Til Death Do Us Part
Small two-shot (possibly three)
Has been featured on my blog, athousandlittlefanfictions.blogspot.com
Ship: Jelsa
xXx
As a young girl, Elsa of Arendelle would often sit by her windowsill during winter. She could never fully understand why she did so, it was certainly not to look at the snow and ice, for if she had wanted to see that accursed coolness, she would merely have conjured it up herself.
No, she must have had a reason, she always had a reason. For shutting her parents out. For shutting her sister out. For shutting the world out. She never just did something for the sake of doing it. So what was it? What strange desire drove her to watch the drifting of snow flakes and shimmering sun reflecting off the icicles each morning. She did not know, but she intended to find out.
xXx
Once again Anna had tried, and failed, to get Elsa to come out and do something, anything, with her. Elsa would have loved to build a snowman like old times, and perhaps by doing so would explain her ongoing obsession with watching the snow from the windowsill. It was unnatural, unhealthy, possibly, for one prepubescent girl to be so intrigued by the falling of snow, especially if that girl in question had ice powers that enabled her to cast a flurry anytime, anywhere.
Despite her unanswered questions, Elsa chose to walk over to the awaiting windowsill, the feeling of the white-painted wood all too familiar. Her gloves were the only things that kept her from frosting the window, she absentmindedly thought, and she began to make swirling patterns on the wood with her glove-covered finger.
"You know," a voice said from behind her. "It works a lot better if you try it without the gloves."
Elsa whipped around, positioned readily to meet the intruder. What she did not expect to find was a tall, slender, pale boy with a hooked staff. His eyes were a silvery blue, his hair white like freshly fallen snow, and he was barefooted, oddly enough. "Who are you." Elsa asked, trying to sound as menacing as a 12-year-old girl could.
"The better question is, who are you?" The guy smirked, he could not have been older than seventeen.
"I said-" Elsa tried to even her breathing a little, "Who. Are. You?" When the boy didn't reply soon enough, she said, "One scream is all I need to give before at least a dozen guards come rushing in. I ask you. Who. Are. You!?"
"Whoa! Chill there Snowflake!" The boy raised his hands in surrender. "I don't want to pick any fights here, not like they'd be able to see their fight! I'm Jack. Jack Frost." He stuck his hand out, as if waiting for Elsa to shake it in reply.
Elsa warily looked at his hand and back to his face before she said, "I'm Elsa." And shook the strange boy's hand.
"Well, Elsa, it's good to meet another believer." Jack said. "Though I have to say, you're a little old to be believing and all."
"Believing in what?" Elsa asked.
"Spirits!" Jack smiled. "Ya know? Like Santa and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy and Sandman. All those people! Oh, and me too. Jack Frost. The whole 'nippin' at your nose' thing?"
Elsa looked at Jack dubiously. "Spirits?" She dryly asked. "I don't believe in spirits. I don't know who this Santa and Tooth is but I assure you, I don't believe in childish fairy tales."
"But... but they're not childish fairy tales." Jack's smile faltered. "They're real! And you can only see me because you believe in me!"
Elsa glared, "It's impossible for someone to be able to see something because they believe in them! What about unicorns? If I believe they're real, will I magically see a unicorn here?"
