

He bowed his head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Jack. My thanks for allowing me to recuperate on your bed in your workroom."

"The pleasure's mine. And don't worry about that, I think you've improved both considerably."

Nathanael cleared his throat. Elsa realized their hands were still clasped. She removed her hand from his and crossed her arms under her chest.

"The painting. Over the counter. Did you do that?"

Jack nodded, scratching his head modestly. "I did, with a little help. I take it you didn't like it."

Elsa frowned. "No, it's beautiful, but I… it's different, a little overbearing. I apologize for the way I reacted." Jack waved it aside. "Did you meet my parents? You seem very young."

"Not as young as you might think. I met them a while ago overseas."

"They're dressed differently. I've never seen them like that."

Jack laughed. "They probably would have preferred it to stay that way. It wasn't the most lavish of circumstances."

"What happened?"

Jack tilted his head. There was something of a twinkle in his eye when he at last regarded Elsa. "A story for another time, perhaps. It's long and boring and not really suited for the occasion."

Elsa could feel Forseth's eyes boring holes into her back, so she decided to let it go. It wasn't very outlandish; although she was kept in isolation, her parents made many journeys throughout the nation and beyond, consorting with monarchs and citizens alike in order to strengthen Arendelle appeal while the princesses were locked away in the castle. Jack could have been among the hundreds to have spoken with her mother and father over the years. Yet the issue of the clothing remained, and the spirit of the painting, but again, Elsa would rather let it slide rather than have Nathanael push her along like a school brat.

"It's a powerful work of art, Mr. Frost."

Jack bowed deeper, and elegantly, much more so than any commoner. "A hundred thanks, your highness."

She noticed the great block of ice and motioned at it. "I assume that this…?"

"For your sculpture, yes."

"I think we should start," interjected Nathanael. He motioned for Elsa to move to the center of the room, where a circle had been drawn hastily in chalk. "Stand over there, your highness. And although we are acting under a time limit, I recommend we take this as slow as we can." He looked over to Jack. "We wouldn't want to get ahead of ourselves."

Jack winked. "Wouldn't dream of it. So, your grace," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Anything else?"

"First," Nathanael said, "some water for the princess. Do you happen to have some at hand?"

Jack tossed a canteen at the lord. "Stocked up for the occasion, but the fainting was a little unexpected."

"It won't happen again," Elsa said, brushing down her dress.

"Just don't lock your knees," he advised. "You know, for the blood to flow. It's going to take a while, so please tell me if you need a break. I've had people collapse before."

"I shall."

"Well then. Let's get started."

XXX

The princess nodded, albeit it a little stiffly. Jack could see the tension in her shoulders, her neck, and her crossed arms. She was obviously uncomfortable with the arrangement, but even then she was beautiful, a fragile beauty, like a rose made of ice, sensitive to even the softest touch. She'd trembled when he took her hand, but that could have been weakness from her faint, not what he'd naively imagined.

But if this girl was anything like her parents, she was far from fragile, or weak, or susceptible to the graciousness of a gentleman, however devilishly charming he may have been.

She was beautiful, though. She resembled her mother and her sister, but as the elder, she carried herself with grace and poise, was the more restrained, and had about her an air of knowledge of things suffered, sadness experienced. The dress she wore, although crumpled from the fall, was elegant and finely made and suited her very well, accentuating her slim figure but remaining modest, as royalty should. Pale and white-haired, in spirit she was the polar opposite of Anna it seemed, or at least from what he gathered from their brief interaction. The two could have been twins, if were not for the personality. And the hair. Hair like his. Robert and the boys had been right all along…

His heart sped up a couple of beats at the thought of the Island. What he had promised Aleksander as the life bled out of him was now, for the first time, finally beginning to form into an actuality. As he spoke to the princess he had to hide his hands in his pockets, or behind his back, to hide their trembling, the adrenaline rush of the moment making every cell in his body energized with excitement. He felt as if he were on a weird high, the very scent and closeness of her making his head dizzy and vision faint.

"Mr. Frost?" Forseth said, a little snappishly. "Are you ready?"

Jack took control of himself to avoid the man's suspicion. "'Rush not the artist', my mentor always said. You want this to be perfect, don't you?"

"I don't expect any less."

"Then let me operate on my own time. And also, could you leave us alone? I prefer to work with the subject in isolation."

"Out of the question."

"You want this to be perfect, you let me do me. I do this with everyone who wants a sculpture, and they turn out just the way they want it. You know why? Because I get to work without anyone else but the person who matters. Other people don't."

Forseth bristled, but Elsa lifted her hand. "I will be fine, Lord Forseth. You can leave me be."

The nobleman nodded, but the action seemed to take all of his effort. "Very well, but I will be making periodical check-ups." He left the workroom, leaving Jack alone with the Crown Princess.

Jack sighed and leaned on the block. "Okey-dokey. Finally some alone time. Might I say you could not be any more different from your sister."

"She can be...something else," she relented. Her arms fell, then went back up again. "I-I'm sorry, but how should I be…?"

"Oh, my bad. Here," he crossed over to his desk and retrieved an apple and a short wooden rod. He handed them to her. "Forseth told me about the orb and scepter. I thought it'd be foolish not to include them in some way shape or form."

"Lord Forseth," she corrected instinctively. "They're the symbols of my authority over the nation and the people. They represent my sovereign right to rule. I always thought they looked kind of silly."

"No argument there. But hey, if they're a big deal, why not? If you would hold the orb close to your torso, a bit lower, closer to your, uh, to your navel, there we go. And have the scepter cross diagonally beside the orb. Like that. Well, not quite, a little more. Here, let me just…"

He took her hand and adjusted the rod to his liking. "That's better," he said. The two were standing very close to one another now, a little too close. He could feel her breath on his collar, see her pupils nestled inside the crystalline blue of her irises. For a moment, he forgot to breath.

"Mr. Frost."

"Just Jack, remember?"

Forseth would have brought a firing squad right then and there if he'd been witness to them. Elsa looked away, and Jack stepped back. He cleared his throat and surveyed the princess.

"Alright, great. That's perfect. Now if you could just straighten a little bit, there we go. Excellent. Let's get started."

Okay, Jack, like you practiced. Let's begin with the midsection and work our way vertically. Relax, you have all the time in the world. All the time in the world...

XXX

Time passed as if trickling from an icicle in the sun. Jack Frost worked over the ice block like a maniac, his hands moving with breathtaking speed. The young man would walk back and forth from the forming sculpture to his toolkit, where he'd grab a chisel or scraper and bang away with wild, yet practiced and learned, abandon. His actions were imbued with a feverish energy, and now and then he would mutter to himself, and sometimes, when he made an error, he'd bite out certain words that would have provoked the bishop's sharp rebuke if he were present.

Elsa maintained her position as best she could, the wooden orb and rod getting heavier and heavier as the minutes progressed. To say that her current situation was one of the most awkward experiences of her life was something of an understatement. On top of standing there in the circle like a dumb mute, she had to occupy the time with her surroundings, which was painfully meager. By the time Jack had completed what looked like her torso (which was amazingly life-like - down to the creases formed on the dress) she'd grown tired of examining the curtains and admiring the spartan cleanliness of the workroom. What was left to look at was Jack himself.

He really isn't all that young, she surmised after watching him carve. Or maybe he is, but awfully precocious. He carried himself with the kind of ease that could only be matched with maturity. She liked the way he moved; it wasn't cocky, like the prim nobles of her home, whose actions and gestures were perfectly precise but chock full of arrogance - even Nathanael, for all his subtleties, was sublimely confident in his ability to dominate almost everyone he met. Jack Frost had the smooth grace of someone sublimely assured of himself, so much so it was even understated.

He paused in his work to look over at Elsa. His eyes scanned her body, lingering on her chest and shoulders. Even though his eyes held no ill-intention, heat rushed to her face nonetheless, and her arms crept up a little higher in a vain effort to cover herself.

"A little lower, please," he said, returning to his work. "I know it can be annoying, but bear with me here."

Elsa nodded and complied. You're being a prude, she chided. This is his job, end of story. Be a big girl and deal with it. Yet those eyes were like staring into a mirror, twin pools of endless blue that were like her own but so different, so strangely unique. She'd never seen eyes of such a vibrant shade before. She likely wouldn't ever again.

An hour had passed when Nathanael made his first check-up. His eyes instantly shot to the incomplete sculpture upon entrance. He grunted after a few seconds of inner-deliberation.

"Is it all up to snuff?" Jack asked, wiping some frost off a slowly appearing shoulder.

"It looks like things are progressing nicely," Nathanael said. "What matters is the finished product." He looked to Elsa. "Doing well, princess?"

Elsa dipped her head. "Enjoying myself as one only can, my lord."

"She meant to say she was having a blast," Jack cut in, giving Elsa a mock-reprimanding look. "But from the way she's locking her knees the blood flow might not be reaching her brain."

Elsa self-consciously straightened, remembering the advice he'd given her a little while after they'd begun. She'd already passed out once today, a second time would just be unforgivable.

Nathanael clenched his fists. "You are lucky you're necessary, Mr. Frost," he said through gritted teeth. "Only for a moment. I suggest you learn your place in between now and the next time I come in." He regarded the princess. "Do stay strong, your highness."

He did not quite storm out of the room, but the door was closed with considerably more force than last time. Jack snorted after a couple of moments of silence.

"He always so...difficult?" he asked.

Elsa sighed. "Nathanael Forseth takes his job very seriously and is an invaluable servant to the crown and the nation of Arendelle."

"Wow. How many times have you had to say that?"

"Too many to count."

Jack smiled. "If you don't mind me asking, princess, you aren't sounding like a very happy monarch-to-be."

Elsa shrugged. "My duty is to the people. My feelings about my situation are secondary to the well-being of Arendelle and all her citizens."

Jack tilted his head. Elsa noticed that was his way of expressing confusion. A tilt of his head, delicate brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed to the point of slits. He scratched his hair, as if suddenly confronted with complex arithmetic. "You're the princess, though. Soon to be queen. I'm sure the ruler of a country gets to decide how she feels whenever she wants."

Elsa shook her head, fighting back a bitter chuckle. It's a nice thought, but naive. "It's not quite that simple. But I am happy to lead and serve Arendelle. It is my birthright and my legacy."

Jack stared at her for a long moment, his expression dissolving from perplexed to enigmatic. His eyes might have softened, with pity or resignation she knew not. "You are going to make an excellent queen, your highness. That I am one-hundred-percent sure of."

A half-smile. "If I don't screw things up in the process."

"An old friend of mine had a saying: 'mistakes are Destiny's way of telling you to try something different'. A different approach, a whole different course of action, whatever. The point is to not let them make you give up. Granted, what you have on your plate is not your ordinary job, but still. I think even queens get to be human at times."

"I'm sure your old friend knew what he was talking about."

"He may have had a belly like a bowl full of jelly, but you could trust his wisdom. He normally has very good advice. Advice even you, queen-to-be, can take into consideration."

Elsa smiled and found somewhere else to look at other than his eyes. They were beautiful, yes, but enthralling in a way that not just entranced, but unsettled. He was the kind of man who communicated through his eyes, through focused stares and intentional glances. What she saw in them was definitely more than mere assurance. There was care inside, and emotion that was normally undiscovered in others. Was this more, or simply the adoration of a citizen before his princess?

This man has just met me and already he's staring at me like I'm the queen. What more can I expect when the crown has touched my head?

"So, Mr. Frost," she said, desperate to fill in the silences. "Where are you from? I can tell you're not from around here."

He shrugged, taking out a small utensil and smoothing out the slope of her chest. Seeing the action done was a little more than peculiar. "A small village in the Austerland Confederacy. East of the border with Corona. It's a no-name, backwater place, if I told you the name you'd probably forget it."

"Well, it must be a fine place if it produces gentlemen such as yourself."

Jack laughed. "Thank you very much, but it really is one of those middle-of-nowhere towns surrounded by trees and mountains."

"That sounds beautiful."

"I guess so. Grew up there nearly my whole life, saw nothing special about it." He grinned and pointed at her with the tip of his utensil. "And you should be proud, that's the most anyone's ever gotten out of me since I've been here."

Elsa blinked. "Really?"

"I try to keep an air of mystery about me, that's all. I've got a friend of mine literally this close from clawing my eyes out to get me to tell him my origins. If I told him now...well, where's the fun in that?"

"But why me?"

"Well, you've got the rare power to actually check my papers with the city register, so might as well be truthful, you know? And plus, you're the honest-to-God Crown Princess. I think if I lied to you I'd burn on the spot."

Elsa laughed, which nearly startled her. She quickly composed herself, feeling the blood rush to her face. "It's really not that big of a deal."

"It isn't? Well, you've got the known world knocking on your castle doors, so I'd say it's a pretty big deal."

She looked down. "The known world, huh..."

Jack resumed sculpting, but continued talking to her. "What's got you nervous, if you, again, don't mind me asking?"

She sighed. "You're fine. It's just that it's all very new to me."

"You don't like new things?"

"Not when they're so...monumental, I guess."

"You're not excited at all?"

Elsa shook her head. "No, I am, don't get me wrong, it's just that I..." She struggled to find the right words to say. Doing this, opening up, rarely ever happened, and only in those occasions when the bishop prompted her to speak her mind for what she truly thought. With a stranger, though, this was unprecedented. What about him made her babble so uneloquently? "I don't think I'm...prepared. There are things I still need to, uh, get control of. Is this making any sense?"

He made a sound of acknowledgment. "I'm following."

"My parents tried their best, but even then..."

He paused in his work. "I'm sure they did all that they could."

"They did, and then some. They were very concerned, but there were some things that they couldn't..." She closed her eyes, a frown forming on her face. "I'm sorry, I don't think I should be saying this."

Jack looked at her. "You can speak your mind. I'm not Nathanael Forseth. Don't be afraid."

Elsa opened her eyes. She tracked his gaze and met their source, strangely calm. Strangely warm. "I'm not afraid of you."

The door opened, and Forseth swooped in. They broke eye contact and things progressed the way they had, with the nobleman asking question after question, and eventually disappearing after a brief chide and lecture. Once he was gone, the air around them felt different, charged with something unknown. Elsa didn't know if something had been broken between the two or elevated to a level they both had no idea how to navigate. So, she acquiesced and let the quiet reign over them, responding to his occasional prompts, but now doubly unsure of what to make of this Jack Frost.

XXX

It must have been at least two hours, but even as Jack neared completion of the project a sinking feeling of dread was beginning to settle into his stomach. The weight of the silence that stretched from their conversation slowed his hands, sent a cold sweat down his back. Was he taking this the wrong way? Was he making the right impression? Did she even like him? These were the kind of questions that ran through his mind, all on top of attempting to create a work of art that was not only going to impress Nathanael Forseth, but the horde of nobility that was sure to see it in the time of the coronation.

He got up on his stool and put the finishing touches on her eyes, tools in hand. Jack wanted to make sure he nailed the eyes above all; for him, they were the most arresting thing about her. There was a sad nobility about them, the mark of a ruler who had done her job, treasured it above all else, sacrificing everything for the well-being of her nation. Or at least that was what he wanted the viewer to see.

To Jack, they were the eyes of a girl who had become a woman far too young. The epitome of maturity, but the tombstones of childhood. Jack could only imagine what she had to lose on top of her parents when they were gone. Aleksander had always said that she was a lonely child, but now that Jack had met her, it was as if she'd erected a kingdom of isolation around her, never letting anyone in. He saw it in her posture, her frigidity, the way she cut off eye contact as if too long a stare could open a way into her soul.

Jack had centuries of observing people, and he knew enough to see a person who simply wasn't having any fun anymore standing in front of him. It hurt him, touched the very core, the center, of his being. This wasn't right. He had to fix it.

But how?

XXX

Nathanael walked in. "Finished?"

Jack stepped back and wiped his hands on a rag. He exhaled, staring at the final work. Elsa was seated off to the side, getting some rest after nearly three hours of standing completely still. "What do you think?"

The nobleman stared at it for an eternity. He scanned it up and down, even making a circuit around it, taking in every inch and every bump and crevice. He ran his finger down the rod, which was clenched in the princess's frozen hands. "You got the details of the orb and scepter right."

"The drawings you sent helped," Jack said. He had begun to wring his hands, which he only did in times of intense nervousness. He hadn't expected to feel the way he felt when Forseth walked in, or even when the princess stepped out of the circle and viewed it clearly for the first time. She'd been very pleased, which in turn pleased Jack, but the nobleman had unrealistically high standards. Was this good enough for him? "So…?"

Nathanael grunted. "It is sufficient. I think it will make a nice impression on the delegation. Good work, Mr. Frost."

Jack felt as if a thousand-ton rock had been lifted off his shoulders. He smiled and clapped once. "Well thanks very much. If you ever need me again I'm right-"

"That won't be necessary. Like I said, this is our last meeting."

Jack frowned. "Surely I can-"

"You have done a great service to the crown. That alone should be enough. We will have a team sent down tomorrow to fetch the sculpture for the coronation the following day. They will have the money promised, unless you want it deposited in your account in the bank by one of our finance magistrates."

Jack waved it aside. "In person would be fine, thanks, but I was wondering if I could just-"

Nathanael raised his hand. "Any and all questions can be directed to the agent accompanying the team tomorrow. This is goodbye, Mr. Frost. Princess, if you would."

Elsa got up and joined the nobleman. She curtsied once, her eyes on the floor. "It was a pleasure. My sincere thanks for not only the magnificent sculpture, but the painting of my parents as well. I will remember your service today."

Jack felt as if one of the most significant moments of his life was slipping away, like the last winter snow on a spring day. He had to keep the rising dread from showing in his voice. "My princess, the pleasure was all mine. I hope that someday, if luck would have it, we could meet again."

She looked up, finally, and met his eyes. "I would have it that you come to the coronation, for it is custom for the artist to be properly recognized for his work, but my...advisers have cautioned me against it."

"Anyone who wants to meet the artist can come to his shop, which is open many hours during the day," said Forseth, with an edge to his voice.

"I'm sure," Elsa replied, with equal bite. Clearly the conversation had not been an old one. Her voice softened when directed back at Jack. "Goodbye, Mr. Fr - Jack. Your work today is well-appreciated."

He swallowed. "Goodbye, Princess Elsa."

She lowered her eyes from his. Jack opened the door for them, and Nathanael reassured him that he had it from here, and that he could stay in his workroom for the time being. He needn't have warned him; Jack's actions felt wooden, stiff with shock and defeat. It couldn't end like this. But he could only watch as they crossed the store, the door bordered by a group of guards.

As they were about to leave, Elsa turned, and their eyes locked. Jack put all of his heart and soul into that one stare, that one final connection. We're going to meet again, he said to her silently. I made a promise. I will keep you and your sister safe in my protection.

Then Nathanael's cloak came up like a shield, cutting off her face, her blue blue eyes. The door opened, closed, and they were gone.

The room felt emptier. The very temperature seemed to rise and grow humid and cloying, as if her presence had been a sharp December wind, a shock to the system but making everything else stand out in high definition, her the epicenter of all things, the catalyst. Jack clenched his fists.

Mistakes were Destiny's way of telling you to try something different, but he was determined to have this not be one of them.

XXX

Once they left the store, Elsa took a deep breath.

The cheers of the crowd resumed, intensified even, once they caught sight of her, but Elsa was barely paying attention.

Did that just happen? What just happened? She had difficulty reconciling what exactly occurred in that cold little room with that strange young man. She'd been sculpted, yes, but not just in ice. His attention to her had transcended the art, so much so that it was as if another form of her had been created there, an invisible Elsa seen in his eyes and transferred into the ether, where she would remain forever, some semblance of her with him always. It all seemed a blur, too fast. She felt like something had been missing there, some words unspoken, actions undone. Was that strange to think? Perhaps, but she had not had the time to think, to even have a decent conversation with him, what with the intense sculpting and Nathanael's concerned check-ups. She'd fought to have him invited to the coronation after she'd gotten over the sculpting appointment in the first place, but Nathanael had been adamant regarding that. He was of the old-school: no common-born allowed, save for those servants and other appointed individuals.

Was that truly the last time she would ever see Jack Frost again?

Nathanael gripped her shoulder. "Smile and wave, princess," he said through a perfectly fabricated smile. "You look dejected."

Maybe I am dejected, my lord. She obeyed, however, for the words would have spelled an eternity of his signature disappointed resentment on top of everything else.

They made their way down towards the chariot, which was in threat of being mobbed by enthusiastic townspeople. The guards surrounding it were shoving them back with their muskets, which elicited an inner cry in Elsa.

"Tell the guards to go easy," she whispered almost vehemently at Nathanael. "And why are they carrying guns anyway?"

He hesitated. "Princess, as I said earlier, it is for your protection."

"Protection from what?"

A man barreled into their path, having managed to sneak past the guards. Nathanael stiffened and his hand instantly went to his side, where his sword was. The guards yelled and made to grab him. Elsa raised her hand, and they instantly froze.

"Leave him be," she ordered, surprised by the firmness of her voice, yet also pleased. "I wish to speak with him."

The excitement of the crowd seemed to double at her words. The guards forgot about the man, now having to push back the tides of people who equally desired a word with the princess. Nathanael's hand, under cover of his cloak, gripped her tighter. He knew that here, in view of the public, he had no real power over her. "Princess," he said so lowly, and so fraught with tension, that she could barely hear him. "I strongly advise you not to do this."

She ignored him and smiled at the man. I will do this one thing, she thought, and you will not stop me. "Hello. What is your name?"

The citizen, who was younger than she'd previously thought, nervously stuck his hands in his coat pockets. He had a silver brooch, fashioned in the shape of a star, pinned on his person. His eyes were bulging, and in the sunlight she could see a layer of sweat covering his face. Poor man, she thought. He can barely stand, his knees are shaking so much. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words were coming out.

Elsa smiled again, putting as much warmth into it as possible. If this was to be her first citizen interaction as queen-to-be, it needed to be perfect. "Take your time, good sir."

He finally managed to speak:

"T-The crown is a lie," he said, his voice raw and heated with emotion.

Elsa blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"The c-crown is a lie and the time of monarchies are coming to an e-end," he said, his voice fuller now, almost screaming with fury. "This is for the People!"

He pulled a gun out of his coat, pointed it straight at her face, and pulled the trigger.

A/N: What? Yeah, I just did that. Sorry if their long-awaited first encounter was underwhelming (maybe a bit rushed? I'd appreciate some feedback). Short and sweet, much of it intentional, though. They've got a long way to go before things can progress smoothly. And a better description of the sculpture is saved for the chapter involving the coronation and subsequent banquet. As always, thanks for reading and drop a review on your way out.