AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you thank you THANK YOU for everyone that's given me reviews! Especially on the last chapter-yeah, I really needed that. Despite the fact that some people didn't really get that it was a SATIRE (simplified definition: A JOKE), I was overwhelmed by the support. As I expected, the Fan/Troll that inspired it didn't mean to troll me at all, and even wrote a lovely note to apologize. His name is Adam, and he is nice. Say hello, Adam!

ADAM: Uh… hello?

Thank you! See? And we're ALL FRANDS AGAN. (Thanks for NOT being a troll, Adam! And, I'm sure you're not an idiot, even though you said so in your LOVELY apology.) ;)

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual innuendo, as usual

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43: ONCE A SHEPHERD

It was a bit more difficult to work, with Jack's arm around her waist as they sat side-by-side on the bench, but Elsa quickly found that a strange comfort accompanied his touch. Every once in a while, feeling the chill of his arm shifting on her back, she would jolt, remembering who she was sitting with. Even through the fabric of his dark blue shirt, Jack was ice cold.

Not that the cold had ever bothered her.

After three hundred years, he needed to touch someone. Of course, Elsa knew that she didn't owe Jack anything, and she certainly wasn't obligated to let him touch her. If she didn't sort of like it, she wouldn't have let him stay so close to her at all. But, enjoying the strange new feeling as she did, Elsa was more than happy to sit and study with Jack's arm around her waist, if it apparently meant so much to him. Showing any kind of affection out of pity was a horrible idea, but Elsa didn't pity Jack. No—no, it wasn't like that, at all. Frankly, she admired him more than she was ready to admit, and—as his friend—she wanted to make sure that he knew (really knew) that someone was there, and someone believed in him, and would never stop believing in him again. After all, that kind of thing was the whole point of friendship—right? Making the other person happy?

Friendship felt absolutely wonderful.

Elsa snuck another glance at the pale young man beside her on the bench as she turned a page of the record. Jack was right—the criminal cases, as opposed to the family cases, were infinitely more promising, despite the fact that they still hadn't found any directly relevant law references. Yes: a reform was definitely in order. Just another thing on the reinstated Queen Elsa's increasingly-long Political To-Do List. And, without Jack, she wouldn't have even been aware that the problem existed.

Elsa felt his right arm move off of her stomach, his left giving her a slight squeeze as he reached and turned a page of his own volume. Sensing him turning to look at her, she quickly glanced back to the court record in front of her, fighting the blood rising to her face. Why hadn't he said anything about these records earlier? She would have been looking in the entirely wrong place. And who knows for how much longer.

He had to be brilliant, too?

Her heart leapt again as the Spirit of Winter silently wrapped his other arm back around her waist, pulling her up next to him on the bench again. It was a little harder to work this way, but if all she could offer him was the chance to touch someone—well.

Small sacrifice.

"What are you thinking, Elsa?"

She jolted. Nervously turning and looking to him—her face only a few inches from his own—Elsa shifted, suddenly aware of how close he was to her.

How very. Very. Close to her.

"I—um," she stammered, looking up, "I was just thinking—the snowball fight…?"

Her voice trailed off. A look of concern swept across Jack's face, and he loosened his grip slightly.

"What about it?" he asked.

Elsa looked down, Jack's arm still on her waist. Shifting on the bench and drawing his hand across her back, he then turned around to face her. As he slid his hand down her arm, interlacing his fingers with hers, Elsa gulped her heart back down and forced herself to look into his eyes.

"Um—I—rules," she blurted. "I think we should establish some rules. You know, for future ones. So we won't—uh—"

"—Kill each other?"

"Right."

The Guardian laughed, giving her hand a squeeze. Seeing his smile, Elsa relaxed slightly on the bench, shaking her head.

"I mean," she added quickly, "If—if you were wanting to ever have another snowball fight."

"Who are you talking to?"

Elsa said nothing, shrugging slightly as more blood rushed to her face. Suddenly, Jack's eyes were right next to her own, and she jolted.

"I sup-p-pose that was a kind of silly qu-question," she choked.

"Of course I want to have more snowball fights," he whispered. "And, it's probably a good idea to establish some rules. I mean—most of the people I've had snowball fights with in the past aren't forming the snow as they throw it."

Jack straightened up again, letting go of her hand and standing up. "And besides," he laughed, shoving his volume of court records into the center of the table, "I think it's time for another break, anyway. My brain is melting from reading these conversations."

Elsa nodded. It was getting a bit exhausting.

"So," she said, getting onto her feet as well, "We're going to make this official?"

"I don't see why not."

She turned and began to walk away from the table, going for one of the long aisles of bookcases. Jack snatched up his staff, following after her.

"Where are we going, Elsa?"

"After all this time serving as the Queen of Arendelle, I've long-since learned that if it isn't written, it didn't happen," Elsa said matter-of-factly. "And I believe we need some parchment."

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"And no icicles."

"Definitely not."

Back at the table, the quill scratched quickly across the sheet of parchment as Jack Frost scribbled down another rule. He paused at the end of the line, brushing the quill's feather against his chin as he thoughtfully looked up, raising an eyebrow and turning to Elsa again.

"And, no hailstones, I'm guessing," he offered.

"That's probably for the best."

"How do you feel about height?"

A look of confusion swept over Elsa's face. She shifted on the bench. "Height?"

"You know," Jack said, "Uh—like, how far could I drop you, without you hurting anything?"

"Oh."

Elsa placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her fists and biting her lip in thought. Shrugging, she then looked back to him.

"The snow will always cushion it and everything," she said softly, "But—well, I suppose it probably shouldn't really ever be more than ten feet or so."

"That much?"

Elsa laughed, raising her eyebrows and looking to him. "Why are you so worried?"

He bit his lip, color rising to his cheeks. Hiding it, Jack let out a nervous laugh, picking up the quill and beginning to write down the new rule. "Let's just—let's just say that I have invested interest in your not getting hurt," he chuckled.

As he finished jotting it down, Jack looked back to Elsa and peered up at her through his eyelashes, a flirtatious little hint of a smile twitching out of the side of his mouth.

Elsa froze.

Snapping back into focus, she gave her head a vigorous shake, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and looking down. Clearing her throat, she pulled in a shaky breath.

"And—um," she choked, pointing to the piece of parchment, "And—and no pinning anybody down."

Jack let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head and starting to write it down. "What, no?" he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Gee, I thought you liked that, Snowflake!"

"Well, yes, but—!"

Elsa abruptly sucked in her breath, cutting herself off. She looked down at the table again, clasping her hands together and trying to not notice the eager little smile spreading across his face.

"Did you just say… what I think you just said?" Jack breathed.

"No."

He dropped the quill, leaning forward onto his elbow and resting his chin on his fist.

"You said you liked it," he chuckled.

"No, I—no, I didn't," she stammered desperately, shying away from him on the bench, "So, we need to make a rule against it. Write that down."

Jack's smile melted into a smirk.

"You. Liked it," he enunciated, raising a single eyebrow.

Elsa's throat tightened. "That is not what I—"

"—You liiiiiiiked it!"

Jack playfully wagged the quill's feather in her face, a teasing smile on the edge of his mouth. Elsa groaned in frustration, turning away from him and pushing herself up from the bench.

"I. Did. Not," Elsa insisted. "And—and besides. It isn't proper."

The Guardian of Fun raised his eyebrows. "With all due respect," he laughed softly, "I'm pretty sure that we passed proper a long time ago."

"Will you just write it down, already?"

Elsa drew herself up, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him her best Royal Glare. After a few moments, Jack Frost shook his head, picking up the quill again and turning back to the list of rules.

"And no—pinning—anybody—down," he muttered, reading aloud as the quill scratched across the parchment.

Elsa nodded curtly, her face grave as he looked up, raising his eyebrows in question. Staring intently into her eyes, Jack then pulled in a long, dramatic breath.

With Elsa watching in confusion, his face suddenly cracked into a mischievous grin, and Jack's head fell back down, the quill flying across the parchment in a frenzy of furious scribbling.

"ExceptForElsaBecauseSheENJOYSBeing—"

"—GIVE me that!"

The Snow Queen leapt forward, snatching the piece of parchment out of Jack's hands. Fighting the heat rushing to her face as he burst out laughing, she bit down hard on her lip, pulling the quill from his grip and turning away. She looked at the list.

"And your handwriting is atrocious," Elsa stammered angrily, looking for any excuse to change the subject. "What, were you raised in a barn?"

Jack paused, raising his eyebrows. Then, letting out his breath, he turned and picked up his shepherd's crook, holding it up. He looked back to Elsa.

"Yesssssss?" Jack chuckled, twirling the shepherd's crook between his fingers.

Elsa felt heat rushing to her face.

Oops.

"And, how about you? Your majesty?" Jack teased, a slight smirk on the edge of his mouth. "Were you raised in a barn?"

She bit her lip, sheepishly looking down and fidgeting with her fingers.

"I was raised in a castle," Elsa muttered.

"Well, there you go."

Drawing herself up, Elsa silently walked around the table, pulling out one of the wooden chairs across from him and pulling open one of the volumes of records. Wishing the she could disappear, or perhaps crawl into a hole, she sat down.

"If the class difference bothers you so much, then you should probably get a tighter grip on your security," Jack chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Because—well, my Queen, as of right now, it appears that they'll let any old commoner riff-raff into this place."

He winked, twirling the shepherd's crook on his fingers again. With Elsa watching in embarrassment, he then dropped it resolutely onto the table between them with a clatter.

"Jack—you know that class doesn't matter to me," Elsa choked, "And, besides. It doesn't count when the guards can't physically see you."

He let out a sharp bark of laughter, leaning across the table and snatching up the staff again. As he flipped over into the air, hovering in front of her while she determinately stared at the volume of court records, he tossed it to himself.

"Class doesn't matter, eh?" he laughed, flipping over again and touching down on the ground beside her as Elsa pushed herself out of the chair. "That's good to know. Because, I tell you, this castle is already getting downright boring."

"Is that so?"

"Maybe I could take you out again, sometime. You know, show you a slightly less sterilized world?"

She gave him a strange look. "Uh..." Elsa said, pointing to herself. "I'm the Fifth Spirit of the Enchanted Forest? I've been far away from Arendelle."

"I mean, the part of the world with a lot of people in it," he deadpanned.

"The Enchanted Forest has people! The Northuldra are wonderful."

"Mm-hmm. And, you said you actually interact with them, how often?"

The Fifth Spirit was abruptly uncomfortable.

"I try to not bother them too much," she whispered, hugging her arms over her stomach. "After the first few months, once they'd taught me how to survive, I just felt like... a burden."

"You're not a burden."

"I'm not very good at the things they can do. Hunting, and such," she admitted, "And the Spirits often need my full attention, now."

"So..." Jack started again, "You're... still isolating yourself. You could stop doing that, you know."

"But I don't know if that'd be such a good idea," Elsa admitted sheepishly. "Being around other people. Growing up in my room—I don't have much of an immune system. I mean, I never had a chance to develop one."

He shrugged. "We can fix that."

"I'm an adult now. It's different," she sighed. "I'd never even had a cold, before Anna's birthday two years ago. And now, if I'm not really careful, I get sick from the drop of a hat."

"Those darned infectious headpieces."

"I wish I were joking."

Jack laughed, shaking his head as Elsa turned around, closing the volume on the table. After a few moments, he took a step towards her, leaning around and looking into her eyes.

"It's a big world out there, Snowflake," he said quietly. "And I'm not talking politics. I mean, cultures, and lands, and kinds of people you might never really interact with. And trust me," he added, right as Elsa opened her mouth to protest, "You can't see it all from the window of a royal carriage. I—I could show you. I mean, if you let me."

Elsa fell silent. Taking her hand back from the book, she fidgeted with her fingers, then hesitantly looking into his gaze.

His eyes were so kind…

"I—that—um," she whispered, "That—sounds really nice. Actually."

To this, Jack smiled. "Maybe a former shepherd boy could teach you a few things," he said quietly.

He reached forward, starting to take her hand again. Jolting, Elsa pulled it away, letting out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, come ON!" Jack sputtered, his face flushing, "You know it's true, Snowflake!"

She giggled, turning to the table and heaving the volume of court records into her arms. "Jack—"

"As much as you have to teach me about politics, I could teach you about—oh, I don't know," he retorted, "Let's see—everything else?"

Elsa paused, slowly turning to him and raising an eyebrow. "Like, how to fling propriety out the window?"

He blushed. "Not really what I was thinking."

"Oh! Breaking and entering, then!"

"Wow."

Laughing, she then whirled back away from him, walking across the carpet to the bookshelf. On the ground by the old ladder, a now-short column of ice waited for its new load, and she swung the volume onto it. Taking a few steps back and pretending to not notice that Jack had followed her over, Elsa set her feet, preparing to raise the pillar of ice into the air. She pulled in a deep breath.

Ignoring Jack, and not noticing that he was silently moving the hook of his staff around her middle, the Fifth Spirit began to slowly raise her arms.

YANK.

"EEP!"

Something hard had suddenly jerked her back by her waist, and Elsa shrieked, tripping over her capelet and plummeting backwards. Before she knew what was happening, Jack caught her out of the shepherd's crook and whirled her body around, swinging the staff behind her. Catching the end of it with his other hand, he then jerked it forward, a tiny squeak escaping Elsa's lips as she lurched towards him, slamming into Jack's chest.

Helplessly trapped against him, Elsa gasped for breath and struggled to gather her senses. Looking down, she realized that she was hanging on for dear life to two white-knuckled fistfuls of navy blue fabric.

Blushing furiously, Elsa pulled in a long breath, willing herself to shakily let go of Jack's shirt. He raised his eyebrows, the flirtatious little smile twitching out of the side of his mouth again as she regained her footing.

"I could teach you how to use a shepherd's crook," he offered casually.

Elsa's breath caught, paralyzed as he peered at her through his eyelashes. Jack Frost's intelligent, snowflake-marked gaze was playful now, and she could feel him shift on his feet, readjusting his grip on the staff as he teasingly held her against him. Breaking eye contact, Elsa nervously looked down, her heart pounding as she found herself staring at the sparkling web of ice crystals on his shirt.

Heh.

"I—I'm p-pretty sure that's not how you usually use one," Elsa whispered.

Jack let out a sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head and shrugging. "Can't question the effectiveness, though," he laughed.

More heat rushing to her face, Elsa let out a nervous, breathy giggle. She looked up into his eyes again, and for the first time, she noticed that Jack was about one inch taller than she was.

And he was currently making the most of it.

The Fifth Spirit opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Giving her head a quick little shake, she pulled in a deep breath and tried again.

"Could—um," she squeaked, "Could—could you let me go now?"

Jack jolted and abruptly did so, releasing one end of the staff. As the staff swung to the side, breaking the circle that had held her against him, Elsa brushed herself off, straightening her dress as Jack backed away with his hands in the air.

"You—you have to admit, though," Jack laughed nervously, "I'm pretty good with a shepherd's crook. Right?"

"Yes, I'll grant you that."

Jack smiled sheepishly, a little blood rushing to his face as Elsa turned around, setting her feet and getting ready to raise the book on the pillar of ice again.

"Once a shepherd, always a shepherd, Snowflake," he said, walking up next to her. "In all those years of research, you never realized you were studying a peasant?"

Elsa paused. Lowering her arms and turning from the book, she looked back at him. "I don't see you that way," she said softly.

"What's wrong with being a peasant?" Jack demanded suddenly.

"Nothing!" she blurted. "I just—I—!"

He raised his eyebrows, staring at her expectantly. The Snow Queen bit her lip, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I don't like—classifying people." Elsa sighed. "I guess I just—well, I've had enough experience with the upper class to know that being in a certain class doesn't make a person—?"

Her voice trailed off as she searched for a word.

"Classy?" Jack offered.

"Right." Elsa shook her head. "I mean, take Kristoff. He sold ice, for a living. In this kingdom, that places him very firmly into the lower middle class. And he's one of the most incredible men I've ever known."

"Who then married a queen." Jack raised his eyebrows. "Who was previously engaged to—uh, an upper-class sociopath?"

Elsa grimaced, laughing bitterly. "That's a good description for him," she said. "Let's just say I'd take the Ice Man as a king any day."

"No kidding."

She laughed bitterly again. "That's what I mean, though. Your background, money, brains, talent… I mean, even a name," she said softly. "From what I've seen, it isn't what you're born with, that determines who you are. It's what you do with it."

He nodded slowly. "Um," Jack Frost added hesitantly, "Can—can we include cursed with?"

"Of course."

He exhaled, his face relaxing slightly. After a few moments, Elsa drew herself up again.

"Jack… can I ask you a personal question?"

He paused, looking to her in slight surprise. "Um… yeah," Jack shrugged, "Sure. What is it?"

"What's the hardest you've ever gone?"

Elsa crossed her arms tighter over her chest. A look of confusion swept over Jack's face.

"Hardest I've ever gone?" he asked, "What do you mean?"

"Um—with your powers. The snowball fight. It reminded me," she admitted. "Like—have you ever tried to use your powers to—hurt someone? Intentionally?"

His face went pale.

Jack bit his lip, staring at the ground for a moment and kicking at the carpet. Then, after a few moments, he gripped the staff, drawing himself up on it and pulling in a long breath.

Elsa's breath caught as Jack Frost stared directly into her eyes.

"Yes."