AUTHOR'S NOTE: I was really trying to have this done for Valentine's Day, but then my kids got sick (again). So… here. (*awkwardly shoves writing across desk*) Let's see… there's a lot to say, but I'll try to be brief.

REGARDING FROZEN III: Disappointed? Yes. Surprised? Literally not at all. I actually said to my husband going out of the theater that I definitely don't think they should make a Frozen III, but that Frozen was just WAY too much of a cash cow for Disney to "Let It Go," at this point. I guess I'm a little surprised because of all their not-quite-breaking-the-fourth-wall-but-basically-breaking-the-fourth-wall at the end of Frozen II ("No, we're done," Elsa tells Olaf very directly) and the fact that it sounded like most of the Frozen team except for Jennifer Lee (who appeared to be assuming there'd be a Frozen III) didn't want to do any more Frozen because they were tired. Frankly, I'm really tired. Regarding working Frozen III into Ice Alliance: I'll… try. I guess. I just legitimately don't have the energy to even process worrying about it right now, because frankly, I feel kinda numb from the SHEER NUMBER OF TIMES THEY'VE CHANGED THE PROMPT ON ME AAAAURGH (I'm fine. This is fine. Everything is absolutely Jim Dandy.)

REGARDING AO3: I'm almost… almost… done catching up on posting! For many of you, by the time you actually read this, I actually might be! (I haven't been able to play with any of the "skins" or fancy formatting or whatnot yet, but I'll get there when I get there!)

SOME RANDOM JELSA FANFICTION/FANART RECOMMENDATIONS: So, I'm only actually through Part One (and therefore can't yet technically recommend the whole thing), but if you haven't read the apparently-ongoing Jelsa fic "At The Center" by therentyoupay… oh my word. SO INSANELY well-written. It's so well written that I want to die. It's so well written that I officially hate my writing (more than usual!). I honestly don't know if I feel more inspired or personally attacked by how much my descriptions suck by comparison (attacked. DEFINITELY attacked), but you desperately need to look it up if you haven't read it already. I actually became aware of it through a few fan sketches by Neimy Kanani, who you ALSO need to look up, because if you haven't seen Neimy Kanani's Jelsa work (and work in general) you are missing out on life. (I actually tried to commission her for a personal non-Jelsa thing last year and never heard back, but it honestly just looks like she's SUPER busy as an artist. When you see her stuff, you'll know why.) (Do I have a personal fantasy that will probably never come to fruition of being able to hire her to do the cover art of my first original fiction piece? Yes? DEFINITELY yes? As I said, it will probably never happen, but she's SERIOUSLY GOOD AND YOU SHOULD LOOK HER UP.)

.

.

.

94: CANDLES

I think your heart is beautiful.

The 319-year-old Spirit of Winter stood dumbfounded in the closet, staring after Queen Elsa's long capelet as it whisked through the door and out into the hallway beyond. Holding the ice heart in one hand and his staff in the other, he couldn't speak, or even move. Or think. In that moment, Jack Frost knew that every single brain cell he possessed was now trapped in a loop, spiraling around and around that single phrase she'd uttered a few moments before, and desperately trying to decide if the encounter had truly been real or not.

I think your heart is beautiful.

She'd said—Elsa had said—!

After what might as well have been another few centuries of silently staring at the supply closet door, Jack Frost gave himself a violent shudder, trying to shake his mind out of the stupor. He HAD to think. Earlier, Anna had said that Elsa believed in him. That she trusted him. And after the previous night, after everything—that wasn't just some frothy, casual compliment. It was hope. Did he really—truly—still have a chance with Elsa? Or was Anna just trying to make him feel better? Was Elsa trying to make him feel better?

He hadn't meant to go all sob story on the Ice Powers Girl about his past, and frankly, Jack was kind of hoping that THAT aspect of his past would never actually come up, because it was embarrassing and it hurt. As for the actual sobbing part, that was EXACTLY as humiliating as he'd feared. But then… Elsa. She'd somehow made it better. How DID she always make him feel better?

Jack Frost closed his fingers around the ice heart, breathing in slowly.

When I break things, Elsa's sweet voice played in his mind, I think it's important to—try and fix them.

Feeling the beautiful chill of the ice pressed against his palm, Jack swallowed with effort. Was she hinting that he should try to fix their relationship? The problem was… Elsa still didn't know what the heart was for. Knowing the brilliant-in-everything-except-for-maybe-this Ice Powers Girl, there was a great chance that she hadn't yet connected that it was meant to be a confession. His confession. Which he'd once again failed to make. For all SHE knew, the ice heart was just his effort to apologize for the Frederik thing, or to mend their so-called "friendship" that he'd just confirmed was just that on the previous night.

He still hadn't told Elsa that he loved her. And it was really nice that she'd want to fix their friendship, but how could he? When having just a "friendship" with his beloved Snow Queen was maybe the LAST thing he wanted in the world, at this point?

Jack still hadn't looked down again yet.

Sucking in his breath, the Guardian of Fun mustered his courage and unclenched his fingers to face the ice heart in his palm. He stared down at it in wonder and awe, seeing the mended fissure across the center of the ornament that he'd spent so many hours obsessively creating. Elsa had done a really good job fusing it back together—in fact, if he hadn't actually known that it had been broken, Jack might not have even noticed the crack. How had she done it? It was like the repair job had been done from the ornament's back, or even the inside. Letting the end of his staff fall into the carpet, the shepherd's crook resting in the bend of his elbow, Jack carefully ran his opposite finger over the piece. In curiosity, he turned it over, to—

Jack Frost's eyes bulged.

On the back of the ornament—there was another heart.

His breaths suddenly coming sharp and shallow, the Guardian's heart started pounding. There—there was ANOTHER HEART. Elsa had fixed his heart with a second one. Was she—was Elsa, saying that—!?

He snapped his head up, staring at the door through which the beautiful Ice Powers Girl had disappeared.

Go after her!

To Jack, in this moment, the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears was the only noise in the universe. Time was frozen. He clutched the ice heart in his hand, numb, and paralyzed in his place.

Go AFTER HER!

Every muscle in his body felt like it was submerged in jelly, even his very thoughts struggling to slog through a thick sludge of disbelief as he unsuccessfully attempted to force his brain to process what had just happened, and whether or not it was actually real.

WITH YOUR FEET, MORON!

Jack startled, snapping into focus and lunging for the door. Feet! Right! He had feet!

BANG! The door's handle crashed into the opposite wall as he threw it open, stumbling through it into the hallway to see where she'd CANDLE!

Skidding to a stop, Jack Frost reeled back, whipping around and catching the door to the supply closet just before it finished swinging shut. Flinging it open again, he darted back inside, plucking the Christmas candle up from off of the shelf where Elsa had set it down earlier in their conversation.

Jack carefully backed out into the hallway once again, watching as the door slowly swung shut with a ca-chunk. He breathed in slowly, then exhaling as he mentally listed his most pressing immediate action items to try to calm down and focus. Find Elsa. Proclaim love. Don't set the castle on fire.

Placing the candle back into its garland in the nearest windowsill and backing away from it, Jack then turned and took off into a full sprint down the hallway.

Normally he would have just leapt into the air at this point, but there were so many Christmas candles around everywhere that he legitimately was scared of making too much wind. But he was still pretty fast, his heart pounding as he ran. Rounding a corner, his heart leapt. At the end of the hallway, the Snow Queen's long, sparkling capelet was floating elegantly down the stairs behind her, her long blonde braid hanging down her back just like always as she descended the steps leading to the main floor. Jack jumped, taking off after her.

"ELSA!"

"EEP!"

The Ice Powers Girl startled off of her feet as he suddenly leapt in front of her, whipping around with her eyes wide and nearly losing her balance on the steps. Jack lurched to catch her as she desperately flailed at the railing, clapping her opposite hand over her heart once she caught it and letting out a laugh of shock.

"Jack!" Elsa gasped, closing her eyes as she gripped the banister, "Heavens! You scared me!"

"Sorry," Jack stammered, "I—!"

As the Snow Queen opened her eyes again, Jack Frost's entire world flipped upside-down.

Draped in her gown of ice and with snowflakes sprinkled through her hair, the beautiful Ice Powers Girl was actually glistening as she stood on the steps before him, her stunning, innocent gaze locked onto his with anticipation, her cheeks flushed a lovely pink and soft lips slightly parted. Jack suddenly felt like his tongue was too big for his mouth. He couldn't speak. Elsa was an actual Snow Angel, looking down upon him from where she was standing two steps higher on this staircase, sparkling in the light from the dozens of Christmas candles all around them in the—

The Fifth Guardian's eyes snapped into focus.

Candles.

The idea struck him all at once, the decision made in an instant.

"I have to go!" Jack blurted.

Elsa's face went pale. "What?" she gasped, "But—"

"—Not forever! I just—I—!"

He cut himself off, taking a deep breath and sticking his free hand into his pocket. The idea still formulating in his brain as he tried to figure out a way to explain it (but without actually explaining it), the Spirit of Winter took one step towards her up on the stairs.

"I just have to—get something ready," Jack said carefully. "That's all."

"Oh. Um—okay."

The Snow Queen looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. Swallowing hard, she shifted on her feet as well as she glanced back up in anxiety.

"And you're going to come back?" Elsa asked shyly.

"Huh? Oh—yeah! Definitely!"

Jack nodded, far too frantically to appear casual. But, appearances hardly mattered at this point.

"The thing starts at seven," he asked, "Right?"

"Six."

Jack grimaced. Looking back to Elsa, the Guardian then gulped, mentally calculating flight time.

"I'll—try," he choked, looking to her in unease. "I—can't guarantee six, but—I'll do my best to be back by then."

The Ice Powers Girl glanced downwards once again, pulling her hands into her stomach and visibly struggling to hide her disappointment. As she started to pull in her breath to speak—

"But I can definitely make it by about seven," Jack added quickly, cutting her off. "Maybe even six-thirty. I promise."

Elsa's shoulders relaxed a bit, and she looked up. The Ice Powers Girl then smiled shyly again, making Jack's heart whump in his chest.

"I believe in you," Elsa whispered.

Seeing the unfettered hope and trust in her beautiful eyes, Jack's heart swelled, his smile impossible to restrain. On the sudden surge of confidence, the Spirit of Winter then climbed up one more step, joining the Snow Queen at equal levels on the stairs.

Pulling his free hand back out of his pocket—his fingers brushing past the heart—he then reached for Elsa's, her cool, soft fingers feeling like silk in his own.

Bowing slightly at the waist, he then lifted her hand to his lips.

"My Queen," Jack breathed.

He could hear the Ice Powers Girl give a tiny gasp as he gently placed a kiss on her knuckles. Looking up into her face, Jack felt his spirit leap as he saw that Elsa's cheeks were flushed with excitement, her mouth hanging open and wide eyes filled with stars as she all but actually panted for breath.

Jack could feel his already wide grin widen even more, this time taking on the edge of a smirk.

Peering up at Elsa through his eyelashes, and without dropping her hand, he then leaned in close to her face.

"Save a dance for me?" he whispered.

Elsa's eyes widened. Hardly able to form words, the Snow Queen just nodded, her chin trembling as her mouth still hung open in an adorable, exhilarated disbelief.

"Uh-huh," Elsa squeaked.

Sweet Manny…. she was practically glowing. Giving her hand a quick squeeze, Jack Frost then dropped it and stepped back, shooting his beloved Ice Powers Girl one last, unfettered smile. His heart soaring, the Guardian then spun around and sprinted past her back up the steps, taking two and a time as his mind raced to remember the location of the nearest balcony.

.

.

.

Over the course of more than 300 years, Jack Frost had heard a lot of people misuse a lot of languages in a LOT of different ways. It was with this in mind that the Spirit of Winter had the confidence to conclude that to say that Santa's Workshop was busy, at three o'clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, would have easily been the understatement of the century.

On the 24th of December, the old telescope dome was a whirlwind of commotion, with everybody doing something, and all doing it faster and more frantically than Jack had ever before seen. The elves were practically in hysterics as they scrambled around on the floor, repeatedly crashing head-on into each other like tiny belled bumper cars, and the yetis, as opposed to their usual deliberate and lumbering gait, were now actually running across the stacked balconies, their enormous furry arms practically bursting with presents and wrapping paper and trailing ribbons. Phil, the head yeti, was standing at the helm of the Globe Control Deck, barking instructions in yeti-ese through a crimson megaphone and directing as well as he could despite the near-constant collisions of elves repeatedly barreling into his ankles.

Shifting his grip on the staff as he took in the scene, Jack Frost leapt into the air, wind pulling at his clothes and hair as he squinted, surveying the entire top level of the Workshop. Seeing nothing, the Guardian then flew to nearest the ledge, dropping onto the railing and crouching down to peer at the balconies below. The flying toys that usually floated through the center of the space had all disappeared (likely packaged up and ready for the night's deliveries), yetis and elves on every level were running this way and that, and—!

Jack's heart jumped into his throat as he caught sight of the bright red coat and contrasting shock of white hair walking into a hallway connected to the lowest level. For there he was: the big man himself.

Santa Claus, the immortal Guardian of Wonder, disappeared from view, accompanied (pursued?) by a small group of frantic yetis holding clipboards and packages and one who actually appeared to be following North with his furry black hat. Placing a hand onto his thigh and pushing himself up, Jack got to his feet again on the balcony rail, trying to swallow his heart back down into his chest as he watched the entourage bustle as a group into the hallway leading to the sleigh. That slightly sick feeling in his gut was beginning to return, the mixture of dread and anxiety churning like the gigantic washing machine on the second floor that North's yetis used to dye fabric for dolls. Jack Frost and the Guardian of Wonder hadn't exactly left on the—best of terms. Like, they'd made up… ish… but it had been far more uncomfortable than usual. Meanwhile… he needed this.

Taking a deep breath, the Youngest Guardian stepped off the balcony.

Jack dropped the first twenty feet almost instantly, then slowing his body to a stop midair, his freezing wind blowing around him and supporting his weight. Shifting his grip on the staff again as he looked towards the hallway, the Spirit of Winter then shot forward, flying effortlessly over the heads of the yetis and elves scurrying about on the floor.

The candlelit hallway widened, filling with the natural light from the windows above, and Jack swung his legs forward to touch down, lighting onto the balls of his feet and jogging the remaining few steps. North was standing next to the sleigh, his enormous hand resting on the wood as he inspected one of the sides. He muttered something to one of the yetis standing at attention beside him, who nodded quickly before taking off into a full sprint towards the center of the workshop, nearly colliding with yet another yeti who was running towards the sleigh, his arms full of an enormous, open tool chest.

Jack leapt out of the way just in time.

THUD! The yeti placed the box on the ground next to the sleigh as quickly and carefully as he could, the box resounding with a number of clanks from the rough metal tools shifting inside. Another yeti running up to join him, he rifled frantically through the tools, then pulling out the largest crowbar Jack had ever seen and handing it off.

Whap. It hit the other yeti's palm, and the worker scurried to the back of the sleigh to lay down on the stone floor, scooting himself underneath to access the undercarriage as a third out-of-breath yeti stumbled up to the Guardian of Wonder, holding out a clipboard and a pencil.

"Hi North," Jack blurted decisively.

His voice was barely audible over the clamor, but the big man stopped, his spine straightening by an inch. Turning around and seeing Jack, the Guardian startled, just about jumping out of his skin.

"Jack Frost?" North gasped, eyes bulging, "What are—why—?"

The yeti with the clipboard shoved it forward again, trying to catch his boss's attention. Noticing, the Guardian of Wonder shook himself, turning to skim the parchment that was being held out before him.

"Can't really talk right now, Jack!" North said gruffly, snatching up the pencil and scribbling a quick signature on the clipboard.

He tossed the writing utensil back to the yeti, glancing away. Jack's attention was pulled away for a moment as an enormous, furry arm suddenly shot out from the undercarriage of the sleigh, the yeti crouched down beside it snatching up the crowbar and handing him a different tool. The arm sucked it back under the sleigh, muttering something in yeti-ese.

CLANG!

"So," Jack tried again, his voice feeling like a squeak, "You—have a lot of candles around here."

CLANG!

The Spirit of Winter shifted on his feet, biting his fist and anxiously looking up at the Guardian of Wonder. A wave of confusion swept North's features.

"Candles?" he asked in befuddlement.

"Uh, yeah. And, you're not really going to be—using them, until you get back tomorrow, so I—I was hoping I could—uh—"

CLANG!

Waving back another approaching yeti from the hall, the Guardian of Wonder leaned in an inch closer, his intense gaze making Jack Frost instinctually cringe at the intimidating closeness.

"Borrow?" he squeaked, "Some of them?"

Santa Claus said nothing for a long, uncomfortable moment as he studied the spindly snow sprite, his eyes narrowing under dark and heavy brows in focus.

His gaze lit up with comprehension.

"Oh! Yes! Of course!" North boomed, drawing himself up again, "Take whatever you need!"

Jack let out all the breath he'd unintentionally been holding in, his shoulders relaxing as his face melted into a smile of relief. "Thanks, North," he exhaled, "I—"

CLANG!

The Guardian of Fun stopped talking to shoot a glare at the sleigh. Glancing back, he realized that North was already looking over another clipboard from yet another frantic-looking yeti, picking up the pencil.

"There are sacks in my office," North said over his shoulder as he scribbled down a quick signature, "Is locked, but you can 'bust in,' I trust?"

"Uh—yeah. I should be able to."

"And—!"

North casually tossed the pencil back at the yeti, who nearly fell over as he fumbled for the tiny stick. Turning his attention back to Jack, the Guardian of Wonder then reached into his coat, drawing something out.

A snowglobe.

"Swirl three times," North enunciated, leaning an inch towards Jack and nearly dropping his voice to a whisper, "Say location, then throw."

Jack's eyes widened as North carefully placed the globe in his hand, then curling Jack's fingers around it and patting them. His bushy eyebrows raised, his expression stern with meaning.

"Do not lose," North added, shaking his pointer finger at the snow sprite.

The Youngest Guardian simply stared at the globe for a long moment in disbelief. Letting out a breathy laugh, he then tossed it gently to himself, feeling its weight.

"Thanks, North," Jack breathed, hopping back a step and preparing to jump into the air, "I owe you one!"

"No."

The Guardian of Wonder shook his head solemnly. He then looked back up, pulling in his breath with far more care than felt appropriate for the situation.

"I have owed you one," North murmured softly.

Jack shot him a strange look. Then—giving himself a quick shake—the Guardian of Fun snapped back into the moment, nodding to acknowledge the statement as he pocketed the snowglobe and started to turn away to leap into the air.

"Good luck, Jack."

His muscles already tensed for the jump, Jack paused.

He turned back to his mentor for a long moment, once again taking in the overwhelming scene. The Guardian of Wonder was already outfitted in his full crimson winter attire, wearing his enormous red coat and being handed his fluffy black hat. Yetis and elves were a frenzy of commotion all around him, yells and clangs and whistles all fading together into a frantic blur of sound as the gigantic man stood in the midst of it all, larger than life, an imposingly calm and focused presence in the center of the whirlwind.

"Good luck," Jack nodded, a hint of a grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. "…Santa Claus."

Placing the hat onto his head, the Guardian of Wonder twisted it back and forth by the tiniest bit, adjusting it as it settled into his hair. Looking to Jack, North then shot him a knowing smile, a twinkle in his eyes as he nodded his head like a salute.

Turning back to the apparent chaos surrounding him, the Guardian of Wonder then resumed in making the final checks and preparations for his annual Christmas Eve ride.

.

.

.

Placing his hands on his hips, the Guardian of Fun looked around the ice dome, inspecting his handiwork.

At the Workshop, North had chiseled a number of holes into the ice to support his candles—the candles that, like the lights in the trees, lit the smaller offshoot rooms like his office. Jack had taken the opposite approach here, actually growing a few hundred tiny shelves from the walls, rather than damage the structure itself. After all, this little ice ballroom was the first thing that he and Elsa had built together, and he did not want to mess it up. Almost two weeks later, it definitely was still standing, lifted on its enormous pillars over the pond in the forest. And he was seriously hoping it would be romantic enough.

Shouldering his staff, Jack Frost turned and walked over and picked up the crimson sack that now lay empty on the floor, one of Santa's magical bags that could expand to whatever size it needed to be, but without ever passing a threshold of perceived weight. After snatching 244 candles from the Workshop, he figured that he probably had enough, and they were now all set into place. But he still had to figure out how to get them lit at the right time. What he really needed, here, was the ability to somehow light all of the candles at once, without having it take forever, or get blown out by his wind from flying around to each one, or risk having the first ones get all melty before the last ones were lit. And Jack had a plan.

Walking the bag to the edge of the ballroom, Jack dropped the bag, kicking the red cloth across the icy floor into a corner and reaching for the snowglobe in his pocket. He then pulled it out, taking a long moment to consider the swirling colors and sparkles inside.

Okay. Maybe it wasn't as much of a plan as much as, an idea that he (if he could pull it off) was pretty sure was going to work. Jack needed something that could light all of these candles at the same time, like a team of yetis standing by with matches at each wick, or like an enchanted spark incantation. Like a magical flamethrower.

Like a fire spirit.