We're back! And this chapter is lengthy!
Hiatus
"Go away, Anna!" cries Elsa through the white wooden door. Her annoyance is thick in her voice.
Through the other side, Anna seems weary. "Okay, bye…," Elsa's ridiculous sister sings. The pad of Anna's footsteps waddles off, creaking down the hall on unbalanced soles.
Elsa cracks the door to watch as her sister's head of red hair creeps off, fitting one blue eyeball through the slit. Her hands are ready at the cold knob, ready to slam the door if her sister shows even the slightest inclination of turning. Ice feathers the door. After Anna disappears safely down the hall, rounding a corner at the far side, Elsa retreats back inside her room. The door shuts behind her with a soft click.
Delight playfully bats at Elsa's heart, each blow as tender as a kitten's paw. She races to the large window, the sight of ice already frosting the crystalline panes filling her with ecstasy. Elsa skips over the hindrances in her path, avoiding the furniture of the room.
Elsa's eyes widen as a figure drifts in front of the window, her grinning broadening to match the smile over his pale face. Hurriedly, she unlatches the window, ignoring the ice webbing over the surface of the glass. Excitement sends her heart hammering, the eagerness causing her fingers to move jerkily over the wood. She throws open the window, releasing a warm puff of air and relishing the cool breeze that overtakes her.
Elsa stands back, smiling and sealing her eyes shut as the frosty air rides in through the window. She feels something fly past her closed eyes, but still, Elsa does not open them until the last of the winter's chill pours into her stagnant room, the bitter freedom of ice's mauling talons ripping her hair from her braid.
When at last the fury of the wind seems to calm, Elsa opens her eyes and turns to see Jack floating along her ceiling harmlessly. That staff is slung over his shoulders, tapping the walls and sending feathers of snow over the room. His blue eyes are bored, bored and dull. The spacy frown pulling at his lips is alien to Elsa.
"You finished?" he remarks dryly.
Stung, Elsa straightens her back, balling her fists and lifting her chin. "Why do you care?"
"I prefer to live my days doing interesting stuff." He sets down on a nearby chair, turning the cushion into a block of ice. "Feeling the wind isn't very entertaining. Watching someone else feel the wind is awful."
Elsa huffs, miffed. "You're a very rude imaginary friend."
Jack freezes, his eyes blackening. Instead of twirling his staff in his hands, he braces his grip, closing his fists around the frosted wood. His jaw tightens, and his feet splay into a defensive position. Instead of merry tones, his voice is feral and deep. "I am real."
Elsa's arms cross, a visible signal of her frustration. "Prove it," she dares, eyes cold and pouty lip prudent.
Jack growls like an animal and shakes out his white hair. "I can't," he admits. A new fire shines beneath the layer of ice. Perching on the arch of the padded chair, he extends a hand towards Elsa, pale palm to the sky and fingers awaiting another hand. "Unless, of course, you'd like to take another trip to Our Mountain."
All thoughts of argument devoid in Elsa's childish mind, she grins from ear to ear. Gaze flickering to the window and then back to Jack, a giggle erupts from her throat. After so long of being cooped up in this dull room with Anna knocking and her parents lecturing, the thought of swooping over winter-licked mountain peaks is blissful. She scurries forward, beaming at Jack, and takes his smooth hand.
With a laugh like a peal of bells, Jack summons the winds, his staff twisting powerfully in one hand. Elsa sucks in a breath as the snow assaults her face, ecstatically cherishing each snowflake sticking to her fringing eyelashes. She laughs, joining him in the flight away into the night sky.
"When will you come again?" Elsa's childish voice is thoughtful. She leans on her hand, staring out the window and eyeing the retreating frost with distaste. "Soon, right?"
Jack grins at Elsa, his heart warmed by the child's spirit. "Yeah. I'll come back when there's a good snow again. I've got to leave spring to the bunny, unless I want Easter eggs coating the snowmen." Elsa stares at him with a blank expression. "I suppose you don't have the bunny here. He'll love to hear that."
"Promise you'll come back soon," insists Elsa stubbornly, turning to catch Jack's gaze. Her azure eyes seem fractured with differing shades of blue, each catching the moonlight with a different luster. "Promise."
"I promise," vows Jack. He shakes his head in amusement, smiling at Elsa. The gradually ebbing tide of snow worries him only slightly. "Hey, make it snow sometime so I can visit, okay?"
Elsa seems doubtful, her lean eyebrows pinching. "My parents don't like it when I do that. It could hurt Anna. I could kill Anna."
"But you won't." Jack tousles her pale blonde hair one last time, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Her silky locks seem to jump right back into place. Balancing precariously on the edge of the roof, Jack turns back to Elsa one last time. Saluting mockingly, Jack farewells, "Trust me, kid, we'll meet again. No way I'll leave you alone."
"No," resists Elsa. She curls up in a ball on her bed, tears blurring the edges of her vision. Her heart writhes with emotion, frost twisting over the blankets.
With troubling certainty, her father nods, his mouth twisted into a firm line. "Elsa, I'm sorry, but we're not leaving your window open. It's too dangerous, if some boisterous man is really climbing in your window."
"No!" denies Elsa. Her mind works feverishly, jumping for an excuse to leave the window unlatched. "No! He's just my imaginary friend! I speak to him sometimes because I don't have anyone else to talk to! He's harmless!"
"Then I don't see why we can't lock the window," points out Elsa's father logically. He shakes his head in apology, rising from the corner of her bed. "I'm sorry, Elsa. But anyone finding out what you really can do would be a disaster. You don't know how to control your powers."
His boots hit the wooden boards with a constant rhythm. Without looking back or even dropping a hint that his stern attitude is merely a fatherly teaching, Elsa's father exits, closing the white wood door behind him.
Mischief worms its way into Elsa's mind. Carefully, she tucks herself beneath the thick covers. The rigid sheath of frost crumbles slightly, melting and dampening the fabric into a disgusting soggy mass. Still, Elsa lies still, her head resting on the plush pillow. Her eyelids are barely fluttered shut, a thin crescent of sight still accessible. Anxiously, her fingers knit and unknit from her sheet.
At last, the sliver of golden light disappears from underneath the doorway.
Elsa explodes from her bed, dashing towards the window. Her fingers shake from the adrenaline. Something as risky as this is something that only Jack would dare to do. That thought hurries her progress on undoing the latch.
Hurriedly, Elsa retreats back to her bed, landing with a squeal of mattress onto the bed. She worms back underneath her covers, grinning to herself, the thrill of perilous rebellion still sending her pulse rattling.
"It's okay, Jack," she whispers, nestling into the soggy sheets with a sense of contentment. "I'll open it every night if I have to. You just come back."
Elsa gasps at the window. Her fingers press lightly against the foggy window, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Last night, she'd forgotten to unlock the door. What if Jack had come in the middle of the night at last, and had been unable to enter? What if he'd left?
Elsa cranes for the latch, her fingers barely hooking over the metal. She begins to tug down, to release the window.
But then Elsa pauses. Her fingers freeze and her mind stills, pausing to study one little fact. It's winter again, with snow blanketing the ground and frost feathering over her windows. But there is no Jack.
Despair clutches Elsa's heart. She rocks back on her heels, fingers slipping from the metal. Elsa presses her forehead against the algid glass, letting her breath send flowers of frost over the surface. With a wistful spirit, Elsa watches the ice cloud the glass.
Jack had taught her the frost.
Maybe, just maybe, Jack doesn't exist.
"Prove me wrong," whispers Elsa against the glass, drowning in hopelessness.
"You don't have to lock it." Elsa's voice is weak.
Her father turns, his brow scrunched. From the pale doorway, Elsa's mother's head turns up to stare at Elsa. "What do you mean?" questions Elsa's father suspiciously, crossing his arms. "Is this trickery, Elsa?"
Elsa squirms in her sheets. She bunches them around her legs, running her fingers over the silky fabric of her cover. Nervous sorrow envelopes her heart, weighing it down and dragging it to the rock bottom. As her parents had taught her, Elsa straightens her posture and lifts her chin. Folding her hands over her lap, Elsa nods curtly, her face twisted into the impassive indifference of a princess.
"I'd never lie to you, father." Elsa nods obediently to her mother. "Or you, mother. Besides, I've – I'm over that stage. There never was a boy. No one came in my window and showed me frozen waterfalls or snowy mountains, no one took me to see wolves. I was a child then. A child with impossible dreams. Jack Frost is a ridiculous fairytale."
Her father's gaze is still suspicious, and his fingers still curl the lock into its slot. "Just in case," he declares, patting the window pane.
Elsa nods, her throat catching. "Just… in case."
The last golden tear slides beneath the horizon, submitting to the moon's shadowed watch.
Jack's hold on this land is as tentative as a newborn's grip on its mother's finger, as delicate as each of the frail snowflakes fluttering to the ground on their first journey to this new world. Ice encroaches the dark water, stilling the choppy waves in silver. Ugly black streets are coated in a sheet of white, and imperfections are hidden beneath the snow. It's been far too long since Jack's seen these elegant spires clawing at the grey sky, too long since Jack navigated the labyrinthine scrawl of city streets.
Distant mountains constantly capped with snow white hats are being cloaked in blizzards as well. Yellow lights of ships safely docked in the harbor reflect off the inky water and platinum snow. The wind is sharp and riddled with excitement, the rapid movement of the currents reflecting Jack's own eagerness.
Arendelle holds peace in its grasp as Jack dances over the wind. Children look up to the sky with mouths agape, toothy grins bared to the descending snowflakes. Jack grins, running his staff along rooftops to create brumal art over the shingles. The winter wind fondles his hair, welcoming him back to the beautiful kingdom.
Though the streets are filled with devious tricks and the frolicking children are abundant, Jack longs to see the face of one and one alone. He sets his course for the lavish castle, soaring over to one rejected windowsill.
A pang of raw memories throbs in Jack's gut as he gracefully dances like a shadow over the towers, a trail of frigid snow nipping at his heels. Silence coats the air here, far from the comforting ruckus of a city street, in both day and night. His hair is toyed with by the wind.
The lonely windowsill isn't that well determined from the others, but Jack knows it by heart. His feet brush the shingles, ice webbing the grey. Through the rapidly freezing window, he peers. The bed is just out of view, only the slightest edge of the comforter visible. A lilting voice sings, muffled, through the window. Swinging his staff into his opposite hand, Jack rests his fingers on the pane, nudging it.
The window does not open.
Jack shoves into it, his attempts as silent as possible, as not to ruin the surprise.
The window is locked.
Puzzled, Jack lifts his fist and raps it against the pane, frozen glass brutal to his knuckles. The singing inside cuts off suddenly, a large silence following. Behind the frost-obscured glass, a figure moves. The click of a latch unhooking rings through the still night.
Jack nudges the window open when the figure moves back. The hinge swings the glass back, and moonlight pours into the small room.
A girl stands before him, her pink lips parted with surprise. Bright blue eyes shine in the darkness of the room, lids blinking repeatedly to ward off the sudden light. Her blonde hair is tightly strapped into a neat braid, her cheeks pale as the snow, her lashes long and beautiful. Elsa tears her hand down, gawking at him.
"Jack?" Elsa breathes. Her eyes are as wide as blue coins. "What are you doing here?"
"Repaying a promise." Jack's grin is crooked, and he sails through the window. Elsa's mouth drops open, a hand quickly lifted to cover her maw. Her bright, bright blue eyes trail him, following Jack's progress as he sets down lightly upon the same chair. The feel of the wood beneath his bare feet is welcoming, and yet, the look in Elsa's eyes is not.
"You're late," whispers Elsa, her voice etched with sadness. "A bit too late."
A frown crumbles Jack's expression. "What do you mean?"
Elsa smiles sadly. "I've given up trying to use my powers, Jack. I can't fly with you anymore."
Elsa is starting to grow up. Sadness.
And Jack left her alone.
POLL: Anybody see the song in the beginning of this fanfiction?
Ciao,
~wolfluvermh