Born of Cold and Winter Air

A Queen's Secret Desire

With Prince Hans heavily guarded and imprisoned upon a ship bound for his home Kingdom, and Anna thawed, happy, safe, and back to her normal antics, Elsa was finally able to relax; if only for a short time before she had to resume her responsibilities as Queen. While she was truly happy that everything in Arendelle had gone back to its original state, she herself felt forever altered. In truth, she had barely began to understand the extent of her powers. They were not by any means under control. Years of concealing her abilities had left her inexperienced and if she were honest with herself, she still felt to be a great danger to those around her.

Elsa kicked off her shoes as she walked to her dressing room in search of a night gown. The flimsy cool fabric of her ice dress slid to the floor, pooling around her feet in a heap of icy enchantment. Her bare skin glowed with opalescence in the reflection of her floor length mirror. Her fingers tugged at her loose braid, allowing her pale blonde hair to fall in waves of soft tendrils down her back. She pulled a silky grey chemise from a hanger and slid it over her head.

Elsa had never been so relieved to crawl into the sanctuary of her bed. Her head sank into the comfort of a goose down pillow. Her hands spanned the expanse of satin bed sheets, eyes closed in momentary bliss.

"What the..?" Her foot bumped into a solid object at the edge of her bed. Hands diving underneath the heavy blankets, Elsa retrieved the mysterious object, pleasantly surprised by what she found. The cover was slightly worn from years of inhabiting her bed, but it still held it's beauty.

She opened the book of fairytales, the memory of her late mother reading it to her when she was just a girl coming to mind. Elsa felt the the warm intrusion of tears threatening to spill. Her hand wiped forcefully at her eyes; pulling herself together. The book's spine creaked in protest as she opened it, fingers skimming through the beloved pages of childhood dreams. Her slender fingers stroked the familiar face of the boy she dreamed about as an adolescent. Eyes as fathomless as an ocean of stars...

In her youth, Elsa had been captivated by those very eyes. She almost felt ridiculous for fantasizing about him as a little girl. After all, he was a fairytale and only a mere drawing in her favorite childhood book. Jack Frost was a story told to children as a fantastical reason for the changing of season. There was no such thing as a Winter Spirit and magic of that sort.

"Oh, Jack....if only you were real." She sighed. Staring at the handsome painted face, her fingers began to tingle with a craving for creativity, an urge she hadn't indulged in for some time. Book balanced in her left hand, with her right flourishing in the air, an ice sculpture of her beloved idol began to take form in the middle of her room. Elsa climbed out of the confinement of her blankets and walked over to her creation, fingers trailing along the smoothness of the ice.

She wondered if she willed hard enough, whether he would come to life just as Olaf and Marshmellow had. Her eyes searched the glassy reflection of the sculpture's, her arms inched around the cool slender waist, her body now embracing her inanimate creation. She cared very little that she must have looked ridiculous. It wasn't the first time she created a companion to stave off the loneliness.

Her head rested upon the sculpture's chest, imagining that it had a heartbeat. Deep within the solid ice, a blue glow radiated in the place of a heart. "You'll always be real to me, Jack."

A strong gust of bitter wind blasted through her bedroom windows, causing them to shatter into a million shimmering shards. Elsa, in dismay, flung herself against her bed in frightened confusion. The room swirled with snow and winter winds, picking up her loosened hair and whipping it about her face. This was not her doing.

*****

Elsa froze, her eyes trained upon the back of the intruder who had burst through her bedroom window with the wind. Her heart thudded in her chest, fear rising and taking hold. Her hands turned a deep blue, ready to strike should the need arise.

"What the hell?" The man gasped. He still had not turned around. He walked, barefoot, over to the window. "Fuck!" He lifted his foot, a shard of glass protruding from the soft pad, as a glimmer of red dripped from the wound. "Seriously... What the hell?"

Unsure if she should speak or move, Elsa stayed where she was, watching the stranger for any sudden movements. Courage, Elsa, she told herself. You're the one he should be afraid of.

"Who are you?" Her voice wavered, but her stance was threatening and confident.

The stranger whipped around, forgetting the pain in his foot. His face, with an expression of disbelief played upon it, almost seemed familiar. Elsa's fingers flared and frosted a blackish blue in reflex as the stranger lifted into air and floated towards her.

"You can see me?" His voice was deep and sturdy, but glazed with an undertone of vulnerability.

Elsa stared down the starry blue eyes of the stranger hovering a mere two feet from her bed. "Don't come any closer! I demand you tell me who you are!" Her voice was icy and cold, no longer holding evidence of her frazzled nerves.

Sheets of ice began to coat the walls of her room, the climate becoming similar to that of a shaken snow globe. The stranger never seemed to notice, his gaze of disbelief was still transfixed upon her face.

"My name is Jack. Jack Frost."

*****