AUTHOR'S NOTE: If it looks like it's foreshadowing… and feels like it's foreshadowing… and reads like it's foreshadowing… and smells like it's foreshadowing…
It's probably foreshadowing.
And that's all I'm gonna say.;)
(I'm super-excited to post this one, because parts of this chapter have been written since October of 2015.)
OH, and by the way: My official "dreamcast" for the voice of our new OC, Prince Frederik, is Tom Hiddleson. Just so you know. ;)
To Guest Reviewers Golden Lily, Friend, Guest12345, Dezore, me, AHHH, Sabrina, and Dark Angel: I love you forever. Thank you for being adorable and awesome!
To Guest Reviewer DJ Omojola: IT HAS BEEN ONE MONTH; I PROMISE I'M WRITING AS FAST AS I CAN but thank you very much for your concern it means the world to me.
To Guest Reviewer Whoa Dude: It MIGHT be a symptom of depression, but as a general rule, I am discouraged with pretty much everything right now. I assure you, I am an equal-opportunity cynical pessimist. ?(Seriously, the reviews mean everything to me, and I'm super grateful for them!)
To Guest Reviewer Lexi1220: AAAAUGH SOMEBODY'S ASKING ME ABOUT MY DEGREE I GET TO GIVE UNSOLICITED ADVICE MWA HA HAAAAAAAA (*cracks knuckles*) (*pulls out box of files*) (*leans seductively across desk*). SO. My bachelor degree's PHYSICS classes included 4 semesters of "introductory" physics, and then upper-levels in Classical Mechanics, Classical Field Theory, Statistical Physics and Thermodynamics, Optics (physics of light), and two semesters each of upper-level Quantum Mechanics and Electrodynamics. We also were required to take a handful of one-credit (HAR!) lab classes in things like basic electronics and machining, along with getting some basic training classes in programming with Mathematica (YAY!), Matlab (BOO!), and C++ (ehhhhh… no opinion). Also, it should be noted that a physics undergrad, at least at my school, basically required a full Math Minor, which includes three levels of Calculus, Linear Algebra (vector stuff, basically), Differential Equations, and Pain I MEAN Proofs. With that in mind, it should be noted that you can easily do a complete Physics Minor with only the first couple levels of calculus. ALSO: If you're anything like me, then I know the math is scary, but don't let it scare you. Math has ALWAYS been my greatest weakness, academically (I'm way better building things, figuring out manufacturing techniques, visually analyzing things, etc.), but remember this: Mathematics is a language. Languages can be LEARNED.
CONTENT WARNING: A tiny bit of innuendo, aaaaand, I DO have a character say, "where in the devil are you" at one point. I'm pretty sure that's not swearing, but for the more conservative among my readers, I apologize in advance. Love you all, thanks for reading, and I hope you have a fantabulous day! :D
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64: PRINCE WONDERFUL
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Creeeeeak, click!
Jolting, Queen Anna jumped away from the bowl of chocolates, whipping her head around to the art gallery. Her heart leaping, she shoved one last truffle into her mouth and started to lurch as quickly as she could towards the door dividing Elsa's room from what had become Jack Frost's (SQUEE!). It had been exactly four hours, fifty-three minutes and eight seconds since she had seen her sister, and gosh darn it, for while the Snow Queen was actually BACK in the castle, that was WAY TOO LONG.
Because Elsa was going to tell. Her. EVERYTHING.
As she came up to the door between the rooms, Anna felt a gust of icy wind rush past her feet, the familiar feeling of cold confirming that her FAVORITE sister had returned. And going to SPILL, which she was SO excited about, because—
Wait.
"Elsa?"
An expression of confusion sweeping over her face, Anna held her pregnant stomach and bumbled forward towards her sister, the sudden, slight drop in temperature feeling—well, tighter than usual. Colder.
Unhappy.
Her breath catching, Queen Anna walked up to her. Elsa was standing, frozen, at her balcony door, with something glittering in her hair and her long capelet twisted around her feet on the floor. Suddenly, Anna realized that the Fifth Spirit was hunched over, her arms folded over her chest as she stared out, looking heartbroken, at the sky.
"Elsa?" Anna asked, her eyes wide, "What—what happened? Are you okay?"
Flurries of snow beginning to materialize out of the air around her, Elsa reluctantly turned and looked towards to her sister. As their eyes met, Queen Anna's lungs clenched with horror as she realized that Elsa's were brimming with tears.
"Elsa?"
Elsa hesitated.
Snowflakes falling all around them, Anna stumbled back a step as her incredible older sister—for the second time that day—fell into her open embrace and burst into tears.
.
.
Miserable didn't even BEGIN to cover it.
Having dropped Elsa off on her balcony and let her into her room, Jack Frost was now flying around the inner walls of the castle, furiously trying to track down which window belonged to Prince Frederik's sleeping quarters. This. Was. The worst. Not only was the beautiful Snow Queen of Arendelle NOT currently sitting on his lap and making out with him, like he was seriously thinking would be happening by this point, but she wouldn't be doing so again any time soon. And they definitely weren't talking about the possibility of marriage anymore. No, no… Elsa wasn't even his girlfriend.
All thanks to this Frederik jerk.
A few minutes earlier, before starting his search for Prince Dirtbag's window, Jack Frost had seen a cluster of children playing together in the snow. It had been a welcome distraction, to drop down and invisibly do the "Guardian" thing with them for a few minutes—including the part where he'd helped a stupidly reluctant older brother get involved with the fun.
Jack had taken enormous pleasure smashing a magic snowball in that kid's face.
It had, truly, been a welcome distraction. But, the children were quickly called back inside by their mother, leaving Jack Frost to mope with his memories out in the snow.
That date couldn't have gone much worse. First, Jack had had to stand there, silently, while Elsa had sung the guy's praises for what had felt like about a million hours or so. Then, they'd gotten into a fight, which normally wouldn't have been TOO horrible to recover from, but THEN:
You're SUCH a good friend, Elsa's voice played in Jack's mind. Why aren't you HAPPY for me?
Well, gee. I just DON'T KNOW, Snowflake. Lemme think about that.
Leaping into the air again in a flurry of snowflakes, Jack gave his head a hard shake, as if trying to shake the memories from his mind. But, the embarrassment remained. At himself, naturally. He'd been so flabbergasted that he'd lost his nerve. He had so much that he was planning on saying to her, explaining to her, and—and it was like his tongue had suddenly become too big for his mouth. He couldn't form the words. Like, what he'd really wanted to say just couldn't get from his brain to his voice.
And just in case that wasn't frustrating enough, there was the matter of how much Elsa had suddenly regressed, in the Fun department. Jack had almost, almost thought that the Ice Powers Girl was starting to remember how to, you know, let herself enjoy ANYTHING, and then, boom! This PRINCE shows up, and all of a sudden everything is right back to no, no, no, I have to be MISERABLE all the time to be a good queen!
Jack scoffed, gripping the staff harder as he rounded a corner of the castle, finding a new row of windows to inspect. And she'd just been learning how to have fun again. Jack wasn't thinking he could change her or anything, because people don't really change, but he could tell that she was—calming down. Being more true to herself, despite the fact that she was apparently stuck back in the castle again, instead of being in that Enchanted Forest she kept talking about. He'd been so proud of her, and given how playful that girl could be, Jack was pretty excited about her potential. Elsa had seemed plenty playful earlier.
Or was that just him?
Stopping midflight, Jack Frost froze in the air, his breath catching in his throat. That thought hadn't occurred to him, until just now.
His fingers tightening on the staff, he swallowed hard, looking to his feet as he remembered all the fun they'd had in her room that morning. Suddenly racking his brain to remember it as he lit down onto an iron rail in the courtyard next to the castle, his mind raced to come up with a single instance from that when Elsa had actually invited him to touch her, instead of—just—!
Standing there.
Jack's face went pale.
He closed his eyes in pain, swallowing hard as the wave of guilt washed over him, the awful realization sinking in. Oh, Manny. WHY.
Maybe it was time to reconsider that Antarctica plan again…
Letting out his breath, Jack Frost pushed himself off from the rail, leaping into the air again with resolve. So he'd messed up. He'd apparently, accidentally, been super creepy on the Ice Powers Girl, and—well, he was going to have to apologize for that (again), but more than that, he was going to make it up to her. He was going to look into this "Prince Frederik" jerk. He was—
He was going to be Elsa's friend.
Wince.
But… he'd been a total creep. And Elsa deserved better than a creep.
Recognizing a lines of windows from where he'd nearly left a week earlier (where that scumbag King Edvin had been staying), Jack's breath caught. Kicking his legs out against the air, he flew up to the wall, hovering by the windowsill and peering inside.
A bustle of servants, suitcases, and—oh. Okay.
It was that first prince guy from earlier.
Jack leaned in close to the glass, being careful not to breathe on it and make it become opaque, looking over the scene. The young prince (Jorn, or something, right?) was standing by the end of the bed, barking something at an attendant and clearly making frenzied preparations to sail home.
The Fifth Guardian smirked in spite of himself. He spun around in the air and flew up to the next window.
Looking inside, he saw a similar scene, this time with—well, Jack couldn't even remember anything about THAT guy, except that he was the one who had literally taken one look at the Elsa's "Evil Snow Queen" getup and had turned around and run.
But the third room was empty.
His eyes narrowing in concentration, Jack traced his pointer finger along the long crack on the window, frost materializing along its wooden edge. Flicking his hand over the hinges, Jack then backed up a few feet in the air, flipping his staff over his wrist.
He held the shepherd's crook up in front of the windows.
Hey, WIND!
BANG!
The windows burst open at Jack's command, swinging outwards as the icy gust ripped through them towards the staff. The Spirit of Winter effortlessly tossed the shepherd's crook to himself in the air, then flipping forward and diving through the window.
Sweeping forward into the room, the windows swinging shut again behind him in a flurry of snowflakes, Jack silently dropped down onto the carpet. Turning around and looking at his surroundings, he stuck his free hand into his pocket, letting the staff fall back onto his shoulder. This was definitely a guest room. But—whose?
There was something on the dresser.
Leaping into the air again, Jack shot across the room, sweeping down to see that the object was a red leather file, bursting with papers. On its front, there was an embossed design of a kingdom crest—a red fox under a crown. In fact, it was the exact same shade of red as the jacket that Prince Jerkface had worn in his audience.
Jack's eyes narrowed.
Kingsley.
His teeth clicking together in aggravation, Jack Frost put down his staff, leaning it up against the long, low dresser and catching sight of his own reflection in the mirror hanging above it. Reaching forward, he unwound the file's string, letting it fall to the side as he pulled back the leather cover.
On the top of the pile of papers was a note.
To Mr. Williams:
I again write to thank you very dearly for your support. While I indeed wish that I could have assisted more in the compilation of this research, please know that you will have my unending gratitude for your good work, along with that of Mr. Soths, your assistant. If the Snow Queen is indeed as good a ruler as these articles seem to indicate, then you ought to also be assured that it is not simply my future that you have made possible, but Kingsley's. The Kingsley Royal Library, and its wonderful librarians, will be rewarded without question upon my return. I dearly look forward to seeing you again.
Regards,
F.
Huh.
Clearly, the note hadn't been sent yet. Jack flicked it off, looking down at the newspaper clipping that was on the top of the pile.
ARENDELLE ICE SCARE: NEWLY-CORONATED QUEEN FREEZES KINGDOM
MILITARY POSITIONING OR CONSPIRACY?
Huffing, Jack picked up the news article, glancing to its top to see that it had was dated from the previous July. Looking back down to the rest of the pile, he reached forward and started to thumb through the collection of newspaper clippings.
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OUTER ARENDELLE INFRASTRUCTURE REVAMPED BY ORDER OF SNOW QUEEN
SNOW QUEEN PROPOSES SIMPLIFIED TAX CODE; CONTROVERSY STIRS
SNOW QUEEN OF ARENDELLE "WAKES SPIRITS": WHEN SUPERSTITION RUNS RAMPANT
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Holy mother of snowflakes.
He's got research on everything she's ever done, Jack Frost thought anxiously, pressing his lips together. Creep.
Smart creep.
Hearing a faint rattling from the other side of the room, Jack jumped, dropping the newspaper clippings and abruptly closing the file. Snatching up his staff, he leapt away from the dresser just in time to see the door of the bedroom open, Prince Frederik striding in.
Letting out his breath, Prince Frederik tucked the bedroom key into his coat pocket, closing the door with a click. Turning around, he then collapsed against it, his legs buckling beneath him as he let his head fall back against the wood in exhaustion.
And Prince Frederik leaned silently against his guest room door, his eyes closed, for a full thirty seconds.
Heaving an enormous sigh, the prince finally pushed himself up back onto his feet. Walking forward into the room, Prince Frederik ruffled his fingers through his hair, then groaning to himself as the rich brown curls fell elegantly back onto his forehead.
Jack stiffened, an unexpected pang of jealousy stinging in his throat. He had once had rich brown hair like that.
Before he became an invisible dead guy, that was.
His fingers clenching on the staff, Jack's eyes narrowed. Whipping the shepherd's crook over his wrist, he unconsciously shifted into fighting stance, starting to silently creep towards Elsa's suitor. Prince Frederik, of course, didn't notice the Spirit of Winter's invisible presence, still believing that he was alone in the room.
PLEASE do something creepy, Jack found himself thinking as he glared down the prince, his grip tightening on the staff. Say something maniacal. Relay your evil plans to the mirror. Please, PLEASE give me just ONE reason to ice-blast you in the face.
Prince Frederik walked up to the dresser, considering his reflection. Reaching across his lapel, he then carefully slipped one of his hands behind the fabric, unfastening a tiny something. Jack paused, straining to see.
With a sigh of relief, the prince pulled the red pin from his jacket, refastening its backing and setting it down on the dresser by the folder.
Jack's eyebrows lifted in curiosity. Maintaining his fighting position and keeping an eye on the prince, he then silently ran up to the dresser, getting a closer look at the design. Prince Frederik's lapel pin was a family crest, identical to the one on the folder, sporting the fox-and-crown coat of arms design.
By the time Jack straightened back up and shifted back into fighting stance again, Prince Frederik had already crossed the guest room again, picking up a book from off of his nightstand. Leaving the little family crest behind him on the dresser, the prince was just starting to walk back to collapse in the pillowed windowseat when there was a faint chirping from outside, and he froze.
Prince Frederik abruptly sucked in his breath, now standing by the window. His eyes lighting up, he slowly moved his head to look back down to the sill as the bird chirped again.
Jack lowered his staff an inch, watching the prince in befuddlement. The strapping twenty-eight-year-old shifted on his heel, slowly lowering himself down onto the windowseat as the bird ruffled her feathers, pecking at something on the sill outside.
"Why… hello there," Prince Frederik whispered, setting down the book and carefully beginning to reach into his coat pocket. "Where did you come from?"
The bird froze, catching sight of him with wide eyes through the window. The prince paused for a moment, clearly being careful not to startle her, and then—as the bird relaxed slightly—Prince Frederik pulled a tiny sketchbook (more of a booklet, really) from his pocket, setting it on the windowseat. Jack tilted his head to the side as the Prince of Kingsley then reached into his jacket again, producing a quill, and—
Portable inkwell?
Click!
Releasing the latch and opening the inkwell with one hand, Prince Frederik set it down on the windowseat, then looking back up to the bird.
"You're just a little beauty, aren't you?" he breathed, flipping open the booklet and reaching for his quill. After quickly dipping it in the inkwell, Prince Frederik then looked back up into the windowsill. "Little Miss… House Wren! Or should I call you a Castle Wren?"
The bird chirped, bouncing away a step on the sill, and the prince jolted, frantically beginning to sketch her fragile form. Lowering the staff and taking a step forward, Jack watched in curiosity over his shoulder as the faint lines, little brushstrokes of ink on the parchment, began to form into a tiny drawing of the creature. Prince Frederik's eyes were practically sparkling with joy, his expert hand flying over the parchment as he captured the wren's delicate image in his sketchbook. His face was filled with excitement, like this strapping prince was not a young man leading a kingdom at all, but instead was a child, filled with wonder and delight at the innocent vision of a feathered creature in his window.
Jack felt another pang of jealousy hit him in the chest. He had come into this bedroom in hopes of discovering a dark motive, or at least some sort of major character flaw. But, at least at the moment, there were none to be found. Even on his own, eagerly sketching the little bird in his window, the Crown Prince of Kingsley was…
Well.
He was… wonderful.
Gaaaaaurgh.
There was a sharp creak, and Jack jumped and spun around, sucking in his breath. Prince Frederik jolted as well, then relaxing back into the windowseat a few moments later as a stout little man entered the room.
"Good morning, your highness," the older man said, the sudden movement making the bird fly away. "All finished with your audience, I've been told?"
Jack looked back to Prince Frederik, hoping to gather an explanation from his eyes. The relaxed frustration in them told him that this man was either a friend of Prince Frederik's—a political appointee—a personal attendant—or, more than likely, all of the above.
"I'm afraid you've frightened my model away, dear man," Prince Frederik sighed, looking back to the window. "She was a delightful specimen. A house wren."
The attendant paused for a moment, raising his left eyebrow. "We have an abundance of house wrens in Kingsley, your highness," he commented with a bemused smile.
"Ah, but who would I be, to miss an opportunity to study one, when she's so generously landed upon my windowsill?"
Walking across the room, the man chuckled and shook his head. "I believe you would be the Crown Prince of Kingsley, sire."
Jack's eyebrows lifted slightly as Prince Frederik sighed, the sunlight catching his glisteningly white teeth for a brief moment as he shot his attendant a bitter half-smile. Clearly, these two had known each other for a long time.
"We were already delayed by your extra little quest trying to reach the seaside, after two days of travel by carriage," Prince Frederik's attendant chided, "After which, we travel all the way to Arendelle by boat, to arrive and have you—chasing sparrows?"
"She was a wren, Alistair."
Snapping the little sketchbook shut and putting it back in his pocket, Prince Frederik stood from the windowsill, stretching his back for a moment. Stepping forward, he then met his attendant—Alistair—who immediately began to fuss over a piece of lint on the prince's cravat.
"Of all the things to see and do whilst on a diplomatic mission in Arendelle," the man chuckled, fixing the crimson fabric, "It is a rare prince indeed that would turn his focus to—the pigeons!"
"Birds hold the secrets of flight, my dear man. That is not to be taken lightly," Prince Frederik retorted, politely bowing his head forward so that the attendant could remove his crown. "THINK of it! Military, shipping, travel—by air! Why, if we could only figure out what our feathered friends already know, Kingsley would be the envy of Europe!"
The prince straightened up again, forlornly looking back to the window as his attendant pulled out a tiny cloth, beginning to polish what Jack could only figure must have been a microscopic smudge on Prince Frederik's crown. A fingerprint, perhaps. Or maybe a poor person had breathed on it wrong, or something.
Snooty types.
Finishing up the World's Least-Necessary Metal-Cleaning, Alistair turned back to his employer, lifting the crown. Prince Frederik bowed slightly again, allowing his attendant to place it on his head before then straightening up and letting the man help him out of his jacket.
"And, I will remind you," Prince Frederik bristled, turning around as he shrugged out of the sleeve, "That that little side quest was for an incredibly rare bird. Well—rare for being this far north, anyway. If you recall, the Kingsley Royal Aviary has been searching for a male Great Spotted Cuckoo ever since Professor Harsen was able to secure that female on his African expedition three years ago."
"Yes, your majesty."
As the attendant took his jacket, the prince of Kingsley walked to the windowsill again, setting his hand on the wall and leaning forward to stare out into the courtyard below. Despite the fact that he'd just been wearing a fitted jacket, Prince Frederik's billowing ivory sleeves, pouring out from the armsythes of his burgundy vest, had somehow remained completely unwrinkled, the material rendered translucent in the sunlight to show the outline of his muscled arm.
Thumbing the edge of his front pocket, Jack Frost followed him, trying to figure the meaning of the young man's strangely vacant, almost dream-like, expression. As Prince Frederik stood brooding in the window, the sunlight catching the pigment of his honey-colored eyes and gleaming off his white teeth, with his stupid muscles, and his stupid crown, and his stupidly ALIVE-looking brown curls falling across his forehead… the Youngest Guardian felt a fresh wave of misery sweep over him.
Jack knew that he was straight, and everything, but—Prince Frederik looked like a flippin' painting.
Couldn't he at LEAST have the decency to be shorter than me?
"But—sire," Alistair started again carefully, "If—if I may—?"
Still staring out of the window, Prince Frederik closed his eyes in frustration. Pulling in his breath, he straightened up.
"Go ahead," he sighed.
"Why—now, sire?" Alistair asked, "Why—in Arendelle? With all the birds we have at home, and in your observatory, it would seem that now is—hardly a good time."
Crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the wall next to the window, Jack saw a tiny hint of a smile tug at the edge of Prince Frederik's mouth. This was not the first time that the prince had received this lecture.
"Observation, my dear fellow," he chided softly, "Is always a priority, to he who wishes to understand the world."
"But why?"
"Because we must keep our eyes open!" Prince Frederik exclaimed. He pushed himself off from the sill, running back into the room and throwing his arm around his attendant's shoulders. "And our minds, too! You can never know when some undiscovered, brilliant new wing-ed creature is going to come flying to your window! We must be ready for it!"
His eyes sparkling with delight at the prospect, Prince Frederik gestured dramatically to the window, squeezing his attendant's shoulders. Alistair laughed good-naturedly, and shrugging him off.
Why can't you be easier to despise? Jack thought miserably.
"Oh, sire," Alistair chuckled, shaking his head. "How are you going to run the kingdom, if you're always going to be in the clouds, searching for Pegasus?"
"Pegasus could be real, if his bone-to-wingspan ratio was low enough. When it comes to new species, you never know, dear chap."
"You would believe in Pegasus."
"I will believe in anything with wings!" Prince Frederik laughed triumphantly, spinning around on the carpet and running back to the window. After a few moments—dreamily gazing out of it at the sky—he then turned back to his attendant.
"We will be like our wing-ed friends, one day," Prince Frederik said resolutely. "Man will fly, good sir. I know it!"
SOME men already DO, Jack thought angrily.
Shifting his fingers on the staff, the Spirit of Winter drew himself up, standing a little straighter.
Except that REAL men don't NEED wings.
All of a sudden, Prince Frederik's eyes widened. Sucking in his breath, he spun around.
"Wait," he gasped, "I—oh, dear—"
"—What is it, your highness?"
"My jacket! It's in my jacket!" Prince Frederik gasped, patting down his waistcoat pockets, "Where—?"
"It's over here, sire."
Walking across the room, Alistair retrieved the crimson jacket from where he had folded it an laid it across a chair, then barely having the chance to turn around before the prince was by his side. As Prince Frederik frantically snatched it up and started digging through its pockets, Jack Frost followed them, watching as the prince suddenly pulled out a small, neatly-folded piece of parchment.
Prince Frederik groaned.
"Alistair, I—I'm afraid I meant to give this to her," he explained, a pained expression sweeping over his features. "I completely forgot! It's a list on the social and economic benefits of a Kingsley-Arendelle alliance. Could you—would you terribly mind delivering this to one of the servants, or—"
"—Not at all, your highness. Right away."
The attendant took the neatly-folded piece of parchment and bowed, stepping back. Straightening up again, he then turned and walked briskly across the room.
Slowing just as he reached the door, Alistair stopped. He turned back to his employer.
"Your highness?" he asked carefully. "May I ask something?"
Prince Frederik raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"
The attendant paused, measuring his words for a moment.
"The audience, sire," Alistair started, taking a step back into the room. "Word has traveled fast. According to the servants, you—her way, with snow—you weren't afraid?"
Jack's eyes widened slightly. Whipping back around to look at the prince, his heart started pounding in anticipation.
NOW, for the real questions.
"Alistair," Prince Frederik said calmly. "Kingsley needs a queen."
The attendant's eyebrows twitched upwards. "Yes?"
"And, I need a wife. Queen Elsa's political and intellectual endeavors seem—to be compatible with my own," he continued quickly, his mask of calm beginning to weaken, "And—and the Orphanage. That's always been headed up, by a queen."
To this, Alistair's eyes widened. "And, you think that the Snow Queen is—the type, for that?" he asked.
"Any woman can be motherly, Alistair."
"Running the Kingsley Royal Orphanage isn't simply a matter of being motherly, sire," Alistair reminded him, "For hundreds of children? I am not acquainted with Queen Elsa, but for the amount of work that your great-grandmother's pet project will require, would the Snow Queen really be willing and prepared to handle HUNDREDS of little ones—right off the bat?"
The prince fell silent, looking down to his feet. He swallowed.
"Kingsley needs a queen," Prince Frederik mumbled.
"I believe you are avoiding the question, your highness."
Jack watched as Prince Frederik shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Alistair took another step back towards the center of the room.
"Were you," he asked softly, "Or were you not—afraid of Queen Elsa?"
As if in pain, Prince Frederik squeezed his eyes shut. Letting out his breath, he then opened them again, his face grave as he looked up into his attendant's eyes.
"I have never been so terrified in my life," Prince Frederik enunciated.
Jack's breath caught.
Giving his head a shake, the prince of Kingsley turned away, starting to walk back to the window. His attendant's eyes widened.
"But sire!" he protested, "The word among the servants is that you were completely unfazed by—"
"—Well, I wasn't."
"Then why would you claim otherwise?"
"HOW, exactly, does one politely say to a lady, oh, good DAY, your majesty!" Prince Frederik sputtered, whipping around again and bowing sarcastically, "Thank you so much for taking the time to see me; and, would you TERRIBLY mind turning off your ice powers for the rest of your life? Because they're FREAKING ME OUT!"
He scoffed, shaking his head and turning back to the window. From across the room, Jack Frost's heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it was trying to escape.
I KNEW it!
"But sire," Prince Frederik's attendant started again carefully, "If—if you are in fact afraid of her—?"
The man's voice trailed off. Sensing his meaning, the prince turned back around.
"I must do what's best for Kingsley," Frederik sighed. "And I'm reasonably certain that Queen Elsa is it. For Kingsley's sake—I can't afford to not court her."
Jack's blood boiled.
Oh, how sweet of you, he thought furiously.
The prince's attendant shrugged, letting out a breath of bitter laughter. "In that case, sire, you might consider doing something besides talking politics," he suggested, holding up the parchment. "Most women that age are looking for romance."
"Not this one." Prince Frederik bit his lip, crossing his arms over his chest. "From what I gathered during my audience with her, I'm not particularly sure that she's looking for anything. She clearly had nothing to do with my receiving an invitation to Arendelle. If I'm completely honest, Alistair, I—I don't even think that Queen Elsa likes romance."
Jack gripped the staff harder, setting his jaw.
You don't know that, Prince-Boy.
"And what do you make of her—um, break, from the crown?" Alistair prompted. "That was—an interesting move, on her part. It stirred quite a bit of controversy last year, if you recall."
Prince Frederik let out his breath. "Queen Elsa's council assured me that her business with the Northuldra was purely diplomatic."
"But that's not what Queen Elsa claimed," his assistant insisted, "Nor her sister. Do you think that she actually believes in this whole—Spirit business?"
Prince Frederik bit his lip, giving him a noncommittal shrug.
"It hasn't come up yet," he admitted. "And—I'm not sure. From the papers, it would appear that the majority of the local Arendellians believe her, but—well, there's a great deal of speculation regarding what actually happened."
"I can imagine so!"
"At the very least, it was a—unique—way to put two people on the throne," the prince conceded. "Only one of the sisters is holding the scepter at a time, but Arendelle is undoubtably more stable with its two queens. At least, that's my librarians' theory."
With a nod, Alistair stepped back. "I'm sure you will find out soon enough, sire," he said, glancing to the file sitting on the dresser. "There must be a reasonable explanation."
Prince Frederik uncrossed his arms, walking across the room to the dresser. "I certainly hope so, my dear man."
Alistair pressed his lips together, giving his employer a quick bow. Taking the folded piece of parchment, he then spun around and quickly hurried from the room, stepping out into the hallway as the door swung shut behind him.
Click.
And it was closed.
Now completely alone, Jack Frost turned his glare onto the prince.
"You can't see or hear me," Jack gritted, stomping across the room towards the offender. "So, I'm going to tell you exactly how I feel about you. You and your stupid, selfless, noble pursuit of the Snow Queen."
Prince Frederik didn't respond, setting his hands on the dresser and leaning over them. Noticing the porcelain pitcher beside him, he then picked it up, pouring some water into its matching bowl.
"First thing you need to understand. You don't deserve her. No one does," Jack snapped, storming over to the dresser as the prince dipped his hands into the water. "If you aren't madly in love with her, then you don't get her. You don't appreciate her. You don't even realize how special she is—and I'm not just talking about the fact that she's a great queen, either."
Prince Frederik splashed the water on his face, then leaning onto the dresser again and looking down at the little fox-and-crown pin sitting a few inches from the bowl. His brow knit with worry, he then bit his lip, shaking his head and letting a few droplets of water fly over the dresser.
"Elsa is amazing. And her ice is beautiful," Jack continued angrily, still invisible to the prince, "I mean, have you—have you seen the stuff that girl makes? It's insane! And that you have the gall to COMPLAIN about her ice powers, without even realizing how—hey! HEY!"
Jack snapped his fingers in front of Prince Frederik's eyes, then waving his hand in front of his face. After a few moments of helpless frustration—realizing that the prince still didn't know he was there—Jack clenched his teeth and slammed his fist onto the dresser.
WHAM!
Prince Frederik startled, gasping and whipping around to identify the source of the sound. Jack scoffed.
"Oh, now you notice me, huh?" he gritted.
After a few moments of staring at the end of the dresser, seeing nothing, Prince Frederik bit his lip and pushed his fingers into his hair. Letting out his breath, he then gave his head a quick shake, placing his hands on either side of the bowl of water and leaning over them again as the Youngest Guardian picked up his staff.
Whoosh!
A dusting of ice flowered across the mirror, frost billowing out to the edges of the glass as Prince Frederik stared down at the bowl of water. Letting out his breath as he started to look back up, the prince yelped, jolting and leaping back.
Jack raised his eyebrows with a little smirk.
"What in tarnation…?" Prince Frederik muttered, leaning forward and inspecting the mirror. Reaching up, he swept his finger over the ice, the heat of his finger leaving a trail of melt on the glass as he squinted down at the sparkling substance.
Letting the staff fall back onto his shoulder, Jack Frost stuck his hand in his front pocket, rocking back onto his heels with a smug expression on his features.
"Is this… frost?"
Prince Frederik eyes widened as the snowflakes melted on his fingertip. Then, pulling in a long, pained breath, Jack watched as he collapsed forward, setting his elbows onto the dresser and burying his face in his hands.
"Snow Queen," he muttered to himself. "This is—this is part of her being the Snow Queen. Just keep her away from the birds, and it will be fine..."
"The Snow Queen isn't the reason that ice is on the mirror," Jack hissed. "She's the reason that it was the MIRROR, and not YOUR FACE."
His eyes narrowed.
Because I would LOVE to freeze your face right now.
The prince, still unaware of Jack's presence, ran his fingers through his hair, looking back up to the frost-covered mirror and biting his lip. He took in another deep breath, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.
"It's frost. It's just. Frost. I can do this," he groaned determinately. "I—I can get used to this. It's for Kingsley. I can get used to this, for Kingsley."
"Is that a challenge, Prince-Boy?" Jack breathed.
Prince Frederik didn't hear him, oblivious to the invisible Guardian's presence. Glancing warily back to the fox-and-crown pin, he then straightened up, reaching for it.
Picking it up off of the dresser, the prince turned the pin over in his palm, running his finger over its design. After another few moments—tracing his family crest—Prince Frederik drew himself up with resolve.
"It's just frost," he muttered.
Fastening the pin onto his vest, Prince Frederik turned back to the mirror, forcing himself to look at his own reflection through the ice. Huffing to himself, he then set his jaw and dipped his hands into the bowl of water.
Jack tipped his staff forward.
Creak!
Prince Frederik froze, his eyes bulging as he looked down. With his hands still submerged in the water below, a thick layer of ice had suddenly materialized over the bowl, encasing his wrists like they were frozen solid in a tiny lake.
His face going pale, Prince Frederik tried to pull his hands out.
Thunk.
The heavy bowl rocked forward, the ice unyielding. Leaning against the dresser, Jack Frost smirked, watching as Prince Frederik anxiously gave the ice another tug.
"Alistair?" the prince laughed nervously.
He pressed his lips together, grunting as he struggled again against the ice, his cheeks flushing. After another few moments, he let out another nervous laugh, glancing back towards the door, and then to the ice again, to—
"ALISTAIR!" Prince Frederik shrieked, "ALISTAIR, WHERE IN THE DEVIL ARE YOU WHEN I—"
"—Your majesty!"
The door swinging open, his attendant rushed back into the room. Looking up to him in desperation, Prince Frederik blushed furiously, his hands still stuck in the bowl.
Alistair's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.
"SIRE!" he gasped, "How did—"
"—I don't know! It just—froze!"
Hee hee!
The prince's attendant ran forward and picked up the bowl, carefully heaving it and walking out into the middle of the floor with the Prince Frederik's hands still trapped beneath the ice. As the prince began to struggle to pull his hands out, the attendant's face turned red as he tugged the heavy bowl in the other direction.
A spring in his step, the Guardian of Fun pushed himself away from the dresser, sauntering out to join them. He then dropped the end of his staff into the carpet, grinning and leaning into it to watch the chaos unfold.
You know, Jack thought to himself with a smirk, I think I've been good enough this year as a Guardian to keep me on the Nice List, despite… oh, whatever. This is hilarious.
The prince set his jaw with determination, shaking his head as he yanked and pulled on the ice.
"She's—the Snow—Queen!" Prince Frederik gritted between tugs, "It's just—ice! I'm sure—this happens—all the time!"
The prince almost lost his footing, barely catching himself before slipping and falling onto the ground in the involuntary tug-of-war with the bowl of ice. Jack's grin widened.
Yep. Definitely back on the Naughty List for this.
"Are—you sure—that this—is worth getting yourself into?" Alistair gasped, pulling on the bowl with each phrase.
"I must—do—what's best—for Kingsley!"
The attendant stopped tugging, gasping for breath and taking a moment to gather his senses. Untrusting of the weight, Prince Frederik carefully knelt down, setting the bowl on the floor.
"Your majesty," Alistair panted, setting his palms on his thighs and leaning into them, "I—while I greatly admire your dedication to Kingsley, I must advise—"
"—Nonsense!" Prince Frederik interrupted, his face setting with determination again, "This—this is nothing! This is fine!"
"Sire—"
"—One more try, eh?"
The attendant clamped his mouth shut, his lips pressed into a thin line as his employer stood back up, lifting the ice-covered bowl with him. Taking the bowl's other side, he then obediently started to pull and yank on it once again.
Jack Frost picked up the shepherd's crook, tossing it to himself as he walked towards them.
"You realize—SHE—is a LITERAL ice mage!?" Alistair gasped helplessly.
"YES! And—KINGSLEY—needs her!"
"But WHY?!"
Guardian, Schmardian, Jack thought, his eyes narrowing as he carefully aimed the staff at the ground. I don't like you.
"BECAUSE," Prince Frederik gritted in a last desperate series of tugs, "QUEEN ELSA—IS THE BEST—SHOT—KINGSLEY—HAS!"
Ffft!
"AUGH!"
The prince cried out in shock as he slipped on the patch of ice that had suddenly materialized beneath his feet on the carpet. Jack Frost leapt out of the way as Prince Frederik, and then his attendant, and then the enormous bowl of water all went crashing into each other, falling to the ground like dominos and—
CRASH!
The bowl shattered, an explosion of freezing water sloshing out over the carpet and dousing both men as the ice broke.
Choking and sputtering, Alistair frantically struggled to disentangle himself from his employer's limbs, hopping off and scrambling onto his feet. Pushing himself up as well—and having taken most of the blow—the now thoroughly-soaked Prince Frederik gasped with shock, his shirt sticking to his skin with icy water.
"Your majesty! I am so sorry!" Alistair gasped, offering his hand, "Are you alright!?"
The Crown Prince of Kingsley was still sitting on the ground, paralyzed with shock and holding his arms away from his body as icy water dripped from his sleeves onto the floor. Looking up to his attendant, he shuddered violently.
"Hah," Prince Frederik shook.
Jack Frost raised his eyebrows, looking down his nose at the Snow Queen's suitor with disdain.
"What?" he taunted under his breath. "Can't handle the cold, Prince-Boy?"
Looking back down, his face flushing, Prince Frederik shook out his arms, droplets of cold water flinging out onto the carpet. With his soaked brown curls plastered onto his skin and hanging down in his eyes, he then gave his head a vigorous shake.
"Your majesty?" Alistair tried again, taking a tiny step closer. "If—if I may—?"
"Y-yes, my good man?" Frederik shivered.
Their eyes met, and Frederik gave his sleeves another shake. Alistair's face went grave.
"You're—really—sure—that this is worth getting yourself into," he breathed.
The Spirit of Winter raised his eyebrows, looking back to the prince with a smirk.
Couldn't have said it better myself.
Prince Frederik let out his breath. Looking up to his attendant, he then grinned bitterly.
"Queen Elsa is by f-far the best option I know of for an alliance with Kingsley. I'm n-not giving up on her that easily," he stated, shaking his head. "With all due respect, Alistair—it's g-going to take a lot more than this to ch-chase me from Arendelle!"
Jack's smirk faded. His eyes narrowing again, his teeth clicked together in determination.
Challenge accepted, Prince-Boy.
Giving his soaking sleeves another shake, Prince Frederik grasped Alistair's outstretched hand, letting his attendant help pull him onto his feet. He then laughed again, this time with a genuine smile.
"P-perhaps a change of clothes, though," Prince Frederik suggested, shivering again.
Alistair nodded. "Of course, sire."
"Have they sorted out the issue with the luggage?"
"It's in the hallway, your majesty. And, the Head Butler offered his deepest apologies about the mixup; the new busboy had accidentally taken it to the quarters housing Prince Dane…"
"Prince Dane? Surely, you don't mean—"
"—The very same, your highness."
"Fascinating! I wouldn't have supposed that Allevals was interested in this sort of alliance."
WHAT?
His heart pounding, Jack Frost leapt into the air, darting across the room in a gust of wind and landing in Prince Frederik's path. He set his jaw, glaring down the prince as he approached.
"This isn't over, you know!" Jack threatened furiously. "If you think that you're going to just steal the Snow Queen, then you'd better be ready for the SNOW!"
Jack sucked in his breath, wincing and stumbling backwards as Prince Frederik walked through him, making his way towards to the door. As the nausea abated, Jack whipped around to face the prince again.
"You don't even LOVE her!" Jack choked, "You—don't—APPRECIATE her! So maybe, instead of taking her all for yourself, you should try leaving Elsa for somebody who actually CAN!"
The gnarled shepherd's crook was starting to glow, humming threateningly beneath Jack's clenched fingers as Alistair opened the door.
"And besides," Jack stammered, his voice breaking, "I—it's—you can't have her! You can't have her, because I—I—!"
Click.
And the door was closed.
Suddenly alone, Jack Frost stumbled back a step, his mind reeling. There was no real reason he could think of.
The too-familiar feeling of miserable helplessness swept over his body. His stomach twisting, the Youngest Guardian pulled in a deep breath, fighting back the stinging in his eyes as he stood, alone, in the middle of the bedroom.
"I saw her first," he whimpered.
.
.
.
(ANOTHER) AUTHOR'S NOTE, ADDED AS AN UPDATE: Ooookay, so after having this "big reveal" scene on Prince Frederik in the works for over two and a half years (I know), I'm getting my first reviews and responses back, andddd… I'm realizing that... nobody's seemed to notice the big reveal?
I'll admit it. I thought I was being super obvious with the foreshadowing but... GAURGH! Apparently... apparently, it wasn't as obvious as I believed. (GEAAAAAUGH! WRITER ANGST! WHY!?) Here's what I'm gonna do, because I honestly don't know how to write it to be more obvious without making it seem forced: In the next chapter, I'm going to stomp directly into the scene as The Author to try and clear it up. For now, however, in the event of "I Can't Stand It Anymore" while we wait for that, if ANYBODY who's reading this note STILL DOESN'T KNOW what's going to happen with Frederik, if you'll kindly just PM or email me, and I will EAGERLY POINT OUT THE FORESHADOWING TO YOU.
Anyway. Sorry for my wee little angsty extra note; I'm just sort of at a loss for what to do here. Thank you so much for reviewing, I love you all, you're wonderful, I seriously was trying to NOT have this be another heartbreaking chapter, like people are seeming to indicate, and MESSAGE ME AND I FIX IT FOR YOU okay I love you all you're great bye.