2: ARENDELLE

"AAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!"

Jack's heart leapt into his throat as he fell through the portal, the dizzying tunnel of spinning colors engulfing him as he toppled over and over, completely out of control, the wind shrieking in his ears. Having left his stomach somewhere back in the Workshop, Jack could feel the air being sucked from his lungs in the scream as he tumbled helplessly through the vortex, his hair whipping in his face, until he was launched into the air again, shooting out of the spiral of colors and plummeting downwards through the darkness.

All of a sudden, Jack's shoulder slammed into something hard. The shepherd's crook flew out of his hand and ricocheted across the ice, and he yelped, instinctively throwing his arms out in front of him as he tumbled over and over, helplessly crashing and banging into the ground until his body finally came sliding to a stop.

ShhhhhhhhhhhOONK!

And the spiral of colors collapsed in onto itself above him, the last of the characteristic whooshing sound of the cyclone reverberating through the air as the portal faded.

All was quiet once again.

For a few moments, Jack Frost lay on the ice, gasping for breath. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his heart pounding, the stars slowly began to come back into focus, soft and pale specks when compared to the blindly-bright neon colors of the portal.

Ow, Jack thought, shakily beginning to push himself up again. That was just like North. Flinging him here. For snow's sakes, Norway wasn't that far South—if that's where he was. Controlling the wind with his staff, Jack thought, he could have just as easily flown here in a couple hours or so, and OHMYWORDSTAFF!

Jack jolted and sat up, frantically whipping his head around. As it caught his eye, lying precariously close to the edge, he gasped and scrambled across the ice, lunging and slapping his hand on top of the shepherd's crook.

Closing his eyes as he sank back into his knees, Jack Frost slowly let out his breath, protectively pulling the staff towards himself as the dark waves lapped up against the edge of the newly-formed ice floe. Startling slightly, and then rolling his eyes, he turned and looked up.

Jack scoffed.

"Yeah," he chuckled bitterly, glaring at the Moon. "Hilarious."

Getting onto his feet, Jack Frost brushed himself off, looking around in the darkness. Gazing across the dull gleam of the waves, and feeling the movement of the water below the ice, he realized that he was standing in the expanse of a wide fjord. Before him, built on a peninsula stretching forth into the waves, was a sprawling castle. It, and the mountains behind it, was covered with the thick, rich snow of December, sparkling in the moonlight.

"So… this is Arendelle, huh?"

He stepped off the ice floe and walked a few paces towards the castle to get a better look, the dark waves creaking softly as they slowed and froze beneath his feet. Pausing, he glanced back to the Moon again.

"Oh, yeah. I'd definitely noticed," he admitted, "I guess I—I just never thought to investigate."

A few moments passed, and he raised single eyebrow.

"Because it was creepy?" he scoffed. "And, come on. I had a few other things on my plate, too. I didn't realize th—what?"

He stared at the Moon for a few moments. Then, his expression softening, Jack let out his breath, his face cracking into a smile.

"It's good talking to you, too, Manny," he said quietly. "But—uh—I've got a castle to explore."

He turned around and positioned himself to leap off of the ice floe, but then paused, looking up to the Moon. After another moment, he laughed again, a little blood rising to his cheeks as he rolled his eyes.

"Of course I'm not going to do anything stupid."

He whirled around and launched himself off of the ice.

Zipping across the fjord, the cool mist of the waves in his face, Jack felt a burst of excitement shoot through his body. The queen, apparently, was responsible for this—the ice, the strange weather, that had so baffled him over the past two decades. But he'd specifically asked for someone his own age. Well—frozen age, anyway. Could she really be that young?

Flying up over the docks and streets, he lit upon one of the large outer walls of the castle, peering down into the courtyard. It was lined with snow-covered awnings and overhangs, with two gigantic fountains in the middle, drained for the winter. Between them was an enormous Christmas tree, covered with sparkling globes of all different sizes and colors, softly shining in the moonlight. Behind the tree, there was a much taller, pillar-laden building than towered over all the shops below, and in the center of this building, towards the top, was a balcony overlooking the courtyard and the kingdom beyond.

Well. That looked promisingly regal.

He leapt from the wall, swooping across the courtyard and gently landing on the edge of the balcony rail. Jumping down, he crept forward slowly, suddenly realizing that the handle of one of the tall glass doors before him was covered with a thin, but distinct, film of ice.

His eyes widened as he leaned in closer, inspecting the frosty swirls and patterns in the ice layer. After so many years of experience with blizzards and snow, he knew that such a film of ice that would never naturally cover a handle in such a way.

Wow.

A burst of excitement rushed through his body, and Jack stood back up, reaching for the handle. Carefully setting his hand over the frost pattern as to not disturb it, he tried the door.

Thunk.

Locked. Jack sighed, his face falling as he took a step back on the balcony. Of course it was locked. What had he expected? A welcome mat? She was the queen, after all.

But—he was Jack Frost.

Crouching down, he peered into the keyhole. Classic design, he thought. Complicated, but classic. Shouldn't be too hard to… let's see…

Carefully gauging his strength, the Spirit of Winter gently guided a long breath of air into the keyhole. A faint cloud of frost covered its inside, spilling out a bit onto the handle itself. Then, reaching forward, he touched the end of it. It creaked as it hardened in the lock, and he stood up, inspecting his handiwork. Being careful to not disturb the frost pattern on the door handle, he grasped the ice key, and gingerly turned it.

Click.

With a gentle pull, the door swung open before him, and Jack Frost grinned. After spending over three centuries on the Naughty List, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Pulling the new key out and placing it on the top edge of the door frame, Jack silently chuckled to himself, stepping inside and pulling the door to the balcony shut behind him.

You might wanna think about updating that lock system, ma'am.

As he turned around, he gasped.

Suddenly, he was standing in a long hallway filled with sparkling ice that gleamed and glistened before him in the moonlight. His eyes widened, and he stumbled back, bumping into something hard. Jolting, he spun around just in time to drop his staff, catching a cold, clear object as it fell from the icy shelf.

Jack paused for a moment to catch his breath before opening his hand to look at the trinket. It was a tiny, intricate statue of a girl with pigtails.

Is this—ice?

Letting out a breathy laugh of disbelief as he put it back on the shelf, it was only replacing it that he realized that the hallway wasn't covered in ice—it wasn't even really a hallway at all. It was an icy art gallery, with gleaming, crystalline shelves rising around him in the bigger room and lined with hundreds of tiny ice statues, each one as intricate and unique as the next.

"Flawless," Jack breathed.

Bending down and picking up his staff, he began walking down the line of shelves, admiring the tiny, frosty figurines as they caught the light, his own shadow falling across the ice. A few of them were repeats—not exactly the same, but of the same people. The girl with pigtails was a recurring figure. Maybe she was a close friend, or something?

Coming to the end of the hallway, Jack found himself standing in front of a large desk, littered with papers, close to a regal white door, with a long, blue satin dress hanging beside it. In the desk's back left corner was a small stack of cards and thank you notes, opened and loosely clustered together with a number of newspaper clippings and letters.

The Youngest Guardian, holding the staff, gently bounced into the air, pulling his feet up behind him as he hovered over the desk. Gingerly shifting the papers to the side, his eyes fell across the handwritten scrawls and notes and newsprint.

.

Snow Queen of Arendelle Establishes Children's Literacy Fund

Snow Queen Halts Tidal Wave; New Coronation Scheduled for Weekend

Arendelle Tax Code Rewritten and Simplified by Snow Queen

Snow Queen Leads Massive Renovation of Outer-Arendelle Infrastructure

.

Snow Queen? Jack thought, his eyebrows lifting slightly in interest. As he looked over the letters and newspaper clippings, he began to float back to the floor, seeing a large file in the center of her desk. Leaning his staff against the chair, he reached forward, picking it up and pulling back the cover.

ARENDELLE HOUSING REFORM

In response to the dire situation facing the lower-income class, as brought to our attention by the 1846 kingdom-wide census, I, Queen Elsa of Arendelle, do hereby recommend for the construction of a system of royally-funded housing units along the main streets of the agricultural sector. The funding for this project would come primarily from standard existing taxes, and the funds raised by the Arendelle Improvement Society's biannual Charity Gala. While we are aware that the Society was hoping these funds would be used to construct a new formal reception hall, it appears much more pressing to first address the situation of our lower-income class, particularly those in…

He jolted, letting out an involuntary snort.

BURN.

He raised his eyebrows, a mischievous grin tugging at the edge of his mouth as he read over the young queen's elegant script. Translation, Jack thought wryly, smirking as he flipped through the papers in the file, Thinly-Veiled Plan for Rich People to Entertain Themselves in the Name of "Improving Arendelle" Backfires when the Queen Uses Donated Funds to Actually Improve Arendelle. From what he could tell, this reform hadn't been pushed through yet—but, whoever the Snow Queen of Arendelle was, it appeared from all accounts that she didn't particularly care what the nobility was going to say.

He was liking this woman already.

Jack Frost shook his head, chuckling silently to himself as he closed the file, carefully putting it back on the desk. What luck, to have ended up in a private study, like this. A chance to do a little research first, on this young woman that North believed could be his friend…

Looking to the top of the desk, Jack's eyes fell onto another newspaper clipping, the title cut off, with only a picture and a caption.

Snow Queen Presents "Service to the Crown" Award to Local Teacher

The picture, faded in the newsprint, was an inked illustration of a statuesque young woman with a braid, presenting a key to an old lady. Sitting on the top of the newspaper clipping was an icy statue of the lady, crookedly smiling, a small child gripping her full skirt.

These are her memories… aren't they? Jack realized, looking back to the hallway of statues. They gleamed and shimmered in the moonlight from the glass balcony doors, just like the long, ice blue evening gown that hung on a hanger by the cluttered desk. The young woman in the illustration—what kind of a queen would use her study as an art gallery? And as a… uh…

A look of confusion swept over his face as he glanced back to the dress.

Closet?

There was suddenly a tiny groan from beyond the door. Jack's breath caught, and he jumped, whipping around to face it.

"Mmm?" warbled a voice softly again from the next room, "Yes… m'yes, have anotherrrr one… I can make 'em in just a sec…"

His heart leapt into his throat. But—this was a study. Right? What could the door lead to? Was it really—but a study wouldn't connect to a—

Jack bit his lip again. After a few moments of indecisive hesitation, he closed his eyes, grasping the door handle and twisting it, then gently pulling it forward. It slowly swung open before him, a tiny, almost indistinguishable creak resounding through the room as his heart leapt into his throat.

Oh, geez.

It was a bedroom.

The Youngest Guardian froze, his eyes bulging as he stood in the doorway. The realization falling onto him like an anvil, he bit his fist, whirling around as he frantically looked between the bed, and the balcony, and then back to the bed. This room he was in—this hallway, this art gallery—it wasn't an official study at all, but a room attached to her sleeping quarters. It was a private study, filled with her private memories, just as unofficial as the—

He looked back to the file on the desk. The reform thingy. It hadn't been pushed through yet.

The Snow Queen was flying under the radar.

What kind of a stressed-out, self-sacrificing workaholic sets up a SECRET DESK in their closet to KEEP WORKING? Jack thought with disbelief. Okay, it's impressive that she CARES so much and everything, but…

He turned around, gazing upon the hundreds of ice statues again. The desk. The reforms. Whoever she was, this girl was incredible. And fascinating. And, clearly, she needed to take a break. And—

He looked to the bed.

And—right. There.

You should be… respectful, North's voice played in his mind. Royalty…

Without taking a second to think, Jack had already flown across the room, gently touching down by the heavy-looking, four poster bed. Around it hung thick, dark curtains, rich and regal, the bed itself covered with a thick bedspread, and—!

The young queen's platinum blonde hair was thrown out around her face like a halo on the icy pillow, her sharp features distinct and pale. Standing next to her bed in the moonlight, Jack could see the unbraided wave of her loose hair, the scoop in her nose, the pink flush of her pale cheeks. The girl's head was rolled towards him on the pillow, her graceful neck twisted to the side, and from the last remnants of lavender makeup clinging to the lashes of her large eyes, it was evident to Jack that this young queen—laying here, curled up in the covers before him in her disheveled state—had endured a very rough day. It was only now, gazing down upon her, that he noticed the worried little crease forming in her brow, the few silver, prematurely-aged hairs among her blonde ones, and the dark flush of exhaustion beneath her slightly-sunken eyes.

She was—beautiful.

His heart pounding, Jack carefully took another step towards the bed, looking into the anxious face of the sleeping young queen. This was the elegant woman in the newspaper illustration? The powerful "Snow Queen of Arendelle," of whom he had somehow not been aware? Ice powers or otherwise, she was clearly very smart. She was a reformer. She was working under the table, ignoring the demands of the nobility to do what she believed to be the right thing. She was a force to be reckoned with.

And here she was: a fragile-looking girl curled up in a pile of covers, breathing softly as the delicate edge of her maroon nightdress slipped from her shoulder.

Biting his lip, Jack moved the staff behind his back as he reverently took another step towards her, looking into her face. But she was—she was so—!

Young.

She groaned again, and he jumped, pausing for a moment as he hovered a few inches up in the air. Coming back down, his toes sinking into the rich carpet, Jack Frost watched in wonder as the girl shifted slightly in her sleep, the satiny nightgown catching the moonlight as she—

Wait. Hold up.

Jack's eyes widened again, his breath catching with disbelief as he stared at the cloth.

No. WAY.

He took a tiny step towards the bed, his mouth falling slightly open in shock, inspecting the sleeve of her nightgown. The satiny shine of the fabric, gleaming in the moonlight, wasn't the shine of satin at all. Somehow—amazingly—it was the shimmering of millions of tiny ice crystals, falling delicately across her pale wrist as a soft little layer of frost, glistening and shimmering almost as if it AUGH DO NOT TOUCH!

Jack abruptly sucked in his breath, jerking his hand back from the girl's sleeve. Feeling blood rushing to his face in embarrassment, he looked down, only to realize that his fingers were trembling.

Gulping down the humiliation again as he determinately stuck his hand into his pocket, he slowly let out his breath. He had not—not—almost just touched this girl in her sleep. Way to be creepy, Jack. Nobody saw that. Right?

Right?

The Spirit of Winter bit down hard on his lip, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, the hand in his pocket still shaking with nervous excitement. He had to get a grip. To calm down. But—b-but he'd never—seen ice like that, before. The microscopic crystals, smooth and delicate, all perfectly aligned, and so much—just—the ice in here, the nightgown and the statues, the film on the door handle. It just was so much—

Girl.

These were the Powers of Winter, as harnessed by a girl. He looked back to the pale young woman, the realization sinking in.

Ice Powers Girl.

Jack Frost let out a tiny, breathy laugh, nervously biting his fist as he stumbled back a step, his mind racing. How was this happening? He'd seen this girl's desk. The newspapers. The intricate statues. Whoever she was, the Snow Queen was a dream. His heart started pounding, the wave of excitement sweeping through him. Ice Powers Girl. This was an Ice Powers Girl? Was he dreaming? Was this all really—

In his peripheral vision, a light blue shimmering caught his eye. The realization hitting him, he gasped, leaping up into the air again.

Great. Bounding. BLIZZARDS. How had he not noticed?

Jack was back across the room in an instant, darting into the art gallery. The dress. The dress hanging by the young woman's desk. It wasn't satin—and those weren't gemstones. His hands trembling with excitement, Jack bent down and shakily picked up the long capelet hanging beneath the blue skirt, suddenly aware of the intricate swirls and patterns, the snowflakes woven into its design.

Is this… FROST?

His eyes bulged. It was made of ice. How was it made of ice? She'd made this? How was this even possible? She—it—b-but he—aaaaaaurgh. It just—her—!

Aaaaaaaah, ha ha ha ha ha!

Releasing the capelet and letting it float softly to the floor, Jack snatched up his staff, spinning around to fly back into the bedroom. Just as he was about to take off, however, a flash of white from behind the blue dress caught his eye.

Pausing, his eyebrows lifted. Reaching back and pushing the blue dress out of the way, Jack realized that there was a second dress behind it, this one white as snow. It was also made of ice, but this dress had a magical, soft appearance to it that was less like satin than velvet. Running his finger along the edge of the bodice, he could see that it was decorated with glistening, diamond-shaped crystals of ice, in fading variations of blue and purple that looked surprisingly similar to the diamonds on Toothiana's Memory Boxes. On the side of the dress hung two long, delicate sleeves, and attached to them at the top, a long, flowing capelet (this one in two pieces) that hung down and sat effortlessly crumpled on the carpet below. As he felt the edge of the beautiful ice fabric—suddenly realizing what this was—Jack Frost's heart sank.

This was a wedding dress.

Stepping back, the Fifth Guardian dropped the edge of the fabric, watching with disappointment as it floated silently back to the ground. He wasn't exactly a fashion expert, but when a woman had a long, sparkly white dress with a train hanging up in her room, it could only mean one thing.

But—maybe he shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe it wasn't for her? It could be for somebody else. Like that girl with the pigtails! It could be for her! It was that girl's wedding dress! Or, maybe the Snow Queen was just super-romantic, and had made her wedding dress super-far in advance, like a cute fantasy. Aw. The Ice Powers Girl was adorable. She was probably still single. In fact, NONE of those newspaper articles on the desk had alluded to a marriage, so that was a great sign. No way to really know until he asked, right? Single, until proven Taken? This wasn't an obnoxious, desperate stretch, was it?

Nah. His heart leaping with hope once again, Jack tossed the staff in his hand, leaping into the air to fly back into the bedroom. He wasn't going to worry about it now. This girl was amazing. How did she even make this stuff? How did she figure it out? It was beautifully done, that was for sure, but—ice, as it hadn't been used by the Spirit of Winter, himself? Now, that—THAT was impressive. Oooooh, this was great. He couldn't wait until she woke up. She'd wake up, and he'd introduce himself, and—

Jack froze.

Feeling the familiar, cold wave of desperate loneliness washing over him again, he looked down, swallowing hard.

The preemptive heartbreak hit him like a punch in the stomach. Shifting on his feet, he glanced forlornly back to the beautiful girl curled up in the covers. This young queen wasn't like Sandy, or Bunnymund, or any of the other Raised Ones. She was rather like them, in terms of her unusual power, but—well. She was a grown woman. A lady, from the looks of it. And what were the chances that a lady—and not just any lady, but the reigning Queen of Arendelle—would believe in Jack Frost?

He bit his lip.

Yeah. Not likely.

Fighting back the sweeping feeling of hopelessness, Jack drew himself up. It wasn't too late. Couldn't be. No such thing as too late. Right? After all, it wasn't like he was invisible to everybody, anymore. Perhaps, if he worked hard enough, he could get her to believe in him. Hey, maybe he could ask some kids to help out. Since the previous March, news of his existence had been traveling fast among the children of the world, even though it hadn't reached anything this far North yet… ah, well.

Jack Frost slowly pulled in his breath, watching as the young woman shifted in the covers again, her soft lips parting slightly. She couldn't see or hear him, but—that didn't make her any less amazing. From the things in her study, it was apparent that she was hardworking, and talented, and caring, and oooooh, MAN, the Snow Queen was pretty. Even if all he could do was stand by her bed, just looking at her, just admiring her—Jack was going to savor this moment.

Leaning into his staff and sinking down against it, a sheepish smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. He looked back and forth between her face, and the icy nightgown, and then her face again, his heart swelling.

Ice Powers Girl.

He shifted on his feet, drumming his fingers on the shepherd's crook and letting out a dreamy sigh.

Pretty…

All of a sudden, the young queen let out a tiny, breathy little whimper of a moan in her sleep, shifting again in the covers. Jack's smile faded as he saw the expression of worry sweep over the girl's face again, as if her responsibilities were following her into her dreams…

You've got quite a lot on your plate—don't you? He thought, looking into the young queen's anxious face. Just a little—well, here. Hold still, Snowflake.

Jack swept his hand through the air, a tiny, gleaming flurry of ice particles materializing from his fingertips and hovering over his outstretched palm. A knowing smile on the edge of his lips, he concentrated, beginning to push the snowflake through the air to land on her nose.

"MmmmmmNO," the young woman warbled.

Jack jumped, abruptly closing his hand. The snowflake burst apart just before touching her skin, falling softly onto the bedspread in a shimmering mist as the girl began to turn over in her sleep, murmuring under her breath.

"Myyyy king'dom gits FIFTY ponies from you fer ev'ry ship'ment of ice," she muttered, flinging her hand into the air resolutely. "Ev'ry ship'ment!"

CRACK!

A messy clump of ice shot out of her hand, flying past Jack's shoulder and smashing into the floor at the end of the bed. Jack clapped his hand over his mouth, sinking onto his staff with silent laughter. Okay, he thought, struggling not to gasp for breath, This girl is magnificent.

He crept towards the bed again, looking into the young woman's elegant face. "Ev'ry ship'ment," she marbled again, bringing a grin from the Spirit of Winter, "Pardner… pardner in TRADE."

He couldn't resist anymore.

"Well, thanks for the offer, Snowflake," Jack chuckled. "But if you could hear me, I'd tell you that we'd be better partners in other things."

Her eyes flew open.