The Invisible (Jelsa)

Chapter XLI

That winter was the worst the world had ever seen. After Elsa's death in mid October, the storms were so violent and so dangerous that some people in other places wondered if it was the end of time. Jack was on a rampage, unstoppable. His ferocity translated in the storms that racked havoc on countries all over the world. No spirit could get through to him. Spring was useless to a heartbreak and winter continued into June until suddenly, the storms stopped.

The next year, there was hardly a winter at all. A few amateur attempts at blizzards from lesser snow spirits, but it hardly dusted pavements and never stayed overnight. And, amazingly, frost was absent from the grass and window panes that year. Some people said it was like a sort of a 'I'm sorry about last year' gift from whatever god they prayed to. Some were even annoyed by the lack of snow, but hardly did anyone think once the reasoning. It was only those of Arendelle that understood.

Winter was gone. Jack Frost had not been seen or heard from in two years.

FROZEN

The winters came back, but there was not the light playfulness that Jack had brought with it, and all that Heimdall could surmise was there were new spirits that had hastily taken over. Wherever his father was, it wasn't him. At least, not voluntarily. Azura went out to help and meet some, but she never came back with a good expression. She was failing at taking her father's place in the magical realm, and it haunted her.

What did Jack do, while he was away, many often wondered.

Jack began a vagabond. After his departure from the Queen's body, he stumbled out of Norway with little intention of coming back. His promise to Elsa burnt deep into his brain; he would find her again. He had to.

And besides, he figured, someone so magnificent would be back in this world in no time at all. He would find her again, and he would make her fall in love again. They were destined to be together. No person could fit each other better than each other, and Odin he she was probably laughing at his pathetic results right now if she could see him.

He was fairly sure she wouldn't re-appear in Norway. Jack searched for eight years, wandering in and out of cities and countries, never staying more than a couple days. He'd ask those that could see him for a girl whatever age she may be- in between eight and newborn, with white hair and blue eyes and a face that looked like the painting of his queen.

"She's my daughter, and she was taken from me." He would lie, "I love her very much, and I'm trying to find her." She was taken from him, by death. He did love her. He was trying to find her. Nearly all was true. Occasionally, someone would point him to Norway, but he told them firmly that he had no connection with anyone who lived there, and he was absolutely sure of it. The 'mother' just had a striking resemblance to the queen, which, oh she died? No, he hadn't heard.

The lie sunk deeper into his breaking heart every time he told it.

There were rumors of Jack Frost wandering and looking for a daughter, but few believed it. He was well renown for never looking any older than perhaps thirty, and never changing clothes. Some assumed him to be some sort of vengeful spirit. The idea of Jack Frost became misconstrued and children were told of him less and less in following years.

By the eight year, Jack was feeling helpless. The moon always seemed to be shrouded in mist, as if purposely avoiding Jack's questions thrown angrily into the night. The moon, which had never spoken before, seemed more cryptic than he could ever remember.

By ten years after, Jack lost hope. He was becoming weary and tired. He wanted to hold her again, to look into her eyes and see the love that he had become dependent on. It was a craving, his addiction, and he was suffering greatly. Maybe this is why he had never met an immortal that had fallen in love. It was so painful to endure, one would wonder why anyone bothered at all? Yet the memories of Elsa swam in the back of his mind, and he was reminded. It was because love was utterly beautiful and free from judgement.

It felt like he was dying, when he stumbled back into Norway territory. When he reached the ice-castle, he felt anger. Momentarily, he wanted to tear it down, destroy it. He understood what Gavner had meant when he couldn't go back to the house where he and his wife had lived. She made it. It was hers. And every translucent wall was like a mirror into his heart.

He went outside the ice wall and angrily smashed the bottom of his staff into the rock, taking his anger out. Why did she have to die? She could have lived so much longer, if he'd only gone to America or England for the newest medicine. She had years left. She was so selfish, leaving him. Didn't she realize how much he needed her?

The rock beneath his feet crumbled, and all of a sudden, Jack was falling. His arm smashed against a rock with force, and the pain shot through his appendage. Jack fell to a tiny cave coated in snow, and just lay there. His only movement was curling into a ball and refusing to get up.

He lay there a whole year, and then some. The transformation came slowly. The first week, he was so hungry it almost made him get up. Eating had become a pleasure in life; he didn't really need to eat to live, but he had eaten food for almost 100 years, and it was a hard hollow pang that followed. That went away.

Secondly, his air left him. The crevice where he'd fallen iced over and snow piled on, leaving his chamber airtight. Once again, he realized he didn't need air to survive because he wasn't even really alive to begin with. Elsa had made him so. Elsa was his life, and now she was gone.

He once was cut by a falling rock, but he did not bleed, and the scar which proved his mortality was invisible. He felt like that was one of the last things left of his old life, the life of joy and happiness.

Thirdly, his appearance changed as he went back to being a complete immortal being. Jack was no longer 30. Jack was 17. He could not tell, of course, but he felt something light in his chest like sun and warmth and he hated it. It was a bubbling freeness he'd felt as a young, naive, and loveless spirit. He killed that feeling quickly in his misery. He was fine to be there forever.