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Obsessed over these baddies

Designs is from @callimara

[ningpow]

If Ice Could Burn - Jelsa | v

series masterlist

pairing: jack frost (rotg) x elsa (frozen)

summary: Elsa and Jack take a trip as the shadows begin to close in on Arendelle.

w/c: 5.8k

tags: crossover, angst, slow burn, romance, post frozen 1, pre frozen 2, political intrigue, mysterious powers, dream sequences, canon-typical violence, supernatural mystery, mentions of blood, tags will be updated as series goes on

The deeper Jack moved into the mountains, the more wrong everything felt. The trees stood too still, like they were listening. Even the ground underfoot had a brittle silence to it, the kind that made him feel like he was intruding. He reached out with his senses, calling on the wind, but it felt… distant. Like the natural forces he usually danced with were holding back.

Shadows slithered unnaturally across the ground, flickering and stretching despite the low morning sun. Jack knelt beside one particularly strange patch of ice, its center fractured like a spiderweb, the edges… burnt, not by fire, but by something colder than ice and darker than night.

He stood, tension coiling in his chest. Something was here. It wasn’t just hiding—it was waiting.

Jack tried calling to the wind again, but it returned to him sluggish, reluctant, whispering of movement beneath the ground. Of dreams turning sour. Of a fear with no face.

Whatever this was, it didn’t belong in Arendelle. Or anywhere.

Jack returned just as the square filled with the noise of activity. Children were laughing, music played, and townspeople gathered for another mid-autumn get-together. Banners swayed in the wind, and a troupe of performers spun colored scarves in the air, the scent of roasted nuts and cider curling through the streets.

He hovered above the rooftops for a while, scanning the crowd.

Elsa was down there, standing beside Anna, smiling at a little girl who’d handed her a flower crown. She looked calm, but Jack saw the way her shoulders stiffened whenever the shadows in the square stretched too far, too fast.

He knew better than to pull her away in the middle of it. The people needed her. She needed this moment, too.

So he waited. Perched on a high eave just out of sight, watching, and worrying. His gaze locked onto Elsa once again, he took in the worried look on her face. Jack always noticed the awkward fidgeting she did with her hands clasped in front of her, like she needed something to hold. 

It was as if Elsa read his mind, when she unclasped her pale hands and put her hand in Anna’s, giving her a warm smile. 

A small smile grew on Jack’s face, taking in the scene in front of him. As Jack turned to leave the courtyard, his gaze swept the crowd��and then stopped. A figure stood near the far edge, half-shrouded in shadow despite the morning light. Tall. Still. Watching. For a second, their eyes met.

The figure didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

And then…gone. Melted into the darkness like smoke pulled into the cracks of the world.

Jack’s heart sank to his stomach, his grip on his staff tightening. His eyes snapped back to Elsa and Anna, completely unaware of what was happening. He had to tell them.

Finally, with a reluctant sigh, Jack slipped away from the rooftop, melting into the early morning mist as he made his way back to the castle.

When he arrived, the castle was almost empty, and almost everyone was outside for the festivities. Jack scratched the back of his head and continued to wander around. When he turned the corner, and bumped into a figure.

“Watch where you’re—! Oh, Jack, it’s you.” Kristoff smiled.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the courtyard?” 

Kristoff raised his hands defensively. “Ran out of carrots. Sven’s getting cranky.” He paused, taking in the frustrated look on Jack’s face. “Is… everything okay?”

Jack gulped, “I saw something in the courtyard. He… it was standing near Elsa and Anna. It was like a tall, shadowy figure.”

Kristoff was taken aback. “Wait, what? Are they okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they’re fine. But we locked eyes. I could barely make out what he looked like, but… he saw me. It was like he was memorizing me, and then he was gone.”

“Okay. This is getting serious. I think we should go to the trolls and talk to them about this.” 

—

The wind whipped through the trees as Kristoff guided the sled along the icy path leading out of Arendelle. Sven grunted with every pull, steam rising from his breath in the morning chill.

Jack sat beside Kristoff, hunched forward, arms wrapped around himself—not from the cold, but from something colder. Something deeper. The memory still lingered: that figure’s eyes, the way it vanished like it belonged to the darkness.

“You okay?” Kristoff asked, eyes on the path.

Jack didn’t answer right away. “Yeah. I just feel bad leaving Arendelle without saying anything.” He let out a small laugh, “And did we really have to take the sled?”

“Most efficient way of traveling, in my opinion!” Kristoff glanced over at him. “I’m sure they’ll understand. It’s not like you left for a vacation.”

Jack gave a small, dry laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Still… Elsa’s been carrying so much. I didn’t want to add to it.”

“I get it.” Kristoff sighed, “She’s been through a lot, you know. But… ever since you came along, she’s been different.” He looked over at Jack, “Good different.”

He perked up, heart thumping, “Ya think?”

Kristoff nodded. “Oh yeah, definitely.” 

Jack turned that over in his mind. What he hadn’t told Kristoff, what he could barely admit to himself, was how much he had changed since meeting Elsa.

And Elsa? She had been holding the world up with both hands for so long that letting someone else stand beside her felt unnatural. She was calm on the outside, but Jack had seen the fear beneath—fear of what she could do, of what others expected her to do, of losing control again.

She had let herself open up to him. Not all at once, but in pieces, through late-night talks, quiet silences that meant more than words, and the trust that had formed like frost on glass: fragile, slow, but real.

“She doesn’t just trust me,” Jack said quietly, almost to himself. “She sees me. And I think that scares her more than anything else.”

Kristoff glanced at him again, this time with a softness that surprised Jack. “Yeah. She’s been strong for everyone else her whole life. But with you, she doesn’t have to be. That kind of connection… it’s rare.”

The sleigh rolled on, the mountains dark against the horizon. And somewhere deep inside, Jack knew this visit wasn’t just about the shadow creature anymore. It was about understanding what he meant to Elsa, and what she meant to him.

They came to a halt outside the troll valley, where mossy stones nestled between glowing blue crystals. As Kristoff helped Jack down, voices murmured ahead—low, curious, expectant.

One by one, the trolls emerged from the shadows. Some rolled, some shuffled, others blinked up with wide, moss-framed eyes. But all of them stopped when they saw Jack.

Whispers rose like wind through leaves: “The Winter Spirit… he’s come again.”

 Jack stiffened. “They know me?”

“You’re part of the old world,” came a voice from above. Grand Pabbie stepped down from his perch, his stone form ageless and wise. “Before names were written, before lines were drawn. We’ve always known you.”

Jack opened his mouth, but Pabbie raised a hand. “You come with questions.”

Kristoff stepped forward, hesitant. “There’s… something in Arendelle. Jack saw it. A shadow, something powerful. It looked at him like it knew him.”

The glow dimmed slightly. Trolls exchanged glances, their smiles fading.

Pabbie’s expression turned grave. “Then he stirs.”

Jack blinked. “He?”

“We do not speak his name,” Pabbie said. “He is fear made form. Where you bring frost and wonder, he brings night and dread. He was banished, long ago—driven back by belief, by light. But when fear grows strong… he finds cracks to slip through.”

Jack’s stomach twisted. “So he’s not just some random nightmare.”

“No.” Pabbie stepped closer, his eyes meeting Jack’s. “He is ancient. And he knows you.”

Jack felt the weight of it settle on his shoulders—the way the shadow had watched him, like a hunter recognizing prey.

“But why now?” Kristoff asked. “Why come back now?”

Pabbie glanced toward the stars, a long silence stretching before he answered. “Because magic is stirring. Balance has shifted. And because you are no longer alone. You have Queen Elsa. It has disrupted the stillness.”

Jack lowered his gaze, his fingers curling into fists. “Then what do I do? How do I stop this?”

The old troll stepped forward, placing a mossy hand over Jack’s heart. “The darkness knows you. But you do not know yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means,” Pabbie said slowly, “that your memory is more than a story, it’s a weapon. What you have forgotten holds the key to standing against him. You must remember.”

Kristoff furrowed his brow. “How’s he supposed to do that? I mean, he can barely remember where he came from, Grand Pabbie.”

“You must return to where it began—where your life ended. Burgess.” Pabbie said, his voice lowering as if the very stones could hear him. “There, you will find the key to restoring your memory and your strength.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “But… I don’t know where that is.”

The trolls murmured among themselves, but Pabbie held up a hand for silence.

“The path will reveal itself, but you must be patient. The journey will not be easy, and the shadows will try to stop you. Remember, you are not alone, even if you feel that way now.”

Jack’s voice was quiet. “And if they don’t?”

“Then he must choose who he is without them,” Pabbie said. “But know this: what you’re facing feeds on fear. It grows in silence. The longer you wait, the more ground it gains.”

Jack looked up again toward the stars. Somewhere far from here, Elsa was unaware of just how close the darkness had already come. And if he didn’t act soon, it might be too late.

He took a breath, steadying himself. “Tell me where to start.”

—

Anna rushed over to her sister’s side, she tugged gently on Elsa’s sleeve. “Elsa, Kristoff still hasn’t come back with the carrots. Sven’s restless, and no one’s seen him since he left earlier.”

Elsa’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you sure? Maybe he got caught up helping someone.”

Anna shook her head, biting her lip. “I asked around. The stable hands say they haven’t seen him. It doesn’t feel right.”

Elsa glanced toward the crowd celebrating around them, then back at Anna. “We can’t just leave, everyone’s counting on us to be here. But I’m worried too.”

Anna sighed. “Maybe we can keep an eye out while still staying with the others. Kristoff wouldn’t want us to abandon everyone.”

Elsa glanced toward the crowd celebrating around them, then back at Anna. “We can’t just leave, everyone’s counting on us to be here. But I’m worried too.”

Anna sighed, arms folding across her chest. The music swelled nearby as children ran past them, laughing, oblivious. “Maybe we can keep an eye out while still staying with the others. Kristoff wouldn’t want us to abandon everyone.”

Elsa nodded slowly, her gaze flicking to the stable. Something was off, and it wasn’t just Kristoff’s delay. There was a strange chill in the air—not the crisp breeze of morning snow, but something heavier. 

Then the wind shifted.

It swirled low and sharp across the stone path behind them, and before either of them could turn, a familiar voice cut through the morning air.

“Elsa!”

She spun, startled–but the worry on her face softened at once.

Jack.

He stood a few paces away, breathless and dusted in frost, as though he’d flown through a storm to get here. His staff was gripped tightly in one hand, and the usual playfulness in his expression had been replaced by grim urgency.

Anna blinked. “Where have you been?”

Jack looked between them, then gestured behind him. “Kristoff’s okay. He’s back at the castle. He wanted me to find you first.”

Elsa stepped forward. “What happened?”

Jack hesitated. “I need to leave. There’s something I have to find. A place. A name came up when I was talking to the trolls—Burgess. I think it’s where I’m from… where I died.”

Elsa’s breath caught. “You remember?”

“Not everything,” Jack said quietly. “But enough. Pabbie thinks that going back might help restore the rest. If I’m going to stop this thing—whatever it is—I need to know who I was.”

Anna looked between them, stunned. “Wait, you’re just leaving? Now?”

Jack’s shoulders tensed. “I don’t want to. But I think it’s the only way to figure out why he’s targeting me. Why now?”

Elsa stepped toward him. “You don’t even know where Burgess is. It’s not in any kingdom nearby—”

“I’ll figure it out,” he said softly, “I always do.”

A quiet beat passed between them. Then, without another word, Elsa closed the space and wrapped her arms around him. Jack held her tight, his breath catching in his throat.

Their magic sparked where they touched—snow meeting snow, ancient and familiar. A vision burst across Elsa’s mind in a flash of white: wide forests, a frozen pond reflecting stars, sled tracks through snowbanks. Burgess.

She pulled back, eyes wide. “I saw it,” she whispered. “Jack, I think I saw your home.”

He stared at her. “Through me?”

She nodded. “Through us.”

Before he could answer, the sky darkened abruptly. A hiss of air swept through the festival, then twisted into a low rumble.

Elsa turned her head sharply. Over the rooftops, clouds churned into an unnatural spiral. The sun dimmed as a cold shadow swept across the village square. Lanterns flickered violently. Snowflakes rose from the ground instead of falling, caught in a strange, reversed wind.

Jack's grip on his staff tightened. “He’s watching again.”

“I’m going with you,” Elsa said. 

“Elsa, no.” Anna pleaded, grabbing her sister's hand tightly. Anna’s heart sank as soon as her sister said that, but this time, it felt like there was no way to change her mind. “Please.”

“Anna. I can’t. Please, just stay here and take care of Arendelle. Jack and I can lead whatever it is away from here. Away from you.”

“I–”

She took a step closer, pulling Anna into an embrace. “I got this, Anna. This started with Jack and I, and it’s going to end with us.”

Jack’s shoulders were tense as Anna looked past Elsa. His jaw clenched, but he gave Anna a small, respectful nod, one that said he understood her fear and that he shared it.

Elsa pulled back from the embrace, hands settling briefly on Anna’s arms. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

Anna nodded, her voice tight. “You better.”

—

Snow flurried softly around them as Elsa and Jack stood at the edge of the cliff. Behind them, the sounds of Arendelle’s festival still carried faintly on the breeze—laughter, distant music, life continuing as normal.

But this wasn’t normal.

“I think I’m ready,” Jack said quietly, eyes fixed on the horizon. “But I still don’t know exactly where I died. I just… feel something pulling me. Like I’ll know it when I see it.”

Elsa stepped closer, her gaze steady. “Then we follow that feeling.”

He turned to look at her, his expression softening. “You sure?”

She nodded. “Whatever this is, it started with us. We finish it together.”

When their hands met, the air shifted. The wind stilled, the snow froze mid-fall—and then something ancient stirred. Magic.

A sudden pulse of light burst from where their palms touched, startling them both. Ice and frost spiraled upward in a storm of blue and silver, curling into the sky. It didn’t scatter like snow. It shaped. Spun. Formed.

A glowing path emerged, arching upward like a bridge suspended in starlight. Ethereal frost traced its edges, radiant and alive. The air shimmered with it, like the northern lights had come down to meet the ice.

“Jack…” Elsa whispered. “What is that?”

“I…I don’t know,” he breathed, wide-eyed. “But I think we made it.”

The bridge hummed with energy, magic thick in the air. It wasn’t just ice. It felt older than both of them. Wilder. A tether made of shared power, belief, and something else—something neither of them could name.

“The bridge…it’s leading us there.”

He stepped onto it cautiously. It held.

Elsa followed. The bridge felt solid beneath their feet, but it pulsed like it was alive, as if responding to their thoughts.

Then the wind changed.

Not cold. Wrong.

Elsa turned, sensing it too. The bridge wavered faintly, the light flickering like a candle in a breeze.

“Jack. We have to go, he’s following us.” She grabbed his hand quickly and took a step forward. The bridge pulsed under her feet, reminding Elsa of the staircase to the ice palace. 

Another step.

It didn’t feel like walking. It felt like being carried, gliding through space and memory at once. Snowflakes drifted in slow motion, glowing with a soft light, each one resonating with a part of Jack’s past—faint, forgotten, but trying to rise.

Elsa gripped his hand tightly. “Are we still in Arendelle?”

Jack shook his head, gaze flickering across the endless current of sky and frost flowing around them.

Ahead, the bridge narrowed into a glowing thread stretching into nothingness. Stars twisted above them, constellations unfamiliar, as if the sky itself had shifted. But the further they traveled, the heavier the air grew—cold not from ice, but from something older, emptier.

Then the bridge began to flicker.

A shadow crawled at the edges of the light. The starlit path pulsed, dimming in places like a heartbeat skipping. Elsa slowed, ice curling from her fingertips instinctively.

The wind surged violently. The bridge cracked—briefly—and a pulse of dark mist rolled across it like smoke under glass. Jack and Elsa stumbled, but the bond between their magic held.

“Hold on!” Jack shouted, plunging his staff into the bridge. The entire path flared white-blue, a shield of frost locking the rift beneath them.

They stepped onto the glowing frost together. Their bodies grew lighter as they ascended. The sky bent around them. What began as wind became a rushing tunnel of light and snow, speeding them forward through a frozen wormhole glittering with ancient energy. Stars seemed to blur past them. It wasn’t flying—it was falling forward through time, memory, and magic.

Then, suddenly, cold.

Not their cold.

A shadow broke through the tunnel like an oil slick in water. The radiant glow of the bridge flickered, dimmed. The wind shifted—no longer natural but forced, like something was breathing down their necks.

“Jack…” Elsa warned, eyes scanning the swirling dark ahead.

He gripped his staff tightly. “I feel it too.”

From the side of the bridge, tendrils of shadow reached in like fingers. The stars twisted above. The magic was bending under pressure—not from within, but from something outside the bridge, something ancient that knew how to pull at magical seams.

A massive pulse of shadow slammed into the bridge, causing it to groan beneath them. They staggered. Elsa caught herself with a blast of ice, freezing a stabilizing platform beneath them.

Then the shape came. Not fully seen. Only hinted—like a figure of smoke standing at the far edge of the bridge. It didn’t move. It only watched.

Jack’s heart pounded. “It’s him. He’s watching again.”

“Who?” Elsa asked, shielding her eyes.

“I don’t know. But he’s stronger now.”

Without warning, the figure lunged—not at them, but at the bridge itself, aiming to sever the connection before they could cross. Magic convulsed. Lights shattered like glass. Time warped.

Elsa threw up her hands. A dome of ice encased them just as tendrils of shadow crashed against it. Jack spun his staff, flinging a spear of frost into the dark. It struck, but passed through.

It was toying with them.

A surge of panic rose in Elsa’s chest. “We have to go!”

They ran, the bridge splintering and warping behind them with every strike from the shadows. The closer they got to the end, the more unstable it became.

The portal—an arch of frost and starlight—flickered in and out.

One final push.

Jack turned and launched a burst of magic at the figure behind them, not to hurt it, just to blind it. The light exploded across the bridge. They leapt.

They crashed down into the ground.

The second their feet hit the ground, the portal behind them shattered like a mirror. A wave of frost exploded outward and then vanished. The shadows, whatever they were, didn’t follow.

Not yet.

The air stilled. Jack dropped to his knees, breath heaving. “We made it.”

Elsa looked around, her brows tightening. Her steps slowed as she took in the town. It felt suspended in time—modest wooden homes lined narrow dirt roads, framed by trees turning amber, crimson, and gold. A breeze rustled fallen leaves across the ground, their crunch soft beneath her heels. The air was crisp but not yet bitter, carrying the scent of hearth smoke and damp earth. This was no kingdom, no palace. Just a village waking up under a sky streaked with pale autumn light—and yet, something about it felt important. Familiar, even.

It looked like a farmer’s market was being set up, with children running around, parents trying to control them. Elsa looked down at herself. The long, crystalline train of her ice dress sparkled like it didn’t belong. “We look like we came out of a snowstorm.” She laughed, picking up her train from the ground. 

“More like you look like,” Jack said, as a kid ran straight through him, the little girl’s eyes were trained on Elsa as if she came from another world.

“Oh.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I guess I was so used to being seen that I completely forgot what it was like to be invisible.”

“Jack…” Elsa began. She looked around, more people began to enter the farmer’s market. Which meant more eyes on her. “You’re not invisible to me.”

Jack smiled. “I know. Now, I think you should get changed. The kids are starting to notice you.”

Elsa stepped off the path, brushing a few auburn leaves from her shoulder. Her glittering gown shimmered like a glacier under the autumn sun—beautiful, but far too conspicuous.

“This won’t work,” she murmured to Jack.

With a breath, she closed her eyes and focused. Magic stirred in her fingertips, responding not to fear or ceremony, but necessity. The icy layers of her gown dissolved into frost, then reshaped, melting into a simple, deep-blue dress, stitched with subtle snowflake embroidery along the sleeves. A thick cloak settled across her shoulders, practical and warm.

Jack gave a low whistle. “You’re getting good at that.”

She adjusted her sleeves and pulled her hair out of its usual braid. “Let’s try not to draw attention.”

“I think this is my first time seeing you with your hair down.” Jack tilted his head, floating just behind her with a crooked grin.

She glanced his way without turning her head fully. “It’s not that exciting.”

He drifted closer, hands in his coat pockets. “On the contrary. This might be the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in decades.”

She exhaled sharply, half a laugh. “You need to get out more.”

He leaned in until his voice brushed her ear. “You know I can’t. That’s kind of the whole deal. But I’d risk being seen for a few more minutes of you looking like this.”

Elsa rolled her eyes but didn’t hide the faint pink rising in her cheeks. “You’re lucky no one can hear you.”

Jack grinned. “You love that no one can hear me.”

She didn’t deny it—but she did step lightly forward, hands clasped in front of her now, composed again as they entered the small, bustling square of Burgess. Stalls were already open, crowded with baskets of apples, jars of honey, rough wool scarves, and sunflowers bundled in twine. The scent of cider and cinnamon hung sweet in the air.

“It actually feels good, walking around like this. People aren’t staring at me and curtseying,” She laughed, trying to keep her voice low as she walked.

Elsa moved carefully through the market, her posture royal by habit, but her expression softening as she looked over the produce. Her fingers brushed a basket of pears before selecting one with quiet deliberation.

Behind her, Jack walked like a ghost no one could see, pausing to sniff at a pie someone set out to cool, hovering near her shoulder when she bent over a row of pumpkins.

“You know,” he said idly, “If I were visible, people would think you were talking to your imaginary boyfriend.”

She smirked and spoke without looking up. “Who says I’m not?”

Jack blinked, momentarily speechless. Then he laughed, low and surprised.

“Okay. That was good,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”

She straightened and met his gaze with an almost-smile. “I told you not to draw attention.”

Elsa moved with quiet purpose through the market square, the autumn air cool against her skin. She didn’t stand out by anything she did—she wasn’t loud, didn’t smile too widely, didn’t command attention.

She simply had it.

The silver of her hair glinted in the sunlight as she bent slightly over a stand of apples, the motion making her coat shift around her like falling snow. Even here, among the browns and golds of harvest season, she looked carved from frost.

Jack walked just behind her, unseen as always, hands in his pockets.

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, “you’re not exactly blending in.”

Elsa ignored him, lifting an apple and brushing her thumb across its skin.

—

The bell above the tavern door gave a dull clink as Elsa stepped inside. The air was warm, a welcome change from the crisp bite of Burgess’s autumn wind, and smelled of woodsmoke, roasted potatoes, and something spiced cooking over the hearth. 

The Hollow Hearth wasn’t old… at least not by Jack’s standards. The beams were clean and new, without the sag of time, and the glass in the windows wasn’t warped. There were no memories soaked into the wood yet, no echo of his footsteps here. If this place had existed when he was alive, it wouldn’t have stood long enough to matter.

Jack hovered beside her anyway.

“None of this was here,” he said softly, glancing around. “The square was open land. The only thing that stood here in my time was a chapel. And a bakery, I think.”

Elsa gave a quiet nod and found a seat in the far corner, away from the fire, away from other eyes. She folded her hands in her lap and kept her head slightly lowered, not enough to draw suspicion, but enough to keep her from seeming too curious. The trick to traveling unnoticed was to look like you belonged. To appear just cold and quiet enough that no one wanted to bother you.

A girl brought over tea and a plate of seedcake without being asked. Elsa murmured her thanks, and the girl moved on.

Jack leaned against the empty space across from her, hands in his coat pockets. “At least you can order without speaking.”

Elsa allowed herself a small smile. “You’re just upset you can’t eat.”

Jack smiled back, but his eyes flickered off of her when he noticed a flyer on the wall behind her. 

He stood up. “Elsa.” Jack grabbed the paper off the wall and put it on the table. “Look. There was a storm. I think that was when I died.”

IN MEMORY OF THE GREAT SNOW OF 1712 Candlelight Gathering — Lakeside Chapel, September 5th at Noon To honor those lost in the storm Survivors’ families welcome. Open to all.

Elsa’s eyes wandered to the bottom of the page, where there was a list of names.

Jackson Overland.

She pointed at the name. “That has to be you.”

“There was a lake,” he said slowly, frowning as the images came into focus. “Frozen over. My sister was little, too little to understand how thin the ice could get. I think she chased something... a toy, maybe.” He exhaled sharply. “She fell through.”

Elsa’s breath caught, but she stayed still.

“I went after her. Got her out,” he said. “But the ice didn’t hold for me.”

He looked down at the flyer again. “I always thought I just disappeared. That no one knew. But someone remembered my name. Someone passed it down.”

Elsa traced the edge of the parchment with her fingers. “It’s been over a hundred years. Your sister would have grown up... maybe she told someone. Maybe her children did. Someone must’ve known what you did.”

Jack’s face was unreadable, caught between wonder and grief.

“I wonder if she thought of me,” he said softly. “If she missed me.”

“I’m sure she did,” Elsa said. “You gave her the chance to live.”

The wind rattled faintly at the windows, a distant whisper of the past returning.

“We should go,” she added. “To the chapel. If your name’s there, maybe there’s more. A record. Something left behind.”

Jack nodded, eyes still fixed on the faded ink of his name.

“It’s strange,” he said, his voice low. “I never thought I’d be remembered. But here I am.”

He looked back up at Elsa, then around the room. “I don’t know how to thank you, Elsa.”

Elsa met his gaze, a teasing glint flickering in her eyes. “Maybe just keep me around a little longer.”

He chuckled softly, a warmth in his voice that wasn’t just from the fire. “I think I’d like that. You know, it’s rare to find someone who can see all of me.”

Elsa shifted in her seat, leaning in just slightly, lowering her voice. “Maybe you’ve just been looking in the wrong places.”

Jack’s eyes sparkled. “Or maybe I just needed the right person to remind me what’s real.”

The corners of Elsa’s lips lifted in a smile that held promise, and for a moment, the weight of the past lifted between them, replaced by something lighter, something electric.

They stood together, the din of the tavern fading behind them as they made their way to the door.

“Tomorrow,” Elsa said softly as they stepped outside into the cool air, “we find your truth.”

—

The chill of the evening wrapped around them as Elsa and Jack approached the boarding house. The wooden sign creaked softly above the door: The Hearthstone Inn.

Inside, the warm glow of the hearth flickered against the walls. A stout woman stood behind the counter, looking up as Elsa entered, alone.

“Well, bless my stars,” she said, eyes widening in surprise. “I don’t reckon I’ve ever seen anyone quite like you ‘round these parts.”

Her gaze lingered on Elsa, sincere and admiring. “Young lady, you’re the most beautiful soul to walk through that door in a long time. It’s like the sun decided to visit Burgess tonight.”

Elsa flushed, offering a shy smile. “Thank you. I’m just here for the night.”

Jack, standing just behind her, remained unseen—his presence a silent comfort.

The woman moved to fetch a key. “I’ve got a spare room upstairs, if you don’t mind a little creak in the floorboards.”

As she handed Elsa the key, she glanced around nervously, as if sensing someone else but seeing no one. “If you ever want to brighten this old place again, you’re welcome anytime.”

Elsa nodded, glancing back to where Jack stood silently beside her. “Thank you.”

Jack reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch warm but invisible to everyone else. Elsa’s eyes met his briefly—a quiet, unspoken connection.

With a small smile, Elsa began to make her way up the stairs and into the room. She had never stayed in a place like this before, better yet, been outside of Arendelle. 

Jack noticed Elsa’s sudden silence, the way her eyes were scanning the small room. “Everything good?” he asked, leaning his staff against the wooden walls. “I can stay outside if you’d like. I don’t necessarily sleep.”

Elsa shook her head, taking a seat on the bed. “No. It’s just… I’ve never really been outside of Arendelle.”

 “Oh.” Jack had completely forgotten. His eyes locked on Elsa, “Are… you okay?”

She gave a faint smile. “There was always something to keep me there. Duty. The crown. The cold. And even before that... my parents were very careful about where I went. About who saw me.”

Her gaze drifted to the window, distant. “They were afraid of what people would think of me. And then, just when I thought maybe they trusted me to handle the world… they left.”

Jack didn’t speak. He just listened.

“They said it was a diplomatic voyage,” she continued softly. “But I always felt like there was something they weren’t telling me. Then, they never came back.”

Her voice quieted to a whisper. “I don’t even know what they were looking for. Why they risked it. Just… one day they were there, and then they weren’t.”

She huffed. “Just imagine how 21 year old Elsa felt. Waking up to the news that her parents were dead and she was to be queen.” 

Jack’s expression softened. “That sounds... absolutely awful.”

She shrugged, but there was weight behind it. “I didn’t even have time to grieve. One day, I was the quiet daughter with frostbitten hands, and the next, I was sitting on a throne I didn’t ask for. Wearing a crown that didn’t fit.”

Jack stepped closer, just enough that she could feel the slight shift in the air where he stood. “Sounds like someone was overdue for running away to a sleepy town with a handsome ghost.”

That startled a small laugh out of her. She looked up at him, a spark of dry amusement in her eyes. “Is that what this is? Running away?”

He grinned. “No. This is just… rewriting the story.”

Elsa smiled and looked out the window. “I just hope Anna’s okay. I feel terrible leaving so abruptly.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Me too, I’m sure they’ll hold up fine though. Whatever it was obviously followed us here instead of staying in Arendelle.”

She yawned, “I should sleep,” she said softly, almost reluctantly. “We’ll need to be up early.”

Jack nodded, stepping back a little. “Yeah. Big day tomorrow. Chapel, memories, possibly sobbing strangers...”

She smiled faintly, but there was warmth in it. “Will you stay?”

He didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll be right here.”

Elsa climbed into bed and pulled the quilt up around her shoulders, the scent of old lavender rising faintly from the fabric. She watched Jack for a moment as he settled near the window, his staff propped beside him, his gaze cast to the moonlit street below.

“Jack?” she said, just before closing her eyes.

He looked over.

“Thank you.”

His voice was quiet. “Anytime, Your Majesty.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled into the pillow. “You’re insufferable.”

“I know,” he said with a smirk. “But I’m all yours now.”

Elsa let out a soft breath of laughter, and her eyes finally closed, the lines of worry easing from her face.

And Jack stayed there, watching over her, silent and still—like a promise waiting to be kept.

[ningpow]

Jackson's afternoons with Tommy Miller

(I need Gabriel Luna SO bad I'm shaking n crying it's not FAIR)

[ningpow]

Let Me In

pairing: jackson! joel miller x reader

summary: joel struggles to protect those he loves while facing the harsh realities of a dangerous world. as past wounds resurface, he must confront difficult choices that test his strength and resolve.

w/c: 3.6k

tags: angst, slightly ooc! joel, mean! joel, happy ending, mild kissing, arguing, ellie and joel conflict, established relationship, emotional turmoil, post-apocalyptic setting, hurt/comfort, love/hate dynamic, family drama, trust issues, reconciliation, protective joel, intense feelings, suspense, survival themes, tension, vulnerability, mature themes

The warmth of Jackson’s evening lights spilled across the snow, but it didn’t reach the porch where you stood, bag slung over your shoulder, breath sharp in the cold. Inside, Joel hadn’t said a word, not when you zipped the bag, not when you paused in the doorway, giving him every damn chance to stop you. The door creaked shut behind you with a finality that made your chest ache. You didn’t look back. If he wasn’t going to fight for this, for you, then maybe you’d been wrong about all of it.

You huffed, boots crunching in the snow as tears welled up in your eyes. Your thoughts raced, thinking back to the events prior. The tension between you and Joel had been growing for the past weeks. You understood how he felt and struggled with his relationship with Ellie, but it reached a point. A point that you couldn’t bear anymore. You had to leave.

Tears eventually poured down your chilled cheeks. You couldn’t even remember what time it was, the weight of everything pressing down, numbing your senses. The world around you felt distant, like you were trapped inside a storm that wouldn’t let up.

Your mind drifted back, pulling you into the memory, the argument that shattered everything.

—

You hadn’t planned on this fight. You walked through the door that afternoon, hoping for something different, maybe a conversation, maybe a sign that things could get better. Instead, the cold silence waiting for you was worse than any shout.

Joel was sitting at the kitchen table, hunched over an old, chipped mug. His eyes stared blankly at the cracked porcelain like it held the answers to everything. Ellie wasn’t home. She’d left hours ago, after another fight you didn’t even try to stop. You didn’t even have to ask where she was. Every time she’d argue with Joel, she’d run off to Dina’s.

You dropped your bag quietly by the door and tried to steady your voice. “Joel… we need to talk.”

No response. Just the muffled creak of the old house settling.

You cleared your throat, heart pounding. “I mean really talk. About us.”

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he finally lifted his gaze, dark and tired. “What’s there to say?”

That was the problem—the silence, the walls between you.

You stepped closer, frustration and hurt bubbling up. “You don’t want to say anything because you don’t want to admit how bad this is. You’re shutting me out, just like you shut Ellie out. You’ve been so wrapped up in whatever’s happening with her, you forgot I’m still here.”

Joel’s eyes flared, the fire inside them barely controlled. “I care about Ellie. She’s all I got.”

“And what about me?” you shot back, voice trembling. “Who’s all you got when you treat me like I’m nothing?”

Joel slammed his palm on the table, making the mug jump and crack further. “I’m trying to hold on to what little family I have left. You don’t get it.”

“Maybe I do,” you whispered bitterly. “Maybe I’m just tired of being the last priority. Tired of feeling like I’m standing on the edge of your world, and every time I reach out, you pull away.”

Joel stood, muscles taut, his shadow stretching across the worn floorboards. “You think this is easy for me? Watching her push me away every day? Watching the girl I swore to protect turn into someone I can barely recognize?”

“I’m not her, Joel,” you said quietly, stepping closer despite the ache twisting your insides. “But I’m losing you too.”

He looked at you then, eyes flickering with something raw and unguarded, the pain so deep it left you breathless. “Maybe I’m not the man you thought I was.”

“Maybe I was the fool for thinking you could be,” you said, tears blurring your vision.

For a long moment, there was only silence…heavy, unbearable. Then Joel’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “If you leave…”

You shook your head, grabbing your bag from the corner where you’d left it. “I can’t stay. Not like this.”

He didn’t move.

You took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ve been here through every scar, every fight, every damn thing this world threw at us. But I’m tired. Tired of pretending. Tired of waiting for you to come back.”

Joel’s shoulders sagged. “I’m not gonna stop you.”

Your fingers trembled as you opened the door and stepped out into the biting cold. The door slammed behind you, the sound echoing like the final crack of something broken beyond repair.

The sharp slam of the door reverberated through the quiet house, a sound so final it seemed to freeze the air itself. Joel stood motionless, his hand still resting on the edge of the kitchen table, his body rigid with a mixture of shock and pain. The cold emptiness that had settled between them moments ago now swallowed the room whole. The weight of your words—the exhaustion, the hopelessness– pressed down on him heavier than any winter frost.

You had left.

No last argument, no pleas or promises, just silence and the heavy echo of the closing door. Joel’s eyes lingered on the spot where you’d had stood moments before, as if willing you back with sheer force of will. But the space remained vacant.

For a long moment, all he could hear was the slow, steady beat of his own heart, loud and insistent in the stillness. It was a reminder that he was still alive. But what kind of life was this, when the people he cared about most were slipping through his fingers?

His shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him like the last embers of a dying fire. The anger, the frustration, all the walls he’d built around himself, crumbled under the weight of what he’d just lost. He realized, painfully, that in trying to hold everything together. Ellie, this place, he had only managed to push the people he loved away.

Joel’s gaze drifted to the cracked mug on the table, the symbol of everything fractured and fragile. He had been so focused on protecting Ellie, on managing his own grief and fears, that he’d neglected the one person who stood by him through it all. The woman who had tried, again and again, to reach him beneath the armor of silence and stubbornness.

He clenched his fists, the rough skin scraping against the worn wood. Guilt washed over him, thick and suffocating. You had stayed through every scar, every fight, every unbearable moment of this broken world—and now you were gone, because he couldn’t be the man you needed.

Joel’s breath hitched. The thought of losing you, too, after everything, was unbearable. The cold in his chest deepened, threatening to freeze whatever warmth he had left.

Suddenly, the weight of the empty house became unbearable. The quiet mocked him. The absence was louder than any shout. The man who had survived countless horrors now felt powerless in the face of his own mistakes.

Without thinking, Joel grabbed his coat and stepped outside into the biting cold. The snow crunched beneath his boots as he moved with a desperate urgency, his mind clouded with fear and regret.

He didn’t know where you’d would go—maybe nowhere safe, maybe somewhere familiar—but he couldn’t let you disappear without trying to make things right.

His steps carried him through Jackson’s empty streets, the fading light casting long shadows over the familiar buildings. The faces of neighbors and friends blurred past, unnoticed. All that mattered was finding you, seeing you again, telling you he was sorry, even if the words felt heavy and clumsy on his tongue.

The town’s gates came into view, standing like silent sentinels against the cold evening. Joel’s breath quickened. He paused, searching the area, scanning for any sign of you. The wind tugged at his coat, carrying a faint echo of your scent—a mixture of pine, earth, and something soft he had only ever smelled on you.

There you were.

Leaning against the weathered wooden gate, your shoulders hunched against the cold, eyes distant and red-rimmed. Joel’s heart tightened. The sight of you, so fragile and alone, ignited a fierce ache deep inside him.

He took a cautious step forward, unsure if you’d welcome him or shut him out forever.

“Hey,” he said quietly, voice rough and low.

You didn’t move at first, just stared ahead, the weight of the world in your eyes. Then, slowly, you turned to look at him.

He swallowed hard and spoke again. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice thick with regret. “I screwed up. I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m scared, and I’ve been a damn fool.”

She blinked back tears but didn’t say a word.

“I know you’re upset. Please just come back home, darling. It’s late and it's freezing.” He sighed, “Let’s sit down and talk at the house, please.”

The silence stretched, fragile and fragile like the first thaw of spring ice.

Then, slowly, you nodded.

Joel let out a sigh of relief and watched as you gripped your bag tightly and began walking, keeping a slight distance between the two of you. His gaze burned into your back, as if he took his eyes off you, you’d disappear. 

The walk back to the house was short, but it felt longer than it ever had. Joel’s boots crunched softly in the snow behind yours, each step echoing the weight of the words he hadn’t said soon enough. You didn’t look back at him, but you didn’t tell him to stay behind either. That sliver of grace—that maybe was the only thing keeping his chest from collapsing.

When you reached the porch, you paused just long enough to steady your breath before opening the door. The two of you stepped inside, the familiar warmth of the house rushing to meet you. It should’ve been comforting. It used to be. But now the space felt unfamiliar, stretched thin with tension and everything unsaid.

You dropped your bag by the door and shrugged off your coat, hanging it on the hook without a word. Joel did the same, slower, his movements heavy. The house was still, quiet in a way that wasn’t peaceful.

You made your way to the living room, your fingers brushing the edge of the worn armchair before you sat. Joel stayed standing for a moment, unsure where he belonged, even in his own home.

He finally lowered himself onto the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped like he was bracing for impact.

A silence rose between the two. And finally, you spoke. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

Joel nodded slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “I didn’t mean to push you that far.”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’ve been pushing me for months, Joel. This time I just… didn’t have the strength to keep standing.”

He looked at you then, really looked. The tired slope of your shoulders, the way your eyes stayed fixed on the fire like it was safer than looking at him. He hated that he had done this. The person who had stood beside him through everything now looked like a stranger across the room.

“I’ve been tryin’ to hold it together,” he said, words slow and careful. “With Ellie… with everything that’s happened. I didn’t realize I was takin’ it out on you.”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t realize? I don’t see how that’s possible, Joel.”

“I—” You raised your hand, stopping him from continuing. “I’m not finished. You don’t understand what I do for you. Am I not enough? I cook for you, I take care of you, even when you don’t need taking care of.” 

You pause, close to shedding tears.

 “I love you, Joel. Do you understand what I’ve been through these past few months? Being ignored? Being pushed away? Every night, I’m on the verge of tears because all I want is to be loved by you again. I understand you’re having problems with Ellie. But I want to help. I want you to let me in. I don’t want you to deal with this alone.” You stood up from the armchair, approaching him and sitting on the couch next to Joel, who was stiff.

“You think I want to?” he shot back. “You think this is easy for me? I wake up every goddamn day wondering what else I’m gonna lose. And I look at you, and it scares the hell out of me.”

“Then why are you pushing me away?” you demanded, voice sharp now, desperate. “Why do I feel like I’m begging for scraps of your attention?”

Joel ran a hand down his face, scrubbing at his beard like he was trying to shake off the weight. “Because every time I get close to someone, they get taken from me,” he said bitterly. “Sarah. Tess. Ellie’s barely speaking to me. And now you…”

“I’m not gone, Joel,” you snapped. “I’m still here. I’ve been here. But you’re treating me like I’m already dead.”

“You think I want to?” he shot back. “You think this is easy for me? I wake up every goddamn day wondering what else I’m gonna lose. And I look at you, and it scares the hell out of me.”

You stared at him, breath caught in your throat. “So what, you’d rather drive me out before I can leave on my own?”

“I’m tryin’ to protect you!” Joel growled, standing suddenly. His voice cracked with something deeper—rage, grief, fear. “You don’t know what it’s like in my head. You don’t know what I see every time I close my eyes. I’m already losin’ Ellie. I can’t—” He broke off, jaw tightening. “I can’t lose you, too.”

“But you are,” you whispered, standing to meet him. “Not because of the world. Not because of fate. But because you won’t let yourself have this. Have me.”

Joel looked at you like he wanted to speak, wanted to reach out—but his hands stayed at his sides, curled tight, useless.

“I can’t keep loving someone who doesn’t want to be loved,” you said, voice trembling. “Not when it’s killing me to stay.”

A beat of silence passed between you, heavy and final. And when Joel still didn’t speak, still didn’t move, you took a shaky breath and whispered, “I’m going upstairs. You can decide if you want to fight for this or keep watching it die.”

You turned and walked away, your footsteps echoing up the stairs as Joel remained frozen in place, his chest heaving with everything he hadn’t said—everything he was terrified to admit.

—

The morning light crept in slowly through the frosted windows, casting pale gold across the wooden floors of Joel’s home. The house was silent—too silent. Not even the familiar crackle of the fireplace or the hum of the stove. Just stillness.

Joel sat at the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, the same clothes from last night wrinkled and hanging loose off his frame. He hadn’t slept. Not really. Every time he closed his eyes, your voice echoed back to him.

“I can’t keep loving someone who doesn’t want to be loved.”

“You can decide if you want to fight for this…”

He hadn’t gone after you. Not when you climbed those stairs. Not when the floor above him creaked under your pacing. Not when the house eventually fell into that quiet, exhausted stillness only heartbreak could bring.

And now the sun was up, and Joel felt no closer to knowing what to do.

But he couldn’t keep sitting in this silence. Not anymore.

He stood, joints stiff from the long night on the couch, and moved toward the stairs like they were a mountain he wasn’t sure he deserved to climb. Each step creaked under his boots as he slowly ascended, careful, almost reluctant.

He paused outside the bedroom door. It wasn’t closed all the way. A tiny crack of space remained, like you hadn’t been sure if you wanted it shut, like part of you was still waiting, too.

Joel took a breath and gently pushed the door open.

You were awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with your back to him. Wrapped in one of his flannels, knees tucked up, eyes on the floor. You didn’t look up when he stepped inside.

“I made coffee,” he said softly, his voice rough with exhaustion and something far deeper.

You nodded faintly, but said nothing.

Joel lingered in the doorway, heart aching in the silence. “I know that don’t fix anything.”

“No,” you murmured. “It doesn’t.”

Another pause. A longer one.

He stepped further into the room, stopping a few feet from you. “You were right. Last night. You were right about all of it.”

You finally turned, just slightly, enough to glance at him. Your eyes were rimmed with red, and your voice was barely above a whisper. “Then why did it take me threatening to leave for you to say anything?”

Joel swallowed. “Because I was scared. And that ain’t an excuse—it’s just the truth.”

You stared at him, tired and guarded. But not unreachable.

“I’ve lost so damn much,” Joel went on, slowly lowering himself to sit beside you. “And I kept thinkin’ if I held you too close, if I needed you too much, the world would find a way to take you from me. So I started pushin’... without even knowin’ how far I was shovin’ you away.”

Your voice cracked. “You didn’t just push, Joel. You made me feel invisible.”

“I know,” he said, his voice low, his gaze locked on his hands. “And I hate myself for it. I really do.”

Silence again—but this time, it wasn’t full of anger. Just grief. Worn edges. The kind of silence that comes after a storm.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said, softer now. “But I ain’t gonna beg you to stay if I can’t give you what you deserve. So I need you to know I’m gonna try. Really try. Not just today. Not just tomorrow. I know I don’t talk much, and I’m rough around the edges, but I swear to you—I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even when I was too damn afraid to show it.”

You looked at him then. Really looked at him. The lines of guilt on his face. The weariness in his eyes. But also, finally, something else. A flicker of vulnerability. Honesty. Joel, laid bare.

You reached over, your fingers brushing his hand.

“I don’t need perfect,” you whispered. “I just need you.”

Joel looked down at your fingers, and he hesitantly inched closer to you. 

“Can I...?” he asked quietly, lifting your joined hands like he was asking for permission to be closer. “I wanna hold you.”

You nodded.

He moved slowly, carefully, as if afraid you’d disappear the second he reached out. His arms came around your waist, and you leaned into him, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Joel exhaled shakily, his body warm and solid against yours, anchoring you. One of his hands moved to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair.

“I’ve missed this,” you whispered. “Missed you.”

Joel pulled back just enough to look at you, his hand still resting on your cheek. His eyes searched yours—soft, regretful, full of something deeper.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you murmured, leaning forward until your lips just barely brushed his.

He hesitated—but only for a breath.

Then he kissed you like he needed to memorize the taste of you, the shape of your mouth, the way your fingers clutched at his shirt. It was slow at first, cautious. Then it deepened, turning hungry. Months of tension and loneliness spilled into that kiss, and you could feel every apology, every word he hadn’t known how to say, written in the way his lips moved against yours.

His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer, guiding you onto his lap like he couldn’t stand even an inch of distance. Your legs straddled his, and his grip tightened, groaning softly when you pressed your hips into his.

“Tell me if this is too fast,” he murmured against your mouth, breath ragged.

“It’s not,” you breathed. “Joel, I need this. I need you.”

You tugged his shirt upward, fingers skimming over the familiar ridges of muscle and scar. He helped you pull it off, tossing it aside, and then his hands were under your shirt, touching reverently, worshipping with every brush of his calloused palms against your skin.

“God, I’ve been such an idiot,” he whispered as he kissed down your throat. “Pushin’ you away when all I ever wanted was to keep you close.”

“You still can,” you whispered, gasping as his mouth found the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “I’m still here.”

He laid you back gently on the bed, eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above you. “Not lettin’ you go again,” he promised, voice low, full of something that felt like a vow. “Not ever.”

And then there were no more words—just mouths and hands and quiet, desperate love.

The world outside remained cold, snow still falling quietly against the windows. But inside, wrapped up in Joel’s arms, you finally felt warm again.

[ningpow]

If Ice Could Burn - Jelsa | iv

series masterlist

pairing: jack frost (rotg) x elsa (frozen)

summary: As unease deepens in Arendelle, Anna, Elsa, and Jack find themselves navigating a fragile balance between fear, secrecy, and trust. Tensions rise following strange events and unspoken truths, testing old bonds and drawing new lines in the snow. But as shadows gather and unseen forces stir, the weight of what they don’t understand begins to press in—and not everyone may be ready for what’s coming.

w/c: 5.4k

tags: crossover, angst, slow burn, romance, post frozen 1, pre frozen 2, , political intrigue, mysterious powers, dream sequences, canon-typical violence, supernatural mystery, mentions of blood, tags will be updated as series goes on

The council chamber was cold, the heavy stone walls pressing close like an unspoken warning. The air hummed with unease. No one spoke until Vardis cleared his throat.

“Your Majesty, recent reports from the northern border have raised troubling concerns,” he said, voice steady but tight. “Scouts have noticed disturbances in the mountain passes, unlike anything we’ve seen before. “

Lady Signe’s eyes flicked nervously to the windows as she leaned forward. “We recommend reinforcing patrols and deploying more sentinels. If there is a growing shadow, we must be ready.”

Emrik’s gaze hardened. “Magic or no magic, these signs could be a prelude to something far worse. We need intelligence beyond scouts, spies, anything. The council cannot depend solely on the Queen’s judgment.”

Elsa held their eyes firmly. “So you doubt me. You think the danger lies within my power, not beyond it.”

Vardis’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Your Majesty, we act not out of distrust, but out of necessity. The kingdom’s safety hangs by a thread.”

She inhaled slowly, the tension folding into a quiet resolve. “If fear guides us, then we’ve already lost. But I will oversee the patrols personally, and any magic used beyond that requires my direct approval.”

Her gaze drifted to the darkening horizon visible beyond the chamber’s high windows, where shadows seemed to thicken unnaturally, as if something unseen stirred beyond the mountains. A cold whisper, a breath of something ancient and unfathomable.

“The true threat,” Elsa said softly, “is not just what we see… but what lurks in the spaces between. We must face that darkness together… before it reaches us.”

She turned on her heel, leaving the council to the heavy silence, the unspoken fear settling like frost in the room.

As Elsa stepped out of the council chamber, the cold weight of their words still clinging to her, she barely noticed the soft footsteps behind her.

“Elsa!” Anna’s voice called out, warm and urgent. “There you are!”

Elsa turned, surprised to see her sister hurrying toward her, eyes bright with concern. Before Elsa could respond, Anna gently took her arm. “Come with me. You look like you need a break, away from all this... politics and cold stares.”

Elsa hesitated but let herself be led, the pressure of the council meeting still heavy but slightly eased by Anna’s steady presence.

They walked briskly through the palace halls, Anna’s energy pulling Elsa away from her thoughts. “You can’t carry all of this alone,” Anna said softly. “And sometimes, the best way to clear your head is to get outside.”

Elsa gave a small, grateful smile. “Maybe you’re right.”

Anna grinned. “Good. I know a little spot in the village where the baker just pulled fresh bread from the oven. Let’s get some, we need some sister time anyways.”

Elsa nodded, feeling the first flicker of warmth since the meeting. They headed toward the castle gates, the crisp morning air a quiet promise of a momentary escape.

“Also…” Anna began, leaning in closer to her sister, voice at almost a whisper. “Kristoff has been acting kind of weird today…” Elsa raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” “I don’t know. When I came back from breakfast, he wasn’t acting like his usual self. It was like he was hiding something from me.” She sighed.

“Anna.” Elsa grabbed her sister’s hands. “I’m sure everything will be okay. Maybe you should talk to him about it.” “Okay…” Anna gulped, gripping Elsa’s hands tight. “Yeah, I’ll talk to him tonight. Let’s go.”

— 

As Elsa and Anna settled at the corner table of the bakery, the cozy warmth and the scent of spiced pastries wrapped around them like a blanket. It felt rare, this kind of peace—just the two of them, sitting with cider in hand and no pressing matters between them.

Anna broke off a piece of cinnamon bun and grinned. “You know, I’ve missed this. You, me, and pastries that don’t require a diplomatic excuse to eat.”

Elsa smiled, brushing a bit of powdered sugar from her thumb. “Me too. I wish we had more days like this.”

Just then, a bell chimed at the door, and a draft of crisp autumn air swept through the shop. A child darted past the window, holding a small paper lantern, giggling as they hurried along the street. Elsa’s smile faded.

Her eyes widened. “The Lantern Lighting.”

Anna blinked. “Wait, what?”

Elsa stood abruptly, her chair scraping back. “The ceremony. It’s today. At the courtyard. We were supposed to lead the lighting at sunset.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “That’s tonight?”

Elsa ran a hand through her hair. “It’s been a royal tradition for generations. We light the first lantern together, as a symbol of guidance through the darker months. I can’t believe I forgot.”

Anna stood too, brushing crumbs from her skirt. “Hey. I mean, it’s only your second one as Queen. We haven’t missed it yet.”

Elsa hesitated. “I don’t have a speech prepared, and I—”

“You don’t need one,” Anna said firmly, grabbing her hand. “You just have to show up. You’re the Queen, and this means something to people. To us.”

Elsa met her gaze, something soft and grateful flickering in her expression. She nodded once.

“All right. Let’s go light the lanterns.”

—

As the last lantern flickered into the clouds, Jack stood and stretched, his breath misting faintly in the cool night air. The rooftops of Arendelle shimmered in warm light, but the streets below were beginning to quiet. He vaulted down from the roof with practiced ease, landing lightly on the cobbled path behind the bakery, barely stirring a fallen leaf.

He wandered.

Past shuttered windows and glowing lanterns. Through pockets of laughter and fading music. People walked by without a second glance, couples returning home, children tugged along by tired parents, guards exchanging shifts.

No one saw him.

Well—almost no one.

A little boy near the square giggled suddenly and pointed at nothing, squealing, “Mama! The snow’s dancing!”

His mother shushed him gently, tugging his hood tighter. “It’s just the wind, darling.”

Jack watched, amused, as the boy spun in a slow circle, trying to catch the drifting frost Jack had summoned on a whim. It sparkled and curled like ribbon through the air before fading completely.

The boy laughed again, delighted.

They didn’t know who he was. Not really.

To them, he might’ve been a breeze, a trick of the light, a wish whispered too late into the evening. But it didn’t bother Jack. Not anymore.

He passed through the main square, now mostly empty. A group of teenagers sat near the fountain, trading stories in the fading glow. One girl looked up suddenly, brows furrowing like she’d heard something. Her gaze flicked toward Jack, sharp and unsure.

He froze.

But after a second, she just shook her head and turned back to her friends.

Jack sighed and kept walking.

It was strange. Being seen, kind of. Being felt. But not known.

Except by two.

He stopped at the edge of the dock, the lake still dotted with drifting lanterns, their light soft and ghostly now. Elsa and Anna stood near the edge, talking in low voices. Jack didn’t approach—he stayed back, out of sight, his boots barely touching the frost-laced wood of the pier.

Anna pointed toward one of the lanterns and said something that made Elsa laugh, her face crinkling in that quiet, unguarded way Jack was starting to recognize. The way she looked when she wasn’t trying so hard to carry everything alone.

Elsa turned slightly, her eyes lifting to scan the shadows along the dock. Her gaze brushed past Jack—and then snapped back.

She saw him.

She didn’t wave. Didn’t say anything.

But she smiled. Just a little.

And that was enough.

Jack leaned against a post near the lake’s edge, letting the cool night air settle around him. Unseen, but not quite forgotten. His hands were shoved into his coat pockets, restless. He’d left his staff at the palace, and without it, his palms felt awkwardly empty—like something vital was missing.

Golden lanterns floated upward from the lake, lighting up the dark like drifting fireflies. Families and couples stood arm in arm, eyes lifted to the sky. Jack stayed to the side, taking it all in. These were the kinds of moments he liked—quiet, peaceful, full of small wishes no one would ever speak aloud.

He was turning toward the trees, about to make his way back to the castle, when a voice called out softly:

“Jack.”

He paused, already smiling as he leaned against a tree. “Wow. Saying my name in public? That’s new.”

Elsa stepped out of the shadows, pulling her cloak tighter. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“I figured I’d blend in for once. Enjoy the festivities without anyone screaming or throwing things. It’s progress.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“A couple kids. They didn’t make a fuss. Pretty sure they thought I was just part of the magic.”

Elsa gave a quiet laugh. “It’s not the worst place to be mistaken for a fairy tale.”

Jack tilted his head. “You okay? You seem a little… I don’t know. Heavy.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “Kristoff didn’t show up tonight.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Oof. That bad?”

“Anna told me he’s been acting weird,” Elsa said, her voice low. “She thinks hes hiding something from her, she says he’s been distant. Cold. Avoiding her.”

“I didn’t mean to cause anything.”

“I know you didn’t,” she said quickly. “And so does Anna. She just—she’s confused. Hurt.”

Jack was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Should I disappear for a bit? Might help.”

“No,” Elsa said quickly, almost too quickly.. “This isn’t about you—it’s about them. They’ll work it out, they always do.”

Jack looked up at the sky, watching the lanterns rise. “I’ll head back. Give you both space.”

—

Anna sat cross-legged on her bed, the soft glow of a single candle flickering beside her. Her brow was furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line as she stared out the window, replaying the day’s strange moments in her mind. Kristoff’s silence, his odd mood—it all felt like a wall was growing between them, and she didn’t know how to climb over it.

Her fingers tapped nervously against the wooden frame of the window. Why won’t he just tell me what’s going on? she thought. The worry gnawed at her.

A gentle knock pulled her from her thoughts. Elsa stepped in quietly, her usual calm presence a comfort in the dim room.

“Hey, Anna,” Elsa said softly, closing the door behind her. “You seemed upset earlier. Want to talk?”

Anna gave a small, tired smile. “I’m trying. It’s just… Kristoff’s been weird lately. Distant. I don’t know what to think.”

Elsa moved closer and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for Anna’s hand. “Sometimes, people carry burdens they don’t know how to share right away. It’s not your fault.”

Anna sighed deeply. “I just want him to trust me. It’s so hard feeling shut out, especially when I care so much.”

Before Elsa could respond, Anna’s gaze drifted to the window, where something flickered—like a ripple of frost or a shimmer of light.

“What’s that?” Anna asked, blinking in confusion.

Suddenly, leaning casually against the window frame, was a boy with messy white hair and bright, mischievous eyes. He smiled easily, but there was a hint of nervousness in his posture.

Anna’s eyes went wide. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Wait—what the—” Anna scrambled back against the headboard, her eyes wide. “Elsa, who is that? How did he get in here? Call the guards!”

Jack held up his hands quickly, palms out. “Whoa—easy! I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

But Anna wasn’t listening. Her heart thundered in her chest, her gaze darting between Elsa and the white-haired boy in her room. “You’re just standing there! He broke in! Elsa, what is going on?”

Elsa stepped forward, calm but firm. “Anna, it’s okay. This is Jack. Jack Frost.”

Anna froze. “Jack… wait. That Jack? The one from the ice castle?” She blinked, breath catching. “You said he was just passing through. You didn’t tell me he was back. Why is he back?! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack winced, guilt flashing across his face. “Yeah… I wasn’t planning on staying. Things just got complicated.”

Anna’s expression hardened, still shaken. “Complicated? Elsa, I woke up to find a strange guy in my room. A guy you never told me came back. Do you realize how that feels?”

Elsa’s shoulders dropped slightly. “I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner.”

Anna crossed her arms, still visibly tense. “You think?”

The air was heavy for a moment before Jack spoke again, quieter this time. “I get it, Anna. Really. You’re right to be mad. I’d be too.”

Anna didn’t respond immediately. She didn’t trust him yet—not like Elsa did. And this whole night had already felt off.

She looked between them, her voice still tight. “You’ve got some explaining to do. Both of you.”

Jack nodded, stepping a little closer, though still outside the window. “Elsa and I… we’re trying to piece together who I used to be. My memories are... jumbled, like fragments of a story missing pages.”

A door opened.

Anna turned around quickly, shoulders tensing when she see’s Kristoff entering her room. “Kristoff, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” “Anna, please just let me—” He froze, his eyes locking on Jack. “You! You’re still here?”

Jack blinked, half-laughing. “Yeah… surprise?”

Anna stood slowly from the bed, her hand hovering at her chest. “Wait. You saw him?”

Kristoff scratched the back of his neck, guilt creeping over his face. “Earlier today. I ran into him in the corridor. I didn’t know if I was supposed to say anything, and I didn’t know how to tell you. Especially the fact that he was coming out of Elsa’s bedroom in the morning.”

“Elsa’s what?!” She exclaimed. “So that’s what you’ve been hiding?”

Kristoff looked between her and Elsa, then at Jack. “I didn’t want to make things worse. You already seemed worried. And I thought—maybe Elsa was keeping it quiet for a reason.”

Anna crossed her arms. “So where were you during the Lantern Lighting? You know how important that is to us.”

Kristoff hesitated. “Near the mountains with Sven. I thought I saw movement, shadows that didn’t belong to anything. And the light... it got cold. Like something was smothering the lanterns over the mountains. I didn’t know what it was. But it felt wrong.”

Elsa and Jack exchanged a glance. Anna's voice was low. “And you didn’t think to tell us?”

“I thought maybe it was my imagination,” Kristoff muttered. 

Elsa gave Kristoff a pointed but understanding look. Then, she thought back to the council meeting that morning. Disturbances in the mountains, now Kristoff was talking about shadows. What was going on? 

She gulped and looked around the room, her eyes locking with Jack’s. “I wasn’t hiding him. I just… hadn’t figured out how to explain it yet.” Elsa said, trying to change the subject.

Anna turned to Elsa, then to Jack, still trying to wrap her head around it all. “Okay. Okay. Hold on. This is Jack Frost. Like the Jack Frost.”

Jack smiled awkwardly and gave a small wave. “In the frostbitten flesh.”

Anna let out a shaky breath. “This is actually happening, isn’t it?”

Jack gave a lopsided grin. “Usually takes people a minute.”

She studied him, wide-eyed. “But… most people can’t see you. Isn’t that what you told Elsa?”

Jack nodded. “Only some can. Mostly kids who believe.”

Anna paused, then her brow creased. “I used to believe in Jack Frost when we were little. I completely forgot until now. I thought you were the one who made snowflakes dance outside my window, even when the weather said clear skies…”

Elsa looked between them, quieter. “I never believed in any of the stories.”

Jack turned to her. “You didn’t?”

She shook her head. “Not really. I thought I was cursed with my powers. Alone. The only one like me. The stories felt like lies people told to make winter seem harmless. Pretty. Mine never was.”

Jack’s expression shifted, the amusement gone from his eyes. “You weren’t alone, Elsa. You just didn’t know anyone else could be like you.”

“And now?” Anna asked, her voice softer.

Jack glanced between the sisters. “Now the world’s changing. You both see me because you were meant to. Some things don’t stay hidden forever.”

Anna whispered, “So… most people can’t see you, because they stopped believing.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, quietly. “But you didn’t. Not really. That’s why I’m here.”

The room was quiet again, but the silence had shifted—softer now, like the first snowfall.

Kristoff cleared his throat. “Well, I guess that explains that.” He glanced sheepishly at Anna. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I wasn’t trying to lie. I just… didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding like I’d lost my mind.”

Anna offered him a small, forgiving smile. “Next time, trust me enough to sound crazy.”

He chuckled. “Deal.”

Anna exhaled, still overwhelmed but lighter now, looking over at Jack. “So… are you staying for a while?”

Jack leaned against the window frame, a smirk curling at his lips. “Unless you’re planning to throw me out.”

Anna grinned. “You’ll have to be a lot weirder to get kicked out of this castle.”

Kristoff groaned. “Oh great. Another magical snow person. What could possibly go wrong?”

Elsa laughed, and Jack’s eyes crinkled with it.

“Well,” he said, brushing frost off the sill, “maybe you two can help me recover my memories, then? Elsa and I found a book in the royal library. Old stuff. Weird stuff.”

He was about to say more when a deep chill crept into the room—not cold, exactly, but something that crawled under the skin.

Anna straightened, goosebumps prickling her arms. “Did you feel that?”

Elsa’s brow furrowed. “Yes… Something’s wrong.”

The candle on the table flickered violently, its flame stretching upward unnaturally before vanishing entirely, as if swallowed by a void. The room dimmed, not just from the loss of light, but as though the shadows themselves had thickened, stretching across the floor like spilled ink.

Jack backed away from the window. “That’s… not me.”

Outside, the wind moaned, not a natural howl, but something too deliberate, like a voice hidden within the storm. It pushed against the castle walls with a slow, steady pressure. The window glass darkened, a veil of shadow seeming to press from the outside, rippling as though it were alive.

Kristoff moved in front of Anna instinctively. “Okay… that’s not snow. What is that?”

Elsa walked quickly to the window and opened it. A rush of air hit them, dry and heavy. But it carried no snow—only black dust, floating like ash but disappearing before it hit the ground. In the sky above, the clouds twisted unnaturally, deep purple bleeding into a starless black, pulsing faintly like something beneath them was alive.

Anna’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What… is that?”

Jack stared upward, eyes narrowed, shoulders tense. “I don’t know. But it doesn’t belong here.”

Elsa turned sharply. “Is it connected to you?”

He shook his head. “It’s darker than anything I’ve ever felt. Not like winter. It doesn’t breathe—it… watches.”

A low hum rose in the air, low and droning, almost inaudible, but it made the walls tremble. Anna gasped softly and grabbed Elsa’s arm.

Jack blinked hard. “I’ve felt something like this before, just a trace, once. Long ago. It felt like… fear. Not mine. Someone else’s, bleeding into the wind.”

Elsa’s expression darkened. “Fear?”

Jack nodded slowly. “Something that feeds on it. That waits in the cracks. I thought it was a nightmare.”

Suddenly, the wind surged, a violent wave of force shaking the room. And under it, clear as a whisper in the dark, came a sound—

Laughter. Cold. Mocking. Inhuman.

Elsa stepped in front of Anna before she even realized she had moved. Her hands were slightly raised, defensive.

And then, it was gone. As if nothing ever happened.

“What was that?” Anna whispered, her eyes darting around the room.

Jack’s voice was tight. “Something’s waking up. And it knows we’re here.”

He turned to Elsa, something unreadable in his eyes—serious, alert.

“I need to find out what this is. You all stay here.”

Anna stepped forward. “Jack, no. You can’t go out there alone!”

Kristoff crossed his arms, jaw clenched. “She’s right. We can help.”

Elsa looked at him, her voice low and tense. “Please… don’t go. Not like this. We don’t know what’s out there.”

Jack gave her a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know. But whatever it is… it’s drawn to me. I can feel it. And if I don’t face it, it’ll come back stronger.”

He looked at Elsa one more time, his voice softer now. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

Before anyone could say another word, he slipped into the hallway and disappeared into the dark.

The room fell still.

Kristoff ran a hand through his hair. “He shouldn’t have gone alone.”

Elsa didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the door, worry flickering in their depths. “He’s trying to protect us.”

Anna stepped closer to her sister. “So we protect him in return.”

There was a quiet understanding between them then, a shared weight. No one rushed to their rooms—only when it became clear there was nothing more they could do tonight did they begin to part ways, slowly, with glances back toward the door.

The castle didn’t feel quiet anymore. It felt like it was waiting.

—

Elsa laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind restless. Sleep came slowly, and when it did, it brought no comfort.

In her dreams, the storm outside twisted into dark shapes, shadowy hands reaching through the windows, whispering threats she couldn’t quite make out. The chill in the air pressed close, and she saw the old book burning cold in her hands, pages flickering but never catching fire. She’s never had nightmares like this before.

She shot up out of her bed, her hands in tight fists and her heart clenching. Her chest heaved as her breath came in ragged gasps. Cold mist billowed from her palms, spiraling through the air like smoke. The frost had spread across her blankets, climbing the bedposts and pooling on the floor beneath her bare feet.

She blinked rapidly, trying to slow her heartbeat, but the fear still clung to her like ice to skin.

Elsa stepped carefully out of bed, wrapping a thick shawl around her shoulders. The memory of the dream still burned behind her eyes: the way the storm had twisted unnaturally, the whispering voices, and that old book—the one she and Jack had found tucked away in the castle’s forgotten archives. It had felt important. Now, it felt cursed.

She made her way quietly through the corridor, her bare feet silent against the floor. The castle was quiet, still steeped in the hush of deep night. But Elsa couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Not just with the dream, but with the air itself.

Elsa turned a corner, the hem of her nightgown brushing the floor. The flickering wall torches cast long shadows across the stone, making the corridor feel unfamiliar and stretched, as if the castle itself was holding its breath.

Then she saw him.

Jack was slumped against the wall near one of the stained-glass windows, one knee drawn up, his staff barely clutched in his fingers. Snow was melting off him in uneven patches, soaking into the floor. His hoodie was torn at the shoulder, revealing a raw, bruised gash beneath. But it was his face that stopped her heart, his normally bright expression was grim, his eyes dull with pain and confusion.

“Jack?” she said, voice barely above a whisper.

He flinched, as if only just realizing she was there. “Hey,” he rasped, trying to sit up straighter, but wincing as he did. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Elsa rushed to his side, kneeling beside him. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” he said slowly, breath unsteady. “It came out of nowhere. Like the storm turned inside out. I followed the cold, but it wasn’t just wind or snow—it was something else. It wanted me to follow it.”

Elsa frowned, her magic bristling beneath her skin. “Something did this to you?”

Jack nodded, wincing. “I couldn’t see it. Just shadows. And this voice… not words, really. Just… fear. Like it knew me.”

Elsa helped him sit up against the wall, her hand hovering near his wound, unsure what to do. “You’re freezing.”

He gave a weak laugh. “You’re the first person who’s ever said that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Jack, this isn’t funny.” She tensed, “Let’s get you patched up.”

They moved slowly down the hall, Elsa supporting him with more strength than she looked like she had. The silence around them was tense, fragile. Every creak of the floor, every distant gust of wind outside felt like it could shatter it.

Finally, they reached one of the smaller sitting rooms near the guest wing, a quieter space Elsa often retreated to. She guided Jack to a cushioned bench by the fireplace and quickly stoked the embers back to life with a wave of her hand.

Jack’s eyes followed her movements, watching the way her magic obeyed her. Controlled. Elegant. Nothing like the chaos that still rang in his ears.

Elsa carried a clean cloth and a small glass vial of salve, pale blue and glistening like frozen dew. Jack sat hunched forward by the hearth, the flames painting soft shadows along the curve of his back. One hand was pressed lightly to his side, over the tear in his hoodie.

She knelt beside him, careful not to meet his eyes just yet. The gash was worse than she’d realized, angry and deep beneath the fabric.

“You’ll have to take this off,” she said softly, almost apologetically, as her fingers brushed the edge of the ripped cloth. “I can’t get to the wound like this.”

Jack hesitated, blinking once. “Right.” His voice was low, quieter than usual. He sat up straighter, his movements slow, careful. As he peeled the hoodie over his head, he winced, the tension in his shoulders tightening briefly before it passed.

Underneath, he was thin and pale, like someone made more of light and air than flesh. His skin was scattered with old bruises and faded marks, proof of more fights than he probably let on. Elsa’s eyes lingered for only a second too long before she turned her attention to the wound.

She soaked the cloth in salve and gently began to clean around the gash. Her fingers moved with a careful rhythm, and Jack didn’t flinch, but she could feel the tension in him—how he was trying not to shift beneath her touch.

“This wasn’t just bad luck,” she murmured, her focus still on the wound. “Someone was out there. Waiting for you.”

Jack exhaled, a quiet breath that misted in the cool air between them. “Yeah. It wasn’t just the storm. It felt… dark. Like it knew what I am. Or what I’m not.”

Elsa’s hand paused, the cloth still on his skin for a moment. She looked up, eyes meeting his. The light from the fire caught in the blue of his irises, but there was something softer there, too. Doubt. Maybe even fear.

“You’re not alone, Jack,” she said, the words quiet but sure. “Whatever’s coming, you don’t face it by yourself.”

He looked at her for a long moment, like he was trying to memorize her expression—her certainty, her quiet strength. The sharp humor he often wore like armor had faded, leaving something unguarded in its place.

“You mean that?” he asked, not with disbelief, but like he wanted to believe it.

Elsa nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”

Jack winced as Elsa tightened the bandage around his shoulder, her fingers moving with quiet care. The fire crackled softly nearby, casting a faint glow across the room and highlighting the tension in his jaw.

He let out a shaky laugh. “You sure you can’t just magic this better? Seems like it’d be easier.”

Elsa glanced up at him, her expression dry but fond. “Pretty sure healing’s not in my skillset. And I doubt it’s in yours either, Jack.” Her voice was gentle, a bit amused, and she went back to wrapping the cloth around his wound, steady and focused.

She paused for a moment, smoothing the edge of the bandage. “Besides… my mother always told me not to rely on magic for everything.” A small, wistful smile tugged at her lips. “Especially after… well. You know. When I used to keep myself locked away. I guess I’ve been trying not to fall back into that.”

Jack nodded, his gaze lingering on her. He watched as Elsa finished wrapping his wound, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. “There, all done.” She gave him a small smile and stood up.

He looked up at her. “Heading back to bed, I assume?” 

Elsa let out a quiet breath, her gaze drifting to the old clock ticking in the corner. The hands pointed to just past two. 2:00 a.m. The castle was deep in silence, the kind of silence that only came with the darkest part of the night. “I guess so.”

Her eyes met Jack’s as he got up from the couch, slightly rubbing his injured shoulder. “You sure you’ll be okay?” She asked.

He chuckled. “Of course. I’ve been through worse.”

Elsa sighed, rubbing her tired eyes. “I know, Jack. But–” “Wait.” He interrupted. “Are you worried about me? What an honor, Your Majesty.” 

“Jack…” She frowned. “I’m going back to bed. Just be careful, alright?”

Jack smirked, though it lacked its usual spark. “You sure? Thought you were going to assign a royal guard to keep an eye on me.”

Elsa shook her head, stepping back toward her bedroom door. “Don’t make me regret patching you up.”

He chuckled quietly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She lingered for a moment in the doorway, hand resting on the frame. “If you… if you need anything. Just knock.” Her voice was soft, but the weight behind it was clear.

Jack tilted his head, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Noted.”

His frosty eyes never left her frame, watching as Elsa left the room, shutting the door behind her. He gulped. His mind never leaving the events that had happened prior. The darkness, the fear, things that he hadn’t felt in a long time. For once, Jack was worried. Worried about what was out there, and what it could do to Arendelle.

That night, Jack didn’t wander far.

Usually, he drifted through the castle shadows, unseen, perched on rooftops, slipped between corridors, or rested on the high spires just outside Elsa’s window. Always on the move. Always watching. But tonight felt different.

He stayed inside, sitting quietly in the far corner of her room, half-shrouded in moonlight. His eyes stayed fixed on the window, scanning the stillness beyond the glass. The world outside looked peaceful—too peaceful. As if something had backed off, but not left.

The silence wasn’t comforting. It was cautious. Like whatever had stirred before was only waiting.

And so Jack waited too.

—

The next morning, Anna sat at the breakfast table, waiting for Elsa. Her brows furrowed, Anna could barely sleep that night, only getting about an hour of sleep. Her heart ached. It ached for Arendelle, for Elsa, for Kristoff, and even Jack. She wasn’t sure what was happening to Arendelle. But she knew she had to get to the bottom of it.

She glanced at the clock, then to the window, then at Elsa.

“I need to get out of here,” Anna said finally. “Just a short walk. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Elsa didn’t hesitate. “I’ll come.”

From the edge of the room, Jack raised a brow. “You really think that’s a good idea? After last night?”

Anna stood up. “That’s exactly why I need to go. Something happened. I can’t just sit and pretend it didn’t.”

Jack sighed but nodded. “Then I’m coming too.”

Elsa glanced at him and gave a short nod. “Just… stay close. And let me do the explaining if anyone notices us talking to thin air.”

They set off toward the village, bundled against the morning chill. The streets were already alive with market chatter and the clatter of carts. But beneath the surface, Anna could feel it—people were on edge. Like everyone knew something had shifted, but didn’t have the words for it.

As they passed a spice vendor, Jack hung back near a snow-dusted barrel of apples. None of the villagers acknowledged him. A child even ran through him without flinching.

Anna glanced back at him, whispering under her breath. “Still invisible.”

“To basically everyone but you two, yeah,” he muttered. “Which isn’t weird at all.”

Elsa said nothing, her focus drawn to a group of elderly townsfolk standing near a flower cart. One woman was humming under her breath… an old tune, minor and haunting.

Anna leaned in. “That’s... a lullaby?”

The woman looked up sharply, then softened. “Old rhyme, Your Highness. From before even I can remember.” She squinted. “Funny timing, though. Haven’t thought of it in decades. And suddenly, it’s back in my head.”

Elsa stepped closer. “What’s it about?”

The woman studied her for a moment, then recited softly;

“If stars go out and dreams grow thin, The Dark One stirs and creeps back in. If the wind moans low and the lights don’t last, He’s reaching for what was once his past…”

Anna felt a chill that had nothing to do with the morning air. Jack stood silently beside them, expression unreadable.

“What does it mean?” Anna asked.

“Nothing,” the woman said, but her tone was too quick. “Just a tale. A bit of fear wrapped in rhyme to keep kids in bed after dark.”

Elsa’s fingers curled slightly at her sides. “Do people still say it?”

The woman shrugged. “Most have forgotten. Maybe they should’ve remembered.”

Then she turned back to her flowers, the conversation clearly over.

As they walked away, Jack spoke up. “That wasn’t just a rhyme.”

Elsa glanced at him. “You recognized it?”

Jack nodded slowly. “Parts of it. Not the words, but the… feel. It’s old. Cold. Familiar in a way I don’t like.”

Anna glanced back at the market, then up at the sky. It was bright, clear, nothing unusual, but she couldn’t shake the heaviness in her stomach.

“I think last night was just the beginning,” she said.

Jack said nothing. But beside her, his breath misted in the air, and the way he was looking at the sky told her he agreed.

[ningpow]

just a reminder that my jelsa fic is also available on ao3!! i usually post chapters there before posting on tumblr :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65668555/chapters/169097683

[ningpow]

If Ice Could Burn - Jelsa | iii

series masterlist

pairing: jack frost (rotg) x elsa (frozen)

summary: Jack disappears for months. Elsa isn't taking it well.

w/c: 5.4k

tags: crossover, angst, slow burn, romance, post frozen 1, pre frozen 2, more tags will be added as series goes on :3

“And they all lived happily ever after… the end!” Anna shut the book with a smile, looking at the children in front of her, staring at her with wonder. 

“Princess Anna, when is my prince going to come?” A little girl said eagerly. 

Anna smiled awkwardly, looking at her sister for help. Elsa, on the other hand, looked completely zoned out. “Well… it takes time. And not everybody needs a prince. Look at my sister, she has no prince, and she’s doing completely fine!” Her head snapped around.

“So is that why we don’t have a King?” The girl asked again.

Elsa put on the politest smile she could, she was only a kid. “We don’t need a King. Arendelle is doing just fine with a Queen. And–”

“But Queen Elsa, don’t you get lonely by yourself? I mean, your sister has Mr. Kristoff and you have… well, no one.”

She fell silent. The girl was right—she had no one.

Of course, Elsa had Anna. Her sister had always been there, unwavering in her loyalty and love. But it wasn’t the same kind of bond. Not like what Kristoff and Anna shared, something tender, personal, rooted in ordinary moments like shared laughter and silent comfort. Elsa had never allowed herself to imagine having someone like that. Perhaps she didn’t think she was meant to.

Her eyes drifted to the window, catching the golden flutter of autumn leaves as they spiraled down from the trees outside the schoolhouse. Their slow descent reminded her of the stillness that had crept into her chest ever since spring. Since him.

Jack Frost.

His name had become a quiet echo in her mind, whispering through her thoughts at the most unexpected times. His sudden appearance back then had shaken something loose in her. Something she'd tried to keep frozen. And then, just as quickly as he’d come, he vanished. No goodbyes. No explanation. Only that haunting smile, and the trail of frost left in his wake as he dropped her off back at the palace.

It had been months, and still, she couldn’t forget.

“Elsa? You there?” Anna’s voice cut in, light and teasing. She waved a hand in front of her sister’s face, trying to hide the concern in her eyes.

Elsa blinked. “Yes, sorry.” She turned back to the room, putting on her most practiced smile. “I think we’re all finished here. I hope you all enjoyed story time.”

The children blinked in surprise. Some nodded eagerly. Others glanced at Anna, who looked equally confused. They were supposed to read one more story before heading back to the castle.

Anna took a step forward, about to say something, but Elsa was already rising from her chair. She smoothed down her cloak and, without another word, started for the door.

Anna gave the children a warm smile and a small wave. “Okay, that’s all for today. We’ll see you again soon!” she chirped, though her gaze followed her sister with growing concern.

Once outside, Anna quickened her pace to catch up. “Elsa, wait, what’s going on?”

But Elsa didn’t answer. The wind had picked up, brushing a loose strand of white-blonde hair across her cheek. She looked out across the trees, the sky, the leaves, and somewhere in all of it, she wondered if Jack was out there too, watching the same wind.

And if he ever thought about her the way she thought about him.

“Elsa!”

Anna’s voice rang out across the quiet street, echoing sharply off the stone buildings. Several townspeople turned to look—shopkeepers paused, children stilled, and a few whispered as they recognized the Queen.

Elsa froze mid-step.

Anna caught up quickly, grabbing her sister’s arm and turning her to face her. “What is going on with you?”

Elsa’s expression remained composed, but her eyes betrayed her. They flickered, not with anger, not even sadness, but something quieter. Loneliness.

“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.

Anna arched an eyebrow. “No, you’re not. You’ve been somewhere else all morning. You barely made it through story time, and now you’re just walking off like, like the wind’s calling your name.”

Elsa didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted upward, toward the sky. It was crisp and clear, the pale blue of early autumn. The breeze stirred the trees, scattering leaves in gold and rust.

“I’m just tired,” she said finally. “It’s nothing.”

Anna studied her for a moment longer, then sighed. “Fine. But you’re not disappearing again, okay? You still have to open the festival this afternoon, remember?”

Elsa nodded wordlessly.

—

By midday, Arendelle had transformed.

The streets bustled with life as the Fall Festival came into full swing. Warm sunlight poured through the thinning canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows across the town square. Stalls brimmed with braided bread, honeyed apples, spiced cider, and bright orange pumpkins. Garlands of dried leaves stretched across doorways, and the scent of cinnamon and roasted chestnuts filled the air.

Children chased each other between hay bales and scarecrows. Laughter and music rang out from every corner of the square.

As Queen, Elsa stood at the heart of it all, cloaked in deep sapphire lined with frost-threaded embroidery. She smiled, nodded, and gave gracious greetings to her people. Her speech was brief but heartfelt, gratitude for the harvest, and hope for the coming season.

And yet, as she walked among the festivities, something inside her remained untouched.

The warmth around her didn’t quite reach her. Not really.

Her mind wandered to spring, to a boy with snow-white hair and mischief in his smile. Jack Frost.

She’d met him once, on the edge of a thawing world. His presence had been brief and strange and magnetic, like a winter storm that came out of nowhere and left only a scattering of frost behind. He hadn’t stayed long. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

But he hadn’t left her thoughts since.

“Earth to Snow Queen,” came Anna’s voice from beside her, playfully poking her in the side. “You’re totally gone again.”

Elsa exhaled slowly. “I’m here.”

“Mmhmm.” Anna raised a brow. “You’ve been ‘here’ all day, but your head’s been floating somewhere around the North Mountain. You’re thinking about him again, aren’t you?”

Elsa stiffened. “Him?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent.” Anna twirled a caramel apple by the stick. “White hair, mischievous grin, zero sense of personal space? I remember how weird you were after that spring trip. You came back looking like you’d seen a ghost and were half in love with it.”

“I’m not—” Elsa cut herself off and turned away, adjusting the clasp of her cloak. “I barely know him.”

“Exactly,” Anna said, grinning. “That’s the best part.”

Elsa gave her a tired look, but Anna wasn’t finished.

“You’re allowed to want someone, you know. Even someone... cold.”

Elsa’s smile faltered. “You don’t understand, Anna. He’s... not like us.”

“Neither are you,” Anna said, shrugging. “That didn’t stop you from ruling an entire kingdom and saving the world twice.”

Before Elsa could reply, a voice called out over the crowd.

“Your Majesty.”

It was Lord Elric of the Western Valley—a lean, sharp-eyed noble who always wore his words like they were trying to sneak through a locked door. He gave a curt bow as he approached.

“Lord Elric,” Elsa said politely.

“I must say, the festival is quite a triumph. The people adore their Queen. Though,” he added with a knowing smile, “some of us can’t help but wonder when you might consider sharing your crown. A strong ruler deserves a strong match, does she not?”

“Sharing the crown? I’m not sure what you mean.” She knew exactly what he meant. But she wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

Lord Elric’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, come now, Your Majesty. Surely you know how... precarious appearances can be. Even the strongest monarch benefits from a stabilizing presence. The people trust continuity, and nothing says continuity like a royal engagement.”

Elsa’s jaw tensed, though her face remained calm. “Arendelle is stable.”

“Of course. But think of what could be gained, alliances, security, heirs to carry on your legacy...”

“Is that all a Queen is to you?” Elsa asked quietly, her voice smooth as ice. “A symbol to be paired off and passed down like an heirloom?”

Elric gave a polite chuckle. “Not at all, Your Majesty. Only that leadership can be... isolating. You don’t have to face it alone.”

“I’ve never feared standing alone.”

“Perhaps not,” he replied, tilting his head. “But standing alone is not the same as being seen alone.”

Elsa’s smile thinned. “Enjoy the festival, Lord Elric.”

He gave another bow, this time with a faint hint of smugness, and slipped back into the crowd, like a shadow disappearing into the flickering light.

Anna stepped closer. “Please tell me we can revoke someone’s noble title for being insufferable.”

Elsa didn’t respond right away. Her eyes scanned the festival, the laughter, the music, the golden leaves spinning in the air. She was surrounded by warmth, but it didn’t touch her.

Anna nudged her gently. “You okay?”

“Just tired of everyone acting like I’m incomplete.”

Anna frowned. “You’re not. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to stand beside you.”

Elsa didn’t reply. A sudden gust of wind swept through the square again, brisker this time. Sharp, playful.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Everything okay” Anna asked, putting her hand on Elsa’s shoulder. 

Elsa turned and nodded at her sister, outstretching her hand. “Yeah. Come on, let’s go to the Apple Bobbing stand.”

Anna smiled and took her sister’s hand into hers, guiding them over to the stand, where a crowd of people gathered around the barrels.

Kristoff stood over one of the barrels, drenched from the neck up, eyes locked in an intense stare-off with a particularly evasive apple. “This apple has it out for me,” he muttered, water dripping from his hair. “I’ve gone in three times.”

“Maybe it just knows you’re stubborn,” Anna said, grinning. “Try being charming.”

“I tried. It bit me.”

As Anna and Kristoff bickered playfully, Elsa lingered just outside the circle, arms crossed, a polite smile on her lips. She let her gaze wander across the crowd, the lights, the laughter. It was beautiful, Arendelle bathed in amber and gold, the warmth of harvest in the air.

But then… the wind shifted.

A chill brushed against her cheek. It wasn’t sharp or biting. It was… familiar. Light. Almost teasing.

Elsa turned slightly, her eyes narrowing.

At first, she thought it was just a trick of the light. But no, there it was.

The rim of the nearest barrel began to gather frost. Delicate and lacy, like a breath of winter whispered into the wood. It crept slowly, quietly, unnoticed by the festivalgoers. The water inside responded, ripples turned to shimmering stillness, thin crystals forming around the floating apples.

Elsa stepped forward, drawn without realizing it. Her breath came out visible, a cloud of white in the warm autumn air.

Her power stirred instinctively, but she stopped herself. This wasn’t her magic.

It was colder.

Wilder.

Gentler.

Then, the apples began to spin.

Not all at once, but in slow, lazy circles, like they were dancing. A hush fell over the nearby crowd as people noticed the sudden stillness of the air, the frost kissing the edge of the barrels, the way the light seemed to dim ever so slightly, as though twilight had arrived early.

Anna stepped closer, eyes wide. “Elsa… that’s not you, right?”

She thought for a moment. Of course, it wasn’t her. Elsa fell silent. She looked up, and the crowd of townspeople’s eyes were now on her. 

Anna let out a small sigh and ushered Elsa away from the group, linking her arm with hers. “We’re sorry, everybody. Please enjoy the festival while we’re gone!”

As they continued walking away from the apple bobbing barrels, Elsa’s eyes caught a small, flickering shimmer near the edge of a nearby vendor’s stall. Something delicate lay on the ground, a piece of parchment, its edges shimmering with an icy glow.

She paused, heart skipping.

Without drawing attention, Elsa bent down and slipped the frosted letter into the folds of her cloak. The parchment was cool beneath her fingers, faint frost patterns weaving across its surface like frost-kissed leaves. Thankfully, Anna seemed not to notice. Elsa stopped in her tracks, putting on a small smile. “Honestly, Anna… I think I’ve had a long day. I might head back to the palace and lie down.”

Anna stopped walking as well, her arm unlinking from her sister. “You sure? I can come with you if you want!”

Elsa shook her head. “No, you stay and have fun with Kristoff. I’m sure he wants to spend time with you. Also, tell them the apples were my mistake. I don’t want to cause any more problems.”

She agreed reluctantly. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I’m worried about you, Els.”

A comfortable silence fell between the two. “I’ll be fine, Anna. I think I just need to rest. I’ll see you later, okay?” She gave Anna’s hand a small squeeze and turned around, making her way back to the castle. 

—

Elsa stood on her balcony and let out a sigh. Finally, she opened the parchment and scanned it with her eyes. 

“Elsa,

So…

Turns out disappearing for months isn’t the best way to keep a conversation going. Who knew?

I didn’t mean to leave like that. After spring, after you, I thought I’d finally found something real. Someone who saw me. But the wind started pulling at me again, dragging me toward the far north. Not for fun, not for snowball fights. For memory.

I’ve been chasing pieces of myself across ice sheets and mountaintops, fragments, whispers, echoes. Who I was, how I got here. Why I was left behind. Still no full picture. But I’m closer than I was.

Through all of it, I kept thinking about you.That moment on the mountain. The way you looked at me without fear. Like, I wasn’t just made of frost. Like I belonged.

I don’t know where this goes.I just know I’m tired of being a ghost in someone else’s sky.

If you’re still curious… if you still care…Look up.

—J”

Elsa’s head snapped up.

There he was. 

“Missed me?” Jack gave an awkward smile, leaning against the pillar of Elsa’s balcony, gripping his staff tightly.

Elsa finally spoke, quietly. “You disappeared.”

Jack looked down, letting out a soft breath that crystallized between them. “I did. And I’m sorry.”

She huffed, crossing her arms in disbelief. “I haven’t seen you in months, Jack.” Jack sighed, “I know, but–”

“You left without a word. You just dropped me off at my balcony and never returned.” Elsa interrupted.

He understood her frustration. Jack’s grip on his staff loosened, and he took a hesitant step towards her. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

Elsa blinked, hurt flashing across her face. “You didn’t think I’d notice?”

Jack winced, shaking his head slightly. “That came out wrong.”

“You think I just forget people?” Her voice was steady, but low. “You think I’d forget you?”

“No,” he said quickly, stepping closer, his voice gentler now. “I just didn’t think I mattered enough to stay in your thoughts that long.”

Elsa looked away, arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “You mattered.”

The words hung in the air between them, fragile as frost.

Jack exhaled slowly. “I wasn’t trying to vanish. Something pulled me north. I’ve been having the weirdest dreams… about a pond that was frozen over. 

“There was a reflection,” he went on, “of a boy. A little younger than I am now, but with my eyes. My face. He was reaching through the surface, and I–” he stopped, shook his head slightly. “It was gone in a second. But it felt like something important. Like a piece of why I am the way I am.”

Elsa moved a little closer, just one step, but enough.

“Do you think it was you?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But it felt like a part of me. Like something I lost a long time ago and never looked back on.”

“So…” Elsa shifted, “Why’d you come back?”

Jack’s gaze locked with hers, and a small smile crept on his face despite the situation. “Well, I missed you, of course. And I figured you could help me. I mean, if you want. I understand you’re upset about me leaving.” “You’re right, Jack, I am.” She admitted. “But, I’ll help you. I’m sure there are some more books in the Arendelle Library about ice powers.”

 She reached out hesitantly and took his hand.

It was gentle. No dramatic gesture, no desperation—just steady, quiet comfort. Her fingers wrapped around his, and for a moment, they simply stood there.

Then it happened.

Where their skin met, a faint shimmer began to bloom—light like frost dusted with stars. Tiny sparks of magic spiraled up their hands, soft and weightless, as if their powers recognized each other before they fully did.

A breeze lifted around them, gentle, swirling with flecks of snow that glowed faintly blue and silver. The frost beneath their feet patterned into delicate shapes, curling outward like vines.

Jack’s breath caught. He stared down at their joined hands.

“Is that… you?” he whispered.

Elsa shook her head, eyes wide. “No. It’s us.”

Their magic didn’t clash, it wove together. Ice and frost, dancing in quiet spirals, as if the cold itself was holding its breath to witness this moment.

A silence fell between the two of them, and Elsa looked up, slowly retracting her hand from Jack’s. 

“There’s definitely a lot of research we’re going to have to do.” He laughed awkwardly.

Elsa nodded and looked out over the balcony, taking in the colorful autumn leaves in the night sky. “It’s late, I should head to bed. It’s been a long day.”

“Okay. Uhm… I guess I’ll head out then.” Jack scratched the back of his head. He turned around slowly and hopped back onto the rail of the balcony.

“Goodnight, Elsa.” He smiled

“Night, Jack.” She turned and shut the balcony door.

—

A soft veil of fog and early frost. Light spilled across the castle floors in golden streaks, touching the windows with a gentle warmth that didn’t quite reach the chill still clinging to the stone.

Elsa stirred slowly, tucked beneath layers of blankets. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what had woken her — a dream, perhaps, or the feeling of something just beyond memory. She blinked against the light, her eyes falling to the frost curling faintly along the edge of her windowsill.

Her heart fluttered. It wasn’t hers.

She sat up, brushing a strand of silver-blonde hair from her cheek, and rose to her feet. She didn’t call for her handmaid. Didn’t dress for court. She just pulled her cloak over her shoulders and stepped quietly out to the balcony.

To her surprise, Jack was still there, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, arms folded across his knees, staff resting beside him.

His head was tilted against the stone, eyes closed — not asleep, just still.

Elsa hesitated, then spoke softly. “You stayed.”

Jack opened one eye and gave a sheepish smile. “Wasn’t planning on it, honestly. But… here I am.”

She studied him. “You could’ve left. You’ve done it before.”

“I know,” he said. “But I didn’t want to. Not this time.”

Their eyes met, quiet understanding passing between them. No accusations. No pressure. Just shared silence.

She looked down at the faint trail of frost that had spread under her door and curled toward where he sat. “That wasn’t mine.”

“I figured.” He picked at the edge of it with his foot. “Guess I got… restless.”

Elsa stepped forward and sat beside him. Their shoulders almost touched, but not quite.

For a long moment, they didn’t speak.

Then she asked, “Did something change?”

Jack thought for a moment, then answered, “No memories. Not yet. But… when you touched me, something lit up. It’s like… the pieces aren’t lost. Just waiting.”

Elsa nodded slowly. “I see. Let me get dressed, and we can go to the library. Come in.”

Jack gulped. Like inside, inside? He watched as Elsa turned away and walked into her room. He took a step, hesitant, like there was a force preventing him from entering.

He took a step.

Another.

Jack looked around Elsa’s room when he finally entered. He’d never actually gotten a good look at it. He’s spent most of his time outside her room that he never considered what would be inside.

Everything in the room seemed chosen, controlled. A quiet mind, a lonely one maybe — but not empty.

His eyes caught the reading nook by the window, the faint trace of magic woven into the dried snowdrops on her desk. It was beautiful in a way that didn’t ask to be admired — it just was.

Like her.

He didn't say anything. Just let the silence sit beside him.

It felt... safe. Warmer than he expected.

“Excuse me.” Elsa coughed, interrupting his thoughts and walked past him.

Elsa had slipped behind the ornate changing screen in the corner,  a tall, carved thing with frosted glass panels that glowed faintly in the morning light. He could see the soft silhouette of her figure through the blur of pale fabric and shadows, and immediately turned his gaze toward the window instead.

“Don’t peek,” her voice floated out, light and amused.

“I’m not!” he said a little too quickly, eyes fixed on the snow-covered rooftops outside. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Behind the delicate screen, Elsa carefully changed into her gown. The fabric whispered like snowflakes as it settled over her shoulders. She adjusted the bodice, a deep, wintry navy that faded into icy blue, cinched at the waist with a shimmering snowflake brooch. The sleeves were sheer, falling like frost-laced waterfalls to her wrists, glimmering with translucent snow-stitched patterns.

She stepped out from behind the screen, walking towards Jack. “Ready?” She asked.

He was stunned and gulped. “Yeah. Library, you said?”

Elsa nodded, “Yeah, we can–” She froze, and looked up at the grandfather clock in the corner of her room.

9:29 AM

“Oh my… I’m supposed to be having breakfast with Anna soon! I completely forgot… do you mind waiting here while I go? It shouldn't be long.” 

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll wait.” He said, fiddling with his staff.

“Okay…” Elsa hesitated, “Don’t get into any trouble, please.”

Jack gave her a thumbs-up. “Don’t worry!”

—

He lingered in Elsa’s chambers for a while, pacing slowly and tracing frost along the edge of her balcony railing with absent fingers. The morning sun was higher now, spilling gold across the stone floor. Eventually, he got restless.

She said not to get into trouble. Just stretch your legs. Stay out of sight.

He cracked the door open and peeked into the hallway. Quiet.

With a soft breath, Jack slipped out into the corridor.

He only got a few steps before—

He collided shoulder-first into someone solid.

“Oof, sorry!” Jack staggered back.

The other man let out a grunt, steadying himself. “Watch where you’re—wait…”

Kristoff blinked.

He took in the white hair, the long, frost-edged clothes, and the staff. His gaze traveled behind Jack, toward the door he’d just stepped out of.

“Hold on.” His eyes narrowed. “Did you just come out of… Elsa’s room?”

Jack froze. “Um…”

Kristoff raised a hand, eyebrows practically in his hairline. “Is this… are you her…?”

“Her what?”

Kristoff gestured vaguely. “Her secret boyfriend?!”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “What?! No! I’m not, this isn’t—”

Kristoff backed up a step like the thought had physically struck him. “Oh man. Anna is going to lose her mind.”

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I’m not her boyfriend. I’m just—”

“Wearing winter like a second skin and sneaking out of the Queen’s bedroom before ten in the morning?” Kristoff said, deadpan.

Jack groaned. “Wow, okay, that sounds really bad when you say it like that.”

Kristoff crossed his arms. “So who are you, then?”

Jack hesitated. “Jack. Jack Frost.”

Kristoff stared blankly.

“…Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

There was a long pause.

Kristoff’s face shifted slowly—first confusion, then disbelief, then—

“Wait. Frost? As in… Jack Frost? Like the frost spirit? Winter guy? The trolls used to tell me stories about you!”

Jack gave a faint shrug. “Yeah. That’s me.”

Kristoff let out a stunned laugh. “You’re real?!”

“Most days.”

Kristoff glanced down the hall, then back at Jack, eyes still wide. “You’ve been living in the palace? With Elsa?”

“Just… for the night. She’s helping me with something.”

Kristoff rubbed his face. “Right. Sure. Totally normal day. Just ran into the literal spirit of winter, casually coming out of the Queen’s bedroom.”

Jack smirked faintly. “She said you’d be the chill one.”

Kristoff didn’t even blink. “She clearly hasn’t told you I’m terrible with surprises.”

—

Elsa stepped into her room again, brushing stray hair from her face and taking a deep breath. She looked calm, until Jack stood from the balcony with a sheepish expression.

“Your ice guy just accused me of being your secret boyfriend,” he said.

Elsa blinked. “He what?”

Jack shrugged. “Can’t really blame him. It did look a little… dramatic.”

Elsa pressed a hand to her forehead. “I can’t leave you alone for even twenty minutes…”

Jack grinned, leaning his staff against the wall. “On the bright side, he believes in me. That’s got to count for something.”

Elsa shook her head, laughing softly. “I’ll… talk to him.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah. Please do. Before he sends trolls after me.”

She smiled, “Come on, let’s go to the library.”

—

The library was quiet in the early morning light, sunlight slanting through the tall windows in thin, pale beams. Dust shimmered in the air, undisturbed. It smelled faintly of old paper and something colder beneath it, like snow trapped in the spines of books.

Elsa moved ahead of him, her footsteps light but purposeful as they walked deeper into the older wings of the library. Jack didn’t say much, just followed, trailing behind with his staff in one hand and that usual half-grin softening into something quieter.

They reached a secluded alcove tucked between two heavy bookcases. Elsa ran her fingers along the shelves, eyes scanning titles that hadn’t been touched in years.

“This section has most of the folklore archives,” she murmured. “If there's anything about you in Arendelle's records, it would be here. I used to spend hours reading books from here when I was young. Trying to figure out… what was wrong with me.”

“You know, you never told me what was so bad about your childhood. I mean, at least you can remember yours.” He said awkwardly.

Elsa took a deep breath. Almost everybody knew what happened to the Queen of Arendelle, how she was locked up in the castle for years until the passing of her parents. It felt odd, being able to tell the story. But Jack was so open with her, so she felt like she had to tell him. It was only fair.

She guided Jack to the long table in the middle of the library, gesturing for him to take a seat. 

“It’s a long story.” 

“I’ve got all the time in the world, Your Majesty.” He smiled, sitting down in the chair and leaning back.

“I was born with my powers,” she began, her voice quiet but steady. “And from the start, they were… dangerous. Or at least, that’s how everyone treated them. My parents, my father especially, thought the best way to protect Arendelle was to hide me. And to protect me… by teaching me to be afraid of myself.”

Jack tilted his head, not interrupting.

“I hurt Anna,” she said, and her throat caught slightly on the name. “When we were little. It was an accident, but it didn’t matter. After that, everything changed. They locked the gates. Shut down the palace. Anna’s memory of my magic was erased, and I was told to keep it hidden. From her. From everyone.”

Jack’s brows drew together, the casual lean in his posture slowly shifting into something more attentive. Concerned.

“I spent most of my childhood in silence,” Elsa continued. “No play. No laughter. Just fear. Fear of touching anything. Fear of slipping up. I wore gloves my entire life, at least… until my coronation. I didn’t even know how to be close to my sister anymore. I just… shut myself away. I thought if I could control it, if I could be perfect, I could be safe.”

She let out a short breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Turns out, suppressing yourself doesn’t make you safer. It just makes the explosion bigger when you finally break.”

Jack’s eyes didn’t leave her face. “Elsa…”

She shook her head, a hand lifting as if to stop any pity before it could form. “I’m not telling you because I want sympathy. I’ve spent my entire life pretending I was fine. I just… I guess I understand what it means to be seen as something dangerous. Even when you’re just trying to keep everyone else safe.”

Jack didn’t say anything at first. He just looked at her with an expression that felt different than usual, softer, not teasing or bright, but present. Grounded.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he said quietly. “Any of it.”

Elsa gave a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Neither did you.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, the kind that didn’t feel empty, but full of things unspoken—memories, regrets, pieces of themselves they didn’t always show.

Then Jack leaned forward slightly, voice lighter again. “Well. That explains a lot.”

“Like what?”

“Like why you’re so good at the whole icy glare thing,” he said, smirking.

Elsa rolled her eyes, but the smile tugged more honestly at her lips this time. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you keep talking to me.”

She shook her head, but didn’t deny it.

“Enough about me. Let’s do some research.” Elsa stood up and turned away quickly, wiping a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen down her cheek. She hoped Jack didn’t notice.

He did.

Jack floated up once to grab a book from a higher shelf, then sank cross-legged to the floor, thumbing through brittle parchment. The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... quiet. Thoughtful.

Elsa finally exhaled and grabbed the book Kristoff had shown her months ago. Her hand stilled on the page.

“Here,” she said, turning the book so Jack could see. 

“The Winter Trickster,” she read softly. “Said to wander the lands during the cold months, bringing unexpected snowstorms and laughter in the middle of silence. A spirit, or maybe a ghost. No one agrees. Some believe he was once a boy who died saving his sister and was chosen by the moon. Others think he’s just a tale told when the winter overstays its welcome.”

Jack’s breath hitched.

She hesitated, then closed the book, resting her hand on top of it. “It’s all stories. Pieces of something real, twisted around until the truth gets lost.”

“Then what does that make me?” he asked, a little too softly.

Elsa didn’t answer right away. Just looked at him. And then, quietly, “I don’t know yet. But you’re not just a trickster, Jack.”

He held her gaze for a beat longer, eyes a little too tired for someone who laughed so easily.

She stood, brushing imaginary dust from her skirt and straightening her shoulders. “I should go,” she said. “The council wants an emergency briefing on border fortifications. They’re convinced more magic is going to come through the mountains.”

Jack rose too, slinging his staff loosely over his shoulder. “Can I come?”

Elsa arched a brow at him. “To a security meeting?”

He grinned. “No. But maybe I’ll wait on the roof and cause a minor snowfall if they annoy you.”

She smiled despite herself. “Tempting.”

He stepped beside her as they walked back toward the grand hallway, their footsteps soft against the polished stone.

“If you’re busy,” Jack said, “I’ll go wander a bit. See what this kingdom of yours is like when it’s not covered in ice.”

“Behave,” Elsa warned gently.

Jack winked. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She sighed, but there was no real weight behind it. “Fine. Just don’t let anyone realize you’re that Jack Frost. They’re still debating whether to knight you or chase you out with pitchforks.”

“I’ll take my chances. I’m sure most of them can’t see me anyway, think your brother-in-law was just a special nut case,” he said, and then, just before they parted ways, he added more quietly, “Thanks… for looking.”

She didn’t answer. Just gave him the smallest nod and disappeared through the palace doors, the weight of the morning already pressing back down on her shoulders.

[ningpow]

Roméo + Juliet Jelsa that nobody asked for.

The movie refs:

[ningpow]

If Ice Could Burn - Jelsa | ii

series masterlist

pairing: jack frost (rotg) x elsa (frozen)

summary: Anna grows concerned when Elsa misses their breakfast, breaking a promise between them. When Elsa finally arrives, she reveals a strange encounter the night before that leaves them both unsettled. Driven by a mysterious pull, Elsa decides to investigate alone, leading her to a remote mountaintop where an unexpected meeting changes the course of her journey.

w/c: 2.2k

tags: crossover, angst, slow burn, romance, post frozen 1, pre frozen 2, more tags will be added as series goes on :3

Anna sat at the breakfast table, poking absentmindedly at her now-cold food. The steam had long since faded from her tea, and the eggs had gone rubbery on the plate. She glanced at the clock on the wall for what felt like the tenth time—10:00.

Elsa was thirty minutes late.

They had made a promise: breakfast together every morning at 9:30 sharp, no excuses. But Anna was alone, the seat across from her still empty. She sighed and slumped in her chair, trying not to take it personally—but it was getting harder not to.

She thought back to the day before, and her stomach began to ache with worry. Elsa couldn’t have left had she? Anna shook her head. She began to get up from her chair when the door to the dining room pushed open. “Sorry, I’m late, Anna. I had the weirdest night,” Elsa said, and took a seat in front of her sister. 

Anna scoffed and crossed her arms. “Care to tell me? Or are you just going to shut me out again?”

Elsa looked down in shame. “I’m sorry, Anna. My mind was just everywhere last night. But I saw something before I went to bed. M-My entire window became frozen, and a person was standing outside of it.”

“What?! And you didn’t call the guards? Elsa, what is going on?” Anna exclaimed, standing up from her seat and pushing her breakfast away, her appetite gone

“I don’t know. But… when I saw whoever it was, I didn’t feel scared; it was like…I was at peace. Like I was meant to see it.” 

“I wanted to go after them,” she admitted quietly. “Open the window. Say something. But by the time I got to it… they were gone. Just vanished. All that was left was a swirl of frost in the air.”

Anna sat back down, the tension in her body easing only slightly. “Do you think it was the Winter Trickster? From the book?”

“I don’t know,” Elsa said, shaking her head. “It sounds impossible. A myth. But… the patterns on the glass, the way the air felt—it was exactly like the stories said. The frost shimmered like it was alive.”

Anna ran her fingers through her hair, frustrated. “Okay, okay… say it is him. Or something like him. Then what does he want? Why now? And why you?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” Elsa said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s like… I’m being pulled somewhere. I felt it in the ice. In the silence. There’s something out there, Anna. Something that wants me to follow.”

Anna gave her sister a long, searching look. “And you’re thinking of going, aren’t you?”

Elsa fell silent and nodded. 

“Then, I’m coming with you.” Anna retorted.

“No. It’s too dangerous. What if it isn’t the Winter Trickster? What if it’s something that could hurt us? Hurt Arendelle? Please, let me go on my own. Whatever this is wants me.” She looked up at Anna, brows furrowed. “Please, Anna. Let me handle this on my own.”

Anna thought for a second, then nodded. She knew this was a battle Elsa had to face on her own—and for once, she had to let her.

"Just... promise me you'll be careful. And don't be gone too long." She smiled apprehensively and pulled Elsa into a tight hug.

—

She stood at the summit of the mountain, gazing down at Arendelle nestled peacefully below. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving her kingdom, but deep down, she knew this was a journey she had to take. Drawing in a breath of the crisp spring air, she steeled herself, ready to begin.

But before she could take a step, a light tap on her shoulder made her freeze. Her stomach dropped. Slowly, cautiously, she turned around.

"Hello."

Startled, Elsa gasped and instinctively raised her hands, her magic already crackling at her fingertips. Her eyes swept over the stranger before her. He stood tall, with snow-white hair, skin pale as frost, and eyes the same piercing blue as a winter sky.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady despite the chill of uncertainty creeping into her chest. She fell silent, taking in the boy in front of her. His description matched almost perfectly to the book Anna had read to her described. Her eyes shifted to the staff he held tightly in his right hand. It was the same one she saw last night at her window. “No… this can’t be possible. You’re the Winter Trickster?” 

He laughed, “I don't get why you people like calling me that. My name’s Jack Frost. What’s yours, Princess?” 

Elsa crossed her arms and scoffed, “I’m not a Princess, I’m a Queen.” A pause. “It’s Elsa.” She murmured and attempted to avoid eye contact, his icy gaze piercing into hers. “What are you doing here? So, you were the one at my window last night.”

Jack nodded, “Yup. I didn’t mean to scare you; it wasn’t in a creepy way or anything. I’ve just… never seen anyone who’s like me.” He looked her up and down, taking in the icy gown she wore,  her cape flowing behind her. “Your dress… It’s made of ice. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Elsa flushed faintly but held her composure. “Thank you. But flattery aside, you still haven’t told me why you came to Arendelle. Why have you been leaving trails of frost through the kingdom?” Her voice was firm, though a hint of curiosity crept into her tone.

Jack tilted his head, the usual smirk fading into something more thoughtful. He scratched the back of his neck, his breath misting in the cold air between them.

“I wasn’t trying to cause trouble,” he said finally, his voice softer now. “I was… testing the waters, I guess. I’ve traveled all over, but it’s always been lonely. I mean, I’ve been on my own for 100 years, Your Majesty. People don’t see me—most can’t. But then I felt something here, in Arendelle. Magic. Strong, wild, familiar. Like mine.”

He looked at her again, more gently this time. “I followed it. And it led me to you.”

Elsa’s brows drew together, uncertain whether to be wary or intrigued. “You mean you sensed my powers?”

Jack nodded. “Like a spark in a blizzard. I didn’t know who you were at first. Just that someone out there wasn’t hiding what they are. Someone like me. I guess I… wanted to see if it was real.”

She glanced away, her fingers tightening slightly around her sleeves. “Most people would knock on the door.”

He laughed, the sound of light echoing like wind across ice. “Yeah, I don’t really do doors. Or rules. Or… kingdoms, for that matter.”

Elsa gave a faint smile despite herself. “Clearly.”

There was a pause between them, not quite awkward, but charged, like the calm before a storm.

“What do you mean by most people can’t see you?” Elsa asked, taking a step closer. Jack’s breath hitched; he was actually able to get a better look at her now. He blinked, momentarily forgetting what he was about to say. With her now just a few feet away, the sunlight caught the strands of Elsa’s pale blonde hair, making them shimmer like freshly fallen snow. Her eyes, wide with curiosity, were the color of a glacier—cool, striking, but not unkind. A slight flush had crept into her cheeks, probably from the cold, and Jack found himself staring longer than he should have at the way her lips parted ever so slightly in question.

He swallowed hard. Oh no. She’s cute. Like, actually cute.

“I, uh—” Jack rubbed the back of his neck, feeling oddly warm for someone who was literally made of winter. “I mean... from what I’ve learned, they can’t see me if they don’t believe in me. It’s kind of a magical... thing.” He tried to laugh it off, but his voice cracked a little, and he immediately winced. Smooth.

Elsa tilted her head, and a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “So, what? I’m special? Because I can see you just fine.”

He could hear the teasing in her tone, but all he could do was nod dumbly. “Yeah,” he murmured, eyes still fixed on her. “Yeah, I think you are.”

“Well, I’m sure most people in Arendelle can see you. You’re sort of a thing around here.” That made Jack laugh. “A thing? What does that mean?” 

Elsa shrugged. “Well, you’re in the books. It’s like an old Arendelle tale that I somehow wasn’t aware of. I didn’t believe it, anyway.”

“Wow…” Jack said, leaning on his staff, listening. “I guess you are special. Do you think the reason you can see me is because of our powers?”

“Maybe.” 

Jack shifted his weight, the end of his staff tapping lightly against the snowy ground. Get it together, he told himself. You’ve survived a hundred years of being invisible, but a pretty girl with ice powers is what knocks you flat?

“You’re staring,” Elsa said softly.

Jack blinked. “What? No. I mean—yeah. Maybe a little.” His grin came out crooked, boyish. “I’ve just never met someone like you before.”

She folded her arms, but she didn’t seem mad. If anything, she looked more intrigued. The way the cold breeze played with the edge of her cape and tousled her hair made her look like she belonged here, like she was carved from winter itself, just like him. Her smile wavered from her face, and she turned around, looking at Arendelle. “I should go. I told my sister I wouldn’t be gone for–”

“Wait!” Jack rushed over to her, grabbing her arm. Elsa’s head whipped around. “Before you go… can you at least show me your powers?” He gave her a hopeful smile. Never in Jack’s 118 years would he have expected to encounter someone with ice powers, like him. He watched as a small smile crept back onto Elsa’s face, and she nodded. “I’m not really used to demonstrations. But, I can take you somewhere if you’d like?” 

—

The flight was quiet but exhilarating—Jack darting through the air beside Elsa as she glided across the snow-covered forest on a trail of ice that bloomed beneath her feet. He laughed, chasing after her like a windblown snowflake, his staff trailing icy patterns in the air. She didn’t speak; she just looked back at him once or twice with a half-smile that made his stomach flip.

When they reached a ridge and came into view of the North Mountain, Jack slowed, his breath catching in his throat. “Woah…”

Rising from the peak, there was a structure made entirely of ice. It shimmered under the moonlight like a crystal grown from the earth itself—towering spires, sweeping bridges, and intricate designs carved into every surface. It was both delicate and immense, like a snowflake turned into a castle.

“You built that?” he asked, awe thick in his voice.

Elsa landed lightly on the palace balcony and turned to face him, her eyes gleaming with something between pride and vulnerability.

“Yes, I built it the day of my coronation when I ran away.” Jack looked at Elsa curiously, and she shook her head. “It’s a long story.”

“I didn’t even know I could do this,” she admitted. “For years, I was taught to hide it. To be afraid of it. Of myself.”

Jack’s expression tightened. He understood that all too well.

“I hurt people,” she continued, her voice quieter now. “People I love. I thought isolating myself was the only way to keep them safe.”

Jack leaned his staff against the railing and stepped up beside her. “Elsa,” he said, turning toward her, “I’ve been invisible to the world for a long time. No one could see me, no one believed in me. I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. But it turns out, what makes us different doesn’t make us dangerous—it makes us needed.”

Elsa looked at him then, really looked at him, and Jack saw the flicker of something soften in her eyes.

“You don’t have to be alone,” he said. “Not anymore.”

For a long second, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled. Then, Elsa drew in a breath and stepped toward the palace doors.

“Come on,” she said, casting him a sidelong glance. “I’ll show you the rest.”

—

Elsa stood on the balcony, watching the sun set. She had been at the palace for hours with Jack, learning about each other’s powers and how much they truly had in common. She felt Jack’s presence behind her and turned around. “I should really head back now. Anna must be worried sick.”

He gave her a soft smile and nodded in agreement. “I get it. I guess I’ll see you around then?” He gripped his staff tightly. He hated to see Elsa leave, but he knew she had an entire Kingdom relying on her. She turned around, gave Jack a small wave, and began to make her ice trail back to Arendelle. 

“Wait!”

Elsa turned around curiously. 

“Let me take you, we can get there faster since I can fly.” He prayed she would say yes.

She thought for a moment and then nodded. Jack smiled eagerly and hopped onto the balcony railing, pulling Elsa with him. “Hold on tight.” He grinned and gripped her waist tightly before pushing himself off the rail and heading towards Arendelle.

a/n: sorry im popping out chapters rlly quick, i wrote most of these in advance and im posting them now at the same time lol!!

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If Ice Could Burn - Series Masterlist

Summary: Strange frost begins to spread across Arendelle, unlike anything Elsa has created. As she searches for answers, a mysterious figure appears, one who shares her magic and stirs something unexpected in her heart. Caught between duty and a growing connection, Elsa must face a choice that could change everything.

also available on ao3!

chapter i : yours

chapter ii: human again

chapter iii: prince

chapter iv: shadows

chapter v: bridge

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If Ice Could Burn - Jelsa | i

series masterlist

pairing: jack frost (rotg) x elsa (frozen)

summary: Strange frost begins to spread across Arendelle, unlike anything Elsa has created. As she searches for answers, a mysterious figure appears, one who shares her magic and stirs something unexpected in her heart. Caught between duty and a growing connection, Elsa must face a choice that could change everything.

w/c: 2.2k

tags: crossover, angst, slow burn, romance, post frozen 1, pre frozen 2, more tags will be added as series goes on :3

Elsa's gaze bored into the back of her advisor’s head, sharp and unrelenting. The conference room felt airless, time stretching unbearably as she struggled to stay present through yet another endless meeting. Elsa never liked trade meetings. She knew it was her responsibility as queen to sit at the table, to listen, to negotiate—but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it. She was human, after all, even if others seemed to forget that. 

She was finally broken from her thoughts by a sharp snap of fingers, too close for comfort, pulling her back to the present with a jolt of surprise. 

“Your Majesty, are you paying attention? This trade agreement is detrimental to rebuilding our diplomatic ties with Weselton.” Elsa looked around the room, the hard gaze of a dozen men staring at her, watching, and waiting for a response. She stood up and let out a sigh. 

“Of course I am. Now, we’ll export dried cod, woven textiles, and if necessary, I’ll harvest those cooling blocks for their perishable goods.” She let out a small smile, hoping that was enough for them. 

Her advisor let out a small cough and nervously crossed his arms. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, wouldn’t using your ice powers commercially be considered unethical and exploitative? I’m not sure what our merchants would think of that. You know… using our own Queen as products for trade.”

“I don’t see how it’d be exploitative. Finalize the trade agreement and have the documents to me by the end of the week. Meeting adjourned.” Elsa retorted, quickly exiting the conference room, cape flowing behind her down the hallway.

Elsa stopped in her tracks at a window in the Upper Hall. Her eyebrows raise as she stepped closer to it, the pattern on the glass looking too familiar. Ice. Her fingers lightly touched the glass. She squinted her eyes, getting a better look at it. This wasn’t her ice. It was different, it was almost softer, more magical. Intricate tendrils of ice spiraled outward like silver veins, forming lace-like filigree that shimmered in the morning light. Some shapes curled like ferns, while others resembled feathers frozen mid-flight. The frost clung to the corners, dense and crystalline, fading into softer whirls as it stretched toward the center pane. Elsa gulped. This was unusual.

She picked up her pace, feet tapping down the stairs as she scanned the hall for any sign of Anna. Where was her sister when she actually needed her? If she had to guess, Anna was probably at the monthly Arendelle Farmer’s Market, most likely dragging Olaf from one booth to the next.

Even after almost a year since her coronation, Elsa still wasn’t fully used to being out and about beyond the castle gates. She hesitated for half a second before sighing and motioning to the guards to let her through. The gates creaked open, and she stepped into the busy streets, eyes already sweeping the crowd.

The market was buzzing, full of people and noise and color, and now full of curious stares as their queen wandered through looking less than composed. Should she call out? No. That would only draw more attention. She weaved gently through the crowd, trying to keep her head down.

“Anna!” 

Her sister whipped her head around with a huge smile on her face. “Elsa? What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting?” Anna said, pulling her sister into a quick hug. She knew Elsa still wasn’t adjusted to outside life, so it confused her as to why she was here. “Is… something wrong? Was it those awful council people again? If it was, I’ll march right in there and–”

“No, Anna. It’s something else. Can we talk?” 

Anna nodded, catching the anxious flicker in Elsa’s eyes. Without saying a word, she slipped her hand into her sister’s and started guiding her through the crowd. The townspeople parted as they passed, casting curious glances, but Anna didn’t slow down until they reached the castle.

Elsa stopped just short of the gates, her eyes locked on the frosted pattern spreading across the heavy wooden doors. The familiar swirl of snowflakes and sharp lines made her stomach twist.

“There it is again,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Anna blinked at her. “Ice? I mean… yeah, that’s kind of your thing.”

But Elsa shook her head, her expression tight. She didn’t say anything else until they were safely inside, Anna practically dragging her through the halls and into her bedroom. The door shut with a soft thud behind them.

“Anna… something’s really wrong,” Elsa finally said, dropping down on the edge of her bed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Anna sat beside her, brows knit. “What do you mean? I’m really confused here.”

Elsa’s gaze flicked nervously around the room like someone might be listening. She hesitated, then finally spoke.

“That ice out there—it’s not mine. I didn’t do it. And it’s spring, Anna. It shouldn’t even be there.”

Anna’s eyes widened. “Wait… not your ice? Then whose is it?” She paused, searching Elsa’s face. “Are you sure it’s not just… like, leftover? Or maybe something triggered your powers without you realizing?”

Elsa shook her head slowly, the fear in her eyes deepening. Anna wrapped her arms around her sister, holding her tight.

“Okay,” she whispered. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” 

—-

Anna slammed another book onto the table in Elsa’s study. They had been at it for hours, searching for any clues about the unknown frost. Anna nervously looked over at her sister, taking in the stressful look on her face. Elsa sat hunched over a thick tome, pages filled with ancient runes and scribbled notations. Her fingers were laced together, pressed against her lips, but her eyes… her eyes were distant, like she wasn’t reading the words in front of her anymore—like she was somewhere else entirely.

“Elsa?” Anna said softly.

No response.

Anna’s brows furrowed. She reached out and placed a hand on her sister’s arm. “Hey… talk to me. You’re scaring me a little.”

Elsa blinked, snapping back to the present. “Sorry,” she said, voice quiet. “I just… I don’t understand it. This ice—it feels familiar. But it’s not mine. It’s like something is calling out to me, but I don’t know how to answer.”

Anna tilted her head. “Calling out how? Like a memory?”

“No… not exactly. More like…” Elsa hesitated, searching for the right words. “Like a melody I’ve never heard before, but somehow already know. It’s gentle… and powerful. And it makes me feel…” She trailed off, eyes flicking toward the window, where the faint outline of frost still lingered along the glass.

“I mean,” Anna said, waving her hand at the stack of dusty old texts, “these books are all about your powers. What if this isn’t something Arendelle’s history ever recorded? What if we need to look… elsewhere?”

Elsa looked at Anna curiously, but her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Elsa, Anna, you two in there?” 

Anna jumped out of her seat and ran to the door, opening it quickly. “Kristoff!”

Kristoff walked into the study, taking in the mess in front of him. There were books all over the desk, papers thrown across the room, and Elsa obviously distressed in the middle of it all. Something was not right.

He scratched the back of his head, he was scared to question what was going on. “Is… everything okay in here? I haven’t seen you both all day.” He asked.

Anna smiled wearily at him and looked at Elsa. She wasn’t sure if she could tell Kristoff about what was happening. Perhaps he could help? She got her answer when Elsa met her gaze. Anna knew her sister well enough, she could recognize that stern look on her face, with a slight hint of fear. Don’t tell Kristoff.

“We’re… just doing some research for our upcoming trade agreement. Mhm!” 

Kristoff knew Anna was lying, and for once, he wasn’t sure what to do. Apprehensively, he took a few steps over to Elsa’s desk and took a look at the books open in front of her. “Ice? Come on, Anna, I’m the best person you can ask about that.” He let out a chuckle, which came to a halt when he saw Elsa’s expression. “Elsa… are you okay?” He looked back at Anna. “I’d really like to know what’s going on here.” 

Anna groaned loudly. “Elsa… can we please just tell him? Maybe he can help us!”

She thought for a second and stood up from her desk. “Fine.” Elsa paused, “There’s been ice… lingering around the castle. I saw it outside the conference room, on the windows, and on the gates. Something’s not right here. And before you ask, it’s not mine.”

“Wait… how do you know it’s not yours? You sure it’s not leftover or something?” Kristoff questioned, holding back a small laugh. 

Elsa frowned. “No, Kristoff. I know what my powers look like, and that’s not it. It’s different… it somewhat feels more magical, and softer. I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m going to get to the bottom of it. What if this poses as a threat to Arendelle?”

“Well, I’m sure you can handle it.” He smiled, pushing one of the books toward him. “Have you ever thought that… there could be more like you out there?” 

Anna gasped and ran to the bookshelf, picking a book out from the far corner. She slammed it onto the corner and read, "Long before the snows were named, there walked unseen a spirit with laughter like sleigh bells and eyes like moonlight on ice. He painted frost on windowpanes with the flick of a wrist and stirred mischief into every gust of winter wind. The villagers of old Arendelle spoke of a figure—neither ghost nor god—who danced through blizzards and carved silence into the woods. They called him only the Winter Trickster, for his true name was never known... but some say, if you listen closely when the snow swirls just right, you can still hear his laughter echoing on the wind."

“Anna. Didn’t mother tell you? That’s just a traveller's tale. It’s not real.” Elsa scoffed, crossing her arms. 

Her sister shook her head. “But Elsa, this is too much of a coincidence. ‘He painted frost on windowpanes with the flick of a wrist’? Isn’t that exactly what you saw in the Upper Hall?” 

Elsa fell silent. She wasn’t even sure how Anna even remembered this story; their mother had told them about it years ago. She was pulled from her thoughts when Kristoff grabbed the book from the desk, examining it closely. “So, what you’re saying is that there is someone out there like Elsa. Like… a spirit of the winter?”

Anna nodded, and Elsa shook her head. “No. Because it’s not real, Kristoff, we’ve already talked to Grand Pabbie about this. If there were another… being out there with ice powers, we would’ve known by now.” She grabbed the book back from Kristoff and began clearing off her desk. “Now, if you two excuse me… I have to focus on our upcoming trade with Weselton. We can handle this later.” 

Kristoff and Anna took this as their cue to leave. Anna looked back at her sister, worriedly, before shutting the door behind her.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Elsa looked back at the book they had just been reading and pulled it back open, flopping to the next page. “He left no tracks in the snow, yet his presence lingered like breath on cold glass. Where his wind passed, lakes stilled into mirrors and trees shimmered with silver lace. He was no ghost, but something older—wilder. The children adored his tricks: sudden snow flurries on clear mornings, glistening ice patterns blooming across their windows. But the elders spoke his name only in hushed tones, wary of his mood. They said he looked like a boy carved from winter itself, with white hair and eyes like frozen starlight. When the wind howled just right through the pines, it wasn’t hard to believe he was still out there—laughing, watching, waiting.”

It didn’t make sense at all. She looked back up at the door, remembering the fact that she had shut Anna out again. Elsa picked up the book and brought it into her room. She hoped that she could find any clue that would help her understand what was going on. 

After slipping into her nightgown, she settled onto the loveseat by her window, eyes scanning the darkness beyond, searching for answers. Time seemed to stretch as she sat there—watching, waiting.

Her thoughts were broken when she noticed the book in her hands beginning to frost over, a thin layer of ice creeping along its cover. This time, she knew—this was because of her.

She looked up, breath catching in her throat. The glass of her bedroom window shimmered with spreading ice, the same pattern she had seen before.

How is this happening? Her mind reeled.

Then—a soft knock.

A wooden staff tapped gently against the frozen pane. She squinted through the glass, heart pounding, barely able to make out the silhouette of a figure suspended in the night sky, holding the staff that had called to her.

Elsa gulped, her mind racing. Should she open the window? The figure beyond was barely visible, more shadow than shape. She took a breath and set the now-frozen book down on the seat beside her. When she looked back up, it was gone. Only the frost remained, slowly melting, tiny snowflakes drifting into the night air like silent whispers.

Now, she was really worried. 

a/n: jelsa in the big 25 yes yes... BRING IT BACK!!!

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Pedro on the red carpet at the Cannes Film Festival 2025.

I have no words, he looks perfect as always

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oh to be his younger gf

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snowy evening in jackson

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crush by ethel cain

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PEDRO PASCAL Materialists | 2025

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Darkness. That's the first thing I remember. It was dark, and it was cold. And I was scared. But then, then I saw the moon. It was so big and it was so bright. It seemed to chase the darkness away. And when it did, I wasn't scared anymore.

RISE OF THE GUARDIANS (2012)