AUTHOR'S NOTE: IT'S—(*crashes through wall*)—CHRISTMAS—(*pops the non-alcoholic carbonated beverages*)—EEEEEEEEEEEEVE! (*sets off confetti canons*)

AND IT FEELS SO GOOD! :) :) :) :) :) (I have been waiting and building up to this "day," as the author, since 2015. YOU CANNOT KNOW HOW GREAT THAT FEELS; LET'S NOT RUIN IT BY ACTUALLY THINKING ABOUT HOW MUCH TIME IT'S TAKEN FOR ME TO WRITE US ALL UP TO THIS POINT.) XD

Thanks for hanging with me, everybody. A SPECIAL thanks to all those who have read and reviewed, thanks for reading, and I hope you all have a FANTABULOUS day! :D

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89: THE BREAK OF DAWN

Brilliant sunlight streamed in through the frosted window, setting the snow-covered walls and bedspread agleam as Elsa felt herself swaying back into consciousness. She ached—her spine was sore from sleeping in a strange position, and the back of her head felt it more than the front, pounding in the darkly familiar sensation of having fallen asleep with more emotional rather than physical exhaustion.

And she was being cradled in a set of strong, freezing male arms.

Her mind jumped to wake. His crisp scent—the subtle yet sharp smell of ice—filled her lungs as she breathed it in, sending her senses tingling. She realized in a daze that her cheek was pressed against the Guardian's chest, the crystal-webbed navy fabric soft and cold, but betraying the contours of the lean, freezing muscle underneath.

Her breath catching, Elsa shifted, restraining from actually nuzzling her cheek against him as the memories flooded her mind. She didn't want to pull away from him. The feelings of gratitude, or relief—!

Finally, she pushed herself back a tiny bit, starting to sit up onto her hip. Still largely leaning against him, her hands on his arms, Elsa looked up to see the Guardian's face in a new light, gazing at him in wonder. Meanwhile… he couldn't even look at her.

For a few long moments, they sat together in silence.

Jack Frost nodded.

"Hi," he choked.

Sitting up completely, Elsa continued simply stare at him, her mind racing. The Spirit of Winter awkwardly shifted back on his hips, instinctually moving his hands away from her as his snowy hair gleamed in the sunlight, his incredible blue eyes both beautiful and sad.

You would never hurt me, Elsa realized.

Her heart started pounding. Her breaths coming sharp and shallow, the Fifth Spirit's eyes widened to the echo of her own thoughts.

You. Would. NEVER. HURT ME.

Jack Frost was shrinking back from her. Restraining from reaching for him—wanting to grab him to her, to snuggle into her childhood hero's chest again and have his arms around her body and his skin next to her own and his freezing breath on her ear—she sucked her lips in between her teeth, taking a deep breath.

"Hi," Elsa blurted back.

He didn't look at her, staring determinately at the bedspread. Taking the hint, Elsa started to shift back off of his legs, to—

"—IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE!" she gasped.

Jack startled, his head snapping up. "Huh?"

"The Ball! It's tonight!" Elsa exclaimed, starting to scoot herself to the edge of the bed, "I—there's so much work to do! What time is it? I have to talk to Anna! Has anyone—!"

As she tried to stand up, Elsa squeaked in surprise and lost her balance, throwing out her hands to catch herself. Getting onto her feet completely—and feeling strangely constricted in her legs—she then looked down and realized why.

The long slits of her skirt, which had before been cut all the way up onto her hips, had now each been sealed together with two long, messy clumps of ice.

Looking up, she realized that the Youngest Guardian was silently climbing off of the bed as well. Getting onto his feet—but not moving past her nightstand—he then glanced in the direction of her skirt, aware that she had noticed.

Jack looked away. He then stuck his hands into his front pocket, kicking at the carpet.

"It was—coming up—I mean," her stammered, "Like—falling open."

Elsa's face paled. "My skirt came up?"

"NO! I mean—well, yes. ALMOST!" he corrected frantically, jolting to look at her, "But it—well, so I—you know."

Blushing furiously, Jack pulled a hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck, hunching over and kicking at the carpet once again. He swallowed.

"I thought you'd—um," he choked, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "Not—want that."

He fell silent, sticking his hand back into his pocket and looking down at the floor.

"Thank you," Elsa breathed.

He swallowed again, giving a tiny nod.

Sensing that he was waiting for her to move aside—clearly wanting a wide berth, so that he could pass by her without getting too near—Elsa stepped back two paces, feeling a cold wave of anxiety sweep through her body.

The previous night, he had been so—passionate. Well, she'd thought it was passion—after she'd started kissing him, he had definitely been kissing her back, and if she weren't flattering herself—well. But now he was avoiding her. Had she been imagining the passion? Was there really no desire at all? It was like he was too disgusted to even look at her, now. Did he think she was disgusting? Should she even try to find out? Could she even…?

Paralyzed, the Fifth Spirit simply stared at him, once again watching the beautiful Spirit of Winter walking away from her in dismay. After a moment, she shook herself.

"Jack—can I ask you something?"

He paused.

Anxiously, Elsa watched as he let out his breath, his shoulders sinking by an inch. Drawing himself up—and still somehow avoiding her gaze—the ancient, immortal Spirit of Winter then turned around.

Standing in the middle of the room, Jack flippantly threw his left arm into the air. "Sure," he sighed, shaking his head and letting his arm fall again, placing his hands on his hips. "Go for it."

"It's kind of personal."

To this, the Guardian chuckled bitterly under his breath. "Pretty sure we crossed the line into 'personal' a long while ago," he scoffed.

Elsa's cheeks heated. Swallowing her fear, she fidgeted with her fingers, taking a moment to gather her courage.

"Did you want to?"

He jolted.

"What?" Jack stammered.

"I mean—if I—um, I'd been wanting it," Elsa stammered, feeling the air temperature dropping around her body as she fumbled for the appropriate words, "Last night—when we were kissing, I—you—well, you were seeming to get kind of into it, and—"

"—You GRABBED me!"

"But—"

"—Elsa, you literally ATTACKED ME!" Jack stammered, his voice breaking as he gestured, "You grabbed me by my shirt! And we were on your bed, and—do you own a mirror!? Was I INTO it?! Are you serious!? Do you know what I've BEEN through?! Do you have any idea what it's like to—and how you were acting—and—and it was—really hot—actually—I mean!"

His voice trailed off. The 319-year-old Guardian of Fun was now frantically glancing back and forth between her dress and the floor, like he was struggling to look at her, but not look at her, blushing furiously.

"Elsa, I—I can't talk to you like this," Jack squeaked, covering his eyes with his hand and shaking his head.

A jolt of fear shot down Elsa's spine.

"You—can't talk to me?" she shook.

"No. I mean, I can, just not—it—I mean, I'm trying, but your—okay. This," Jack choked, awkwardly tracing a wide rectangle in the air below her collarbone, "Area—I—could we just—!"

He covered his eyes again, cringing like he was in pain. Elsa watched him in anxious confusion, fidgeting with her fingers.

Hesitantly peeking out from behind his hand, the 319-yr-old Guardian then glanced around, searching the room while avoiding looking at her. His gaze snagging on her headboard (or in its vicinity), Jack then lurched forward, snatching up one of her pillows. Holding it in front of himself like it a shield, he walked back to the Fifth Spirit, then stepping up and awkwardly shoving the pillow into her arms.

Unsure of what else to do, Elsa obliged, blushing and hugging the pillow to her chest. Still holding his hands up in in front of his body, Jack exhaled as a long silence fell.

The Spirit of Winter's hands finally began to sink in the air.

"You were ready to do it," he choked. "Weren't you? You—you were actually going to let me!"

His voice trailed off, and his cheeks and ears and neck turned a darker shade of pink. In fact, Jack's entire body seemed to blush.

Oh.

Queen Elsa swallowed hard. Still hugging the pillow to over her chest, she drew herself up, struggling to keep her voice even.

"I had to protect my people," she quavered.

"But—but you really would have—?"

Jack's voice trailed off again, his eyebrows lifting with the unasked question. Hugging the pillow a little tighter, Elsa nodded, shakily pulling in her breath.

"I had to protect my people," she whispered. "I'm still a member of the royal family, Forest or not. So Arendelle comes first."

At the word Arendelle, Jack's shoulders seemed to sink even further. Looking back down to the ground, he kicked gently at the carpet for a long moment.

"Why?" Elsa blurted.

Jack's face fell. "Just—I was just wondering."

She swallowed, saying nothing.

Nodding to himself, Jack opened his mouth to speak, then closing it again. Clearing his throat, he gave his head a little shake.

"You're just—you're a really good queen," he choked softly.

Still watching him, the Fifth Spirit didn't respond.

After a few moments of silence, Jack Frost let out a long, defeated sigh. Sticking his hands into his pocket once again, he then silently walked past her, going for where his shepherd's crook had—on the previous evening—dropped onto the floor, now laying discarded by her dresser.

Her cheeks warm, the Snow Queen stared down into the pillow. "That's not being a good queen," Elsa admitted, almost under her breath as he bent down and picked it up. "That's just—being a queen. Sometimes, sacrifice is necessar—"

"—OH!" Jack whipped around, his voice breaking with emotion as she jumped, "Because, because g-getting with ME would have been your big SACRI!"

He cut himself off, the statement hanging on the air along with his hand.

Squeezing his eyes shut in pain, the Spirit of Winter then pulled in a long, careful breath and curled the fingers of his gesturing hand into a fist, silently knocking on the air two times instead of finishing the statement. Letting his hand sink—giving it another halfhearted shake—he then exhaled, kneading his eyebrows.

Elsa fidgeted with the pillowcase, an indiscernible jumble of emotions all clashing against each other in her mind with a thin layer of frost flowered onto the fabric.

"So… yes?" she ventured hesitantly.

Jack Frost paused, glancing up in her direction, but without looking up past her feet.

"Yes, what?" he asked.

"You never actually answered my question," she tried again, then pausing to swallow as the pillow sank in her arms. "I—um, I asked if you—wanted to."

"If I wanted to?" he repeated breathily.

She nodded.

He nodded to himself again, nervously bouncing his leg up and down. Glancing to the side—and then back to her—he pulled in his breath.

"Elsa, I—" he stammered. "I've been alone for—a really long time. Okay?"

Elsa watched as Jack shook his head, pushing his fingers into his hair. A moment later, ripping them back out, he looked back to meet her gaze in absolute anguish, his eyes blurring like he was on the verge of tears.

"Look," Jack shook, his voice a helpless squeak, "It's just not good for a guy to be ALONE for this long!"

Knock knock!

Jack and Elsa both jumped, whipping around to face the door. Clearing her throat under her breath, the Snow Queen drew herself up the best that she could, stretching her right hand towards it while holding the now-dangling pillow with her opposite arm.

"Come in," she choked.

WHOOSH!

As the thick layers of ice swept away, the last of the frost in the lock shooting out into the air, the handle jostled. Trying again, Elsa heard her sister grunt as she shoved her weight onto the handle, forcing it to depress.

CHUNK.

And the door swung open.

Elsa and Jack were still standing together in the center of the room, Elsa's grip on the pillow slack in her left hand. Anna's face was pale as she stumbled in.

"Elsa—WHOA! Elsa!"

Elsa saw her sister's eyes bulge as she saw the dress, its deep crimson ice fabric as suction-tight as it was revealing. Looking down at her hands—and finally realizing that she was no longer holding the pillow up over her chest—Elsa swallowed hard, flicking her hand over her cleavage and sending a sparkle of ice over the gap to fill in the neckline. She hadn't really known what she was doing, but she'd tried her best to design this dress to draw attention to all the places she had heard that men liked to look… plus snowflakes. She wasn't exactly a seductress, but given the circumstances, she figured that she had to at least try. She had been hoping and praying that the Kingsley Blizzard was simply a coincidence, but—

She twisted the edge of the pillowcase fabric, biting her lip.

Arendelle.

Looking up again, Elsa realized that Queen Anna was now leveling Jack Frost with the darkest glare that she had ever seen. Even the Royal Glare didn't compare to this—this look, in Anna's eyes, that was somehow permeating the entire room while focusing in on the Guardian's face at the same time.

Clearly fighting to keep himself from cringing, Jack cleared his throat.

"Queen Anna," he choked.

She glowered.

"Frost," Anna said coldly.

Her eyes narrowed, and the Spirit of Winter visibly winced.

Swallowing with effort, and clearly trying to stay as far away from her as possible, the Youngest Guardian then slunk past her, trudging to the door.

Opening it, he disappeared into the hallway, the door slowly swinging shut behind him.

Ca-CHUNK.

"Okay, Elsa. He's gone," Queen Anna blurted, spinning around and lurching towards her as fast as her stomach would allow, "Are you okay? I came as soon as I could! Tell me you're okay!"

"Oh—yes," Elsa said nervously, "I—"

"Are you—you've been CRYING! He made you CRY!?"

Anna grasped her sister's arms, looking up and down as if checking for damage.

"Oh," Elsa stammered, looking back to her reflection and noticing the mess of eye makeup smeared across her cheeks. "Anna, it's—"

"—I'm going to kill him," Anna snarled, "I'm going to strangle that scrawny little ice-demon. I'm going to rip off him arms, and hit him with them. I'm going to—"

"Anna, Jack didn't do anything!"

Elsa watched as Anna paused, looking up into her eyes with disbelief.

"Wait—what?" she breathed.

"He didn't do anything," Elsa repeated, "I mean—he wasn't meaning—as soon as he figured out what was going on, everything stopped. Immediately. I suppose he didn't do nothing, but he stopped it all, and—um—um, it's kind of—complicated."

The Fifth Spirit cringed, blushing furiously as the confessions piled on top of one another in her mind, fighting to break through to her lips. She had grabbed him. SHE'D been the one to start it. But then, he had grabbed her, and then they were on each other, but then he'd started to figure it out, and when he'd said that she wasn't having fun she thought it was a demand, and so she'd tried to pretend that she was, but then he started pushing her off, and then—

"But—" Queen Anna stammered, jerking Elsa from her mental spiral to realize that her little sister was now staring at her in confusion, "But—but Kingsley—"

"—That wasn't Jack."

Anna's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Crossing her arms over her chest, Elsa opened her eyes again, forcing herself to draw in a long, careful breath.

"He was in Antarctica. His alibi was confirmed before he even got here—although I don't think Jack realizes that the Sandma—anyway," Elsa blustered, shaking herself and gazing into Anna's eyes with pleading, "What's important is—Jack never attacked Kingsley. He had nothing to do with it. And, he would never threaten Arendelle. Or anyone else."

Her sister didn't immediately respond. Twisting her fingers against one another, Elsa gulped, trying again.

"Or me," she added quietly. "Jack would never hurt me. And—and now I guess I have the proof."

"Proof?" Anna asked, still looking confused, "What do you mean?"

Elsa bit her lip, looking down at the floor for a moment. If Jack had really been that into it—but then stopped—and if she weren't just flattering herself—!

She took a deep breath. "I offered him—something—I have reason to believe that he—um, wanted," she began, tripping over the words, "We've talked about it. But—he didn't take it. He wouldn't take it. And I'm pretty sure he was never intending to take all of it, anyway, but—well, when he realized that I wasn't okay, everything came to a screeching halt. And as I said, his alibi checks out, on the Kingsley thing."

"So—he was doing—something, and then he stopped?" she questioned, her eyebrows lifting as she glanced down to her sister's dress, clearly understanding what the something was. "That's not really proof of—"

"—It wasn't just him."

Elsa's shook her head vigorously, her cheeks flushing as the jolt of humiliation tightened in the back of her throat. She'd grabbed him. She had actually, physically, GRABBED Jack Frost, and pushed him onto her bed. And then, thinking that he was demanding it, she'd climbed on top of him, when he hadn't even been WANTING—!

Oooooooh… these were not going to be happy memories.

Queen Elsa swallowed a lump in her throat. She knew her motivations were still justified. She was thinking of Arendelle, and only of Arendelle, in that moment. But still.

Crossing her arms over her chest and then tightening them, she leaned an inch towards her sister. "It wasn't just that he stopped. Even though I think that says a lot about him," Elsa whispered, giving a tiny shrug, "Given the circumstances, it's—well, from his response—Anna, Jack was horrified. He would NEVER intentionally hurt anybody, and definitely not—like—um, like that."

"He said that?"

Elsa nodded.

The Fifth Spirit watched as her sister considered this, crossing her arms over her chest—rather, over her heavily pregnant stomach—and staring downwards in thought. After a few moments, Queen Anna looked up.

She looked up into her sister's eyes.

"And you believe him?" Anna pressed.

Elsa nodded. "Yes," she answered, a hopeful smile beginning to tug at the edges of her mouth. "I do believe him. And—Anna. Don't you realize what this means?"

Anna's eyebrows lifted. "Um—that we're safe?" she responded, letting out a breathy, bitter little chuckle, "For now?"

"We are definitely safe," the Fifth Spirit laughed, "Arendelle is probably safer than it's been for a long time. But there's more."

"And…?"

Elsa bit her lip, turning from her sister and trying in vain to contain herself. This whole time, she'd been questioning herself, questioning him, wondering if he was suddenly going to turn into a monster, and…!

Turning back around, the Fifth Spirit looked to Anna once again.

"Jack Frost is a legitimately good person," Elsa whispered, "I mean, I obviously didn't mean for any of this to happen, but—I haven't just been getting swept up into the moment, or giving in to some some silly adolescent crush. I haven't just been seeing what I wanted to see. I now know for a fact that Jack Frost absolutely has the power to threaten us—to threaten all of usbut he WOULDN'T. He never would. We can actually believe in him."

The redheaded young queen narrowed her eyes in concern—and curiosity.

"You really trust him that much?" Anna asked quietly.

"I would trust Jack Frost with my life," Elsa exclaimed, uncrossing her arms in a sweep of relief, "I mean, he's not perfect, but—everything he's done since we've met, every SINGLE thing, he's been trying to do with my best interest in mind. He really, truly, tries to do what's right, and he tries one hundred percent of the time, with pretty much everyone. Jack is good. He is a good person. He's the best kind of person; he's smart, and he's fun, and he ALWAYS has my back, and he's such a great friend, and—well, honestly, Anna, he really kind of reminds me a lot of you. Jack Frost is exactly the kind of person I'd want to have in my family. I—!"

Elsa's breath caught, her eyes widening.

The revelation came in an instant, the reality of what she had just said hitting her as soon as she had admitted it out loud. She wasn't about to jump into pursuing something insane—she still had far too much information that needed to be gathered first—and she didn't yet know what this would mean for her future, nor for the future of Arendelle. What Queen Elsa did suddenly know, however, was that she could not in good conscience marry the Prince of Kingsley. It would not be fair to him—and it would not be fair, because she knew. In that moment of life-altering clarity, Elsa. Simply. Knew.

She had chosen.