The King of Arendelle

Angrer

One day, when Jackson Overland was still a little brown-haired, brown-eyed boy, he wandered into the kitchen to see his father diligently working on something made of wood. Curious, the seven-year-old sauntered in and peered over the table, "What's that, Papa?"

"It's a birdhouse," he said, half-listening, "well, it's supposed to be one."

"Are we gonna get a pet bird?"

Nicholas snorted, "Not quite, but we should have plenty coming and going if I get this right."

Jackson perked up. "Can I help?"

Nicholas frowned for a second, regretting his son's eagerness. Looking over at his bright, amber eyes was a mistake, for now he couldn't refuse. "O-of course. Just make sure you don't—"

"Make sure I don't freeze anything, I know!" Jack finished and climbed up onto a chair beside him. "Sooo, what's there to do?"

"Well, once the glue is done drying, we can start painting it." Nicholas showed Jack the patterns he'd drawn out. "Here are some ideas I have. Which one do you think your mother will like the most?"

"Do the flowers! Mama loves flowers!"

"All right, flowers it is." At least Jack had helped narrow his options down; this was going to be Emily's birthday present, and Nicholas wanted to get it right. "Did Mama ever tell you about her pet bird?"

"Yeah, his name was Juniper."

Nicholas grinned, "I actually got to meet Juniper in person before your mother and I got married."

"Can I meet him?"

"Erm, actually, no; Juniper's not alive anymore. He was old even when I met your mother."

"Oh." Jack wondered something. "How long do birds live?"

"I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that."

"As long as people?"

"Not quite."

"I bet I can find out in one of my books for school!"

"Mhm," Nicholas scooted his chair back, "Jack, you stay here while I go get the paint. If I still have any left," he murmured that last part.

"Just sit here and watch?" Jack asked, head following Nicholas as he left the kitchen.

"Yup."

So, Jack did. The clock ticked away as he stared at the pieces of wood in the shape of a small house. Watching glue dry was so boring, Jack never realized how long it took just to make something so small. He wished he could help Nicholas finish faster... Head perking up, he got an idea. Carefully pushing aside the wooden house on the table, Jack began to summon his powers from his little hands.

"All right, Jack, which color should we..." Nicholas was taken aback by the perfect birdhouse made of ice sitting on the table. It even had decorative frost flowers on the sides.

Jack was so proud, "Look, Papa! I made one! Now we don't have to paint!"

"Jackson..."

"I didn't break anything! I was careful like you said."

Nicholas was shaking his head, "We've told you—"

"—Don't you think Mama will like it?"

"You know the rule!" He said, voice riddled with frustration. He had told Jack for years and years to not use his magic, not even in the house. In his panic that someone could've seen him through the window, Nicholas wasn't thinking about his young son's feelings. Instantly, the boy's heart sank and his little face fell into sadness.