SO-IT'S-BEEN-SIX-MONTHS-WAY-SORRY-ABOUT-THAT AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everybody reading this for once again blessing me with your patience. I just completed another ridiculously awful pregnancy, and recently gave birth. (Sorry for ghosting everybody in unison; I WILL get back to you! And, for the record: It's another girl! My toddler was purchased a commemorative Anna & Elsa "Sisters Rule Together" t-shirt to commemorate the occasion.) ;) (I got pregnant again very quickly after the miscarriage I had last summer.)
FANART ALERT: Even though I forgot to put it in the Author's Note last time, I got a FANTASTIC fanart of the end of the Snowball Fight scene from instagram artist FrostyQueen90. Here's the link… thank you so much! :D p/CIa1LfCF53h/?igshid=2u71ya3pq5fs
CONTENT WARNING: A little innuendo, as usual, but mostly that I explain away some of the Frozen II mischaracterization issues via Ranting Through Elsa (although I try to keep it to a minimum, except for the gleeful bashing of those BLASTED SHOULDER PADS they put her in) (Must—restrain—from mischaracterization rant!). Honestly, now that I've had a lot more time to analyze it, I've come to have this intense love/hate relationship with Frozen II. Something I've learned about myself since 2019 that my "first watch" reviews tend to be way more positive than my later ones, because—well, I really want to like things. That being said, I'm pretty sure that the "love" part of my relationship with Frozen II is entirely selfish, because of how much these movies make me feel validated in my—okay, absolutely everything. (I'd say how, but that requires My Long and Uncalled For Life Story, and I'm pretty sure nobody's all that interested in hearing me emote for that long, unless I'm doing it with Ice Powers jokes, because Me Emoting is what this fanfiction literally is.) XD Meanwhile, I think I've figured out the main source of the problems with the movie:
The more you stray from your established settings ("Return to Arendelle! Then: leave immediately!") and characters (introducing literally TWICE the number of OC's as your original cast, and then altering the personalities of your two main characters without anybody noticing the problem), the less "canon" your sequel is going to feel. To me, this was the main problem with Frozen II: Going back and rewatching it next to the original movie and shorts, it doesn't feel like a Frozen sequel.
It feels like a Frozen FANFICTION.
Now, don't get me wrong—a really, really GOOD fanfiction. But a fanfiction nevertheless. And now, I'm going to restrain from writing a 100,000-word rant explaining my position on literally everything Frozen II.
…I might need to take this to the Discord. Also, I kind of want a couple of channels on the Discord exclusively dedicated to gushing/ranting about the movies themselves; can we have that? Because that would be awesome. (As a note to dreamdust2014: I don't know for sure if you were talking about me, but if you were, you COMPLETELY made my week. And, sorry—I'm not actually Ayame, but JustIgnoreMePlease. ;) Honestly, the reason I'm lurking is because I feel like my life has been out of control, and I've been super-terrified of committing to anything new right now, but fanarts yes new Jelsa fanarts PLEASE SHOW ME ALL OF THE FANARTS...)
For those of you who have actually made it to the end of this ginormous Author's Note: You are wonderful. Thanks again for ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, and I hope you have a fantabulous day! :)
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78: BRAVEST THING
"I was thinking that we could go dancing again," Jack repeated softly, giving her hands a squeeze as he held them.
Elsa's eyes widened. "Dancing?"
"Well—yeah."
He shifted on his feet, breaking eye contact and glancing away for a moment. "You know—for that Ball thingy?" he stammered, letting out a nervous laugh, "You—you said you have to dance."
"Oh. Um, yes."
At her coronation ball, Queen Elsa had simply declined her multiple offers to dance, deferring to her sister. She had only found out after the fact that this had—apparently—caused a great deal of political offense, which had taken her some months to clean up.
Granted, most people had taken greater issues with the snowstorm in July. But still.
"I thought that I could fly us out to that ice ballroom thingy we built last week, and we could practice," Jack added, looking back to her eyes again, "So—just us. For fun."
Elsa's heart leapt into her throat. "Just us?"
He nodded.
"Just us," the Guardian whispered.
The Fifth Spirit's breath caught again, intensely aware of the fact that Jack Frost was now absent-minded rubbing his thumb over her hands. Feeling his freezing skin next to hers—even just on her fingers—made her feel like a jolt of electricity was shooting through her, the intensity of his incredible, snowflake-marked eyes like—
"—Ahem."
Elsa jumped, jerking her hands back and spinning around. Kristoff, his arms crossed over his chest, raised his eyebrows, exchanging glances with a smirking Eugene, a dreamily-smiling Rapunzel, and a suspicious-looking Anna.
Right.
"Well! Then," the Commoner King started again, clearing restraining from a chuckle. "I guess we'll all just—leave you two alone?"
Elsa's face flushed, and she glanced to Jack. Seeing that the Guardian was now blushing furiously as well, she felt her shoulders relax. At least it wasn't JUST her.
"I—uh," Jack stammered, nodding to Kristoff and Anna, "I'll make sure to get her back in time. For her—thingy."
Kristoff's eyebrows ticked up a millimeter further.
"Dinner," her brother-in-law stated. "The word you are looking for is, dinner."
"Um—yeah."
Jack nodded again, looking down and rubbing the back of his neck. Arm in arm, Queen Anna and King Kristoff then started for the door—Anna's eyes narrowing at the Youngest Guardian on her way past—followed by Rapunzel and Eugene.
"Her dinner," Eugene added, shooting a pointedly mischievous look at Jack. "With Prince Frederik. Her formal dinner date with the PRINCE."
The Spirit of Winter responded with an icy glare. Eugene nodded and beamed, as if his work was done, and turned to follow his wife out of the room.
"YeeeeeeeeeeeeEP," Eugene said again, talking just loudly enough so that they could still hear him, "Prince FReDeRiK. Fantastic, wonderful Prince Frederik. Better make sure that anything that needs to be done gets done, Frosty. Before you have to get her back here, for her DATE with Prince Frederik…"
Having pulled his staff down, Jack looked abruptly anxious, his entire body tense. As a few flurries of snow began to fall around him—a sparkling glimmer; barely noticeable—Elsa's eyes widened. Was Eugene—had Jack—?
Her breath caught, the surge of hope shooting through her body. An instant later—remembering everything that had happened—her face fell. She was probably reading too much into things. Was this false hope?
Was she being irresponsible?
Ca-CHUNK.
The door closed.
And they were alone.
"There'll be nothing inappropriate, Elsa," Jack added on a sigh, as if responding to her expression. "I promise."
"Oh, that's not—I wasn't thinking that."
His face perked up slightly. Elsa let out a nervous laugh.
"I'm just a little anxious about the ball," she said quickly, "It has nothing to do with you."
"Would you rather do something else? Because we don't have to dance, if you don't wan—"
"—I want to dance."
They stared at each other for a long, silent moment.
"Okay," Jack stated. "So, are we…?"
She nodded, smiling in spite of herself, and Jack's face broke into a hopeful little grin as wel. Wordlessly, they walked over to the balcony on the side of the room. It was extremely convenient, that this room happened to have one.
The freezing blast of winter wind that greeted her as she opened the doors made Elsa's heart leap, the promise of the unknown beckoning. Stepping out onto the balcony and pulling the doors shut behind them, the Fifth Spirit then felt a second rush of excitement as she turned to Jack, who gestured for her to put her arms around his neck. She eagerly did so, her heart skipping a beat as he scooped her up.
Adjusting his staff—which he was holding in his right hand, next to where his forearm was supporting her under her knees—Jack suddenly sucked in his breath.
"And, we're not talking about Prince Frederik," he added quickly, "Or the kingdom, or se—um—anything—you're not comfortable with."
"Oh. I—thank you."
The Snow Queen looked down, unsure of what to make of this. It felt a bit different, to say the least. He was being so—careful. Which she appreciated, but—but when he'd just—!
Men make NO sense.
"Jack… just so you know, I can assure you that I'm not at all uncomfortable talking about Prince Frederik," Elsa admitted at last, looking up, "I'm fine talking about him, if there's something you—"
"—I'm not fine talking about him."
Elsa blinked.
Swallowing hard at the confession, Jack blushed, pressing his lips together and glancing away. After a long moment—looking back into her eyes as he shifted his grip under her knees—Elsa gave him a little shrug.
"Then we won't," she said softly.
His face visibly relaxed. Then, pulling her body tight against his own, the Spirit of Winter ran a few steps forward and leapt into the wind.
.
.
.
It was wonderful.
In Jack Frost's arms, sweeping around the ice over and over again, Elsa never wanted the music to end. She never wanted him to stop holding her. And even though dancing technically wasn't flying, it was certainly the closest that she had ever felt to being able to fly, while still on the ground. This wasn't simply a matter of lifting an ice floor into the air, or riding the water spirit, or even running up a frozen staircase. No—no, for however comparatively unimpressive it actually might have been, the completely natural feeling of dancing with Jack was something far more spectacular than that.
Pure and simple—this was fun.
As she'd started to get tired, beginning to slip on her feet and falter in his arms, Jack had suggested that they could go out onto the ice ballroom's balcony and watch the sunset. She'd readily agreed, and as soon as he'd led her out of the crystalline doors, the Spirit of Winter was taking up his staff and sweeping an enormous, fluffy snowdrift into existence on the edge of the ice. An instant later, he'd spun around and collapsed down into it, beckoning for her to join. And she did.
As the colors faded from the sky, the two laughing and sweeping ice-prisms into the air to make rainbows dance and scatter across the crystalline floor, they had eventually quieted, sliding further and further down into their shared snowdrift. Now—at least an hour later—they were essentially just snuggling in a freezing cushion of snow, whispering to each other in soft voices and watching the first of the stars beginning to appear in the night sky.
That—was normal.
Right?
The problem was, Elsa felt completely relaxed with him—even if she wasn't supposed to. There were limits. Rules, even, although she was fairly certain that they hadn't actually broken any of those. She knew that they would never do anything together that would be TRULY wrong, in that sense, but she was still beginning to wonder if she was being too physical with a boy who wasn't even romantically interested in her.
But, if this relationship was going to remain platonic, would that then justify all the touching as being normal and platonic, as well? If this was just friendship, then was everything fine? Did the lack of scandalous intent, physically speaking, grant the physicality a degree of innocence?
On the other hand, if it wasn't just friendship, then everything changed. If Jack was interested in—you know—her, then it would remove him from the category of "friend" and place him firmly into the category of "suitor." In that case, all of this touching would mean something, and if it MEANT something, then they probably shouldn't be doing it. Elsa was being seriously courted by another man, with whom she definitely wasn't being this physical. And with Prince Frederik to remember, if Jack's intentions weren't purely aromantic, then it wasn't proper to be sharing so much touching with him. Or was it? If intent determined innocence, then that argument could be used to justify basically ALL behaviors, and THAT certainly wasn't right…but, if Jack was interested in a serious courtship as well, then Elsa knew she'd have the right to do what she chose, because there was a legitimate choice to be made. Not that Jack was ever going to clear with her about anything, except for a mildly inappropriate level of enthusiasm for the idea of intimacy. All in all, she rather just wanted to scream.
The worst part about all of this was that Jack was holding all the power, and he didn't even know it.
Trying to ignore her intense feelings of guilt (and unsure about whether or not they were even justified), the Fifth Spirit finally rested her head on her companion's chest, conflicted, but otherwise completely relaxed as they stared up into the darkening night sky of the December evening. Every once in a while, Jack would absent-mindedly thread his fingers through her hair, and a shiver would shoot down her spine. If she hadn't known better, she'd have assumed it was from the literally freezing cold of his hands. But it wasn't the chill of Jack's touch that had this effect.
It was the warmth of it.
"Jack… can I ask you something?"
Her voice breaking the silence, Jack shifted, looking to her as she started to sit up, propping herself up onto her elbow. His eyebrows lifted.
"Why are you here?" Elsa blurted.
Jack's eyebrows lifted a fraction further. "Wow. Uh," the Guardian admitted, rubbing the back of his neck and glancing up to the moon. "That's a… surprisingly deep question."
"No, not in general," she clarified, "I mean—why are you—here? With—me?"
His mouth fell slightly open. After a few moments—unable to stand it anymore—Elsa sucked in her breath.
"Why are we friends?" she stammered.
His surprise morphed into confusion. "I'd say we're more than that," Jack replied.
Elsa's heart leapt into her throat.
Struggling to calm herself, she looked down, forcing herself to breathe. Was this it? Was this confirmation? Oh, goodness. Conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel, conceal, and what on EARTH…?
Her nervousness was gone in an instant as she caught sight of his expression, jolting her back into reality with confusion. His usually handsome features contorted like he was forcing them, Jack Frost was tilting his head to the side and staring at her with strangest expression she'd ever seen.
"Uh…" Elsa started, "Jack? Are… you okay?"
He responded by raising an eyebrow, his lips pursed. "Hmm?"
The Snow Queen swallowed. Staring at him in concern, she shifted uncomfortably in the snow and pushed herself up completely.
"You look like you've been stung by a bee," she admitted.
"Oh! Uh—yeah," he laughed nervously, dropping the strange expression, "No, I—I'm fine. Hah."
Jack's face flushed beet red, and he looked down, letting out another awkward laugh and rubbing the back of his neck. Elsa laughed softly as well, mostly in relief from the diffused tension.
"But what I was saying," Jack started again suddenly, leveling his gaze back onto her, "I meant it."
"Which part?"
His eyes went from nervous to piercing again. "About being more than friends," he said.
Snapped back into the moment, Elsa's could almost feel her heart stop once again. His expression was one of passionate sincerity again as she stared at him, suddenly struggling to breathe with the intensity of his incredible, snowflake-marked eyes practically pinning her into place.
Please, please, please, please, please!
"I mean," Jack Frost said at length, giving her a soft smile, "We're an alliance. Aren't we?"
Elsa's heart sank. Struggling to conceal her disappointment, she forced a weak smile as well. "An Ice Alliance," she agreed softly.
"The iciest."
And the silence fell again.
Now sitting up in the snowdrift, Elsa hugged her knees to her chest, staring down at the icy floor stretched out on the balcony before them. An—alliance. She had an alliance with Jack Frost. And there was a time in the past, with her much younger self, when that prospect alone would have thrilled her beyond description. But now…
She squeezed her eyes shut. She had to think of Arendelle. And didn't want to lead him on. But if there was even the tiniest fraction of a chance that…!
Elsa swallowed.
"I guess that's a pretty big deal," she said blankly.
"It's a very big deal," Jack added, shooting her a flirty grin and reaching into the top of his shirt, "Look, I've got a medal and everything…"
Elsa laughed, her heart swelling once again as he pulled out the snowflake medal she'd given him after the incident with the king of Hordalunde. My, that seemed so long ago now… still a terrible dream, that she actively tried to not remember. But the medal…
He's still wearing it inside his shirt, she thought. That's almost…
She mentally halted.
"So, it's because of my ice powers?"
Jack's smile vanished. After a few moments—studying Elsa's expression—his own softened slightly, the sudden hurt in his eyes fading into a gentler shade of sadness.
Drawing in his breath, the Spirit of Winter then shifted in the snow.
"Well—the ice powers thing brought us together, Snowflake. For sure," Jack said carefully, "I'll give you that. But if there weren't more—I wouldn't still be here. No."
He shook his head. Meanwhile, Elsa bit her lip, her mind racing.
More?
Despite the noncommittal nature of his answer, the Fifth Spirit of the Enchanted Forest felt a tiny spark of hope light up in her mind, chasing all the darkness away. Letting out all the breath that she didn't realized she'd been holding, she then sank down again into the snow beside him, resting her head into his shoulder as Jack put his arm around her once more.
.
.
.
"No. I don't believe you."
"I'm telling the truth!"
"Shoulder pads!?"
"It created a beautiful silhouette!"
"In what universe does Queen Elsa wear SHOULDER PADS?!"
"I was trying something new!" Elsa laughed, blushing furiously while Jack rolled his eyes. "And the whole thing was kind of a blur, remember? I just said that."
"Okay, Shoulder Pads."
"Oh, hush. I thought it looked more powerful. I—you know," she said again, "In—charge?"
A wave of confusion swept over his face. "You—are in charge?" Jack shrugged.
She chuckled bitterly, giving him a shrug. "Well… some people don't think that the sparkly dresses suggest that."
"Who cares what they say?"
"I—!"
The words catching in her throat, Elsa froze, the question a startlingly deep one. Knowing the answer—and knowing exactly how personal it really was—she looked down to her hands, feeling that her heart was once again unnaturally exposed.
He said nothing, just watching her, and waiting. His silence prompting her to continue, Elsa pulled in a shaky breath of air.
"I wanted to impress you," she whispered.
Gathering her courage, she looked up into his eyes again, his intense, knowing gaze making her feel for the umpteenth time that the Spirit of Winter was looking straight into her soul.
"I promise I'm impressed," Jack said softly.
Elsa's heart leapt.
Lying all the way down in the snow again, her head on his chest, the Snow Queen eagerly snuggled up against him, relishing in the freezing comfort of his presence. And his approval… which really shouldn't have meant so much to her, but—
Sigh!
"I'm not gonna lie, Elsa," Jack said at length, shifting as he glanced down towards her. "I—I still have no idea what that has to do with the shoulder pads."
Elsa chewed on her lip for a moment. "Most people aren't like this," she admitted, letting out a bitter, breathy chuckle, "But—well, there are some who believe that anything that could possibly be seen as traditionally 'feminine' implies weakness. Even as a queen, ruling a KINGDOM, if I ever admit to liking decorating, or flowers, or nice dresses—or even just wanting to be creative with my powers, instead of always having to weaponize them—the idea that I can behave in some stereotypically feminine ways, AND still be powerful, really confuses some people. It's like they can't process the fact that I can like sparkles, AND have a brain."
He snorted. "Elsa, if you weren't wearing sparkles, I don't think I'd recognize you."
"Well, rest assured that I put sparkles on the shoulder pads."
To this, Jack actually threw his head back and laughed, and Elsa's heart leapt, her face breaking into an unhindered smile as she pushed herself up off of his chest to look at him. The Guardian of Fun's eyes were bright with interest, encouraging and playful as always. Even with Anna (wonderful Anna!), Elsa had a hard time relaxing like this—she was always trying to leave the door open, TRYING to open up to her sister, but constantly feeling like everything she was going through had to be—explained. Or translated. To a certain extent, she felt like she was always having to actively fight against her own deep sense of doubt that anyone "ordinary" (even though her sister was far from ordinary) could ever really understand. But with Jack…
I just want to tell you everything.
Shifting in the snow, she looked back down to the space between them, the glistening flakes and ice crystals sparkling in the moonlight.
"Wait… but I thought you said that it was a female voice," Jack started again. "If you were thinking it was a girl—what's the problem?"
Queen Elsa grimaced. "Honestly? A lot of times the women are just as bad as the men," she sighed, feeling anger and frustration beginning to rise within her, "Every decade or so, it's like everybody collectively agrees on this narrow little ONE-word definition of what young women are supposed to be—and if you don't fit that definition, they act like you're some sort of traitor. At what point is anyone going to ask us what WE want, instead of just telling us what we're supposed to want? At what point is—"
Realizing that she was still talking, Elsa abruptly cut herself off. Blushing as flurries of snow began to float down around them, she swallowed and looked down.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I wasn't—I wasn't trying to get into a rant; I just—"
"—You're fine."
Her face heated, she shook her head, a few snowflakes loosening from her hair. "I was trying to not talk about anything that we didn't want to talk about," she laughed bitterly.
"Fair enough."
Looking down to her hands, Elsa shook her head, brushing a few more sparkling snowflakes off of her sleeves. "Honestly, the whole thing is—a little hazy," she admitted. "It all just happened so FAST—and I wasn't really acting like myself."
"What do you mean?"
"For one thing… I was trying to act more confident than I was. Which was really stupid, because I had no clue what I was up against," she admitted, "Although, I don't really know a better way to DEAL with that, than trying to fake confidence."
Jack grinned wryly. "Queen thing?"
"Maybe." She grimaced, shifting in the snow. "I was trying to keep a brave face on, trying to stay calm, trying to save my powers for—"
"—Save your powers!? Were they running out?"
"I had no idea what I was going to face! So I was trying to—you know—not—be creative," Elsa laughed in discomfort, "Among other things, which was really dumb, because the back of Kristoff's wagon is very uncomfortable, when I EASILY could have just made a couch, or—well. As I said," Elsa admitted, squirming a bit in the snow, "I wasn't acting like myself. Everything worked out, but… it's still kind of embarrassing to remember."
"I'm sure you weren't that bad," Jack reassured her, "We've all been weird sometimes. And besides…"
Elsa bit her lip. Turning over in the snow, Jack Frost reached down and picked up her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he stared deeply into her eyes.
"You wouldn't be fashion history's first lady to fall victim to shoulder pads," he whispered.
She jolted. "You—!"
Elsa shoved him, and Jack laughed, rolling back against the snow with a crunch. Rolling her eyes, the Fifth Spirit scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
"You are never letting that go," Elsa giggled bitterly, leaning back into the snowbank, "Are you?"
"Never."
She shook her head, smiling in spite of herself as she stared back up into the rich darkness of the sky, the stars just beginning to appear far above them beyond the tops of the trees. Elsa leaned her head back in the snow.
"As for that jacket… if it's such a ridiculously big deal to you," she laughed softly, "I may or may not have left it to melt on a beach. For the record."
"Fair enough—"
"—You fashionista."
Jack snorted, raising an eyebrow at her. "I'm just messing with you," he chuckled, "I mean, with everything you've told me—it really doesn't sound like it was all that bad."
"But it was," Elsa groaned, "I got carried away. That's why the whole thing started. I woke up the spirits, and then everyone was forced out of the kingdom, and—well, once again, everyone in Arendelle was put in danger because Elsa lost control of something she thought she could handle."
She cringed into the snow, the heat of shame rushing to her face. Next to her, Jack propped himself up onto his elbows, and Elsa's breath caught.
"Snowflake," he said softly, "You're not just going to recolor this as an excuse to beat yourself up, are you?"
Her heart suddenly pounding, Elsa stared up at him, wide-eyed, intensely aware of the way he was now slightly looming over her as she lay on her back in the snow. Jack was completely unaware, of course—he was literally just doing the exact same thing that she had been doing earlier, his expression completely innocent—but this was different. The way he was pushed up onto his elbow, above her, gazing deeply into her eyes as she sank into the snowbank…
She jolted, frantically shoving the thought into the deep, dark pit in the back of her mind where it BELONGED. In all likelihood, the memory would be dredged up and overanalyzed later that evening, but that was an embarrassing fact that Elsa was definitely not ready to admit to herself. What had Jack been saying? It was—um—
Oh—The Enchanted Forest. They were talking about the ENCHANTED FOREST!
Gathering her senses, the Fifth Spirit pulled in a shaky breath. "I'm not going to recolor it to make myself sound innocent," Elsa choked, hoping that he hadn't noticed the long delay in her response. "I mean, I didn't mean to wake them, but—Jack, I wanted to go. A part of me always had."
"And then you finally had the chance?"
"Well—yes and no." Elsa crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "I didn't have a lot of choice. My people were threatened. And it was scary, but a little part of me wanted to see what was out there. Just the fear and fascination of the unknown. You know?"
"So… you were scared, but you still went."
She nodded.
With a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips, Jack's eyebrows lifted.
"That doesn't sound like being irresponsible, Snowflake," he whispered. "I'm pretty sure that's the definition of bravery."
"But it's not!" Elsa exclaimed, "I wasn't just scared! I was nervous, sure, but—I wanted to go, remember? Which to me just implies—aurgh." She shook her head, then biting her lip. "I need an example. What would you consider to be the bravest thing you've ever done?"
Jack's eyes widened slightly. "The bravest thing I've ever done?"
Elsa nodded.
Deep in thought, the Guardian lay back down and crossed his arms behind his head, staring up into the sky as Elsa leaned her cheek against his chest. Goodness, Jack Frost was cold. And there was just this crispness to him; a graceful and sharp-edged clarity to his speech, his movements, the athletic contours of his body… oooooh, she could just fall asleep here…
Eh, heh.
"Back last spring," Jack started softly, jolting Elsa from her thoughts and making her face heat once again, "I had to defend the Guardians all by myself. Or, at least I was ready to."
She shook herself back into reality. "What do you mean?"
He pressed his lips together for a moment, deciding how to answer.
"There was—a bad guy," he said at length, measuring his words carefully, "You don't need to know anything about him beyond that. But he was threatening the Guardians—and this is before I'd actually become one—and there was no one left to protect them. So, I had to be ready to fight again."
"And you didn't want to?"
He let out his breath. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he looked to her.
"I knew I couldn't win," he admitted.
Her breath caught. "You—knew you couldn't win?" Elsa pressed.
"He'd—um," Jack Frost admitted softly, "He'd just—beaten me to a pulp, about one minute earlier. He'd gotten stronger. But in that moment, I didn't think there was anybody else to keep fighting, so I had to."
"See? That's what I mean," Elsa said, pushing herself away from him and up onto her elbow to look into his eyes, "You certainly don't sound like you wanted to. I mean, if he'd truly just beaten you so badly, then there wasn't really any allure to what you were doing."
He shifted uncomfortably in the snow. "But I had to," he repeated.
"Why?"
He paused for a long moment, chewing on the edge of his lip again. At last, the Guardian shrugged.
"It was the right thing to do," Jack said simply.
"So… you knew you were going to lose, but you fought anyway," Elsa said softly. "You fought anyway, because it was right. To me, THAT'S bravery."
He looked down, a hint of a sheepish smile tugging at the edge of his lips. His face flushing slightly pink, Jack then gave himself a little shake, focusing his attention back onto her. And perhaps she was imaging it, but Jack's usually piercing gaze somehow seemed—softer, now?
"Flipping the question onto you," he said, starting up the conversation again before she had the chance to keep studying him, "What would you consider to be the bravest thing you've ever done?
Elsa's eyes widened. "Oh! Um…"
Jack's eyebrows lifted. Still caught a little off-guard by the question, Elsa pulled in her breath.
"In Atohallan—the memories of my grandfather," she stammered, "Well, he'd gone beyond where I could hear him, and—wait. No." Elsa cut herself off, shaking her head. "Scratch that. The bravest thing I ever did was go to my coronation."
A look of confusion swept over his face. "Wait—your coronation?"
She nodded.
"What's so scary about a coronation? I mean, besides the guaranteed hours of boredom," he chuckled, still confused, "What did you even have to do? Cage-fight a bear or something?"
He snorted at his own joke, his eyes light and laughing again as he turned to look at her.
"I had to take off my gloves," Elsa whispered.
"You had t—"
He stopped himself mid-sentence, his eyes locking with hers as his expression froze in a moment of sudden recognition. Now understanding, Jack mouthed a silent oh.
An unexpected feeling of relief coming over her, Elsa pulled in her breath. "It was only for a moment," she said quickly, "But—well, it was one of the scariest moments of my life. And it was in front of everyone, and I couldn't get out, and—see, THAT'S bravery. Not—not putting everyone's lives in jeopardy, and then immediately running off to the Forest and not giving them another thought…"
She shook her head again, her voice trailing off. As she stared downwards, Jack put his arm around her, gingerly running his fingers along the top edge of her sleeve.
She lay her head back down on his chest.
"Elsa, not to bring up—uh, things we don't want to talk about," Jack started again carefully, "But—you literally just admitted that a big part of the reason you went to the Forest in the first place was because you were forced to. Right?"
"Yes, but I wasn't completely forced to. I kind of wanted to."
Placing her hand next to her face on his chest, she swallowed hard. Within a few seconds, Jack reached across with his free hand to pick hers up, playing with her fingers.
"But that's what I mean," he pressed, "Why are you so determined to believe that doing something—anything—that actually might bring you happiness is irresponsible? Belief is really powerful. And if you've convinced yourself…!"
Elsa lifted her head up again, backing away by a few inches to look to him. Still holding onto her fingers, Jack Frost opened his mouth and then closed it, as if struggling for words.
"Elsa," he stammered, "If you know what you want, and you know that Arendelle's going to be fine, then why don't you just let yourself have it?"
His gaze pleading, Jack stared into her eyes.
"Because I didn't know that the kingdom was going to be fine," Elsa choked quietly.
A look of confusion swept over his face. "Wait," Jack realized, "The… Enchanted Forest thing?"
"Yes. I was selfish. And distracted."
Pulling back away from him, she rolled over onto her back again in the snowdrift, staring up at the sky. Giving her head a shake, Elsa then squeezed her eyes shut.
"I was so focused on finding the voice—on what I wanted—that I forgot about everything else. I was just so desperate," the Fifth Spirit whispered, pulling her hands into her stomach as she shrank. "I just had always felt that I was here for a reason. Like someone had PUT me here."
Jack Frost suddenly sat bolt upright, jolting to face her.
"Like you were chosen," he blurted. "Chosen—to be this way?"
She nodded. Placing her hands down in the snow, freezing it from a soft to solid form, Elsa then pushed herself up, pulling her legs into her chest.
"And I wanted someone to tell me why," she whispered.
His eyes bulging, the Fifth Guardian stared at her, his gaze unwavering. "So, you failed the people you were meant to protect," he stammered, "Because you were distracted trying to find out the truth about the past?"
"In Atohallan. Yes." She nodded frantically, "Literally, a river full of memory. If I could GET those memories, then they would know, right? But not only did Arendelle almost get destroyed in the process—even though that part was necessary—but I almost died. And Anna almost died," she choked, blinking quickly as her eyes began to sting, "I can never, EVER, let myself be distracted like that ever again. I needed those memories, but I failed to protect the people who needed to help the most, when I needed to be focused on saving THEM, not on my own selfish—!"
Before she could react, Jack Frost had suddenly embraced her, throwing his arms around her body and making Elsa cut herself off with a ragged gasp. After a moment of shock—feeling him squeezing her, and hearing nothing but the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears—Elsa instinctively felt herself relax, melting into the soft, snowflake-dusted fabric of his shirt.
"The fairies forgave me," Jack whispered hoarsely. "I'm sure Arendelle forgives you, too."
Elsa had no idea what he was talking about.
Even so, as Jack held onto her, she found herself sinking into her childhood hero's embrace, her pounding heart beginning to slow again as she breathed in his closeness. Relishing the feeling of his freezing, strong arms around her body, she gripped onto him in return, gratefully accepting the comfort of his reassurance and wishing that this moment—this feeling—would never end.
.
.
.
After flying them back to Arendelle's castle and setting her down, Jack Frost watched as his beautiful Ice Powers Girl swept away, her hips gracefully swinging with each step as her sparkling ice capelet flowed behind her. As she reached the end of the hallway—presumably to go to her stupid dinner with Prince Wonderful—Queen Elsa stopped for a brief moment, glancing back at him. Unsure of what to do, Jack waved awkwardly, and she returned him a radiant smile, making Jack's entire world light up as she did so.
Still smiling, and looking absolutely gorgeous, the Snow Queen then turning back and walked around the corner, her long capelet trailing behind her and then finally disappearing from sight. Grinning in relief, Jack dropped the end of his shepherd's crook into the floor, then leaning into it.
I did it.
Jack closed his eyes.
It's actually possible, he thought excitedly, I got through an entire date with Elsa, without being a creep even ONCE. I was PERFECTLY. NORMAL.
This was a cause for celebration. Maybe he'd go get some kids into an epic snowball fight, or have the Invisible Phantom hit all of Elsa's remaining councilmen at once, just for fun. He'd had a fun, non-cringey, NON-awkward date with the Snow Queen, and had discovered that all he had to do to not become a moron was to stare directly into her face, not breathe, and pretend that she was Bunny from the shoulders down.
See? Sexual tension, GONE. Problem solved.
Okay, not really. Elsa was like Bunny, like cake was like a moldy, easily-offended old piece of Easter ham. But still! It was cause for joy. Honestly, it was more a matter of concentrating on what he really liked about Elsa, which was who she was. Holding her felt nice, but seeing her smile—the real kind, not the please-don't-murder-me kind—was even nicer.
And he'd been SUPER careful. Not only had he not been too aggressive with her, but—well, if anything, he'd felt a little stand-offish. Every touch, every time she'd pulled to him in the snow, she'd been the one to instigate it. Well—almost every time.
But he was trying to keep it APPROPRIATE. For her sake. Platonic, even, although the very idea of that word being applied to his relationship with Elsa made him want to throw up. Or punch something. But he didn't want her to be uncomfortable. Not with him.
Never with him…
"Jack Frost!" a voice suddenly rang out.
He froze.
Every instinct in his body telling him to flee, Jack's legs tensed automatically, ready to spring into the air.
"OH, no," Queen Anna ordered, lurching towards him down the hallway, "You are NOT getting away from me again."
Fighting the urge to leap into the wind and shoot away from her at top speed, the immortal, borderline-mythical Spirit of Winter swallowed his terror. Forcing himself to stand his ground, he then slowly turned around to completely face her, giving Elsa's little sister a scared smile as the sharp, commanding edge on her voice sent a chill down his spine.
"Hi, Anna," Jack choked. "How are you?"
She forced a smile as well, her teeth clenched behind her lips. Her brow set with determination, the ferocious gleam in the pregnant young queen's eyes made Jack fear for his life.
"We should talk," Anna stated again, the edge still on her voice.
Jack Frost didn't miss the way that her eyes failed to smile with her mouth. Swallowing hard, he drew in his breath.
"Sure," he squeaked.
She nodded. "Yep. Okay. This way!"
Wordlessly, Queen Anna then spun away from him, stomping with effort back down the hallway. A determination in her gait, the Guardian didn't miss the tension in the way she was holding herself up, her hands actually looking like they were about to clench into fists.
Jack gulped.
I have no idea what I did, he thought frantically, But I'm clearly about to pay for it.
From her brief but friendly interactions with the various servants, butlers, dignitaries, and all other people she passed as she silently led him through the castle, it was clear to Jack that—while Elsa was currently wearing the crown—most everyone still viewed Anna as being a queen. Which she was, according to perhaps everyone except the Council. And Queen Anna, despite her awkward, pregnant body (and all the problems it was currently giving her), appeared to be completely aware of this, comfortably wearing her power like a favorite pair of shoes as she all but actually dragged him off to—well, the wherever they were going.
Down the hallway, down the stairs (with effort on Anna's part), more hallways, twists and turns. It took Jack far too long to realize that they were going—to the throne room?
With a nod, the guards opened the enormous doors, letting Queen Anna pass through. Jack leapt into the air and followed, sweeping up behind her and touching back down onto the ground just as the guards allowed the door to swing shut.
CHUNK.
Waddling as regally as she could with her enormous stomach, Elsa's sister swept down the central of the room, finally stopping near the throne platform. She turned back to face Jack as he reluctantly followed.
Turning to an end table—having kept the "parlor" arrangement that Elsa had designed—Queen Anna then opened a small box that was sitting on it, rich with ornamentation. Jack's eyes widened as she then pulled out her crown and a golden scepter, setting the scepter to the side and placing the crown onto her head. What on Manny…?
Picking up the scepter, the on-leave Queen of Arendelle then turned back to face him, pulling in her breath.
"Now," Anna said.
A look of confusion swept over Jack's face.
"Um…" he said. "Now?"
Queen Anna pressed her lips together, crossing her arms over her chest. Huffing in frustration, she rolled her eyes. "Rapunzel, NOW!"
Jack's eyes bulged and he whipped around. "WHAT the—"
CLANG!