The Snow Queen: Jelsa *Third Book to Frozen Love*

Chapter 7

"Play nice with the other kids. Unless one of the other kids wanna fight, then you have to kick the other kid"s butt." -Walt Disney's Mulan

Elsa

In the morning, the great doors opened to a hulking, ivory polar bear, waiting for me. I gave Jack a nervous goodbye kiss and followed the silent mammal down the twisting hallways.

The night before, I had changed my ensemble into a pair of ice shorts with my wedding bodice. I still felt like I was walking around in my undergarments, but I kept assuring myself it was more combat-friendly.

After some panicked glances at the bear's heavy plodding feet and its beady downcast eyes, I was finally brought to the throne room.

"It is time to begin, my dear," Ursa purred when she turned my way. The queen had apparently made herself a new outfit overnight, because today's dress was slimmer and bluer, with a deadly-looking ice formation crawling up the sleeve. I couldn't help admiring the craftsmanship, actually.

"So, how does this work exactly?" I asked. 

 "Take a seat, love. We'll begin lessons with the history of our kind." Ursa blew a kiss toward a small block of ice, making it sweep below me to sit on. I did so, slowly. 

History was comprised of Ursa launching into long-winded lists of each generation of Snow Queens and how they ruled, though the only choices seemed to be ruthless or semi-ruthless. 

 "Our jobs as queens of winter is to control the mortals through history. They seem to think they can smack a crown on any clown's head and call him king, or claim any land that's nearby. When they overstep their boundaries, we are meant to remind them that they aren't unstoppable in the face of Mother Nature."

"What tells you that this is...your destiny?" I posed the question cautiously. It was the first one I'd asked, since I was trying not to let my loyalties be swayed. Or betray my thoughts, since I didn't even have them gathered yet. 

"It's simply a fact of nature that those who are stronger are put on the earth to reign in the weak; the sheepdogs to the sheep, I believe the saying goes." Ursa smiled. I raised an eyebrow. To clarify, she continued.  "Oh, there was the Galveston Hurricane, ol' Katrina a few years back. But you'll get to that level someday." A red flag went off in my head at the pride in her voice. 

"Now! On to combat!" Ursa pulled me up from the stool and lead me to the center of the chamber. 

"Oh, I don't need to worry about that!" I let slip. "Jack's made sure I was well-versed before we faced Pitch Black." I noticed her eyes narrow, but only for a moment. 

"Of course he did," she said flatly. "But I really should make sure you're familiar with our way of  battle." Using her staff, Ursa pointed out the basic beginning stance. I stared at the ground with my feet planted firmly apart, and my hands cast in an offensive position in front of me.

"Most of your enemies will come from behind you, since mortals are cowards and have no tactic more powerful or clever," she stated outright, straightening her hands behind her back. I found it odd that she was insulting mortals in front of someone who had been immortal for not two days. But I decided not to point that out. "You must be willing to throw everything you have into the first blow. That way your opponent will be scared away before you waste too much time!"

I couldn't help laughing internally. After all, Jack had instructed me to be versatile, alert for an attacker on all sides, ready to either dodge or strike. And most importantly, to never underestimate anyone. "What is it, dear? You look amused," she asked me; I must have had a trace of a smile on my lips.

 "Nothing. It's just...have these tactics ever been successful?"

 "Just for over a thousand years! That's why they're traditions!" Ursa guffawed, as if it were obvious. "Anyway...Boris!" she called to the entrance of a tunnel to our right. What rumbled through was a massive beast very similar to Marshmallow in appearance. Boris' hunched back was covered in spines and his eyes gleamed blue like my friend's, but he was much larger than Marshmallow, and he had gnashing teeth. 

 Something about those grinding teeth and the tenseness in his shoulders made me think that either Boris was in a really bad mood, or that Ursa controlled her minions with something other than intimidation. "My dear, I want you to engage Boris in combat." Ursa stepped back to make way for me.

 "Oh!" I started. I faced the ice monster, waving nervously. "Hiya, big guy." Before I could make a move, his solid fist swung towards me. "Rude!" I joked once I'd leaped a few meters away. A fist-sized hole appeared in the ice I had just been standing on, but Boris wouldn't stop there. 

Boris and I continued our little sparring match for about ten more minutes. He'd take a swing at me, I'd dodge; he'd corner me, I'd slide between his legs and shoot a non-lethal blast at him. The fact that he made no noise other than minor grunts confirmed my suspicions about Ursa using animals against their will. After all, I had plugged my ears to Marshmallow's bellows enough to know that snow monsters expressed their frustration openly and loudly. 

However, a moment did pass when Boris left an opening for a kill shot, and he gave me a sad smile. I immediately lowered my arm, dropping to the ground. "Would you mind if I took a break?" I panted, brushing my hair back. 

 "What do you mean? You could've finished him! A Snow Queen does not hesitate!" Ursa yelped.

 "I wasn't hesitating, I was restraining," I protested. "There's no point in destroying someone over a mere practice match!" I didn't mention that I hadn't the faintest idea of how to destroy a snow monster. With an irritated glare, Ursa swiped her hand through the air. Boris trembled uncontrollably, and then trudged back to his tunnel, slumped forward in pain.

"What did you do to him?" I asked waveringly.

"Those who do not follow orders are punished," Ursa declared.