Winter Moon (Jelsa)

Chapter 3: Jack

Jack was worried about Elsa.

No, it was more than that.

He couldn't pinpoint it really, but he blamed it on the soul bond. 

Pushing the thoughts aside, Jack entered the Tower, nodding at the Elites who stood guard at the side entrance. Now days, they were required to do an identity check. Some parts of the Tower were restricted, but Jack had access to most of it, a perk of being part of this organization since its founding.

Right now, Jack had to talk to Sandy.

The Guardians were probably the only Elites he trusted, with the exception of Rapunzel. Even then, he was wary of North and Bunnymund, who were fiercely loyal to the Elites, more so than him and Tooth. Sandy was a different case. Jack was never sure what to think of him. He was caring and kind, as Guardians had to be, but he was hard to read. 

But Sandy was old. Like older than the moon old. He probably knew a lot of things. 

Including how to kill a god without the help of other gods.

Older than the moon old, huh? Elsa's voice interrupted his thoughts. She must have gotten bored and decided to activate the bond. Usually, strong emotions or thoughts were shared, but everyday monologue could be ignored unless the other was listening for it.

More eloquent words have never been said, Jack replied.

You're pretty old yourself, Elsa commented. Jack could practically see her smirk. Normally, she was extremely serious and mature, but occasionally, and only among friends, she let her sense of humor show.

I'm fifteen, Snowflake, Jack protested.

Three hundred fifteen, Elsa corrected teasingly. She always paid more attention in math than him.

Jack smiled but didn't reply. Instead, he knocked on the door to Sandy's chambers.

The wooden doors whispered open in a swirl of golden sand, revealing the luxurious chambers of a high ranking Elite. The sitting room was filled with plush armchairs and velvet chaises. Rosewood bookshelves and tables lined the walls. A quirky lamp hung from the ceiling. The room exhibited warmth, life, and dreams.

"What brings you here?" Sandman was standing in front of a map made of his dream-sand. It was shifting and reforming. Jack wasn't sure what to make of it.

"My feet," Jack answered jokingly, and Sandy cracked a smile.

"You have a question," Sandy guessed.

"Bingo."

"Ask away."

"So, hypothetically, say someone wanted to kill a really evil god. No one like Moon, Varda, Vana, or Goldred. But that person was mortal with limited powers and nothing that came even close to god-like. So, how would said person go about killing the evil god?"

"That is a dangerous question to ask."

"And that is not the answer I am looking for."

"Do you really want to know, boy?"

"Absolutely. You never know when killing evil entities could become an item on my bucket list."

"Very well, but this is dangerous information."

"I'm well equipped to handle it."

"Other than employing the help of another god, there is no way to do it."

"Hell no. I did not come here for you to give me that kind of answer. There has to be another way."

There was a moment of silence in which Sandy cocked his head and studied Jack for a long evaluative moment. "I suppose soulmates would do anything for each other. That is how it was ages ago."