The Snow Queen

Madness

While Jack was sleeping and shivering by the fire, Elsa had gone midway down the mountain. She stood at the brink where his hamlet was visible; there was a cold wind blowing her hair all about and snow buzzing wildly everywhere—this wasn't even her own doing. What would Jack think of her once she told him what she'd done? Was it too late to stop it now that it was so out of control? She created another bird of ice in her palm; it raised its reflective head and looked into her eyes.

Go to the little one. Tell her we will be there soon.

And with that, the bird began its journey down the mountain.

Elsa found Jack where she'd left him, but in that short passage of time, he looked so much worse. His hair was more white than chestnut, his lips were turning bluer as he curled up his entire body as much as he could to fight for what warmth he could grasp. All that was left untouched were his eyes; still brown.

In all the years she'd been fending off men that had come to hunt her, that she had stalked and skinned animals for their meat, she'd never seen a creature looking so helpless. This must be her punishment for what she had done to his home, to his family.

For Jack, his chest was what ached the most. It wasn't just cold now, it was wave after wave of pain with every small beat it took. He had his hands tucked into his sleeves and his arms under his shawl, and at this point, he didn't know if it was even effective to try and stay warm anymore.

This wasn't the soothing cold that gently nipped at his skin like in his dreams—this was reality, and this cold would kill him. He felt like stone weights were crushing his chest. He was so lethargic and focused on the pain that he didn't notice Elsa had returned until she felt her delicate hand lifting his chin. The agony in his eyes paled compared to hers; she couldn't bear to see him like this for a moment longer.

"Home." She said and began to curl him into her arms.

...

Ansgar watched as thin layers of ice and frost began to cover the walls and windows of his home. Not knowing what to do, he took one of the candles and held it up to the creeping clusters to try and slow them. What use did a man-made power have against the great unknown? He tried with his own hands to wipe them away, but the touch burned his skin and he ripped them away from the walls.

As he rubbed his hands together to numb the sting, he heard his front door open. Ansgar didn't suspect anything was out of the ordinary when his father came charging in, not even as he grabbed his rifle and lantern. "The weather's getting worse!" Was all the boy yelled, but it was when Elrond looked at him that he felt so small. He'd never seen a look in his father's eyes before, at least not directed at him. It was enough to make the ice all around the village melt in fear. "Dad?" He sounded so meek and confused, but he didn't have to ask why he was looking at him that way. Ansgar somehow knew this would be coming.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

Elrond closed in on his son, and his eyes appeared to glow red with ferocity. "Don't lie to me, boy. To think my own son would have done this to me..."

"Dad," he was interrupted when his back met the wall of his room. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about..." All his life, the boy had been an adroit liar, but the one person he'd been fooling all his life, the one who believed his son admired and worshipped him, could now see right through him. That was something Jack could never do; one was able to lie and keep the peace, the other was brutally honest. If only he had Jack's nerve to tell him to his face just what he thought of him now.

"You betrayed me. You betrayed everyone here." He looked away in disgust at the boy he only ever saw as frail and fragile. "You and that preposterous demon of a boy."