CONTENT WARNING: Sexual innuendo-throughout this entire scene. This... will be a regular thing. (I know, I know; just like in the first few chapters. But now that we've gotten started, I'm going to start actually posting warnings.) ;)

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4: THE UPPER HAND

The Snow Queen.

This was the Snow Queen of Arendelle. The powerful young monarch, the woman behind the reforms, was now standing regally before him on the other side of the bars in the form of a stunningly beautiful maiden, her cerulean blue eyes expectant, the snowy folds of her icy, elegant dress falling over her—um.

Well, those—eh, heh—her—those hips, and—

Stuff.

"I said, do you understand?" the young woman gritted.

He jolted back into focus. Jail cell. Captured. Interrogation.

Right.

"Fine," he said coldly.

She nodded curtly, whirling away from him and quickly pacing across the room towards the art gallery. As she disappeared behind the doorframe, Jack moved his foot to the side, carefully pulling his staff towards himself across the ice-covered carpet. Easing his toes underneath it, he then kicked it into the air, catching it with his hand. How had he been dumb enough to get himself into this one? Despite the fact that this girl could see him (yeah, like he was walking away from THAT without any further investigation), Jack did not like being locked up, tied down, or forcibly held in any way. And he did not intend to cooperate.

Time to have some fun with this.

Suddenly, the young woman reappeared and was walking towards him again, holding an ink well with a quill and a long piece of parchment. Jack watched as she put the items down on her nightstand, turning and pacing across the room towards a chair.

"Now, young man," she said coldly, reaching for it and beginning to pull it back towards the jail cell, "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The choice is yours. But you should know that I recommend the former, rather than the latter."

Jack scoffed. "And what if I don't feel like telling you anything?" he retorted.

She ignored the comment, pushing the chair up to the cell and calmly stepping back, swirling her hand through the air.

Whoosh.

Jack's eyes bulged as a delicate, spindly end table made of ice spiraled into existence beneath her fingers. He quickly gulped down his shock, trying to maintain his feigned annoyance as he watched the young woman gracefully sweep past the chair and ice table towards her nightstand again, the snowflakes on her skirt glittering in the moonlight.

Snowflakes.

Oooooooh, geez…

And she was back in front of him again, daintily placing the ink well with the quill on the icy end table. Her eyebrows lifting slightly, she sat down, drawing her hand beneath the parchment as a frosty tablet on which to write materialized in her lap.

"You have been warned," the young woman said coldly, shifting in the seat and reaching to the quill. She placed it on the parchment, looking back up into his eyes. "First things first, young man. What's your name?"

"Jack Frost."

She jolted, sucking in her breath with shock.

After a few moments, looking back to him, her face fell, and she exhaled in frustration. "A code name. Of course," the young queen sighed. "How perfect. For my assassination. I meant your real name."

"But that is my real name!"

"Of course it is," she muttered, visibly restraining from rolling her eyes. "But, more importantly, I need to know who wants me dead this time." She sat back in the chair. "Who do you work for?"

"I'm not an assassin."

"Who do you work for?" she gritted.

He raised his eyebrows again, taking a few steps away from her into the cell. Swinging the staff behind his back and catching it with his other hand, he then paused, glancing around the room in the moonlight.

Moonlight.

Restraining from a smirk, the Guardian of Fun looked back to the young queen through the bars. He then shrugged, glancing to the side.

"I work for him. In the window," he said casually.

She jolted, leaping out of the chair and whirling around, defensively throwing her arms forward. The air around her hands started glowing as ice particles began to materialize from her fingertips, and after a few seconds of frantically looking around the room, she shakily took a step back.

"Where is he? Can he do the invisible thing, too?" she shook. She frantically looked back to Jack, and then to the window, not lowering her hands. "Show yourself!" she demanded.

Silence.

Jack took a step forward, raising his eyebrows.

"He isn't going to answer," he shrugged.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well…" Jack enunciated, "As a general rule… the Man in the Moon doesn't usually like to talk to people."

She froze, a wave of confusion sweeping over her face. Then, letting out her breath, she rolled her eyes, lowering her arms and glaring at the young man in the cell.

"The Man… in the Moon," she repeated icily.

Jack Frost smirked.

Her eyes narrowed. Raising a single eyebrow, she slowly turned back to face him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And what do you do, then?" she hissed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If you're not an assassin? Working for the Man in the Moon must be exhausting."

"Actually, it's a blast."

"Oh, do tell."

He paused for a moment, watching the hook of his staff twirl in the air as he absent-mindedly spun it on the ground. Catching it, he then shrugged again, looking back to her.

"I have fun—professionally," Jack said carefully.

She bent down, picking up the parchment from where she'd dropped it leaping out of her chair. "So, you're… a professional fun-haver."

"Well, if you don't believe me, you can go ask my boss."

"Who conveniently doesn't talk to people."

"Doesn't like talking to people," Jack corrected, shooting her a flirtatious grin as she turned back to face him, having replaced the parchment on the table. "But, hey. Maybe if you asked reeeeeeally nicely, he'd tell you—"

"—Why he wants me dead?"

"I'm not an assassin!"

Glaring at him through the bars, the young queen paused. Then, pulling herself up, she paced up to them, the icy gown flowing across the frozen carpet behind her, until she was staring directly into his eyes.

"Listen carefully, young man," she shook, her face inches from his own as she glared through the bars of the jail cell, "I don't care how clever you think you are. I know that you're going to talk, and it's not because I'm going to force you. It's because of what I can offer you, compared to what you have now, and you would be a fool to refuse it."

He scoffed. "Oh, yeah?" Jack taunted. "Well, if you're going to insist that I'm lying, how do you know that I'm not here from some big, rich kingdom? How do you know that I'm not being paid more than you can offer me, if you're so confident?"

"Because you've already given that information away in the ridiculousness of your answers and behavior."

Jack Frost fell silent. The young queen turned back to the seat, gracefully sweeping into it and crossing her legs as she launched into her analysis.

"Everything you've said and done so far works to convince me that you're part of a political extremist group, not of a specific kingdom. Which is strangely reassuring.

"You were the first man that was able to get in here without tipping off the guards—and I still don't know how you managed to not have them see you. However, the fact that you didn't kill me when you had the chance, and that you were so easy to capture, both indicate that you are a clever assassin, but an amateur.

"By extension, if you're an amateur, then it's clear that you were either hired by an organization that doesn't have enough money for an experienced assassin, or that you're a loner with a personal vendetta against me, and delusions of grandeur.

"Conclusion: You're an unattached extremist, not a declaration of war. Conclusion: You don't have very much money, nor strong alliances, compared to what I can offer you in exchange for information. If you choose to cooperate.

"Conclusion," she finished, drawing herself up, "You, if you're smart, will be telling me exactly what I want to know, starting with your affiliations. So: are you a terrorist or a madman?"

She smiled sweetly.

"Uh..." Jack breathed, letting out a nervous bark of laughter and ruffling his fingers through his hair, "Dare I ask which one of those options you're more attracted to?"

She nodded. "You're a madman. Lovely."

Jack watched as the young queen quickly started scratching the quill across the parchment, then turning and dipping it a little too frantically into the ink well beside her. His eyebrows lifted slightly as she shakily pulled it back, placing its tip on the parchment again, her mask of forced calm beginning to weaken.

"A wee bit high strung—aren't we?" Jack said carefully.

She raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean, high strung?"

"Your hands are trembling."

She abruptly sucked in her breath, her eyes wide as she froze in her place. After a few moments, she pressed her lips together, drawing herself up and glaring at him again in forced calm.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she stated emotionlessly. "Now, if we can just—"

"—No idea what I'm talking about? Seriously? Look at yourself!" Jack scoffed, taking a step back and gesturing to her as she blushed, "Everything about you is stressed out. You come back to your secret study, after you're done working, so that you can sit down and keep working! You haven't taken a break in ages! Lovely lady like you, all worried and tense, and—stuff—"

"—Having just survived another assassination attempt—"

"—I'm not an assassin!" Jack laughed, "I just—oh, come on! When's the last time you've had any fun?"

"That is none of your concern."

"Actually, it is—"

"—ACTUALLY, it's NOT!" she burst out suddenly, leaping onto her feet.

Jack abruptly stopped talking, wincing again as she stepped up to the cage, her teeth clenched in determination.

"Do you think this is funny?" she demanded.

He was speechless. After a few moments, the young queen drew herself up again.

"You broke into the queen's sleeping quarters," she quavered determinately, pointing first at Jack and then to herself, "And I have captured you. I am directing this interrogation, young man, and I will be asking the questions. You will be answering them."

"Well," Jack scoffed, glancing to the bars, "It looks like we've got a problem, then. Maybe if you let me out of this stupid cage thingy, I'd be more willing to talk."

"Let you out?"

His eyes narrowed. "I don't like being captured."

"I don't like being assassinated."

"Aaaaurgh," Jack groaned. "Look. Do you need proof that I wasn't trying to kill you?"

She raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest. "Go ahead."

"Are you alive?"

"Well… yes," the young woman admitted.

Jack glared.

"Yeah. So I wasn't trying to kill you," he said coldly. "There's your proof. Can we please take down the stupid bars now?"

"Your confidence is astounding," she snapped, huffing a laugh, "I don't even know if you could kill me."

"What?" Jack snorted, "You're immortal, or something?"

The girl stiffened.

A moment later, the young queen gave herself a little shake, balling her hands into fists. "This isn't about me," she gritted, avoiding the question, "If you could break into my room, then that means that this entire castle is unsafe. But even so," she started again, "That's your idea of an objective argument? Why on earth would I let you out on that?"

"First off, because I never promised that the proof would be objective, and secondly, because I have complete faith in that you and I can have a normal conversation, and—"

"—NORMAL?!" she sputtered, jolting as Jack took a few steps back, calmly readjusting his grip on the shepherd's crook, "How dare you break into my sleeping quarters, and try to tell me what's normal! Out of the two of us, I am the one holding the upper hand, and frankly, I believe tha-HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?!"

Now suddenly hovering ten feet up in the air, sitting on his staff, Jack Frost shrugged.

"Special set of skills," he grinned. "Remember?"

"But—b-but you just—"

"—Ooooooh, look at that face!"

She stumbled back a step, staring up at him in shock. Jack laughed, snatching the staff out from underneath his body and flipping forward in the air, tumbling to the ground.

"Driving you crazy, isn't it?" he chuckled, touching down and walking towards her again. "Not knowing. You want the answers so badly! Believe me, I know what that's like—"

"—You're not getting out that easily," she snapped. "I'm not stupid."

"But you're desperate to know how I—"

"—For at LEAST the next few months, I have a personal responsibility to Arendelle that involves a great deal of not dying!" she fired back. "And if you think that my curiosity is going to overrule my sense of self-preservation, you're wrong."

"Sense of self-preser…?"

His voice trailing off, Jack watched as the young queen turned away from him again, walking back towards the chair. As she bent down to pick up the parchment, he suddenly found himself realizing that her outstretched hand was trembling again, her shoulders slightly hunched over as she tried to draw herself up.

Why was—but she had captured him—why on earth would she say that, if—

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no. Oh, gosh, that wasn't what he wanted…

"Wait—uh," Jack quavered, taking a tiny step forward, "Are you—ma'am, are you—scared of me?"

She paused.

Biting his lip, the muscles in his throat tensing with shock at the realization fell, Jack Frost sheepishly looked down at his feet.

"Ma'am?"

Sucking in her breath, the young woman suddenly whirled around to face him, gripping the parchment and tablet a little too tightly to her chest. Trying to hide it, she drew herself up, glaring at him as threateningly as she could.

"What?" she snarled.

Jack stared at her eyes, suddenly aware of the terror in them, despite the rest of her cool, forced composure. He opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. After a few moments, he closed it again, biting his lip.

Please don't be scared of me.

"I—uh—you know," he stammered carefully, "I—I might be willing to talk. With the bars. I mean, if the bars make you feel better."

She said nothing, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face with distrust. Jack drew himself up, pulling in his breath.

"I'm willing to make you a deal," Jack tried again.

He smiled hopefully.

The young queen stared at him, her mouth falling slightly open as she tried to decide how to respond. Raising her eyebrows, she scoffed, turning back and sitting in the chair.

"I don't make deals with assassins," she said coldly, crossing her legs. "I set the conditions, young man. Not you."

"Because you're holding the upper hand?"

"Correct."

He pondered this, glancing upwards in consideration. Letting out his breath, Jack then shook his head.

"I hate to break it to you, ma'am," he laughed softly. "But it looks like we've got another problem."

"Excuse me?"

He shrugged. "You're not actually holding the upper hand."

"And how do you figure that, young man?"

Raising his eyebrows, Jack glanced to the bars, and then looked to the Snow Queen again. He readjusted his hold on the shepherd's crook, striding up to the front of the jail cell and dropping his voice to a whisper.

"You want information. And I want out of this cell thingy," he said quietly, leaning against the bars. "Basically: You've got something that I want. I've got something that you want. With all due respect, your majesticness, I believe that THAT puts us on exactly. Equal. Footing."

Glaring at her through the bars of the jail cell, Jack Frost crossed his arms over her chest, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

Slowly placing the tablet and parchment on the icy end table beside her, the young queen shakily stood up. Crossing her own arms over her chest and mirroring his body language, she took a few steps forward, finally stopping right in front of him on the other side of the bars.

"What kind of a—deal—are we talking about, here?" she asked suspiciously.

"I was thinking of a one-for-one trade."

The girl shifted uncomfortably on her feet. Then, after a moment of worriedly biting her lip, she pulled in a quick breath, drawing herself up.

"Alright, young man," she said carefully. "Name your price."

Jack raised his eyebrows.

"One answer for one answer."

Silence.

Jack could tell from the look on the young queen's face that she did want information—ideally, for him to cooperate easily, and to surrender it to her without a fight. And she wanted it badly.

After a few moments of visible struggle, he watched as her tense expression weakened, her determined, forced glare fading into a look of defeat.

"Fine," she agreed. "One answer for one answer."