When Elsa's parents had died, all her old fears swamped her. There was no one left. She was alone. How could she control her powers without their guidance? Her father had given her the gloves. He'd taught her the rhyme. He'd been one of just two hopes that she could master the storm, instead of it mastering her.

The other was Jack Frost.

He had been her friend for so long. The year after her first accident, Jack had appeared, and he'd stuck with her ever since. He was funny, older, patient, sympathetic, and he had powers like hers. Everything she needed in one handsome package. Wasn't that just so interesting? What a coincidence. You could say Jack was just too good to be true.

At least, that's what she'd told herself, that terrible day the bishop had summoned the Princesses of Arendelle to the Great Hall. The day he brought the dreadful news that their parents had been lost at sea.

After the argument on the balcony, Elsa had been so agitated she'd covered her room with a thick layer of snow, at least ten feet of it. She'd paced around the chamber, not throwing anything, being silent, fuming in her own poised way as shards of ice grew on the ceiling. Jack hadn't any right to speak to her the way he had. He'd been so reckless, so uncaring, so…juvenile. She needed him to understand. She needed him to be subtle when others were in the room, others who couldn't see him. She needed him to be quiet and observant in the background, stoic and calm. Everything he wasn't by nature. In fact, if he could have gone and done something else when she was in meetings, having meals, signing documents as regent, that would've been fine. She didn't have to have him there every second. She didn't need him in the room to relax. She didn't need to glance over and make sure he thought she was doing okay. She didn't need someone who knew about her abilities and how hard it was to live with and how to make her laugh and where she was most ticklish.

Not at all.

Of course she needed him. Didn't she? She loved Jack Frost. But that was the whole problem. Everyone, every single person she loved had to go away. Anna, her subjects, the staff, her childhood friends—the village children, who pelted through the gates when she and Anna were allowed outside every afternoon, toddlers infatuated with the world.

Then her parents.

Then Jack himself.

He'd flown away, and the next day she occupied herself with every little task the chamberlain handed her, refusing to take a break, insisting on doing her duty. Trying to convince herself Jack wasn't her rock at all, while the scrolls in her hands stiffened and crinkled with ice and the meals she ate tasted of melted snow as soon as they passed her lips.

She'd been slowly questioning Jack's past, his existence, his connection with her since she'd been 14 years old. The close moments, the hugs and the laughs, the tender looks and the empathetic conversations sometimes strengthened her belief in him. But little by little, as she'd gotten older, it just seemed so odd. There he was, the picture of perfection, every day, saying and doing just the right things. They argued, yes, but children often argued with their imaginary friends, didn't they? Elsa wasn't a child anymore. She had enough to deal with.

Half her brain told herself, on the third day as she woke up, that he would be back soon. He was never angry for a very long time; it just wasn't Jack. The other half pointed out that only she could rid herself of the winter boy if he was real just in her mind. And, standing regent, facing people she had barely seen as she spent years cooped up in her room, having them question him themselves—of course she would've had 'an argument' with him. Of course he'd suddenly leave. Wouldn't that fix everything for the moment? Nobody would wonder who she was talking to. Nobody had before she'd been forced to leave her room in the King and Queen's absence. How convenient that he should disappear then, right then.

When the news of her parents' deaths reached her ears, Elsa had fled the Great Hall as Anna wept and stammered and tried to make sense of the details with the chamberlain, rushing to her room and locking the door with ice on the handle.

She hadn't attended the funeral. She couldn't leave the castle. She couldn't. Conceal, don't feel, don't let it show. Oh, Papa…

If she'd ever needed that imaginary friend, the one she chastised herself for falling in love with, if ever he had to be real, it was in that moment when she sank up against the door and lost what was left of anything solid inside her.

But he didn't come. Jack Frost was gone. And he was never really here.

Three years later, Elsa had resolved to forget him. But it wasn't easy. During that time, she would look around for him, remember he'd let her down like all the others, remember he was only her invisible childhood companion, and tell herself to stop dreaming. To get it together. Soon she would be the official ruler of the kingdom of Arendelle. Soon she would run an entire land. The people needed her. One magical, imaginary boy did not matter.

That didn't stop her from talking to him. At first she thought she was talking to herself. She begin relaying how frustrating her day had been, the twists and turns she'd take in the hall when she heard Anna coming, how nice it had been to smell chocolate in the kitchens the way she had when she was eight. But she'd always end the sentence or the story with his name, then close her eyes and catch herself, shaking her head or scoffing. Don't be silly, Elsa. Stop it. Control yourself.

And that was another thing! She hated that word. Control. It was so thick and iron and intimidating. It was a chain around her head and heart and she couldn't get it off and she couldn't move to obey it, though she tried every second. Like it or not, as future Queen of Arendelle, she had to learn to obey it.

She stayed up late into the night, wringing her hands and redoing her braid and glancing out the window at the snow on the ground, glittering in the moonlight, wondering whether Jack had found someone else to play with. Then, He can't. He only ever came from me. He doesn't belong to anyone else, he doesn't exist to anyone else, and no other child can play with him. Go to sleep, Elsa.

So Elsa forgot Jack. (Or she claimed she had.)

Strange that she should think of him as the doors opened to the Great Hall, Elsa standing solemnly with royal procession behind her. The bells tolled and people began to filter into their seats. The coronation ceremony had begun. Anna wasn't there yet—Elsa cast her eyes about the large room for her sister. She was late?

As they waited for everyone to be seated, Elsa wondered what Jack would think of her cape. He'd think it's too long. He'd try to wear half of it to prove it. She almost smiled at the thought, but then she rolled her eyes as she walked. Focus. You can't let them know. Don't let your mind wander. Conceal it. She was so nervous. Her powers were surging in her fingertips, reacting to her feelings. If she did anything, anything at all to make it peak, everything would fall to ruin. Thinking of her old imaginary friend was a waste of time and a dangerous distraction now.

Jack intended to follow Elsa into the ceremony, but he'd gotten sidetracked when the royal dressers had come to fit her into her cape. It was too long. Anna would have to carry it.

Speaking of Anna, that was the sidetracked part.

She was going to be late to the coronation, and she was part of the procession. Elsa would freak if she realized something was already going wrong, and heaven only knew what would happen if she lost what little control she had. He knew she could do better—he knew she was stronger than she appeared. The problem was that she couldn't hear him when he told her. Best to try to help in any way he could.

He found Anna outside, just near the docks, by a gazebo. She was sitting on one end of a boat, her side of the vessel hanging over the water. A fancy horse held the other end to the dock with a hoof, putting all its weight onto it to make sure it didn't fall. Smart pony. Anna was talking to a guy who was equally as showy, dressed to the nines. He looked familiar…

Jack dropped to the roof of the gazebo, taking a closer look. His eyes widened. "Oh no. No! No way."

"Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," Hans introduced himself, taking Anna's hand and pulling her to a standing position in the boat. He'd gotten taller, maybe even taller than Elsa. His sideburns were longer. Jack wanted so badly to casually poke the guy into the water with his staff.

"Princess Anna of Arendelle." Anna smiled at him, and Jack curled his lip. She was obviously checking him out. What was Anna doing with a dead fish like Hans? They'd never get along! He was too perfect, too dull. She was so full of energy, and he had a touch of Elsa's uptightness, with all the boring and none of the endearment.

Jack was facing Hans' back, so he couldn't see the rusty-headed prince's face. He decided to move; get in on the action. He flew to the side of the boat, balancing easily with his toes on it. Most inanimate objects acted as if he didn't weigh a thing. He wouldn't upset the dinghy.

Hans' eyes widened, as if shocked. "Princess?" He immediately dropped to one knee in a bow. "My lady!"

Jack snorted. "Bow a little lower. Is that a fishbone down there?" He would've loved to see it get stuck in that prissily-combed hair.

To his dismay, the horse bowed too, lifting one hoof off the other side of the boat. It tipped dangerously, and Jack shot into the air to avoid being wetted in case the dinghy dipped into the sea. Luckily the horse's other hoof was still keeping the boat up enough, but Anna and Hans both lost their balance and slid in a heap to the lowered end.

Jack chortled, landing beside the horse. He glanced at the equestrian as if it could hear him. "Oh, here we go."

"Whoo!" Anna caught her breath from the jolt, realizing that Hans was practically on top of her. "Hi. Again."

"Um." Hans shifted, trying to regain balance, but it wasn't easy with the boat so precariously placed.

His horse, glancing up and seeing its mistake, quickly put its other hoof onto the boat and the dinghy returned to its original position. This put Anna on top of Hans. Jack felt sorry for her. The guy smelled like soap and boot polish.

"Oh boy," Hans muttered, looking just as uncomfortable as the Princess.

Anna let out a nervous little titter. "This is awkward." She blinked, as if regretting her choice of words. Quickly she added, "Not you're awkward, but just 'cuz, we're…I'm awkward. You're gorgeous. Wait, what?"

Jack laughed. She was gold.

Hans smiled reassuringly, again helping her to her feet. "I'd like to formally apologize for hitting the Princess of Arendelle with my horse…and…for every moment after."

Anna waved her hands. "No! No, no, it's fine! I'm, I'm not that Princess. I mean…" She moved past him, out of the boat. "If you'd hit my sister Elsa, it would be…yeesh, but it's…y'know…"

She turned and saw the horse, who seemed to grin down at her with its big brown eyes. "Hello!"

She scratched under its muzzle and it whinnied appreciatively. Finally she reached solid ground. Jack flew up and sat on the horse's back, but its skin didn't even twitch. It was as if he weren't on it at all.

Anna continued to the flustered Prince, "But, lucky you, it's…it's just me." She folded her hands in front of her, shrugging. Jack could see the appeal. She was adorable in her own clumsy way. That small, genuine smile grew and she met Hans' eyes.

"Watch out, Freckles, that's how you break hearts," Jack teased, hopping down and pacing lazily behind her.

Hans certainly seemed smitten. "Just you?"

"Gimme a break." Jack's smile wilted. He rolled his eyes. Was this guy serious? Hans seemed to know just what to say, and Anna was eating it up. She barely moved an inch, just gawking at him with those round, blue-green eyes.

The bells tolled. Jack winced. Elsa—the ceremony! What if she was already losing it? He didn't hesitate any longer, turning and shooting for the castle gates. To his relief, Anna was following his dissipating trail of snowflakes, shouting a goodbye to Hans.

Anna arrived just in time, quickly taking hold of Elsa's train in both hands, though she fumbled with it for a moment. Jack brushed by, quickly pinching a piece of seaweed that had gotten stuck in her red hair, flicking it behind his shoulder. He walked beside Elsa in long, bored strides as the procession came down the aisle to stand at the dais.

The singing wasn't bad, but Jack didn't speak Norwegian, so that was a setback. As the bishop took the little golden crown from its place, readying it, Jack glanced at Elsa, who was frowning deeply. "It's gonna be okay," he whispered to her. "You can do this." But she didn't turn. She lowered her head to reluctantly welcome the tiara.

Jack spied Hans in the crowd the same moment Anna did, and Prince and Princess waved at each other. Jack was delighted to see that, for some reason, Hans was soaking wet. And some guy was sleeping on his shoulder. Both Jack and Anna resisted the urge to chuckle, though for different reasons.

As the crown was placed on Elsa's head, Jack saw the glimmer of tears in the corners of his Princess' eyes, and he wished for the millionth time she could see him standing just behind her, willing her to smile. He eyed the crown with as much distaste as the gloves on her hands; this was too soon, too hard. She had Anna's missing memories, her parents' last words to her, her magic's strength, and her people's expectations pressing onto her shoulders like a cloak made of stone. She didn't need that stupid tiara, too.

But it was her job. And Jack knew the people would treat her well, with grace and kindness in whatever she did, if she let them. He'd been among them, he'd seen them every day, sending gifts to the palace after the deaths of the King and Queen, watching and offering prayers for the two empty girls behind the closed gates. Being Queen wouldn't have to be hard for Elsa. It depended on how she held the title.

As she raised her head, her back to the audience, Jack watched the bishop present the royal scepter and orb. He'd seen Elsa practice this part a dozen times, always failing, letting her emotions get the better of her. "Just breathe," he said. She didn't look up.

Elsa reached for the objects, but the bishop cleared his throat. She jolted slightly, meeting his gaze with barely concealed irritation and fear. She knew what he wanted. She'd hoped he'd forget.

"Your Majesty," the bishop whispered, so that only he, Jack, and Elsa could hear. "The gloves."

Elsa slowly tugged the gloves from her hands, setting them down on the cushion in between the pieces. Jack saw that from wrists to fingertips, she was shaking violently, and his heart twisted. Just hear me once. Please. "You're doing great, Princess," he murmured. "I'm right here. You've got this."

But she barely even blinked.

Finally, Elsa picked up both scepter and orb, and turned to face the kingdom. They smiled at her, standing, and she didn't look at any one face in particular. She kept her gaze fixed on the back wall, and she pressed her lips together in a vain attempt to gather herself. The bishop began speaking, but Jack wasn't listening. He stared at Elsa, hating himself all over again for not being able to do anything. She was hurting so badly. Even her poor sister seemed oblivious, watching but not seeing.

Jack's head leaned backward. Elsa's winter magic began covering the orb first, then the scepter. He put a hand on her shoulder, one she didn't feel. The ice grew. Jack looked at it and concentrated on drawing it away, but nothing happened. Elsa's nerves were stronger this time, especially when she didn't believe he was there to do anything.

"…Queen Elsa of Arendelle!" finished the bishop.

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle!" cried the kingdom joyfully.

The applause began, and Elsa pulled her gloves on faster than Jack could draw breath. She turned daintily to look at her subjects as they cheered for her, and offered a small, half-forced smile at them. She had made it through the ceremony. Jack breathed a sigh of relief, and he watched her shoulders sink as if she were doing the same.

Anna's hands folded in front of her, and though she kept glancing at Hans, the rest of her gaze was all for her sister, so close and so closed off. Her specially-made dress swished as she turned to look at the crowd, Hans, and back to Elsa. Jack saw pride in her eyes and felt a surge of gratitude that Elsa still had someone who could be visibly present to believe in her. But the new Queen didn't offer Anna a sideways glance. Her fingers fought with each other as she clasped her hands together, back straight, head high. She was thinking hard, Jack knew, and the more she tried to ignore Anna standing so near, the more she focused on it. She seemed eager to be behind a door again, where she couldn't see the white in Anna's hair or the lacking in her smile, or how tall she'd gotten and how much of little Anna had gone out of her. Where she couldn't hurt anyone.

The party would start soon, and Jack grinned at Elsa. "Guess I can't call you Princess anymore."

As the bishop led the two sisters out of sight and into the hallway to prepare for the celebrations in the ballroom, Elsa walked through Jack in a haze of blue. He tried not to feel it, but the old loneliness crept up on him as she did.

He watched her head to her room to get her bearings before presenting herself once more to the people of her kingdom, wishing three years away.