(Author's Note: THIS was so much FUN to write. Hopefully this is a little longer for you guys; stayed up really late writing it. Don't forget to check out that jackfrostisabout tumblr account I talked about. If you wanna have a talk with or ask a question of the Jack Frost I write here, go to the blog and drop him a letter. He'll respond. And yes, yes I am shamelessly advertising it. Enjoy!)
Jack had seen the sculptures. By the time the afternoon rolled around, he'd visited that hallway about four different times. It wasn't out of vanity—but he had to admit, that statue was looking good. It was because it gave him hope. It made him think maybe, maybe Elsa would believe in him again, and he wouldn't lose his best friend after all.
The castle was big, and Elsa was constantly adding more stuff to it. Jack could barely keep up. One minute she was putting little touches on the main floor's fountain, and the next she was up in her own chambers, adding a closet. Jack sat on her bed while she worked hard at recreating fabrics, clothes made of pure winter to keep her options open when it came to personal wardrobe. He watched her make a shawl, sort of like his. Except completely different. It was light purple, the color of a lily when the sun caught it. It had little droplets of glitter all over it, and if he squinted he could see they were shaped like snowflakes. She didn't wear it; she folded it and placed it in with the others.
"Not that this is boring, Princess," Jack grunted, "but don't we have something better to do?"
Like lunch, for example. Jack didn't really get hungry, but he was very interested in food at the moment. Last time he'd snacked was at the coronation party, and he was missing those krumkakes already.
Elsa seemed to have the same idea after an hour or so. She'd been so busy, she must've forgotten one important detail—even bodies with magic flowing through them required nourishment. Obviously she'd had plenty to drink; she was surrounded by frozen water. But what about meals?
Elsa's magic, Jack was convinced, was not the kind that could make anything happen. Which was really too bad, because she was clearly hungry. She had skipped any sort of breakfast, and she wasn't really able to conjure up some sort of ice treat for herself.
Jack decided it was up to him to find her something to eat. He needed to get out of the castle for a little bit—but he had no intention of leaving her for more than half an hour.
That was fine, because it didn't take him long to realize there wasn't much chance of berries or nuts or even reindeer meat out there.
Jack flew from the castle and started down the mountain. He wasn't surprised to see snow up there; it was the North Mountain and there was a very special royal living on its peak. He was surprised to see snow in Arendelle.
The entire kingdom—all of it—was completely and utterly frozen. The fjords were white, the village was frosted over, the summer sky was clouded gray, and Elsa's old home still had snow falling onto it. The townspeople argued over firewood and everyone's mood was pretty sour. All except the children he saw. They ran about, tossing snowballs and giggling and generally enjoying themselves.
Jack wasn't exactly neutral to this revelation. He felt sorry for the kingdom, but this wasn't the kind of damage he could make disappear. Elsa had done this, and while he'd been able to cover up her handiwork in previous years, this was different. She'd iced an entire land. She probably didn't even know she'd done anything. It wasn't the same magic she'd used when she was younger; it was much stronger. She'd created all of this out of something almost like exasperation, losing control completely in her mad scramble to finally be free. He couldn't do anything to help Arendelle just now.
Frost slipped into the castle. It was going to be difficult to get any food here without people noticing it was missing—especially because there were so many people. It seemed that someone, Anna probably, had invited the townspeople to eat in her home while they stuck the winter out. Everything was getting colder and colder, and no matter how many fires were lit in each room, Jack could tell it wasn't gonna get better. Still, he was glad Anna was taking action; putting her people before herself. She'd be a good queen.
He passed the old painting of the King and Queen, the black drape still folded over it. Elsa had insisted it stay that way, wouldn't let the servants take it off. More than once in past three years, Jack remembered catching Anna lifting it to gaze at her parents' pictures underneath. He remembered blowing snowflakes into her freckled face to chase away the tears, watching blue sparks dance curiously before her eyes. As soon as they did, she'd laugh and blink away her grief, skittering down the halls or sliding down a bannister to find something more fun to do. The boy suddenly missed doing that.
Once inside the kitchens, Jack was hit with the smell of glogg—not one of his favorite beverages, especially as far as scents went. But it was hot and apparently in high demand for whoever was having lunch in Arendelle's palace. A cloud of moisture filled the room, and among the haze Jack saw the chefs—only about 10 of them—bustling around, yelling at each other, some stirring pots and others rolling large barrels of the spiced drink past each other's ankles. Jack really, really wanted to try and make sure somebody's foot got run over, but he had other things he was supposed to be doing.
One man with incredibly large hands passed through Jack's body to get to a counter stuffed with ingredients, calling for more pepper.
Jack followed him, hoping to find some grub. Berna was at the counter, dropping raisins into mugs of glogg on a tray. Jack pinched one and popped it into his mouth, making a face. He did not like raisins. You learn something new every day.
"Let's see, what've we got here…" He murmured to himself, lifting the lids on a series of pots.
There was Yellow Pea Soup. It was thick, the color of mustard, with the perfect amount of onions. It also smelled pretty good. He'd keep this one in mind. "Okay. Next."
Steam blew into his face as he removed the second lid. Potato soup, but it looked like there was a lot more meat in it than spuds. Like, around 80 meatballs in one spoonful. Elsa wasn't as big on pork as other people could be. "Moving on."
Spinach Soup. "Yeah, not in this lifetime."
He didn't have to take off the lid to the next one; someone else already had. Berna was stirring the pot with a huge wooden ladle. She could burn someone's eye off their face with that thing. Jack stepped right into her spot; each move she made wafted through his body in a blue whirl.
"'Scuze me there, Berna, lemme just…" Jack's vision got as blurry and blue as the rest of him. She needed to move. Whatever was in this one smelled great, and he was sure he'd be taking this particular dish back to the ice palace.
Berna paid no attention, of course, and the little tune she was humming was starting to get on his nerves. Rolling his eyes, Jack tapped his staff against the floor, hoping to distract her with the frost that was quickly crawling across the ground.
To his surprise, it spread. It spread in between the stained boots of a servant, under a small wooden table, past the head cook, and into the fireplace. Jack watched a little curiously as his magic swept over the walls in the little wood-burning space, the ice of it breathing cold down until the fire had been put out completely.
Berna saw it out of the corner of her eye. "Oh! Oh dear! The fire!" Letting go of the ladle she had been holding upright, she dashed toward the fireplace with two other servants, frantic to get it lit.
Jack immediately ducked a little, shooting out both hands to catch the ladle before it splattered to the floor. It was hot, but the moment he touched it the wisps of smoke coming from the remaining soup on its spoon-like end disappeared.
He stuck his nose inside the pot, taking a deep breath as he plopped the ladle back into the broth. A droplet landed on his nose and he licked it. Rough guess—this was a fish soup. Screamed saltwater. But with the vegetables balancing it out? Delicious. This was the one.
Jack felt someone pass through just his back and turned. A woman with her hair in one of those bonnets waked by, carrying a slightly dirty, dented pot and a plate of what looked like Norwegian pancakes of some kind that had gotten burnt. Perfect.
"You guys feel a breeze in here?" Jack wondered aloud, lifting the crook of his staff a bit.
Instantly a gust of snowy wind carried the tray from the poor maid's hands and almost everything clattered to the floor. With his toe, Jack caught the pot before it could make a sound. Then he paused, slowly setting it down again. He didn't want anyone to get the impression of a floating pot—if they could actually see it when he was holding it. Hadn't figured that out yet; it was different for everyone. And people usually only got freaked out when they saw something he held dangling in the air without a hand to grip it. It never led to anyone really noticing he existed. And again, that was if they could see it at all.
Just to be safe, Jack set down his staff, undid his shawl, and wrapped the pot up almost completely with the dark brown cover. That should do it. He couldn't cover the top, though; he'd need that open.
"Hey, congratulations," Jack told the saltwatery bisque, scooping out a few ladles. "You win a first class trip to the North Mountain."
He could have just taken the original potfull of soup, but he didn't want to steal something they were already using. Best to snatch the pot that had already been filled before, one that was dented like this one, without making things harder for these freezing townsfolk. Usually he was all for playing a few tricks—especially when he got a snack out of it—but this rubbed him the wrong way. So dented pot it was. It took longer to fill up, but he didn't mind.
Jack didn't struggle lifting the pot—he'd only taken half—and made his way to the open window by the door, staff tucked under an arm and both hands holding his prize. With a sudden thought, he set the soup down in a corner, where it couldn't get knocked around, and grabbed a few handfuls of chocolate, putting them in his pockets. Now it was time to head back.
He paused at said open window, suddenly noticing there was even more noise around him than there had been when he came in. Jack turned to survey the kitchen.
The cooks were crowding around the fish soup, peering into the pot and shrugging and muttering about what might have happened to the missing half of the just-finished bisque. Three or four maids were huddled by the fireplace, blowing on the embers and trying in vain to get it blazing again. On the counter, Geoffrey cleared his throat and called Gerda to his side, pointing at the container of raisins that had apparently been iced over.
"Whoops."
It was times like these Jack Frost was glad he was invisible. Laughing, he leapt from the castle.
Getting the soup to the ice palace without losing its heat, and actually keeping it in the pot, was a task all by itself. Especially when the boy with the coldest fingers in the world was holding it, shawl or no shawl, and especially while flying. He stopped by a couple bonfires on the way—"Mind if I share this for a sec?"—and cautiously held it as close to the flames as he could get without feeling just a little bit nauseous. That kept it at least lukewarm until he reached the North Mountain.
Jack skidded and slid coming into Elsa's castle. Usually he was a natural on frozen surfaces, but you try carrying a huge thing of warm(ish) bisque in a slippery shawl across a floor made of ice. He was up for a challenge, but this was getting ridiculous. At one point during the journey there he'd had to hook his staff around his neck to get a better grip on the pot.
"Hey, Princess, soup's on!" Jack called. He looked down at his white, long-sleeved shirt, which was not so white in a few small places by now. "Mostly on me, but hey, it's still hot. Kind of."
She didn't answer, which didn't surprise him. Where was she? Jack balanced the pot on his head, contents and all, and nimbly took the stairs three at a time. He could hear the whishhhh of Elsa's powers echoing somewhere above him. The pot, to his delight, wasn't going anywhere soon, seated upon his feathery white head. He should've tried this like an hour ago. It was fun. Felt like a hammock for the top of your skull.
"Took me longer than I wanted," Jack was calling, still holding out hope she might somehow hear him, "but it's worth it. You gotta try this stuff."
He stuck his head in a room or two. "Elsa?"
It was a little past lunchtime and she wasn't around. She wouldn't leave, would she? No way. She didn't just make places like this without the intention of staying. She had her own throne! She wouldn't go from mountain to mountain showing off her abilities. That was more Jack's style. Nevertheless, he started to feel just a little panicky by the time he climbed his third staircase.
"'Kay, that's enough exercise," Jack grumbled, summoning frigid wind to propel him up the rest of the way.
He followed the sounds of Elsa's magic, which were getting louder. Finally, he found her in a totally new room. How did she do this so quickly? It was like she'd never run out of energy. He set the pot down in the doorway, covered in the shawl so she couldn't see it yet. He loved watching her work. Leaning against the frost-patterned doorway, Jack folded his arms and took it in.
It was a kitchen. "'Bout time!"
Apparently she'd just started. There was a glassy blue oven—but she couldn't light a fire in here, could she?—up against the north wall. On the east wall, a cupboard had been hung. It was actually diamond shaped on the outside, and when she opened it to place just-conjured saucers and teacups, the shelves were straight and sturdy. To his right, an island stood, with snowflakes carved out of ice—flakes the size of horseshoes—hanging over it from the ceiling. To his left, Jack saw a long, long table with chairs for dinner parties that were probably scheduled for never. He wondered who Elsa thought would be visiting her way out here. The kingdom thought like idiots that she was a monster. They hadn't seen Anna since Elsa had run away. What other ties did the young Queen of the Ice and Snow have that she hadn't severed yet? She had Jack, but in a way…in a way she didn't have him, not anymore. She didn't want to. That made his chest ache, but he tried to focus on the grin lighting her face rather than the pain.
While her back was turned decorating the far wall, Jack scooped up the soup and placed it on the table. He took out the chocolates in his pockets and set them delicately around the pot in a circle. He could be creative too.
Jack bounced hyperactively, just a little, on his toes as he waited for her to notice. As Elsa finished dappling the walls with swirls of shine and snow powder, she moved to the door. For a very disappointing moment, Jack thought she hadn't seen the food. Then she stopped, looking right through him, and slowly glanced over her shoulder at the table.
Elsa shifted her weight to her other foot, fingers twiddling, standing with her back to him now. Jack whisked around to the front of his friend, anticipating her expression. Her lovely blue eyes were wide with shock, and her mouth was open slightly. He chuckled. Same look she'd gotten when she was 15 and he'd put tiny icicles on the canopy of her bed right before she woke up. He thought, This is it. She's gonna see me. He was so ready.
"Did I…?" Elsa started very slowly toward the table. "N-No, of course I didn't. But how…"
She paused, thinking hard. Jack looked into her eyes, hope daring to jiggle his shoulders like a toddler excited for a treat. "Come on, Princess. Big pot of soup, lots of chocolate? Who else'd waste all that time?"
Elsa blinked. She took a deep breath. Finally, face neutral, she made her way briskly to the pot. To Jack's utter despair, she glided through his form and bent over the soup. No luck. Why? Why does this keep happening to me?
If you could ice out the Moon...well, Jack was feeling pretty icy right now.
But it melted when Elsa laughed. She picked up the chocolates, biting into one like she had to make sure she wouldn't mess up her lipstick. That didn't last long. Elsa stuffed a few more pieces into her mouth, closing her eyes. Jack smiled.
She twirled her hand, and a crystal bowl appeared in her palm. Calmly, she began scooping soup into her dish, pulling out a chair and sitting down to eat. Jack leaned against his staff, content to watch her enjoy her lunch.
Just before she took the first spoonful, Elsa opened her eyes and looked around. She spoke, voice nonchalant as if it were no big deal. Jack knew it wasn't to him, because she still looked past his body at the cupboard as she glanced around. He didn't know who she meant, but he was glad to hear it anyway.
"Thank you."