Jelsa -ice alliance ?

REAL

7: REAL

Elsa could feel the unwelcome brightness of the morning sunlight on her eyelids long before she opened them, the weight of exhaustion pounding against the inside of her forehead. Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned slightly in the covers, trying to place the inexplicable trepidation clouding her mind.

Oh... right. It was today.

Feeling strangely constricted in her stomach, the young queen reluctantly drug herself back into consciousness, fighting against the sweeping feeling of dread rushing through her body as she sat up. The housing reform. Oh, dear, that housing reform. This was going to be unpleasant...

Elsa groaned, sliding her fingers into her hair. It was strangely light, for being so early. If she wasn't up and about by eight o'clock, the guards were instructed to get a maid to come in and wake her, and she hadn't heard any such thing. The meeting was at ten. If it wasn't yet eight, then it meant that she had a couple of hours to prepare herself, before—

"But SOFT!"

GAUGH!

Elsa jolted, whipping her head around to locate the source of the sound.

"What light through yonder window breaks!" the voice laughed as she looked up, "It is the east! And your finally, FINALLY being up, is the sun..."

On the other side of her bedroom, hovering up by her ceiling, a gangly, white-haired young man was floating upside-down in an icy jail cell. Effortlessly hanging from a gnarled shepherd's crook by his knees, he reached forward to touch the frozen wall in front of his face, casually drawing in the frost with his pointer finger.

He sucked in a long breath, pressing his chin in towards his neck.

"Arise, fair sleepy person, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief," he finished dramatically, thwapping his hand over his heart, "That thou, her maid, art more fair than she..."

He reached forward again and swept his hand over the frost, and a cluster of snowflakes burst out from underneath his fingertips, catching the sunlight as they fell. Without righting himself, the young man grinned, turning and looking at her.

"Morning, Snowflake," he chuckled.

Elsa's heart leapt into her throat, her eyes bulging as the memories came flooding back into her mind. Ripping back the covers, she looked down to her stomach and realized with horror that she was fully dressed, wearing a hastily-formed blue gown made of ice.

"I hope you're not expecting any more than that," the boy laughed, making her jump again. "Because that's all I've got. Bunny would've thrown something at me by now."

"But you—you—!"

"—Also, I do not recommend picking a fight with The Moon."

"I—!"

Blood rushing to her face, Elsa shook her head, dropping the edge of the blanket. Frantically twisting around, she flipped over and reached for her nightstand, snatching up the elegant ice rose and staring at it in shock. It was real—the cold, smooth ice was leaving its characteristic chill against her fingers as she held it, the crystalline rose every bit as elegant and perfect as it was in the dream.

It was real.

It. Was. REAL.

"But—b-but you—!" Elsa choked.

She snapped her head up helplessly, staring at the young man in the jail cell with horror. Still hanging from the floating staff, he raised his eyebrows.

"I'm still here?" he offered.

Elsa said nothing, but blushed furiously, leaning over and gingerly placing the ice rose back on her nightstand. The young man laughed again, turning back to the wall as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.