Let The Storm Rage On: A Jelsa Fanfic

Choosing a Tailor

Elsa

"And have you recently suffocated anyone in any way, shape, or form?" I ask, bored.

"Um... Well, I may have suffocated a ferret by putting it in a plastic bag," she says.

I pause. She sounds okay, but she seems like she doesn't know what she's doing. "Okay. I'll let you know if you got it, okay Mrs.... Levette. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Your Majesty. Have a good day and good luck." She smiles and bows.

"Okay. Bye bye now." She bows again and exits the courtyard. God, this is so boring.

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Jack

"Welcome, Mr...."

"Ublick. Norman Ublick. A pleasure, Mr. Frost." He sips his coffee.

"Have you ever done any large projects I should know about?"

"The biggest thing I've ever done was make Santa a suit for his wedding a long time ago."

I give him a weird look. That guy is a lost cause. I blink slowly. "Next!"

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Elsa

A young girl walks in. She is tan and has dark hair and blue eyes. She wears a raggedy dress she seemed to make herself and has cheap makeup on.

"Umm... Is this where you get interviewed?" She asks. I nod. "Good. I'm Ms. Oleson. I work on the other side of towne."

I blink. "Alright. Thank you for coming. I'm just going to ask you a few questions and then you're done."

She nods nervously. "I've actually came here to tell you something."

I blink again. Then, raise an eyebrow. "Is this private?" She nods. I sigh. "Come with me."

I lead her into the barracks where no one will notice. I take her into the training room. I look at her, telling her I have full attention to her.

"Well, you see, I'm not really Ms. Oleson. My real name is Elizabeth Taylor. They've sent me back to kill you."

My instinct is to pin her against a wall and demand why she came here. Or to call the guards. But she came to tell me. To warn me. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know, I know. Just listen, please." I obey. "I need you to go and get your fiancé."

"Fine, I'll get him," I say with distrust. And I exit the barracks.

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Jack

"Thank you," I say. "Have a good day." I smile the fakest smile ever. If I do one more interview, I will blow up. Thankfully, Elsa comes up to where I am.

"Someone's here to see you," she says with distaste.

"Is it absolutely for me or can you handle it?" I ask.

"She said she needed to see you."

"Thank you, Jesus!" I exclaim, just quiet enough so that others can't hear me.

I get down to the barracks to find a young woman with dark hair and was tan. She didn't look familiar.

"Who are you?" I ask.

"I'm Elizabeth Taylor. I came to warn you." I raise an eyebrow. She sighs. "I'm the seamstress from before."

Oh. That made much more sense. "About what?"

"They sent me to kill Queen Elsa again," she simply replied. I raise an eyebrow. "She said something about you saying that you will be doing interviews of tailors to make her a dress."

"Wait, wait, wait. Who's she?"

"I don't know her name, but she looked somewhat like a bird and had wings and had little hummi-"

"Shit," I say.

"What is it, Jack?" Elsa asks.

"Toothy. Works. For. Pitch." Elsa takes a step back. She seems pretty pissed too. She turns so she doesn't face us. "Babe, I'm mad too, but-"

"But what, Jack?" She says. "But we have to ignore her? Or we have to be super freaking nice to her? Well, I'm not buying it."

I try to hold her gloved hand but she pulls it away, leaving the glove in my hand. She glances back. "Jack! Why the hell did you take my glove?"

"I wasn't trying to. You just-"

"Give it back! Someone took my glove once and some people got hurt. I don't want that to happen!

"Well, it won't hurt me," I say.

She closes her eyes. "Give. It. BACK!" She shot her gloveless hand up at me and it created long, growing, stalactites of ice. They grew down towards me. She looked at Elizabeth. "Get out. Before I hurt you." She obeys.

Elsa sprinted out of the barracks and into a full courtyard. Everybody cheered for her. "Please, leave the courtyard. Retreat to your homes!" They also obeyed. I ran after her. She ran across a lake, turning it more frozen every step and retreated to the Northern Mountain.