AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am hereby declaring Jack to be of modern-day Polish descent. (*Pounds Official Fanfiction Gavel of "Creative Liberties" on table.*) Because... uh, because it works on the map, that's why (we're tracking his flight path, obviously). ;) I hope everybody's okay with this. Thank you for reading, thats for everybody's support, you are all amazing and I love you forever and hope you have a fantabulous day! :D
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82: DIFFERENT
"You—aren't wearing gloves, your majesty."
Coming up from his bow on the following afternoon—Tuesday, December 21st—Prince Frederik stared at her in confusion. Clasping her hands together tightly in front of her skirt, Queen Elsa drew herself up.
"I am not," she stated.
His eyebrows drew together in confusion. Gathering her courage, Elsa pulled in a deep breath.
"I don't like them, and they make me uncomfortable, so—I'm not wearing them," she clarified.
Trying as hard as she could to not appear threatening, she gave him a tight-lipped smile. Prince Frederik nodded.
"I see," he said.
He turned, stiffly offering her his arm, and Elsa accepted it, unable to keep herself from studying his expression for a few moments.
"Is that going to be a problem?" she asked suddenly.
"Oh! Uh, no. Not at all."
Her eyes narrowed in scrutiny. Now that she was aware of the truth—and that she could recognize the signs in his face, the slight ticks in his body language—Elsa could suddenly see through him. He, too, knew how to be polite and formal. He, too, had been trained from birth in how to politically represent a kingdom.
But goodness, was Frederik a bad liar.
Shaking it off, Elsa drew herself up again, trying to not give in to the feelings of intense guilt that were now seeping through her mind. This garden path had been cleared, just like the grand courtyard in the front of the castle, and despite the freezing temperatures, most still found it a beautiful place to take a stroll. Frederik—like most—was effectively bundled up, ready for a walk in the Christmas air. Elsa was also ready for a walk in the snow, but with bare shoulders and in a sparkling dress slit above the knee to showcase her bare legs and high heels. In addition to losing the gloves, she had also forgone trying to make her dress look like regular wool, and had rejected the idea of a cloak entirely. She hated the feeling of having such a literal weight on her shoulders, and thus, had put on her old—and favorite—sparkly aqua dress, hoping that it would give her the confidence she needed once again. It wasn't like she'd told Prince Frederik everything, because they hadn't yet even broached on the subject of the Enchanted Forest (a rather disconcerting plot twist of life, for the regal and sophisticated Queen Elsa to suddenly be declared a wild Nature Spirit), but she was the "Fifth Spirit," and not to mention a Snow Queen, and she was not about to coddle him any longer about this fact.
She knew—on this point—that Jack Frost had been right.
"Prince Frederik… can I ask you something?"
He jumped slightly. Gathering his senses, the Prince of Kingsley plastered on a smile, turning and looking to her as they walked. "Of course, your highness."
"Have you ever lost someone?"
He stopped for a moment in surprise. A few moments later, he resumed moving forward, reaching up with his free hand to subconsciously brush his fingers against his lapel pin.
"Well—my father," he admitted, "Yes."
"I am so sorry."
They fell quiet for a few moments.
"But, I'm hardly alone in that," Frederik added. "I know that you lost your parents, as well."
"They went down in the Souther—Dark Sea, a few years ago. What happened to yours?"
"Illness." He nodded solemnly. "I hardly knew him, though. I was very young. My mother is still alive, but I fear her health might be fading as well. There should still be plenty of time for you to get to know her, though."
Elsa's breath caught in her throat. Her muscles suddenly rigid, she forced herself to relax her face and where she was now gripping his arm, trying to hide her reaction. Because—well, if she and Frederik were really considering this, then—!
She swallowed.
Oooh, this "marriage" thing had suddenly become very real.
"I'm sure that she's lovely," the Snow Queen choked.
"She is."
They walked for a few more steps in silence, their shoes padding softly against the frozen ground. Her head spinning, Elsa internally scolded herself to stop behaving like a child. Of course it was reasonable that she would have a mother-in-law. How could she not potentially have a mother-in-law? It was no insult to her mother, if—
"I think you'd like her very much," Frederik added, shooting her a bright, glistening—and this time real—smile. "It's a shame about your parents, though. I would have liked to meet them."
"Oh. Um, yes. Me too."
He beamed, nodding. They turned a corner, continuing to walk.
Elsa drew in her breath. "I'll admit, though," she said quietly, "That—that wasn't entirely what I meant. I mean, losing someone because—!"
He looked to her, raising his eyebrows. Still holding his arm, Elsa slowed her step a bit, looking back up at him.
"Because—you chased them away," she admitted. "When you needed them. Perhaps because needing them—scared you?"
A wave of confusion swept his face. "Scared you?"
"Well—needing requires trust, and trust comes a lot of uncertainty," she explained, "And risk. The risk of caring too much. Just wondering if it's all just a distraction, so you'll make a big mistake, but THEN realizing that your outlook has actually always been pretty dark, and that that someone had come into your life, and just—chased the darkness away. And you're so scared of losing them that the idea of making a legitimate connection is actually terrifying. Because every time you've loved, ever really, REALLY loved, you've—"
Elsa stopped talking, slowing to a stop. Still standing in the middle of the garden path, she pulled her arm out from his, taking a step back.
"Every single time you've ever dared to love someone in your life, you've either lost them, or have almost lost them," she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest. "And it's always—always—been all your fault. And I just—I—!"
She cut herself off, giving her head a hard shake as her eyes started stinging, and Frederik's eyebrows lifted a millimeter further. Her chest rising up and down as her heart started pounding, she sucked in a ragged breath.
"I can't be ALONE, again!" Elsa sobbed.
Her whole body shaking, the Snow Queen gripped her arms over her chest like iron as snowflakes started materializing from the air around her, struggling in vain to fight back the tears building up in her eyes. Startled by the sudden outburst of emotion, the Crown Prince of Kingsley stood frozen with shock, his eyes bulging. His mouth hanging open for a few moments, Frederik then snapped it shut, swallowing in discomfort.
"So—so don't be alone," he stammered.
Elsa fell silent.
Feeling heat rushing to her cheeks, she looked down, hunching over into her arms. Suddenly, she longed for the gloves. To hide.
To conceal.
Meanwhile, the protesting question was on the edge of her lips, making her mind race into a near-frenzy.
Ask.
NO, she thought. It was too embarrassing. Too much. She couldn't ask Frederik.
Just ask.
But—
YOU CAN'T CONCEAL FOREVER, the voice in her mind screeched, HE ISN'T JACK, BUT IF THIS MAN IS TO BE YOUR HUSBAND, THEN OPEN UP AND ASK!
"HOW?"
Prince Frederik jumped again, nearly as startled as Elsa was at the sudden volume of her own voice. From across the garden, the Snow Queen noticed that a few other meandering couples were staring at them, and blushed furiously.
The people politely looked away, pretending to not have noticed. Clearing her throat, Elsa awkwardly leaned in close to the prince, dropping her voice to a whisper as the snowflakes continued to silently fall around her.
"How can you just—not be alone?" she choked, her face crimson as she uncrossed her arms in gesture, "How can you just decide—like anyone else could ever—?"
Taking a moment to gather his senses, Frederik straightened himself. He finally gave her a little shrug.
"Just—you know," he suggested, "Talk to people. Find common ground."
"I try, but—!"
She cut herself off, biting her lip. Even without the ice powers, it was often hard to communicate without having to battle the constant feeling that her words were sailing over everyone's heads. But she couldn't let that on to them; implying that they were less intelligent than she was or at all uninspired would hurt them in a way that couldn't be undone. And, with the ice powers…
I know how to wear a mask, Elsa thought miserably. I know how to conceal.
They turned and began to walk down the path again, the beautiful December snow glistening around them and crunching under their feet.
"But what if I'm not always able to be the queen?" Elsa stammered, still whispering, "You know—talking-wise? And always small talk? What if I just want to be myself, every once in a while, without being afraid that I'm going to hurt someone?"
"I thought your powers were under control."
"They are, but—!"
She stopped herself again, fidgeting with her fingers.
"It's not just my ice powers, Prince Frederik," she admitted. "I'm—different."
He gave her a strange look. "We're all different from one another."
"That's not what I mean. I—"
The silence fell again. Pulling in her breath, she swallowed, the late December snow glistening all around them as their feet padded against the frozen ground.
"It's kind of hard to describe," she whispered.
Feeling very uncomfortable, Elsa clasped her hands together in front of her skirt again, gripping them as she walked. She should have brought the shawl, that was what...
"I don't tend to think like everyone else," she choked in a rush, "I just don't see things like everyone else does. I'm not comfortable in the clothes everyone else wears. I don't like the same things everyone else likes. And as for the work I'm trying to do, and the things that I'm passionate about, my honesty tends to make people—uncomfortable." She pulled in her breath. "I don't want to hurt anyone. But—"
"Oh, come now. How could honesty hurt people?"
Elsa pressed her lips together in discomfort. Glancing towards him, and seeing the complete innocence in his eyes, her heart sank.
Oh, dear.
"There's a lot of pain in the world, and I want to make a difference. I want to help. But, people don't generally respond well to—problems. Or, acknowledging them." She closed her eyes, pulling in a breath and forcing herself to continue. "They want you to tell them that everything's great, even if it isn't. They really, really want you believe that their world is exactly as they see it, and that everyone is either just like them, or evil. And if you EVER admit to thinking or feeling differently than they do—that's a threat. Apparently. Sometimes, even admitting that you are in pain is seen as an attack against them."
"In pain?"
Elsa shrugged. She swallowed.
"When it's a type of pain they've never experienced," she whispered.
A long, cold silence fell over them.
Prince Frederik nodded, contemplating this for a few moments. "Well, maybe you need to trust people more," he suggested, "It you opened up, they'd understand."
She chewed on her lip.
I just opened up to you, she thought sadly, To have you demonstrate why I don't open up to people.
"I guess it's just—really hard," she choked, her voice very quiet once again, "Sometimes. Hard to feel okay."
"Well, it is a choice."
"A choice?"
She stopped walking again, pausing and turning to face him in the middle of the path. He followed suit and turned towards her.
"I didn't—choose this, Frederik," Elsa said quietly, "I was chosen to be like this. And I don't mind it—I really like having ice powers, now—but all the pain and bad memories that come along with it?" She shook her head. "How do I just let it go? Every time I feel like I've overcome the past, it just seems to eventually reappear to pull me back down."
Prince Frederik pulled in his breath. "Well—it's not easy," he admitted, "But I believe in you."
"Believe in me?"
"Yes. I mean, just—you know." He shrugged. "Choose to be happy."
He gave her a reassuring smile.
Elsa fell quiet, looking down and clasping her hands in front of her skirt.
They started walking again. From somewhere beside her, very far away, she could hear that Prince Frederik was still talking, encouragingly coaching her and counseling her with all of the confidence of someone who had never experienced even a fraction of what she had gone through for himself. He meant well—and this clearly wasn't meant to be an attack, nor to invalidate her struggles, but her cheeks still burned with shame. It clearly wasn't that he didn't want to understand, as much as it was that it had obviously never occurred to him that he didn't.
Prince Frederik was wonderful. He was mature and intelligent and sweet. And, on paper, a perfect match for Arendelle. But—remembering her years of isolation, her fear, and the feeling that no one in the world would EVER grasp how it felt, to be seen as a monster, to be so alone, and to truly be the only one of your kind…
Jack Frost… understood.
And Prince Frederik did not.
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Jack was taking his time, avoiding Arendelle.
After their confrontation the previous day, he had flown all through the night, finally reaching Antarctica in the early morning hours of December 21st. It didn't much bother him—he was perfectly used to going for a few days at a time without sleep, in his quasi-mortal, technically undead state. Hence, when he'd finally decided to take a break from his flight over the Pacific to head inland and crash for a while in the upper Andes mountains, he knew exactly what he was doing.
The Guardian of Fun was procrastinating. Because, he couldn't go back to Arendelle.
He just—couldn't.
And yet, the clock was still ticking.
If Queen Anna had been correct about his timeline, Jack knew that didn't have long to make up his mind. On the one hand, there was NO way he was ever, EVER, wanting to face Elsa again. Not after the look that had been on her face when she'd struggled so hard to ask him to (let's just be honest?) stop being an absolute creep. Again. When he was so sure that he'd been doing okay, this time.
But on the other hand… was it really worth the risk of losing her forever? Even as a—friend?
Could he stomach the idea of keeping a married, aka eternally unavailable, Queen Elsa as a friend?
He'd realized only after calming down that he was still wearing his ice medal—and had honestly taken it off, staring at it for a good, long while. The highest honor that can be bestowed upon a member of the Ice Alliance, she'd said. But did their alliance even mean anything to her anymore? Not to mention, the new little Russian doll from North was somewhere up in his drawer at the Pole, where he'd asked North to put it with the other one. Gallant. Right. He didn't feel particularly gallant.
Despite his efforts not to keep track, Jack knew that he'd woken very early in the morning, around 1 AM, of December 22nd. He decided that he'd keep heading north—as was still his plan—but was going to continue to stick to the Pacific, or maybe cross back into North America to dump some fun over the ski resorts of the Rocky Mountains. After sweeping through the American midwest—and realizing that he didn't see any more nightmares than usual (it was daytime, but the evil little things tended to lurk in the shadows)—the Spirit of Winter reluctantly realized that he needed to head back to Eurasia, to check up on Bunny's tip.
Not Scandinavia, however. Noo, no. He was going to, at least for now, continue avoiding the Northwest parts of Europe for as long as he could. And the West. Basically, the whole area. With how he was currently feeling, if a country touched the Atlantic, it was NOT touching him.
He finally decided that he could still fulfill his Guardianship duties by crossing over China and then going up through Mongolia and Russia, maybe getting as far west as Moscow in his sweep, before changing course and arcing his trajectory for the North Pole. He was still pretty ticked off at North, but if the nightmares were truly running amuck like Bunny claimed, then he needed to swallow his pride and find out if Mister "Big Eyes" had seen anything suspicious. In the meantime, another good flight through Asia would tell him if something fishy was going on in the area.
Perhaps this was why—a few hours later, and perhaps around 9 or 10 AM—he'd been so shocked to hear the voice.
Ja—ack!
The Spirit of Winter froze midair.
Ja—ack!
But—but that couldn't—!
Snowflakes whirling around him, Jack's eyes narrowed. Flipping forwards into the air, he dove, the wind nearly blinding him as he shot towards the earth. He couldn't have gotten THAT off-course. He'd specifically ordered the wind not to take him that close to Scandinavia, and even though this wasn't exactly Finland, hearing THAT voice would have meant he'd flown further west than Warsaw. Or… been blown further.
Perhaps it was his fault. Or perhaps the wind, for some reason, had intentionally taken him home to Burgess, in direct defiance to his command. But either way, Jack Frost would know that voice anywhere.
Jamie.