7: REAL
Elsa could feel the unwelcome brightness of the morning sunlight on her eyelids long before she opened them, the weight of exhaustion pounding against the inside of her forehead. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned slightly in the covers, trying to place the inexplicable trepidation clouding her mind.
Oh… right. It was today.
Feeling strangely constricted in her stomach, the young queen reluctantly drug herself back into consciousness, fighting against the sweeping feeling of dread rushing through her body as she sat up. The housing reform. Oh, dear, that housing reform. This was going to be unpleasant…
Elsa groaned, sliding her fingers into her hair. It was strangely light, for being so early. If she wasn't up and about by eight o'clock, the guards were instructed to get a maid to come in and wake her, and she hadn't heard any such thing. The meeting was at ten. If it wasn't yet eight, then it meant that she had a couple of hours to prepare herself, before—
"But SOFT!"
GAUGH!
Elsa jolted, whipping her head around to locate the source of the sound.
"What light through yonder window breaks!" the voice laughed as she looked up, "It is the east! And your finally, FINALLY being up, is the sun…"
On the other side of her bedroom, hovering up by her ceiling, a gangly, white-haired young man was floating upside-down in an icy jail cell. Effortlessly hanging from a gnarled shepherd's crook by his knees, he reached forward to touch the frozen wall in front of his face, casually drawing in the frost with his pointer finger.
He sucked in a long breath, pressing his chin in towards his neck.
"Arise, fair sleepy person, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief," he finished dramatically, thwapping his hand over his heart, "That thou, her maid, art more fair than she…"
He reached forward again and swept his hand over the frost, and a cluster of snowflakes burst out from underneath his fingertips, catching the sunlight as they fell. Without righting himself, the young man grinned, turning and looking at her.
"Morning, Snowflake," he chuckled.
Elsa's heart leapt into her throat, her eyes bulging as the memories came flooding back into her mind. Ripping back the covers, she looked down to her stomach and realized with horror that she was fully dressed, wearing a hastily-formed blue gown made of ice.
"I hope you're not expecting any more than that," the boy laughed, making her jump again. "Because that's all I've got. Bunny would've thrown something at me by now."
"But you—you—!"
"—Also, I do not recommend picking a fight with The Moon."
"I—!"
Blood rushing to her face, Elsa shook her head, dropping the edge of the blanket. Frantically twisting around, she flipped over and reached for her nightstand, snatching up the elegant ice rose and staring at it in shock. It was real—the cold, smooth ice was leaving its characteristic chill against her fingers as she held it, the crystalline rose every bit as elegant and perfect as it was in the dream.
It was real.
It. Was. REAL.
"But—b-but you—!" Elsa choked.
She snapped her head up helplessly, staring at the young man in the jail cell with horror. Still hanging from the floating staff, he raised his eyebrows.
"I'm still here?" he offered.
Elsa said nothing, but blushed furiously, leaning over and gingerly placing the ice rose back on her nightstand. The young man laughed again, turning back to the wall as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
"It's good to sleep in sometimes. You obviously needed it," he said casually. "I'm glad you're up, though. I was about to start chucking snowballs at you to see if you were still alive."
"Sleep in?" Elsa asked quizzically, "What are you talking about? If I'd slept past eight, a maid would have come and woken me."
"Oh, is that who that was?"
She jolted. "Wait, what?"
"Well—a while ago, somebody was trying to get in," the young man admitted, still hanging upside-down from the staff, "But they couldn't get through the ice."
Her face went pale. "I overslept?" Elsa gasped.
"I guess. I was wondering if I should try to get you up, but you looked really tired, so—"
"—I OVERSLEPT!?"
Before he could respond, Elsa was leaping from the bed, scrambling onto her feet and sprinting for the art gallery. Oh, no. Ooooh, no, no, no, no, NO; this was not happening!
Rounding the corner of the doorframe, she whipped around, running over to her desk. Good. Yes. There it was. The file. The housing reform file. Everything ready to go. Oh, thank heavens she'd put it together the night before…
Snatching up the folder, Elsa whirled back, picking up the edge of her skirt and running for the bedroom. Scrambling around the corner of the doorframe again, she ran over to the dresser, slapping the file down onto its surface and looking to the jail cell.
"Do you know what time it is?" she blurted.
"Uh, daytime?"
"Helpful."
Sprinting back across the room, she burst into the art gallery, running for the desk.
Reaching it, Elsa frantically shuffled through the papers, shoving the in-progress ice statue to the side. It was here somewhere—her father's old pocketwatch, left behind when he had boarded the ship almost four years ago, that had become her personal clock in this secret study.
Yanking open the drawer and picking up a stray envelope, a glint of gold caught Elsa's eye.
Jolting, she reached into the drawer for the chain, carefully pulling up the little watch. The morning sunlight glinting off its face, she squinted. Nine forty-seven.
Thirteen minutes until the meeting.
Oh, thank heavens.
Replacing it by the envelopes, Elsa shoved the drawer in and turned around, closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. Pushing herself off from the desk, she then shakily pulled in her breath, her head reeling as her mind began to catch up with her racing heart.
Thirteen minutes. If she changed in two minutes, did her hair in three minutes, spent thirty seconds freshening up the previous day's makeup, and skipped breakfast entirely, there was still enough time to get to the Council. She would get to the Council, introduce the reform, have the Councilmen inevitably try to rip it apart, calmly destroy their arguments, and then push it through, after which point she would reward herself by spending the rest of the day with Anna, and eating massive quantities of chocolate to calm down. She would be calm. She would be calm, and it would be fine, because she was the Snow Queen. There was still enough time to get ready. The file had been prepared the night before. Everything was in line for the reform.
Jack Frost was in her room.
The realization hitting her again, Elsa felt a wave of nausea sweep over her body, followed by panic. Jack Frost was in her room. HOW WAS JACK FROST IN HER ROOM?!
In a jail cell.
Built of ice.
Oh, the irony. Elsa's head started swimming again, and she collapsed back against the desk, clapping her hand to her forehead.
Wait. Slow down, she thought desperately, mentally scolding herself and trying to pull in a deep breath, You don't KNOW he's Jack Frost. He could still be just a really, really clever assassin.
Who can fly.
And has ice powers.
And perfectly fits every single credible description of Jack Frost you've ever read, except for the part about being breathtakingly handsome and HOUSING REFORM! FOCUS!
Shaking her head vigorously, as if trying to shake the thought from her mind, she jumped and determinately stomped forward, pulling her blue used-to-be-coronation ice gown off of its hanger. There, behind it, was her Spirit Dress.
Elsa paused for a moment, staring at it with longing. Oh, how she missed the Forest... but, no. She was here. She was the Acting Queen, she was in charge of Arendelle, and Anna and Arendelle's people needed. Her. Here. Her Spirit Dress would simply have to wait, just like everything else. Giving her head another shake, she gripped her blue dress, spinning around and pacing quickly back towards her room.
Stepping through the doorway, Elsa looked up and gasped.
All across her corner on the opposite side of the room, covering up the two solid walls in the cell and spilling out beyond the edges of the bars, was a delicate dusting of snow. Rising out of the snow itself were dozens and dozens of ice flowers; roses and lilies, sunflowers and morning glories, all sizes and varieties of flora, with their blooms reaching out from the wall in delicate, crystalline ice statues, as if they had been halfway-pulled up from the frosty drawings in a stunningly beautiful, elaborate mural of ice.
The Spirit of Winter was—doodling.
She crept forward in wonder, her eyes wide as she watched the white-haired young man, still hanging upside-down by the ceiling, pull his pointer finger back, finishing a traced-out etch of a petunia. Taking in a deep breath, he slowly reached for it, the dusting of frost shimmering as he gently pulled the drawing out from the wall. As the mist hovered before him, holding the shape of the flower, he guided a long breath of air across it.
The petals instantly hardened into solid ice, the blossom creaking and gleaming as it did so, joining the dozens of other intricate flowers reaching out of her wall. Noticing Elsa's jaw-dropped staring, the young man craned his head back, his white hair hanging as he looked to her. Color rising to his cheeks, he looked at Elsa.
And then back to the wall.
And then to Elsa again.
"I got bored," he said simply.
She said nothing, clutching her coronation gown to her chest and staring at him in awe.
After a few moments, he reached up, grasping his staff and slowly pulling himself over in the air.
"Uh..." he added, smiling sheepishly, "And—and girls like flowers. Right? So, I figured—"
"—That's bad for the wallpaper," Elsa blurted.
His mouth fell open in shock.
"Says the girl that froze the carpet?" the young man sputtered. "You froze the CARPET, and you're worried about the wallpaper?"
"My ice doesn't melt unless I want it to," she retorted. "It's different."
"Was that supposed to be an insult?"
"I—"
"—Because it sounded like an insult."
"I—!"
Elsa snapped her mouth shut, looking down to the dress in her arms and blushing furiously. That wasn't her ice, on the wall. And he—the young man—was definitely—floating. That was—it—the dream—well, if he wasn't Jack Frost, then—?
The young man in the jail cell was laughing softly under his breath, and Elsa jolted back into focus. His eyes playful, he smiled good-naturedly, snatching the staff out from under his thighs and tumbling forward through the air to land silently on the ice-covered carpet below. Spinning around to face her as he swung his shepherd's crook behind his back and caught it, the white-haired young man walked towards the bars.
"You're wondering if you kissed me," he chuckled.
Elsa's heart leapt into her throat.
Fighting back the heat rushing to her face, she regally drew herself up. "Why on earth would I wonder that?" Elsa scoffed.
"Because you did?"
She froze.
Shrinking from the boy's piercing gaze, Elsa readjusted her grip on the dress, clutching it tightly to her chest and looking down to her feet.
"You have no proof of that," she stammered.
"Actually…"
Reaching his left hand across, the young man pushed up his opposite sleeve, then making a fist and turning his forearm around to her. Her throat tightening with shock, Elsa realized that a long, shimmering, deep crimson mark was smeared across his pale skin, like he had wiped his forearm across his mouth, and had rubbed off…
Lipstick.
Oh, no.
Blushing furiously, Elsa stumbled back a step, her mouth falling slightly open with shock. The young man raised his eyebrows again, glancing to his arm, and then flirtatiously peering back at her through his eyelashes.
"I wouldn't have wiped it off," he grinned. "But I kind of wanted to keep it. You know—as proof?"
"Well—maybe it's not," Elsa squeaked. "It could be a bruise."
"A sparkly bruise?"
"It could happen."
"Really."
"It could!"
He laughed, then grinning flirtatiously at her again, glancing to her lips before looking back into her eyes. "Well, ma'am," he said casually, "If you're not convinced, you could give me another sample for color comparison, and—"
"—Ugh!"
Elsa abruptly whirled away from him, shaking her head and pacing harshly across the room with the dress. The sharp sting of humiliation in her throat, she threw the gown onto her bedspread, taking a few steps back and starting to reach to her stomach to melt the one she was wearing.
Suddenly remembering the young man in the jail cell, she paused, turning around to face him. Setting her jaw, Elsa stomped on the ground, pulling her arms into the air.
Rumble rumble rumble.
A tall, thick wall of ice rose up in front of her. Nodding curtly, Elsa turned around and reached for the dress she was wearing.
There was a snort from the other side of the room divider.
"You could have just asked me not to look," he scoffed.
Feeling the familiar sensation of the ice of her current dress flying off her body, a shimmering mist in the morning light as it disintegrated, Elsa scoffed.
"I don't know what it's like where you're from," she retorted coldly, "But in my kingdom, it's seen as poor taste for a lady to change clothes in front of a man she's known for under twelve hours."
"Touché."
Picking up the gown on her bed, Elsa carefully drew her finger down the front of its bodice, melting a long slash into the icy fabric, and then stepping into it, pulling the dress up over her hips. She could have simply made a new one, but this was her coronation gown—or, at least, it was, before she'd turned it into ice. She had briefly changed it two summers ago for Anna's birthday party, but nostalgia had gotten the better of her, and she'd eventually reverted it to its original color and shape. it was still a bit over-the-top (everything from that time had been a little bit over-the-top), but Elsa had developed a habit of wearing it to all her important royal affairs. While she was back in the castle, it was her lucky dress, and the unusual events of the previous night were not going to change anything about the way she ran her kingdom.
Even if they did involve Jack Frost.
And—kissing him.
Apparently.
Pulling on her sleeve, Elsa felt heat rushing to her face. Ooooh, she could not believe that she had done that. When one was reinstated as The Queen, there were some things that one simply did not do, and awarding kisses to random scoundrels in the middle of the night was about ten of them. Even if Said Random Scoundrel was Jack Frost.
She paused.
I kissed Jack Frost?
Elsa's mouth fell open at the realization. As she slowly looked up, pulling on her other sleeve, a hint of a dreamy little smile tugged at the edge of her mouth.
Well—um—heh. That—that was actually kind of FOCUS, ELSA! FOCUS!
Jolting, she blushed, shaking her head vigorously and freezing the slit in the front of the dress back together. She didn't—know—he was Jack Frost. And she needed to concentrate. The Council. The housing reform. How much time had she wasted already?
STUPID girl! Elsa scolded herself desperately as she ran over to the mirror and dresser, Stupid, stupid, STUPID!
Ignoring the young man in the cell, she yanked out the top drawer, frantically shoving the irrelevant cosmetics to the side in search of her eyeshadow.
"Sheesh," he scoffed, "What's with all the rush?"
Finding her little brush, she ignored him. "I wasn't supposed to sleep in that long," Elsa snapped, reaching for a compact.
"You're exhausted!"
"I'M LATE!"
"Late for what?"
Setting her jaw and slamming down the brush, she whipped around to face him. "The revolution I'm supposed to be leading?!"
"Wait, wait, wait. A Queen—leading a revolution?" he laughed as Elsa angrily spun back around to shove the drawer in, "A little counter-productive, don't you think?"
"Okay. It's not really a revolution," she mumbled, flicking open the compact, "But—but it needs to happen. So, I'm making it happen."
"Making what happen?"
"That is none of your concern."
Elsa snatched up the little brush again, swirling it around in the lilac-colored power and beginning to sweep it onto her eyelids. "Did you really think," she scoffed, "That all it takes to make a queen spill her kingdom's secrets is for a handsome young man to break into her sleeping quarters, and ask her what they are? I don't think so."
Replacing the brush, she snapped the compact shut, setting it down on the dresser and looking back to the mirror to pull back her hair. As she did so, she glanced to the young man in the reflection.
He was grinning.
Her eyes narrowing, Elsa spun around, looking to the jail cell with her best rendition of the Royal Glare.
"What?" she snarled.
The Spirit of Winter raised his eyebrows.
"You think I'm handsome," he chuckled.
Elsa froze.
Her mouth falling open in shock, unable to will her vocal cords to function, she drew herself up. Just as she was about to speak, there was a knock.
She jolted, spinning around to the door. The knock came again.
"Elsa?" Anna's voice called out through the wood, "Elsa, are you up? Can I come in?"
Elsa gasped, running over to the door. Ignoring the boy in the jail cell next to her, she set her feet, closing her eyes in concentration and holding out her arms.
Anna, she thought, slowly pulling in her breath. I love Anna… come to me, sweet, beautiful snow… let me see Anna…
"WHOA!"
Without opening her eyes, Elsa could hear the young man in the cell gasp in shock as the thick layers of ice and snow over the door began to lift away, disintegrating and swirling towards her in long, elegant spirals of frost. After a few moments, feeling the air around her dropping in temperature in the cloud of ice particles, Elsa slowly opened her eyes, looking up as she pulled her hands together.
After a brief pause, the frost compressing into a thin, delicate snowflake spinning across her ceiling, Elsa sighed, throwing her hands apart again and letting it melt into the air, disintegrating into a shimmering mist.
"Sweet… MOTHER of…!" the young man in the cell breathed, staring with disbelief at the ceiling where she'd melted the snow. Without even pausing to look at him, Elsa ran forward to the door, throwing back the bolt and pulling it open.
"Anna!" she exclaimed, leaping to catch her sister as she lurched forward, thrown off balance by her enormously pregnant stomach.
"Thank goodness you're awake!" Queen Anna sputtered, gasping for breath as she righted herself. "Your meeting starts in, what? Ten minutes? They said the door was frozen shut!"
"I know. And, it was," Elsa said quickly, "I was just about to—"
"—So I got you breakfast," Anna interrupted, shoving her a roll.
"Oh, my word. Thank you!"
Elsa took it, letting out her breath as she took a step back. Holding her stomach, the pregnant queen lurched forward another two steps into the room.
"I'm just glad you're awake," she exclaimed, "I was beginning to get worried about you. When I didn't see you come to breakfast, and—what. Is. THAT?"
Her eyes widened, and Elsa looked up from the roll, finishing chewing a bite and swallowing it. Standing in front of the jail cell, Anna was staring straight through the icy bars, her jaw dropped in horror.
Elsa's face went pale.
"I—!" she squeaked, her voice shaking, "But—Anna, I—I can explain—!"
"—Wait," Jack asked, an excited little grin sweeping over his face, "Can—can she see me too?"
He jumped up, walking straight up to the gawking, redheaded queen and coming to a stop right in front of her. "It's because you're sisters, right?" he asked eagerly, sticking his hand out through the bars, "Elsa told you about me, right? I…"
Anna, still staring into the jail cell in horror, didn't respond. Elsa watched as Jack Frost—his voice trailing off—slowly lowered his hand.
"Yeah," he mumbled. "Didn't think so."
Elsa stared.
"Well. I guess you can relax, Snowflake," Jack sighed, turning away and walking towards the back of the cell as Elsa jumped. "You don't have to explain why there's a guy in your room."
Before she could respond, he bounced into the air. Whipping the shepherd's crook around his feet, Jack Frost suddenly swept a large snowbank into existence on the floor of the cell, and Anna gasped, spinning around to Elsa with bulging eyes.
Elsa's heart leapt into her throat.
"I—did that," she stammered.
CRUNCH.
Jack Frost had flipped forward in the air, landing in the snowbank.
"And I did that, too," Elsa choked.
A look of horror at the sudden indentation swept over Anna's face. Turning to her sister, Elsa stepped in front of the bars, blocking the apparently-invisible young man from view.
"It's—an art project," Elsa improvised.
From behind the snowbank, there was a snort.
"It looks like…" Anna breathed, staring into Elsa's eyes, "A… jail cell."
"THAT'S BECAUSE IT IS ONE," the snowbank yelled.
"I'm—experimenting," Elsa stammered, drawing herself up, "With—long distance—snowdrift formation, and—mental—powers—stuff. As a scientific thing. I'm using the jail cell as part of the project to, uh, test my abilities to think ice into existence, and, not around me, in enclosed spaces so that I can better understand the and now it is snowing."
BOOM.
There was a crash of thunder, and Elsa looked up in paralyzed horror as the stormclouds spilled out from the jail cell, rolling across the ceiling of her bedroom. Lounging back in the snowdrift and rolling the shepherd's crook on his toes as he held his feet in the air, Jack Frost shrugged.
"No, no. You can keep going," he chuckled. "Keep trying to come up with explanations of how you can take credit for this. It's entertaining."
Her fists clenched, Elsa stared at the floor, blood rushing to her face as Jack Frost's snow began to pile up around her.
"I hate you," she whispered.
"Wait, what?"
"NO! Not you!" Elsa blurted, spinning back around to Anna, who was staring at her in hurt confusion, "Him! I mean—um—him—referring to—my subconscious. That I'm characterizing as male. Because—uh, because reasons, and—!"
Anna was staring at her in confusion.
"I'm really stressed out right now," Elsa squeaked.
"Oh. Right."
Anna smiled weakly, beginning to back away towards the door again. Elsa bit her lip, following.
"I'm sorry, Anna," she choked, "It's just—my brain—the meeting. Reform thing. I mean, it's really—"
"—It's okay," her sister giggled softly, stepping to the side as Elsa opened the door and let her pass through, "I understand. But you'll meet me after, right? And tell me how it goes?"
"Yes. Sure. Of course."
Elsa paused.
"Wait," she asked, "Um… meet you after what?"
"Your meeting?"
"OH! Right! Right…"
Pausing in the doorway, Queen Anna turned around, putting her hand on Elsa's shoulder and looking into her eyes.
"Elsa," she whispered, "You're going to do great. I'm sure you'll be able to get it through. But I'm—worried about you."
"Worried about me?" Elsa repeated, "Why? I have all the data and the calculations, and the numbers all clearly indicate that—"
"—That's not what I mean, sissy. I mean, you," Anna said softly. "I appreciate what you're doing for me. Really. Keeping the Council in check, and everything, and all of our stuff you're trying to push through before I come back, but—"
The pregnant queen pulled in her breath, her mouth twisted to the side as she tried to decide what to say.
"Elsa... in two weeks, it's Christmas," Anna pressed, "Even the Council takes a break at Christmas. You don't have to be working ALL the time."
"Hey! Snowflake!" the young man stage-whispered, "Listen to your sister!"
Fwoom!
Elsa calmly pulled her hand back as the pile of powder dropped on his head, burying him in snow. As he coughed and sputtered, thrashing his way out of the snowdrift, she looked back to Anna.
"Part of the art project," she shrugged. "Because art projects are supposed to be silent. And I promise, I'll take a break as SOON as the Council is taken care of."
"You promise?"
Elsa nodded, biting her lip and drumming her fingers on the edge of the door. Anna smiled reassuringly, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
"You can do this," Anna tried again, letting go and backing into the hallway. "And I'll see you after. I love you!"
To this, Elsa smiled weakly, gratefully looking up into her sister's eyes. "Thanks, Anna," she whispered. "I love you, too."
Click.
She pushed the door closed. Leaning her forehead against the painted wood, Elsa let out her breath, running her fingers over the knob. Then, pulling herself up, she turned around to the icy jail cell again.
The white-haired young man, having crawled out of the fresh powder, was now lying in the snowdrift once again and watching her. As she turned around to face him, he smirked.
"OoOOooOoooh," Jack Frost warbled under his breath, "The weather outside is friiiightful…"
"That was not funny," Elsa choked.
The young man let out a sharp bark of laughter, craning his head back to look at her from the snowbank. "Really?" he chuckled, picking up the staff and effortlessly leaping onto his feet, "Because, I thought it was hilarious."
Elsa blushed furiously. Scoffing and turning away from him, paced quickly across the room to her dresser, her long capelet billowing across the carpet behind her. Snatching up the file, she frantically pulled back its cover, her eyes falling onto the top paper.
ARENDELLE HOUSING REFORM
"You know what you need?" the young man laughed, walking towards the front of the jail cell as Elsa anxiously flipped through the papers, "You need to learn how to relax."
"I am relaxed."
Check, check, check, check, Elsa thought, glancing over the titles, Benefits, timeline, projected cost sheet, building company comparison…
He scoffed again. "Speaking as the professional fun-haver, here—"
"—With all due respect," Elsa snapped, walking towards the door with the file as she kept quickly sifting through the papers, "I still don't consider that particular self-proclaimed credential of yours to be a credible one. Therefore, until such a time as you can prove that you are who you say you are, I'm afraid that I will be continuing to call the shots on what is, and is not, fun."
She looked up from the file, raising her eyebrows. After a moment of staring at her in confusion, trying to process the statement, the young man jumped, his eyes bulging.
"YOU STILL DON'T BELIEVE I'M JACK FROST?!" he sputtered.
"Until such a time as you can—"
"—WHAT'S IT GONNA TAKE, PRINCESS?!"
"My being awake, and not distracted," she said matter-of-factly. "This meeting shouldn't last for more than a couple of hours. You can continue to convince me then. And I'm a queen, for the record."
"I just made it snow!" he protested. "In. Your ROOM!"
"I could have done it by accident. Subconsciously."
"How about the flying?"
"Could be a trick."
"And the wind?"
"A window could have opened without my knowledge."
"My shirt has ice on it."
"I could have done that, too."
"WHY—"
"—Because," Elsa said forcefully, "Given the currently distracted state of my brain, it is still completely possible that you are, indeed, a product of my lack of sleep and overactive imagination!"
She nodded determinately, setting her jaw and snapping the file shut. The young man glared.
"Or… I'm Jack Frost," he said slowly. "Why are you so set on the subconscious thing?"
Elsa drew herself up. "Because there is a perfectly logical explanation for all of this," she stammered angrily, "For—for you, and the snow, and the snowstorm, and this all happening on the day of reform, that probably stems from my stressed-out, revolution-preoccupied BRAIN; a logical reason for this all happening, that does not involve having my adolescent fictional character crush magically SHOW UP in my bedroom in the middle of the night to make fun of me in front of my sister!"
The young man in the cell raised his eyebrows.
"Uh…" he grinned, "Did you say, crush?"
"No."
Elsa bit down hard on her lip, whirling around and pacing across the room to her dresser, snatching up the file. She spun back to face him, hugging it to her chest.
"Now. If you'll excuse me," Elsa said coldly, "I have a reform to run."
She turned away, sweeping across the room, clutching the file as her long, sparkling capelet billowed across the carpet behind her. Leaping over the snowbank, the young man ran to the front of the cage, grabbing the bars.
"And if I were Jack Frost," he sputtered, "Would you still be keeping me here?"
Elsa paused.
Slowly turning back to face him, she looked into his intelligent, piercingly blue eyes for a long moment, the white-haired young man staring at her through the bars of the icy jail cell.
A hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of her mouth, Elsa dropped her voice to a whisper.
"If you were Jack Frost…" she laughed softly, "I don't think I'd ever release you."
His mouth fell open. Before he could protest, however, the Snow Queen was throwing open her door, stepping out into the hallway and whisking her capelet through after her.