AUTHOR'S NOTE: I LOVE that Frozen III was announced RIGHT before I was getting ready to post The Chapter With All My Northuldra Headcanons. Let's roll the High-Budget Disney Sequel Dice see if this lasts or expires! (*fanfiction author agony noises*)
When it comes to the Northuldra, in the demi-draft of IA that I am currently working on approximately Whenever I Can, there's a whole new little chunk explaining more about my versions of Yelana/Honeymaren/etc. in chapter 10. The Nutshell Version is that Yelana—the Northuldra leader—is not only basically their "queen," but is also Honeymaren's great aunt, and that Honeymaren (next in line; my version of Yelana doesn't have children) is therefore basically their "princess." Anyways, when it comes to Yelana's and Honeymaren's relationship at the time of meeting Anna and Elsa in Frozen II, THIS is my headcanon of how everything went down:
Yelana (thinking): Oh look. It's more traitorous white people that want to talk to me.
Yelana: *glances around*
Yelana: *grabs Honeymaren's arm*
Yelana: *awkwardly pushes Honeymaren out in front of her*
Yelana: YOU go deal with them
Basically, because Yelana is… Not A Diplomat (BA HA HA), she generally makes Honeymaren handle all of the diplomacy, when it comes to interfacing with people like the Arendellians. According to me, this is why Queen Elsa ends up talking to "Princess" Honeymaren in their camp, even though it would have been FAR more logical for her (as the Queen of Arendelle) to have at least attempted to talk to "Queen" Yelana first. Which she technically COULD have, of course (off-screen), right before ending up sitting by a campfire for Plot Exposition Time with Honeymaren. So that's what I'm going with… and of course I try to play the relationship for humor, because that's what I do.
As for Honeymaren and Ryder's relationship: Yes, I am aware that they are canonically "siblings." (?!) However, because 1. This was never clarified in the film (aka my prompt), and 2. Basically ALL context clues would indicate that Honeymaren and Ryder were originally written/animated to be a recently engaged couple, who were then declared/reworked as "siblings" at the very last possible minute (in the Frozen creators' Desperate Attempt to Please Absolutely Everyone Except For the Helsa People), I am intentionally leaving their relationship vague.
Anyways, you guys are all awesome, and a SPECIAL thank you to everybody who has read and reviewed. Thanks again for being here, and I hope you have a fantabulous day!
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95: SPIRITS (AKA, the obligatory Jack vs Bruni chapter, AKA, Jack Frost Meets The One Part of Frozen II That Literally Everybody Liked)
He would be back.
He would be back.
Queen Elsa pulled in a cleansing breath, closing her eyes for a moment before letting it back out. There were now two hours left until the Ball, and the Fifth Spirit was now in her bedroom, making her final personal preparations. Even though it was only four in the afternoon, it was always a good idea for the queen to be available to greet people and generally just accomplish diplomacy for those who arrived early. Jack Frost, she told herself, would be back, just like he'd promised. And as for her, she just needed to focus on the task at hand.
Clothing, for better or for worse, sent a message—especially for someone in Elsa's position, who had both the ability and opportunity to not only dress in whatever she could have made for her, but in what she made completely by herself. It wasn't just fun or artistic; it was a form of bodily control. And for someone who had spent so many years terrified of losing control of her body, being able to seize that control, even in this small way, was everything.
Tonight's dress design wasn't just about her, or even about Arendelle. No… tonight's dress was meant to send a message, and a specific type of message that she'd never sent before. She doubted that she would have had the courage to—but this wasn't a time to conceal.
Queen Elsa opened the little box of fabric swatches, pulling out a dark piece of cloth that she usually used for baby blue ice. Biting her lip, she stepped away from the dresser, swirling her other hand around her waist as an elegant a-line skirt (appropriate for dancing) burst out over her hips. After pulling the ice over her arms into billowing sleeves, finishing them at her wrists with a pair of thick, uncharacteristically masculine cuffs, she drew herself up, looking back into her reflection and eying the beginning of the dress's shape.
This was going to take a lot of dye.
.
.
.
Jack Frost shot out of the portal, tumbling into the air and finding himself falling over the spiny canopy of a lush but winterized Scandinavian forest.
ShooooooooONK!
As the swirling gust of colors collapsed in onto itself, the Spirit of Winter flipped over in the wind, looking back towards it and slowing himself down to a stop. With the gentle December breeze pulling at his hair and his shirt, he then surveyed the landscape, feeling the magic snowglobe already beginning to materialize back into his pocket.
The thing truly was magical—in his pocket, it collapsed to the shape of his shirt; a flat, nearly two-dimensional and somehow flexible little circle of shimmering glass. But then, the moment he pulled it out? Boom—perfect sphere. He HAD to hand it to magical yeti engineering, for that.
But was he in the right place?
Jack Frost, still hovering, leaned his staff back onto his shoulder, considering the view. He was pretty certain that he was in Northern Scandinavia, given his ability to tell where the oceans and stuff were, and this was definitely a forest. He had told the snowglobe to take him to the Enchanted Forest… even though he felt a little silly saying that out loud. But, that was what Elsa had called it, and this was definitely HER turf, rather than his. Well—hers, and the people who had lived here first.
Jack squinted. In the middle of winter, December meant cold weather, and cold weather meant cold people. If there were people here, there would be fire—aaaaand, there.
Sure enough, far in the distance but still within view, the Guardian could see a few slender, telltale plumes of smoke rising into the air, twisting together against the pink and purple hues of the evening sky.
As he flew towards the smoke, he could start to hear voices from the forest below. They were only chatting—but they were humans. And Jack could pick out the sound of a human voice from a mile away.
His heart leaping, the Spirit of Winter dove.
Within a minute, he spotted a small cluster of people, and swept down to the ground, lighting onto the balls of his feet and running a few steps to slow down. At the front of the group, an extremely pretty young woman with tan skin and a long, dark braid was saying something to those behind her, directing the party with a spear. Jack couldn't quite make out the conversation, but from the girl's relaxed, confident posture and expression, he was guessing that she held some sort of leadership position. And therefore was the person to approach.
Taking a deep breath, Jack flipped his staff back onto his shoulder once again. He pulled himself up, beginning to walk towards the group while keeping his attention fixed upon the young woman.
"Good afternoon, ma'am," Jack Frost announced, giving her a friendly, but hopefully not too friendly, nod of his head. "I'm looking for—uh, an Enchanted Forest."
The young woman didn't respond, turning and beginning to walk again through the trees, and the group followed dutifully behind her. Jack Frost fell quiet, the familiar old feeling of invisibility making his heart sink in his chest as he silently fell into step next to the lady. He hadn't expected for this random young woman, or group of people, to believe in Jack Frost. But if they knew Elsa, and were surrounded by nature spirits, and—! Well, he'd had his hopes.
As another attempt, he sprang in front of the young woman, falling into a hop-step and walking backwards in front of her while waving a hand in her face. And: nothing. The spear-toting lady continued staring straight forward through his body and into the glen, her brown, almond-shaped eyes sharp with focus as she led her group of followers to… somewhere.
Now staring directly at her, Jack had a much clearer view of her face. He was guessing that she was either in her late twenties or early thirties, and while the young woman had thicker brows, a rounder nose, and a fuller upper lip, in a lot of ways, she actually resembled Elsa. Granted—if this was indeed the right forest, and the young woman was actually Northuldran—then it wasn't unlikely that she and the Ice Powers Girl were close relatives, if not actual cousins.
And he didn't have to wait long to find out where she and her party were going.
"Honeymaren!" called out a female voice.
Jack's eyebrows jumped, and he did as well, gingerly hopping out of the way and looking to the direction of the sound. The group was walking into a small clearing, filled with tents and campfires.
"Auntie," the young woman smiled, drawing Jack's attention again. She had subconsciously thrown her shoulders back, striding out into the clearing to meet an older lady with long silver hair and similarly dark, almond-shaped eyes.
The older woman's face cracked into a smile as well (this one much more subtle). She nodded, clearly pleased to see that the group was back at the camp.
"The hunt was better than usual," the young woman declared proudly as she came to a stop, placing her free hand onto her hip and leaning into it. "How did the other groups do?"
To this, the older woman's smile faltered. She shrugged.
"Meh," she grumbled without enthusiasm.
"Yelana?" asked another voice.
Jack Frost watched as a middle-aged man from the camp came up to the older lady. She turned, acknowledging him with a curt nod.
"We've finished cleaning the first ones," the man asked her, "And Honeymaren's group is back—does that mean we can start?"
"Yes. Go ahead."
There was that name again. Jack racked his memory to place it—Elsa had definitely said something about this young woman.
The Northuldra don't really have royalty, the memory of the Ice Powers Girl's voice echoed in his mind. But Honeymaren is basically their princess.
"We were waiting until your hunting party returned to begin cooking," the older woman—Yelana, clearly the Northuldra leader—explained to the younger one.
"Thanks, Auntie." Honeymaren nodded. "Is the Fire Spirit already here, or are we going t—"
FWOOOOM!
Jack startled into the air in shock as the fire circle on the ground next to him erupted into a ten-foot column of flames, then whipping around to see that every single campfire in the camp had done the same thing, cries of terror and alarm ringing out through the clearing.
Unfazed, the young woman with the spear nonchalantly turned around, then placing her free hand onto her hip once again.
"Yooou," she chided.
A chittering sound sounded from the underbrush. Honeymaren smirked—a knowing, smug little signature of an expression; her chin tilted back with an almost flirtatious level of confidence.
"You know very well," she teased, chuckling, "That Elsa wouldn't approve of that kind of behavior."
"Brrrrrrrrrrrpt!"
The little blue salamander chirped again, his reptilian face breaking into a visual giggle of an expression. Honeymaren scoffed good-naturedly, rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she turned back to face her aunt.
The older lady frowned, her expression drawn tight with a disapproving contempt.
"You really shouldn't be referring to the mythical Fifth Spirit as Elsa," she grumbled.
Honeymaren's left eyebrow lifted. "Why are you so uncomfortable with it?" she shrugged. "It's her name."
"It's not respectful."
"Auntie, Elsa has asked us to call her Elsa."
For a long moment, the two women stared each other down, no sound between them except for the crackling of the fire. The younger lady finally pulled in her breath, dropping her spear down from her shoulder and leaning forward with her eyebrows lifted to punctuate her next statement.
"Repeatedly," Honeymaren added.
Jack Frost couldn't restrain his grin.
"Honeymaren!" called out a voice, "You're back!"
Her eyes lighting up, the girl straightened, spinning around. "Ryder!"
A young man came running up to her from across the camp, flinging his arms around her with adoration as Honeymaren laughed. He rocked them back and forth once, and then pulled back, dropping his arms back to his sides as she stepped away.
"How was the hunt?" the young man asked with a goofy grin, "The reindeer were getting restless. You know they fight over who gets to go with you."
"It was good."
Jack wasn't sure what the relationship between the two was, but as their conversation continued, he quickly stopped paying attention. Looking to the side as their voices faded into a blur, Jack's eyes narrowed as he searched the ground for the tiny blue salamander.
Over past a cluster of trees not far from the camp, Jack could see that the forest opened slightly, the last of the day's precious sunlight pouring down onto a rock. The Fire Spirit, apparently still at least part reptile, had seen this as well, scampering up onto its surface to lie down.
Jack bounced forward off the balls of his feet, jumping a foot into the air and flying over the meet it. Touching down onto the surface of the snow surrounding the rock, Jack stuck his hand into his pocket, attempting to school his expression to not betray the desperation he felt.
He pulled in his breath.
"Hey there, little fella," Jack whispered.
Halfway through turning itself around to flop down, the salamander paused, looking up in curiosity. Jack lifted his fist to his mouth, clearing his throat.
"You're the Fire Spirit," he started. "I'm a spirit, too. Not quite the same as you, but—that's why they can't see me. I mean—I'm pretty sure they can't."
He shrugged and reached up to rub the back of his neck. The salamander simply stared at him, regarding the Guardian of Fun with interest. As it suddenly flicked out its tongue to lick its own eyeball—a gesture that Jack took to be encouragingly casual, for the creature—the Spirit of Winter pulled in another breath.
"And I'm in a really big hurry right now, so I'd honestly rather keep it that way," Jack Frost admitted, glancing back in the direction of the Northuldra camp as he stretched out his hand, "So, I don't want to make a scene. And I know that you don't know who I am, but—uh—I'm really going to need you to come with me."
Jack held still, his gaze pleading as the backs of his fingers brushed against the stone, inviting the salamander to climb into his palm. A tight silence fell across the two spirits; the tension in the sunlit, snowy grove as palpable as it was intense.
The Fire Spirit looked down at Jack Frost's outstretched hand.
He then looked up into Jack's eyes.
He blinked.
FHSS!
"Ow!" Jack jolted, jerking back as a spark of flames suddenly shot across the stone right beneath his hand. Shaking out his fingers with a grimace, he looked back at the salamander when—
FWOOM!
The Guardian gasped and sprang to the side, instinctively flipping into a roll just as the ground where he had been crouching only a second earlier exploded into flames. Coming onto his feet again, Jack then caught his balance, straightening up as a number of voices from the camp started yelling to one another, leaping to their feet and snatching up spears and weapons to sprint towards the sudden and violent-looking bonfire.
Pulling in a calming, almost parental breath, Jack Frost looked back to the Fire Spirit and glared daggers at the salamander.
"The point," he gritted, enunciating the t as his eyes narrowed, "Was to not make a scene."
FWOOOOM!
"Oh, COME ON!"
The closer Northuldra people startled back with cries of shock and horror as the 15-foot wall of flames ripped across the ground in an instant, lavender-colored fire completely encircling the Fire Spirit with the Guardian like a fighter's ring. As the unnatural heat began rapidly melting all of the December snow around him, Jack's head started to swim. Fighting it, the Guardian of Fun squinted through the wobbly heat-altered colors to see the Fire Spirit go scurrying past him on the forest floor, scrambling through the underbrush and darting up into one of the nearest flaming trees.
The Spirit of Winter's eyebrows lifted, a rush of anticipation shooting through his veins as he followed the salamander with his eyes, watching as the purple flame leapt from the branches. The Fire Spirit was clearly convinced that the trees would give him an incomparable advantage over the poor, weak little white-haired human boy on the forest floor, who of course would be unable to follow, helplessly bound to the earth's surface like a pile of rocks.
Jack Frost's left eyebrow twitched upwards.
Bad move.
Kicking off, the Guardian of Fun shot into the air.
Slowing about forty feet up, the Spirit of Winter pulled himself to a stop, his hair ruffling in the wind as he hovered in the space between the trees' branches. He turned, glancing this way and that. After a few moments, Jack's eyes fell upon the sight of the little blue salamander already sitting down to rest in the crook of a tree, nestling himself into a pile of snow with a yawn.
That figured. As the Guardian flew over towards him, pausing beside the tree to hover in the air, the Fire Spirit casually glanced upwards to—
"PBBREEE!" it startled, leaping back with his eyes bulging.
Jack restrained from a snort. A knowing little smirk tugging at the edge of his lips, the Spirit of Winter then turned his palms outwards, giving the salamander a casual shrug.
"Yeaaaaaah," the Guardian chuckled, shaking his head and tossing his staff into his opposite hand as he floated next to the tree. "I actually fight better from the air."
"PBAWT!" the Fire Spirit squawked in confusion, leaping back again on the branch before whipping around and darting away.
FWOOM!
All of the winter-bare branches around them suddenly erupted into flames, the oppressive heat bearing down on Jack from all directions like it was meant to smother him. The Guardian's jaw set, his mind automatically streamlining into the rapidfire focus of Battle Mode. He couldn't use ice powers—now that the Northuldra were all standing there and watching the fight, if their Fire Spirit suddenly got blasted with snow, they'd have every reason to believe that something was SERIOUSLY wrong. And that it was Elsa's fault.
Especially given the events of the previous twenty-four hours, he obviously couldn't have THAT. Hunching over and coughing into his elbow as his mind raced, the Spirit of Winter squinted through the shimmery air currents to see the Fire Spirit making his getaway through the forest, leaping from tree to tree so fast that Jack almost had to wonder if the little salamander had flight powers himself. As for the Guardian, beyond a gentle little dusting of frost, there wasn't much that he could actually do in the ice-and-snow department that wouldn't risk burying Elsa in drama. Luckily, Jack Frost had a few other magical tricks up his sleeve.
And he'd had enough with this HEAT.
WHOOSH!
Jack swept his staff forward, commanding the wind to send a gust of icy air ripping through the trees. The engulfing flames all around him snuffed out like they were nothing more than birthday candles, and Jack let out his breath in relief at the chill of the wintery breeze. Turning himself in the air, he then shot forward again, darting through the forest after the Fire Spirit.
Tree after tree exploded into flames, and Jack expertly flung the end of his staff in one direction and then the other, blowing the tree branches back and forth to extinguish them as soon as they appeared. The Fire Spirit dove, and Jack dove as well. The salamander darted along the ground, lighting up its path as it ran, and the Guardian was soon close on its tail, leaping into the air just as soon as the salamander shot up into one of the trees again, lighting the forest in an explosion of lavender flames.
FWWWOOM!
And the Fire Spirit was gone.
Flying up into the trees, Jack looked around himself, seeing nothing but magical fire in every direction. Growling to himself in frustration, he came to a hover, feeling the heat all around him even more intensely now that he'd expended a great deal of energy in the salamander's pointless chase.
From somewhere below, Jack Frost suddenly noticed in his peripheral vision that there was a strange little whirlwind of leaves swirling directly beneath where he was hovering.
Confused, he gave his head a quick shake. Pulling his knees up for a moment as his vision began to sway from the smothering heat, Jack then shot upwards, breaking through the forest canopy and soaring up into the open sky beyond.
The blast of freezing December air hit him all at once, crisp and alive, reviving him like all of his veins had suddenly rushed with cold water. His energy beginning to build again as his vision cleared, Jack realized while gasping for air that he could see from this height that the trees below were all bursting into flame in a line, a blazing pink and purple path following the little salamander's trail. The lively breeze blowing around him as he felt his full strength return, he chuckled, pulling his staff back as his muscles tensed.
Hey, WIN—!
WHOOOOOOOSH!
Jack's body was suddenly blasted forward in the air, an unseen force knocking him into a flailing mess of arms and legs tumbling downwards through the sky before he could finish the command. Jack scrambled to right himself in frantic confusion as the disorienting wind shrieked in his ears, swinging his legs down just ten feet above the branches of the tallest trees. "WHAT th—!"
FWOOSH!
He was blasted to the side again, the usually obedient wind slamming into him like a wall and flinging him off balance. As soon as he regained control over his body, Jack spun around and pushed back against it, gritting his teeth with his eyes squinted into slits as he withstood the violent current, feeling it furiously ripping at his hair and his clothes.
His muscles were beginning to burn as he pushed and pushed, fighting his way through the sudden, nonsensical onslaught of air. Realizing with frustration that they were in a stalemate, Jack Frost scoffed angrily, closing his eyes.
And he gave in.
The wind overtook his body the instant he surrendered, spinning Jack into a twister over the forest as the Guardian went intentionally limp in its grasp. Hardly able to think over the deafening shrieking in his ears, the Spirit of Winter could feel the wind spinning him like a pinwheel, flipping him over and over so fast that his stomach started to lurch as he was thrown around, and around, and around again. He could barely hold onto his staff. The air all seemed to be collapsing in upon itself, upon him, the sky beyond going gray with the whirlwind's gathered dust and dirt.
It was time to end this. Despite what this unseen opponent wanted him to believe, this was fun, Jack told himself. And he was HAVING fun.
FUN.
Fighting the intense pull of their combined inertia, Jack Frost pulled his arms and legs into his chest, letting the whirlwind continue to have otherwise full control over his body as he curled himself into a ball in the air. His head spinning as he was tumbled over and over again, he clenched his eyes and mouth shut, focusing all of his energy into the concentrated burst of magic in his chest.
He could feel it building, the jittery pressure against his ribcage growing stronger and stronger as his stomach churned, and he gritted his teeth, feeling it building, the excitement, the joy, the fun—!
A scream of exertion escaped Jack's lips as the tidal wave of emotion broke through his skin.
"AAAAURGH!"
POW!
Sparkling blue light exploded from the Guardian's body in all directions as he threw his arms outward, the concentrated shock wave of Fun Magic blasting into the wind.
And all went still.
Struggling to catch his breath, Jack Frost hung for a moment by one hand from his shepherd's crook, willing it to hover horizontally over him in the air as he tried to relocate his strength.
"Rrrraugh!" Using the very last of his energy to pull himself up, Jack was able to throw his elbows over its side, gasping for breath as his body dangled below like he was hanging onto the side of a pool. Swinging himself back and forth a couple of times, he managed to then toss his left foot over the end, finally allowing the Spirit of Winter to shakily drape his body across his floating staff, gripping it for balance and resting his cheek on its length as the faint blue sparkling floated silently down around him in the air.
Turning his head, the Guardian of Fun watched in interest as the cluster of leaves slowly danced around one another to his left, the sparkle of Fun Magic consolidating from their immediate vicinity as they dazedly bobbed and bumped into one another. All in all, the group of leaves was acting like an invisible being that wasn't feeling particularly angry or defeated, but—simply confused.
Regarding the floating cluster of leaves, Jack Frost nodded.
"Wind Spirit," he stated breathlessly.
The leaves stopped spinning in their slow dance, all turning in the same direction as if to stare at the Youngest Guardian in awe. A few of them loosening from the cluster to fall towards the forest as the blue sparkles started to fade, the remaining ones then, as a group, all bobbed once in the air, dipping and then sweeping back up like they were nodding as well.
In spite of himself, Jack smiled weakly. Feeling himself starting to regain his strength, he carefully pushed himself up, twisting his wrists about on the shepherd's crook and struggling into a sitting position on the staff. "Feeling better now?"
Whoosh!
Jack jolted, nearly falling off the staff as the group of leaves suddenly dove, sweeping into the front pocket on his hoodie and inflating it like a balloon. As they flew back out the other side in a rush, spinning into a cluster again, he laughed.
"Good," Jack chuckled, adjusting himself on the shepherd's crook to place his right foot onto its length and let his opposite leg dangle over the side. "And I'm not trying to hurt your friend. I just need him to hear me out."
Now playfully pulling at his hood, the Wind Spirit paused, floating silently in the air again in an unspoken question.
"Without setting me on fire."
The leaves jumped, dancing back together with another collective, nod-like bob in the air.
Now feeling like himself again, Jack Frost thoughtfully gazed back down towards the ground, his breathing nearly back to normal as he leaned back onto one palm on the floating staff, carelessly resting his opposite forearm across his knee. The line of magical fire in the leaves below formed a clear trail over the spiky forest canopy, the path shooting away from the nearby river as tree after tree burst into flame. Clearly, the Fire Spirit was trying to gain a better fighting point—surrounded by woodlands, and as far away from barriers as possible. If Jack wanted to get this over with quickly, then he would have to put a stop to that.
"I was thinking that I could corner him over… there," the Guardian explained as the leaves swirled around him, pointing towards a nearby forest cliff face.
It looked like a good spot, right at the bottom of where the ground of the forest suddenly dropped into a wall of—Manny. Was all of that stone?
"Think you can get me over there?" Jack asked with a shrug, starting to lift his hand towards his hair.
A few of the leaves fell, softly spiraling down towards the rest of the forest while the remaining five swept themselves up into a bunch. As a group, they then turned and rushed into Jack's outstretched palm.
Whap.
Jack paused in his motion, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. After another moment—as it hit him—the Guardian's face broke into a grin, his eyes practically rolling of their own accord as he scoffed.
"I've never gotten a high five from the wind before," he laughed, "But—first time for everything, right?"
The leaves bobbed in the air, and Jack Frost could feel the wind beginning to swirl around him, lifting his body from the staff and pulling at his hair. His heart leaping with anticipation, he grabbed the shepherd's crook out from underneath himself and turned around in the air to aim his body towards trees close to the cliff face.
His eyes narrowed in focus.
"Let's have some fun," Jack breathed.
WHOOOOOOOSH!
Jack Frost's breath was sucked back into his throat as the Wind Spirit blasted him forward like he was being fired from a gun, shooting the Guardian's body over the forest faster than he'd ever felt in three hundred years. Hardly even registering the trees zipping by below him, Jack's heart was pounding, a laugh of shock bubbling from his lips as he stretched his arms out to his sides.
"WHOOOOOOO-HOO!"
Just before colliding with the cliff face, the wind jerked him back by his shirt, Jack's feet swinging down and forward before him. "Ope—!"
FWOOM!
Before he could register the change of velocity, Jack felt himself being blasted in an enormous gust of air from below, the Wind Spirit flinging him up hundreds of feet into the sky like it was tossing a ragdoll and making Jack's heart practically burst from his chest again. The Spirit of Winter could practically hear the laughter of the leaves billowing around him as he flailed helplessly for balance, decelerating to a stop at the peak of the mountain-high arc as the wind suddenly vanished, letting its grip on the Guardian's body vanish and sending Jack into a complete gravitational freefall.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAUGH!" he screamed, "WHOO-HOO-HOOOO!"
WHOOSH!
Just before hitting the canopy, the Wind Spirit seized him again, flipping his body three times and then swinging him down through the branches, this way and that as they shot him through the forest. Finally, almost to the ground, Jack braced himself to fall into a run as the gust of wind carrying him suddenly vanished, dropping him into the fresh snow.
With far too much momentum to smoothly land into a run, the Guardian of Fun quickly tripped over his feet, diving into a roll as he crashed into the snow-covered ground with a crunch.
For a few moments, Jack Frost lay on his back in the snow, gasping for breath with a goofy grin on his face and staring up into the December-bare trees and the clear blue sky beyond. His heart was pounding, racing faster that it had for a LONG time—and, before he'd even caught his breath, a cluster of leaves suddenly swirled into his vision, pausing over his face.
Fwhoosh?
Jack nodded to indicate that he was okay. He smiled weakly.
"You're fun," he gasped.
The leaves began to lightheartedly dance around themselves in the air. Trembling, the Spirit of Winter pulled himself up by his staff and got onto his feet to then dizzily stumbled forward, nearly tripping in the drunken grapevine as he struggled to regain his sense of balance. Jack clapped his hand over his mouth, letting out another breathy laugh of disbelief as he looked down to the swirling leaves in awe.
I have GOT to come back here more often.
As the ringing sensation in his ears subsided, Jack Frost grinned, pulling his hand away from his face. Now, that—THAT was fun. He'd commanded the wind for forever, but now he was wondering if it might be more fun, every once in a while, to just let the wind do its thing. But this was special wind. And one of Elsa's friends, apparently. To which he—
FWOOOOM!
Jack startled out of the daze as the trees above him suddenly burst into flame, their oppressive heat bearing down upon him once again. Shaking himself as the leaves blew away, the Guardian of Fun shifted his fingers on the staff, remembering his entire purpose for coming to this forest in the first place.
He groaned inwardly as the salamander came scurrying down a tree trunk in front of him, its eyes narrowed in challenge. It chirped and scampered back and forth, glaring him down like a taunt before darting up into the flaming trees once again. Jack's teeth clicked together in frustration. The little jerk was trying to wear him out.
Standing on the forest floor, Jack was not at all surprised to see the trees around him burst into flame. Taking the obvious bait, he swept his staff over his head again, making them blow out. He had to play the salamander's stupid little game, until he thought of a better idea.
If this was a matter of endurance, then cornering the Fire Spirit might not actually do anything; he would just keep lighting everything up, and Jack would keep blowing it out. If he used ice, then he could freeze everything over, but that wasn't an option—and he wasn't sure about using fun magic, for the Fire Spirit.
He'd used fun magic on the Wind Spirit, no problem. The wind had attacked him, and he responded. Fair enough. But with the Fire Spirit, he was hoping to actually take the flame-spitting creature out of the Forest for an evening. Using magic to persuade the little guy to actually leave seemed sketchy at best—and he didn't even want to think of how Elsa would react, if she took it the wrong way.
But MANNY, fun magic was tempting. More and more jets of flames shot across the ground, igniting the forest around them as Jack spun his staff back and forth, sending blast after frantic blast of wind to extinguish each one. The December snow had by now completely vanished all around them, exposed dead underbrush appearing, damp for a few moments before drying in the intense and exhausting heat.
Without resorting to using ice magic, Jack knew that he couldn't keep this up much longer.
In frustration, the Spirit of Winter stopped fighting, drawing himself up. He pulled in his breath, shifting into a purely defensive position while holding the staff and letting the flames burn.
"I JUST WANT TO TALK!"
The fire ripped into a circle, forming a ring of flames all around him on the ground. The Guardian's knuckles went white on the staff, his shoulders tensing as his heart rate jumped.
"WILL YOU JUST LET ME EXPLAIN?" he yelled over the flames, glancing frantically around and trying to locate the salamander, "I'M HERE BECAUSE I NEED YOUR HELP, OKAY? LET ME EXPLAIN!"
The circle of fire was getting smaller, collapsing in closer and closer around him as the crackling sound became nearly deafening. Jack's entire body was beginning to feel drained, his head swimming from the suffocating heat as he could barely make out the sight of the Fire Spirit standing on a rock just beyond the edge of the flames, watching him with narrowed eyes.
Gathering every ounce of his courage he possessed, Jack coughed into his arm, his eyes squeezed nearly shut.
"It's for ELSA!"
And something in the air went still.
The fire somehow seemed to pause as well, still burning, but not inching any closer to Jack. Coughing weakly again, the Spirit of Winter could start to see black spots in his vision, but drew himself up.
"I wasn't wanting to talk about it," Jack squeaked out, his voice hoarse, "Or really tell anyone, yet, or—look. I'm a winter spirit, I'm really, really in love with Queen Elsa, and if I don't get her to see that by tonight, I might lose her forever."
For a long moment, Jack stood in the circle of fire, seeing the shadowy outline of the mythical Fire Spirit watching him through the flames. Coughing, he hunched forward to place his palms onto his thighs, barely able to stay standing as he leaned into them.
Fwwwoosh!
The fifteen-foot tall wall of flame around him leapt into the air, extinguishing almost completely as the vast majority of the fire went dancing up into the tree branches and extinguishing into twisting twirls and ribbons above Jack's head. Despite the remaining foot or so of fire still burning around him on the forest floor, threatening to reignite, the Forest went comparatively still again.
Relieved at the chill of the December air sweeping around his body, Jack Frost heaved another cough. In amazement, he then looked up to realize that the Fire Spirit was still standing on the rock outside the fire circle from earlier, some fifteen feet away, watching his movements.
The winter spirit and the fire spirit stared into each other's eyes in silence for a long moment, the magical flames crackling between them in the underbrush and once again setting the hair on the back of Jack's neck on end. His strength beginning to return despite the smoldering fire circle, he shoved his fingers into his hair, his face tight with anxiety.
"And I have this setup—everything's ready," Jack choked, gazing with pleading into the Fire Spirit's eyes, "But it's got a lot of candles, and I can't light them all at once by myself, and I need this date to be blasting magical, okay?"
The salamander's eyes were still slits.
Fwissssssh.
The ring of fire around him blew out completely, leaving Jack Frost standing in the middle of a thick circle of blackened underbrush. He let out a sigh of relief and gave the Fire Spirit a grateful nod, walking to the edge of the burned brush and stopping, leaving a five-foot space between himself and the Fire Spirit's rock.
The salamander's pupils began to dilate, the dark and threatening slits beginning to round out into a slightly more rounded shape. Seeing it, the Guardian started to move another tiny step towards him, t—
FOOM!
"HSSS!" the Fire Spirit spat as his back burst into flame, his pupils suddenly threatening slits once again.
The Spirit of Winter froze in his tracks, his eyes wide. Looking at the salamander's expression, he gulped, holding completely still and restraining from shoving his free hand into his hair again.
He knew what he had to do.
This had better be worth it, Jack thought.
Holding his breath, the Guardian carefully lowered himself down into a crouching position, not taking his eyes off of the salamander. Gathering his courage, he then slowly stretched his arm out behind his body, holding his staff a few inches over the ground.
He dropped the shepherd's crook, his weapon landing with a soft crunch in the underbrush.
The Fire Spirit's eyes widened, his pupils dilating into full circles as he stretched his neck the slightest bit forward in curiosity. The Guardian of Childhood nodded, moving his right leg back and lowering himself down onto one knee, and then the other, as he got onto the ground.
If experience and observation had taught Jack anything about de-escalation with someone small, it was to get on their level.
Finally, the Spirit of Winter placed his palms flat into the underbrush. With the Fire Spirit watching in surprise, Jack lowered himself onto his stomach, propped up only by his elbows.
"See?" Jack whispered, shaking his head, "Not gonna hurt you. I just want to talk."
The Fire Spirit simply stared at him in wonder.
Voices were approaching. The fire around them in the grove of trees had completely died down, but Jack felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end again, sensing the Northuldra's approaching presence.
"There isn't much time. But here's the thing," Jack whispered, the choked confession tumbling out at all once, "I—really love Elsa. I just think she's amazing, and—and I'm pretty sure she likes me, too."
He pleadingly stared into the Fire Spirit's eyes, hearing the crackling of underbrush being trampled under human feet behind them them in the forest.
"And we're both winter spirits," he added with a nervous laugh, "And—well, there aren't a lot of those just hanging around, you know? I'm never getting a chance like this again, and—honestly, neither is she. Because, I'm pretty sure she likes me. You see?"
The little salamander's eyes narrowed with skepticism.
"Proof," Jack sighed, kneading his eyebrow with his left hand, "You want proof that I'm—okay."
He army-crawled forward on his elbows, the underbrush gently crunching beneath him as he came up to the Fire Spirit's rock, stopping within a body's length of the salamander. Glancing back towards the people behind them—now probably only thirty feet away—Jack gulped. Letting out his breath, he then shook his head, looking back to the Fire Spirit and turning over his palm.
A single, glistening snowflake materialized in the air over it, turning slowly and catching the light. It was only a few millimeters in height, but Jack hoped it would be enough.
The Fire Spirit's eyes widened again, staring at the snowflake. Taking this as confirmation, Jack's heart leapt.
"Winter spirit guy," he explained carefully, closing his hand and making the snowflake disintegrate, "Loves winter spirit girl. And I'm not expecting you to help me, because we just met, but—for Elsa?"
The salamander was clearly considering the offer. Jack reached up towards him, keeping his movements and slow and deliberate as he could as he once again placed his open hand face-up on the surface of the stone.
"I'll have you back to the Enchanted Forest by tonight," he added on a whisper.
"Hey, Honeymaren?" asked a voice, "What do you make of this?"
Jack Frost glanced back in the voice's direction, his heart rate jumping as he realized that the young man from earlier—Ryder?—was now standing about forty feet away from him, pointing at the base of a tree near where Jack had touched down with the Wind Spirit. Now toting a spear once again, the young woman from earlier stepped forward out of the group, jogging over to where the young man was pointing at the disturbed underbrush. Honeymaren then bent down, gingerly touching the ground.
"Something fell here," she said after a long moment, gesturing at where he had crash-landed, "And… then struggled to get up. It happened in the last few minutes; the snow here would have had to have already been melted by the Fire Spirit for the underbrush to be disturbed like this…"
Jack's heart jumped into his throat. The girl was a tracker.
Of course she was.
"Okay—um," Jack whispered, anxiously looking back to the salamander, "I'm gonna need a decision fast, little guy."
At some point, they were going to notice that the nearby blackened underbrush was actually in the shape of a giant ring. The Fire Spirit glanced in the direction of the Northuldra people behind them, where the young woman with the spear was intensely studying the underbrush. Then—looking back to Jack's hand—the salamander's face broke into a wide grin, and he chirped, bouncing into the Spirit of Winter's palm and settling into its freezing new nest with a purr.
Jack let out all the breath he had been holding in in relief. Smiling, he bit the edge of his lip, and—
From behind him, Jack Frost suddenly heard everything go eerily still.
"Footprints?"
Jack's eyes widened. Yep. Right.
Time to go.
Getting back up onto the balls of his feet as carefully as he could, trying not to disturb the underbrush in the silence, the Spirit of Winter then placed his free hand onto his thigh and pushed himself up. Reaching back with his foot, he then eased his toes under the staff and kicked into the air, catching it with his opposite hand.
"You good with wind, little fella?" he breathed, lifting the salamander onto his shoulder.
The Fire Spirit chirped in excitement, dancing on its feet for a moment before settling into the edge of his hood. As Honeymaren slowly looked up in their direction—her eyes narrowing, like she was trying to make out something she couldn't quite see—Jack Frost then launched into the air, shooting into the sky as the people below cried out and started yelling to each other in confusion and protest, seeing their mischievous Fire Spirit soaring upwards and out of sight.
.
.
.
"We have to start it at some point, Elsa," Queen Anna said quietly.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, the Fifth Spirit looked down to her feet, her hands tightly clasped together in front of her skirt. Her expression drawn, she then reluctantly glanced up over the crowded ballroom towards the clock on the far wall.
"You're right," Elsa choked. "But I—I was thinking that, if we waited just a few more minutes, that—!"
She let her voice trail off, feeling her cheeks reddening.
As if reading her mind, the enormously pregnant young queen took a tiny step towards her, reaching out her hand. Elsa unclasped her own, gratefully taking her little sister's as Anna gave her a warm, reassuring squeeze.
"He'll be here," she whispered. "You told me that even he was expecting that he might be late. And that he told you so."
"I know. I just—I was just hoping—!"
Queen Elsa swallowed again. Then, giving herself a shake, she drew herself up. She would believe in Jack. He WAS going to show up, just like he'd promised.
He was.
Feeling herself slipping right back into the controlled calm of royal procedure, the Snow Queen's spine naturally straightened of its own accord. "You're right, Anna," she stated, the half-smile of the Queen Face on her features. "These people have waited for long enough. It's time for the Christmas Eve Ball to begin."