Author's Note (*ahem*):
JUST SAW FROZEN 2
ICE ALLIANCE IS SAFE
I THINK I KNOW HOW TO MAKE IT WORK
HOLD ON, I'VE GOT THIS
:):):):):):):):):):)
(*tears of joy and relief that my plotline/ship hasn't been destroyed, and that FROZEN II IS AWESOME*)
I OBVIOUSLY HAVE TO TWEAK A FEW THINGS TO MAKE IT WORK, BUT PRAISE THE HEAVENS AND HALLELUIAH, ICE ALLIANCE ACTUALLY SOMEHOW SOUNDS MORE LIKE A FROZEN 2 FANFICTION THAN A FROZEN 1 FANFICTION AND IT'S A FLIPPIN' MIRACLE; REJOICE WITH MEEEEEEEEEEE!
Okay! So, I've got the workaround to make IA work with/take place after Frozen 2, and it will take a couple of weeks (I think?) for me to tweak everything, but I'd like to think that that'll give everybody a chance to see the movie anyway. ;) At the same time, this feels like a GREAT time (hee hee!) to inform all of you beautiful people that-as a way to prepare for Frozen 2-I've spent the last 7ish months writing ahead, so that the next few chapters can (hopefully?) be finished and posted RELATIVELY quickly, compared to my usual speed of taking five eternities between each one.
I LOVE YOU ALL, THIS IS A MIRACLE, I AM SO RELIEVED, AND HAVE A FANTABULOUS DAY! :D :D :D
~NNT:)
P.S. OH, and, uh, this chapter contains no spoilers for Frozen 2! (I wrote most of it before seeing the movie; it'll be getting some alterations here with the rest in a couple weeks) ;)
.
UPDATE, 1/9/20: Just kidding, for those of you rereading, this is the new draft that NOW CONTAINS SPOILERS for Frozen 2! ;)
.
.
70: Want
Placing the little bag of pastries and fruits on the ground, Elsa pulled off her gloves, looking up to her bedroom door. Glancing back down the hallway—still empty, now that the normal guards were still on the paid vacation Queen Anna had arranged—the Fifth Spirit stretched out her hands in relief, a few snowflakes bursting out from between her fingers as she did so. Flicking her palm to the side, the ice in the lock of her door flew out of the keyhole, obediently swirling into her hand and disintegrating.
Grasping the handle, she pushed it down, the door swinging inwards.
"Jack, I am so sorry that took so long," Elsa called out, walking into her bedroom. "These things always take way longer than they should."
Ch-CHUNK. The door swung shut behind her. Suddenly realizing that she was still holding her gloves, Elsa jolted. Running the last few steps to her dresser, she yanked open the top drawer and dropped them inside.
"And I was able to get you a few things from the kitchen," she added, shoving the drawer back into place with a sharp creak, "It's not much, but you could also sneak down there yourself if you're still hungry. And I've personally declared you a royal guest, in my mind, so it's not stealing."
Jack Frost didn't answer.
Elsa picked up the bag from off the dresser. A cold wave of confusion sweeping over her, she hesitantly started to walk towards the door to her art gallery.
"Jack?"
Silence.
Reaching the doorway, Elsa fell quiet, peering into the room beyond. His icy bed, the divider wall, and all other evidence of Jack Frost's presence were still gone, just like they had been when they'd melted it from that morning—with the exception of the snowflake blanket. Jack had insisted that they keep those, their two halves, and had rolled them up and stashed them next to her desk. It was incredibly sweet of him, really…
But he was gone.
Her heart sinking, Elsa stepped back. Of course he was gone. He was a Guardian, and—and he had important things to see to. Much more important than hanging around to spend time with her—especially after she'd messed up earlier, with the dinner invitation. She hadn't meant to offend him. She just—she was the queen. The reinstated QUEEN. And she had to BE the queen. As for the dinner, the Council had forced her to do it. She didn't think Jack would even want to come, because it wouldn't be very fun, and he was invisible, an she didn't want him to feel self-conscious, but she'd still hoped he'd be there, because she missed him, and now he wasn't there and wasn't here and she'd offended him and everything was terrible she was the worst friend EVER.
Swallowing against the bitter sting in her throat, Elsa clutched the little bag to her stomach. She'd messed up. And she knew, even in the moment, that she'd messed up, but…
But he promised, she thought.
Well—that was true.
He said he'd be quick?
She bit her lip.
Gently setting down the bag of food on the floor, the young queen then gulped again, straightening up and turning to walk back into her bedroom. It wasn't really all that late, but Elsa was so emotionally exhausted from the day that she decided it was a victory (small as it was) that she had been able to get a few hours of real work done earlier that afternoon. And for now, she just needed to go to bed. But Jack still might come back, so…
Elsa stomped her foot onto the floor, a glistening sheen of ice spiraling out over the carpet from under her shoe. Taking a moment to visualize the design, she then swept her hand into the air.
Creak!
Four sturdy posts burst upwards out of the ice. As the crystalline bedframe shot out across the rectangle between them, a breath of powdery frost billowing from the ice as it materialized and falling to the floor, Elsa walked to its end, squeezing past the headboard into the art gallery beyond.
With another sweep of her hand, a fluffy snowdrift settled silently onto the bedframe as she bent down to pull out the snowflake blanket halves from the side of her desk. As she straightened up, her gaze snagged on the glistening shelves of statues beyond.
Setting the blankets down on the desk, she twisted her fingers over the surface.
Shing! Shing, shing!
Three tiny, icy little statues burst into existence, each of a memory from the day. The first statue was of herself, dressed as the Evil Snow Queen, perched atop the spiky version of her normal throne. The second was of Prince Frederik, who she had to admit, had been—impressive—in their audience, despite the anxiety-inducing date later that evening. Ice powers aside, Elsa couldn't help but suspect that he was far less involved with policy and reform than she was, and she was still processing what that would mean for their alliance, but he was still a legitimate suitor that she needed to consider. And the third statue—of course—was of Jack Frost.
Elsa paused. Picking it up, she sighed, her heart leaping at the memory. The statue had taken form into the moment that he was giving her that enormous bouquet of ice flowers earlier that day in the library. He was so sweet. And brilliant. And good with ice.
Really good with ice…
Giving her head a quick shake, Elsa scoffed at herself. Staring intently at the three little statues, she then moved her hand through the air, lifting them off of the desk in a scarf of sparkling frost. Flicking her arm as she spun around, she then directed the glistening snowflakes to shoot the statues into the air, sailing up onto her shelves of ice close to the ceiling.
After Anna's nineteenth birthday party, she'd saved the tiny ice statue that she'd used as a cake topper, but had no other trinkets in the room. Once she'd met Gale, however—seeing the worth of using statues as records—Elsa had started making them again, although this time, she was just swirling icy figurines into existence without Nature's help. Her newfound "Fifth Spirit" power to conjure up memories only worked in the Enchanted Forest (where Nature was so strong that it could interact with man in such a way), and then it took so much out of her that she only used it in times of dire need. So far—since Anna's coronation—she hadn't been called upon to use it again yet. And she hoped that it would stay that way.
Okay. Elsa had used it once. When Queen Anna told her about the pregnancy, the Fifth Spirit may or may not have secretly taken a quick Nokk ride up to the Forest that evening so that she could recreate the moment in which Anna told Kristoff the news. She'd wanted to make sure that her sister was actually as happy as she claimed—because, if Anna wasn't smiling in her icy memory statue, then the Snow Queen had a certain former ice harvester to murder.
As the newest figurines moved onto the top shelf, each settling onto it with a gentle clink, Elsa drew her hands back.
I am running out of room, she realized, staring up at them while she lowered her arm.
Well—room here, that was. In the Forest, of course, she'd built a beautiful, open art gallery in the clearing around the statues she'd first made with Gale. She had intended to keep her personal, tiny memory figurines to herself, but Honeymaren (ever the encouraging magic enthusiast) had persuaded her to place them in the open gallery, for everyone to enjoy. The rest of the Northuldra had eagerly agreed with this idea, and—though Elsa kept her most personal statues in her crystalline ice cottage, on the edge of the Forest—the Ice Gallery was soon one of the most popular spots in the Enchanted Forest, if not an actual tourist attraction.
Looking over the art gallery, her eyes fell onto the two dresses hanging up by her desk.
Taking a few paces towards them, Elsa stopped, biting her lip. Reaching forward, she pulled back her blue ice dress from her coronation, her gaze lingering on the beautiful white gown from Ahtohallan. Swallowing hard, she gingerly ran her fingers over the icy runes sprinkled across its bodice. Oh, she loved this dress. And just thinking of the Enchanted Forest, of the sea mist in her face and the wind in her hair as she rode the Nokk over the waves, sent a sharp pang of longing straight through her heart…
Never mind, though. For now, she just needed to change and get to bed.
Forcing herself to drop the blue dress back into place over the white one, Elsa spun around and walked briskly back into her room, raising an icy half-wall into existence in the doorframe behind her. Less than a minute later, the Fifth Spirit was then stepping out from behind the room divider, the newly-finished overskirt on her icy nightgown swishing down to the floor. She sat down on the edge of her bed—her normal bed, on the far side of the room—and glanced forlornly to the half-wall of ice.
Last night, she'd kissed Jack Frost.
Last night, she'd slept next to him—with the wall, of course, but—still. Still. Maybe she could do that again? Maybe she could just make another ice bed, next to the wall, next to his, like the night before, and pretend that they hadn't melted them both that morning. She'd just quietly go to sleep next to where he would be, and maybe he wouldn't be weirded out to come back (if he came back that night?) and find her there…
Elsa blushed at the thought, swinging her legs up onto the mattress. It was best not to assume that he'd be okay with that. After all… it had been quite a day, with her accidentally embarrassing him, and then Frederik, and then their fight, and then…!
She pulled up the covers as she lay down, her head hitting the pillow. The pillow, of the finest goose feathers, had too much give. It was nothing like a snowdrift. But she was back in the castle, for now—as its queen. And a queen wasn't supposed to sleep in a snowdrift.
Or…
I HATE sleeping alone, Elsa thought.
She looked to the empty part of the bed beside her. It wasn't a large bed, but… it would feel very nice to have someone there.
Elsa chewed her lip.
Preferably a boy someone.
Her cheeks burning, Elsa picked up the pillow and smashed it on top of her face with a groan. Ugh, self-awareness was mortifying.
But being with Jack felt so nice. The very idea of getting to be next to him, even in sleep, was alluring to say the least. For Elsa—having spent most of her life feeling like she wasn't quite good enough, wasn't working quite hard enough—having someone like him show up and suddenly act as though she had always been good, by her very nature (rather than the suppression of it), was more of a relief than she could really understand. In a way, it felt like Ahtohallan again—in that moment when she'd realized her destiny as the Fifth Spirit. It felt right. For the first time in her life, the very idea that perhaps she wasn't meant to be alone forever, or even that a romantic sort of alliance might not simply a political, heartless matter for her, was beginning to become clear. Jack had changed everything. Already. But, how? It was completely illogical, and yet, she didn't think that she could ever go back to the comfortable numbness she'd known before.
The pillow still over her face, Elsa dug her fingers into it, her eyes squeezed shut behind.
He's smart and he's nice and he's cute and he's amazing and he's freezing and he's a BOY, and I LIKE HIM!
The Fifth Spirit pulled the pillow down from her face, staring at the ceiling. It wasn't like they were going to cross any lines, or anything. She just thought he was… cute. That was all. He was cute to her in every possible way, and she was attracted to him in every possible way, including physically. And he'd expressed flatteringly similar sentiments, which made her heart leap with a reckless, irresponsible glee. Was that really so bad? WHY would admitting it to herself even be bad, anyway? For millennia, women had just been expected, expected to want love and marriage and of course children, but HEAVEN FORBID that a woman would EVER admit to even being a little bit interested in the first part…
She gulped, a shiver of uncertainty sweeping through her mind. Was it okay to find this flattering? His attention? Or did this mean she was now dirty, to acknowledge its existence at all? Coming from Jack, it actually felt like a relief to hear all of those things, as he was trying to build up her confidence.. whether or not it was appropriate. It was so nice. At the very least, it was a nice change of pace. It felt lovely to be seen as desirable, or even sexy, as opposed to just always being seen as—
Elsa squeezed her eyes shut.
As a monster.
She let out her breath.
Slowly opening her eyes again, Elsa pushed herself up onto her elbows and sat up, looking around the room. The Arendelle crocuses baring down on her, she pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her as she stared into space.
After their conversation in the library, Elsa was convinced that Jack was definitely interested in her. It was incredibly flattering that he seemed to like her so much, but it was also heartbreaking. It was flattering but heartbreaking, because it was so clearly temporary. Jack hadn't asked her to be his girlfriend, and, as every self-respecting young woman knows, if a boy wants you to be in a relationship with him, he'll ask. If he isn't asking, then it means he's not interested. It was as simple as that.
Or was it?
Could it be, that there was more going on? That men (including Jack) perhaps had inner motivations she wasn't aware of?
No. That couldn't be it. There could be no other explanation that would logically explain why he wasn't asking, except to assume that he wasn't interested in the long-term. For all his flirting, this was just—him. Jack was the Guardian of Fun, and he wanted to play. Of course, this made Elsa want to shriek, I WANT TO PLAY TOO!, but… that wouldn't be proper.
Maybe I should check him for weapons again.
Wait, NO.
Squeezing her knees tighter to her chest, Elsa chewed the inside of her cheek, her eyes wide at the thought. No. Wrong. Dirty. STUPID girl, idiot girl, don't think about it, don't think about him, don't—!
Pulling her arms back, she stretched out her legs, swinging them over the side of the bed again as if to stand up and pace. Determined to think of something else, anything else, she looked to her nightstand. The ice rose from their first night was still there, leaning gracefully against the side of the vase she'd made during her conversation with Kristoff, the vases' jagged fissure clear in the faint light. Next to that vase stood Jack's solid one, with his enormous ice flower bouquet bursting out of its top. And all of this, of course, was backed by the image of his beautiful ice-mural, sprawled out all across the upper corner of her room and onto the ceiling of where his icy jail cell had been, for his first night.
She still couldn't believe that she'd trapped Jack Frost in a jail cell.
Reaching forward and plucking an ice-lily from the bouquet, Elsa smiled bitterly, shaking her head. As she ran her middle fingers down the length of its stem, turning the flower over in the light, she sat back again, admiring the piece's design. Just like with everything he'd made for her, the Fifth Guardian's work was structurally astounding in its perfection; gleaming and clear and strong enough to keep even its most delicate edges from collapsing or falling apart. If only her fourteen-yr-old self could see her now. Oh, Jack Frost was amazing with ice… and everything else, it seemed.
But perhaps that was part of the problem. It was flattering that her childhood hero would be paying her attention (especially THIS kind of attention) at all, but—well, Jack wasn't just her secret tweenage obsession anymore. Now, he was real. She was getting to know him, and the closer she got, the more that she found to admire. And the fact that there was a possibility, even a sliver of a hope, that he would legitimately want to be with her for more than a casual friendship or a quick fling made the idea of LOSING him all the more painful. Losing a fantasy hurts, but not as much as losing the possibility of something real.
All morals aside, even if he did just see her as a passing fancy, as a girl with ice powers, it wasn't like she could respond, no matter how much she wanted to. Maybe he could just casually have a fun night with her and move on, but she couldn't do that. In her heart, Elsa knew that she would never get over him, and she didn't need to BE with him (in that sense) to prove it. She had only kissed him at this point, and she already felt that she had run into fire.
Meanwhile, HE could just WALK AWAY! Men could ALWAYS just walk away, doing whatever they wanted and leaving women behind to pick up the pieces, and from the fact that Jack wasn't asking her to be in a relationship, that was CLEARLY what he INTENDED TO DO!
On the other hand…
Studying the ice flower, Elsa's eyebrows pinched together in thought. Something about painting that picture of Jack just seemed—off. Like it didn't quite fit his personality nor apparent beliefs. The way he was dealing with her council, debating policy with her, asking her what she wanted, acting like he truly believed that her work and her heart were important to him, seemed to suggest something else. Even the way he'd come back for her, after she'd walked through him. The way he was spying on Prince Frederik for her, because he said he wanted her to be happy. It all seemed like it was just too much effort, for a passing fancy. And the way he spoke and acted with everything else… he made mistakes, and he could be emotionally compromised, but everything she'd read and observed seemed to indicate that the Spirit of Winter had a deeply-rooted sense of honor. He would never INTENTIONALLY hurt someone, and especially not that way.
Looking up from the crystalline lily, Queen Elsa's gaze lifted from the vases to the sparkling mural sprawled out gracefully across the far upper corner of her room. Seeing his work again, in its intricate, gleaming glory, her breath caught with awe.
He's made me so many flowers…
Putting the ice-lily back into the vase with the rest of the bouquet, Elsa picked up the single rose from where it was lying on the nightstand's surface. This was the first one, but it was still her favorite. For such a simple thing, it meant everything to her. It was a simple, silly, beautiful thing that she had always assumed she could never have, and then, Jack Frost had shown up and proven her wrong. She'd never thought that she could have flowers, before. Or other things…
Elsa scoffed, blushing at her own stupidity. Idiot girl. She already had far more love than she could ever deserve, from Anna, even though—to some extent—she had always felt that Anna was required to love her, because of their shared blood. Her sister's additional sacrifices and warmth were reflections of how wonderful she was, not a sign that Elsa particularly deserved it—in fact, they were part of why Anna was such a good queen. And now, Elsa was considering the idea of love in in a romantic context, and that was another matter entirely. A silly, self-flattering matter.
She was being selfish, thinking about Jack. What she SHOULD be thinking about was Arendelle, especially now since Prince Frederik had entered the picture. Prince Frederik was a respectable alliance for the kingdom, and he could tolerate her ice powers, for the very short amount of time that they would be spending together. With the assumption that her powers could be suppressed out of existence, he was exactly the type of man that her father had expressed hope that Elsa one day could marry.
But… what if Elsa didn't want to simply be tolerated?
Still holding the ice rose, the young queen sat back in her bed, pushing her feet under the covers. Lying down, first lowering onto one elbow and then collapsing onto her side, she let out her breath, examining the beautiful flower.
This is the problem, with being so Different: you're almost never treated as a person. Because normal rules don't apply, people generally either see you as being a special, intriguing anomaly, or simply wrong. Her ice powers didn't define her, any more than her unusual personality or emotional issues did, but… they certainly were a huge part of who she was. How could she just cut that out, and ignore them?
Snowflake... she heard Jack's voice speak in her mind, suddenly transported back to the library from earlier that day. What DO you want?
Elsa bit her lip, staring out over the swell of her pillow to the glistening ice rose in her hands. As she studied it, its beautiful, frosty frozen edges gleaming in the moonlight, her vision blurred as a distinct stinging started in her eyes.
I want to be wanted, Elsa thought. And I want to be wanted by someone who could actually... understand.
Feeling the stinging in her eyes turning to wetness, Elsa squeezed them shut. After a few moments—unable to fight the deluge of tears back any longer—the Fifth Spirit of the Enchanted Forest then suddenly burst out sobbing, clutching the ice rose to her chest as the sheer insanity, the sheer impossibility, of what she really wanted sank in.
Jack… I want you to love me.
.
.
His eyes were watering and the words were swimming on the clippings in front of him, but by the time Jack had finished reviewing Prince Frederik's research, he did so with a renewed respect for the (apparently) famous Snow Queen of Arendelle.
He'd known she was smart, having seen her work before, but getting a clearer picture of everything that she was up against was a clear slap of reality. She wasn't just brilliant; Elsa was brave. And courageous. And selfless. And a force of nature. All in all, Jack felt like a complete jerk.
No—a creep.
A creep?
Yeah. Let's say a creep.
There were a bunch of stronger words that he could think of to describe what he felt like, but they weren't necessarily words that a "Guardian of Children" should probably be using.
Dropping the last newspaper clipping back into its place, Jack exhaled, collapsing into the enormous chair in exhaustion. Massaging his temples, he then looked up to the grandfather clock on the other side of the room.
12:11 AM.
Jack groaned, pushing himself out of the armchair and getting to his feet. On the previous night, he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, despite the number of Elsa-related fantasies he'd entertained in his mind, lying in his ice bed and smiling dazedly at the ceiling. If he got back to her bedroom now, he could crash in the Snow Queen's art gallery until morning, and hopefully be rejuvenated. Being a Raised One, he didn't need sleep like Elsa did, but he did still need some. This might have been a sign of Elsa' mortality, but—
Don't think about that.
Gathering up the file into his arms, Jack yawned and rubbed his eyes. He then shifted the pile of papers onto his hip, picking up his staff and trudging across the office.
Peering out of the office's door, Jack cast his gaze down the dark hallway. It was pretty much empty, except for a pair of apparently worthless guards down at its end, clearly not watching to see the door of the Queen's Official Office open from the inside. Silently stepping out of the office, he tucked the full-to-bursting folder under his arm, shifting his opposite hand's grip on the staff and bouncing into the air.
As he shot down the corridor, being careful to keep the bright red folder in the shadows as he darted past the guards, Jack felt his mind wander back to the reading. Elsa was, truly, a great ruler—whether she'd been called up to the Forest as the "Fifth Spirit," or not. If they hadn't had the awesome Queen Anna to replace her, Arendelle would have seriously suffered from the loss of having Elsa as their queen. Granted, they might have already suffered a bit as it was… but, maybe he was a bit biased. Queen Elsa was an Ice Powers Girl, after all.
There were a few things from the folder that Jack wanted to talk about. If the Snow Queen was up for a little debate (which he was pretty sure she would be), there were some details in her Revised Arendelle Tax Code that he thought could honestly use a little more clarification. After seeing so many articles about it from the previous year, he'd finally just gone snooping around her office until he found a copy, and then he'd read that, too. And—for a tax code—it actually wasn't the most boring thing in the world. Like, sure, it was boring, but it was clear. And that was about as much as you could ever ask of that sort of thing. She'd clearly poured her SOUL into that little project.
In Jack's eyes, that was part of what made Elsa so amazing—she was just so passionate about everything. She saw so much potential in the world. She could go a little overboard, with the "workaholic" deal, but he never doubted that she was doing something important.
Rounding a corner at the end of the hall, Jack lit down onto the carpet, a few snowflakes falling silently into the ground as he adjusted his grip on the file. Reading through Prince Frederik's research on Elsa, he had been re-inspired in what had clearly become a fight for her. In fact, all he could think about was how much he wanted to spend every moment he could talking to her, and being with her, and just—just enjoying how completely wonderful Elsa was. She was just so smart, and so cute about everything, and—and she just got it. She was everything he'd ever dreamed, and he was NOT just letting her go.
In a weird way, Jack was almost grateful for Prince Frederik's unwelcome wakeup call, because the file had been a really good reminder of who Queen Elsa of Arendelle actually was. Jack knew that he was sometimes guilty of forgetting that kind of stuff (thinking of her as being an intellectual and a reformer,) when he was busy admiring the way she walked, and her hair, and her hips, and—well. You know.
Giving his head a violent shake, Jack hugged the file to his chest, silently cursing himself as he came to the stairs leading up to the royal family's sleeping quarters. Why was he like this? No matter how good his intentions were, his brain was apparently in the gutter, or just shutting off completely in response to the Ice Powers Girl's presence, or even the idea of it. But he had to control it. It couldn't be that bad…right? All he needed to do, with Elsa, was not look at her. Or touch her. Or be in the same room with her. Or speak to her.
Or inhale.
Jack touched down onto the carpet, slowing to a stop. He hadn't been trying to smell her hair. It just happened. He had to breathe, so he breathed, and suddenly, he was aware that Elsa smelled like freshly fallen snow. HE WAS LITERALLY BREATHING, AND EVEN THAT WAS WEIRDLY INNAPROPRIATE NOW.
His face flushing, Jack looked down to the folder in his hands, the literal stack of articles and news clippings and papers outlining all the amazing things that the Ice Powers Girl had done. Pressing his lips together, Jack Frost swallowed hard.
I swear I have a brain, Elsa, he thought miserably. Just—not with you.
Starting to walk again, he trudged towards her door at the end of the hall.
Why was he even so desperate? It wasn't even like he'd been messing around with anyone before his death, or anything. Granted, back in the village (as he'd remembered only recently), the plan was that he'd keep working under his father for a couple of years to save up a bit of money, build a small house, and then get married, getting a few sheep to start his own flock and support a family. That was the plan.
An additional three hundred years of celibacy was not the plan.
Nor was the invisibility, nor the ice powers, nor the fact that he was now going to inevitably have a creepily huge age gap with literally anyone he wanted to date…
In his defense, he had tried to date someone older than him before. A few hundred YEARS older. Aaaaaand, that had worked out about as well as Not At All, but Tooth was officially the only woman he knew who WASN'T centuries his junior. Not to mention, if he was going to stay within his own species, he was technically down to Elsa. But that was beside the point.
Placing the folder on the ground, Jack bent down, looking into the lock on Elsa's door. Ice—but, it didn't feel thick, judging from the temperature drop. Jack didn't know how he could tell, but he could just sort of feel how much ice was in something, without having to see it. And the Fifth Spirit had frozen her lock, but she hadn't ice-blasted or soundproofed the door with snow.
Jack placed his hand flat on the keyhole, his skin in contact with the ice. Flicking his palm away, he then smiled as the snow rushed out of the lock after it, spiraling into the air into a glistening cloud of ice.
Snap!
And it disintegrated.
Grasping the handle, he pressed it down and walked into the room. Elsa was in her bed, curled up under the covers and fast asleep, and—
Wait.
Elsa was in her bed.
Her normal bed.
His mouth falling open, Jack's heart plummeted, and he dropped the file onto the floor. Leaping into the air, he was over to her in an instant, all but actually wringing his hands. Why was—when did—?
NO!
Pushing his fingers through his hair, Jack spun around, looking Elsa, and then to the ice wall, and then to Elsa again. She was back in her normal bed. Not her ice-bed. The night before, she'd made an ice-bed, like his, next to his. Next to him. HIM. Why was she back over here!? Didn't she like him anymore? Was it Prince-Boy? It'd better not have been Prince-Boy. And she wasn't sleeping under her snowflake-blanket half. But why not? Was this a rejection? What had he done? Had he messed up THAT badly!? It felt like a rejection, from this gorgeous young winter spirit, with her hair all loose, and her face relaxed, and the shadow of her lavender eye stuff on the pillow, and—hold up.
Jack's eyes widened as he looked closer, and then abruptly narrowed.
Tear stains.
Those. Were. TEAR STAINS!?
Jack's blood boiled instantly, the murderous rage bubbling up inside him like lava as his heart started pounding so hard against his ribcage that it felt almost painful. Prince-Boy had made her cry. He'd made. Her. CRY. OH, he was going down. He was going to PAY. He was going to feel ALL THE WRATH OF WINTER, because HERE LIES PRINCE WONDERFUL, FROZEN TO DEATH UNDER MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES INVOLVING HIS BEING FOUND IN A GIANT ICE CUBE, AND—
Jack squeezed his eyes shut, pulling in a calming breath as he struggled to loosen his grip on the staff. The gnarled shepherd's crook was humming eerily and now glowing almost entirely blue, snow flurries materializing out of the air around him as he stood in barely-controlled silence by the Ice Powers Girl's bed.
Abuse the power, lose the power.
Jack slowly let out his breath.
His heart still pounding as he struggled to calm down, looking back to his Elsa, the Youngest Guardian instinctively swept his hand through the air, an enormous, sparkling snowflake materializing over his fingertips. Willing all the fun and magic that he could into its crystalline spines as they expanded, he looked back to her, the cried-off makeup smeared across her cheek. He wasn't supposed to do this without asking.
But she's in pain, he thought.
He looked back to the snowflake, sparkling with magic as it still floated over his palm, and bit his lip. With effort, he swallowed.
Jack closed his eyes.
The Spirit of Winter let out his breath, the snowflake bursting apart in the air over his hand and leaving the young queen untouched. She was still in pain, and he couldn't do anything about it. Which sucked.
But knowing that he was a creep sucked more.
See? jeered the taunting voice of self-doubt in his mind, THIS is why she's not sleeping next to you.
His eyelids fluttering open again, Jack stared at the floor, the last remnants of the magical snowflake glistening as they silently fell, unused, to the carpet.
Tossing the staff into his left hand, Jack reached up with his right, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to decide what to do. He couldn't touch her, but he couldn't leave her yet, either.
Sighing again, Jack spun around and sat down on the edge of her bed. Elsa was breathing softly, still looking like a vision to him, even with her eye makeup smeared and her hair messed across the pillow, like she'd tossed and turned. She was so amazing. And she deserved everything. Like he'd said at the pond, he really DID just want her to be happy.
Are you sure that's... ALL you want? Elsa's voice asked in his mind.
Staring longingly down at the sleeping young queen, Jack huffed a bitter laugh, pushing his fingers through his hair. Oooh, Snowflake. If only you had ANY idea...
He couldn't touch her, and he couldn't use his magic without asking, but that didn't mean that he didn't still want to. He wanted to take away her pain. What he wanted was to crawl into the bed beside her, get under the covers, and hold her and kiss her and tell her how incredible she was over and over again until all of her hurt and loneliness melted away… Jack swallowed hard, biting the edge of his lip.
I want to see what you're working on, he thought, looking into her face. I want to see your designs, your ideas, and your reforms. I want to see what you're thinking. I want to see into your heart, because it's such a nice place, and I want to see a place for me in there, too. And I WANT to deserve it. I really DO respect you, Elsa, I SWEAR, but it's just that—!
He gulped again, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of her bed.
I just want to see you out of your dress again, too.
Jack let out his breath, feeling himself blushing.
The fact that Elsa was a genius didn't negate the fact that she was also a woman, and that he liked those. But maybe that was just the problem. He didn't just want her body, any more than he just wanted her conversation and friendship. What Jack actually wanted, was both. Was that being disrespectful, or was it just attraction? And where was the stupid rulebook, for all of this?
Whatever it was, Elsa was still in pain. And that, Jack was not okay with.
Restraining from touching her again—oh, Manny, it was tempting, to just hold her hand or brush back her hair—Jack placed his hand on the bedspread beside him, pushing himself off of it. Back on his feet, he tossed the staff to himself, and turned back to face her, holding up his pointer finger with warning.
"Whoever did this to you," Jack whispered intensely, "He is going to PAY."
Turning away from her, the Spirit of Winter walked two paces before jumping into the air, flying across the room and over the half-wall of ice in the door frame. He was probably meant to come in from the balcony, instead of the inner hallway, but—whoops. Either way, now he was back where he was supposed to be…?
Dropping onto the ice-bed that she'd left for him, he just about tripped over his feet when he realized that there was a small bag on the floor. Putting down his staff in curiosity, he picked it up, pulling open the drawstring to find that it was a small collection of pastries and rolls.
You still grabbed me dinner? Jack thought, his eyebrows lifting. Turning and glancing back over the ice-wall, he looked to her. Even with her stupid date, she had still thought of him?
Wow. That was—that was actually really nice of her.
Sitting down on the edge of his bed, Jack pulled out a roll, biting into it and tearing off a piece. As he chewed it, the herbs from the royal kitchen still ridiculously flavorful and soft, he looked down to the half-snowflake blanket, running his finger along its icy edge. Just like the stuff she used to make her dresses, the blanket's ice-fabric was soft, and freezing, and—perfect. It was a perfectly Elsa creation.
Clutching the blanket and sinking into his snow, Jack Frost let out his breath. He might not have much, but this blanket was made of the same exact material that Elsa always wore. And tonight, there would be nothing to stop Jack from wrapping himself up in it, closing his eyes, and pretending that it was her as he drifted off to sleep.
Too exhausted to eat anything more as he finished the roll, Jack laid back in the snow, pulling the beautiful snowflake-half blanket up over his body. After three hundred years, Jack had concluded that he did, in fact, have a "type." His "type" was, "female." Beyond that, he wasn't picky. As long as they had basically the right parts in basically the right places, women were great, and Jack saw no reason to complain.
But now there was Elsa.
Now, there was a Snow Queen. A lady winter spirit. A brilliant, beautiful Ice Powers Girl. His Ice Powers Girl. A gamechanger had entered the scene, and Jack knew that he could never, ever, go back to the way he had felt before.
Even IF another Ice Powers Girl existed, what were the odds that she'd be like Elsa? That she'd be so smart, or sweet? That he'd feel like he could trust her, tell her anything, and that she'd call him out if something was wrong, but still see him like he was some sort of hero? No. There would never be another Queen Elsa. And if Elsa didn't choose HIM… what would he even do? Where would he even—go?
He'd go back to being alone.
A cold, dark wave of fear swept through his body. His eyes stinging, Jack clutched the ice-blanket even tighter around him, pulling his knees up to his chest in the snow.
But I don't WANT to be alone again.