Chapter Text
CONTENT WARNING: Sexually predatory discussion/behavior (t-rated fic has t-rated villains)
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18: CHOICES
A jolt of pain shot up Jack's side as he lay across the stairs, gasping for breath. It—Elsa—it couldn't be. It just—!
Fighting the burning sensation in his ribcage and the pain in his chest, Jack pushed himself up, scrambling onto his feet.
"ELSA!" he screamed, running in front of her, "PLEASE! ELSA, DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"
The icy wave of panic hit Jack's body as Elsa walked through him for the second time. He stumbled back a step, gripping his chest in pain as his heart turned to stone, sinking into his stomach and the nausea swept over him. His head spinning, he felt himself collapse forward onto his knees as the last of Elsa's billowing capelet rushed through his body.
"N-No," Jack sputtered, "It—please—no!"
You need to leave, Elsa's voice played in his mind. You need to leave Arendelle.
His eyes stinging, fighting back tears of his own, Jack bit his lip, pushing himself up and struggling to his feet again. Then, with one final, painful look at the beautiful Snow Queen of Arendelle, he turned and ran from the room.
.
.
"Hey, were you able to talk to her?"
Jack said nothing, holding out his hand for the staff. A puzzled look swept over King Kristoff's face as he handed it over, Jack snatching it away.
"Jack!" he exclaimed, "What's going on? And wh—are you crying?"
Jack bit his lip again, squeezing his eyes shut and turning away. "No," he lied, "And I'm going. Now."
"Where? What happened?"
"Away." Jack picked up his pace, walking down the long hallway from Kristoff even faster. The young king ran after him. "And it doesn't matter!"
"But Elsa!" Kristoff exclaimed, "For Pete's sake, Frost, you can't just run away! It was just a misundersta—"
"—SHE DOESN'T BELIEVE IN ME ANYMORE, OKAY?"
Kristoff froze in his tracks. Jack spun around, his eyes swollen, glaring into the former ice-man's face.
"She wanted me to leave," he stammered, "She said that she was getting distracted. That, basically, my being here meant that she wasn't taking good care of Arendelle. And then she stopped believing in me. She—CHOSE—to stop believing in me!"
Kristoff's eyes went wide. "Jack," he breathed, "I'm so—"
"—She LITERALLY doesn't think I exist anymore, okay?" Jack said, his voice breaking, "And, hey, why do I care, right? I got along JUST FINE for 300-something years, alone! I guess I can BE ALONE some more now! And so can she, if she wants it so much!"
The Commoner King was speechless as Jack scoffed, shaking his head and taking a step back.
"Great meeting you," Jack finally stammered again, "Lovely—interrogation—and stuff. But I've really, really got to leave now. North was wrong. I can't have a friend. There isn't anyone that could really understand me. I thought I might have a chance with Elsa, but—" He shook his head, cutting himself off. "Well—have a nice life, Kristoff."
Jack then turned and leapt into the air, shooting down the hall and away from the bedrooms.
.
.
He had to get out.
Now.
Messily wiping his arm across his face, Jack Frost grit his teeth, blinking furiously as his vision went blurry. He was losing control. The snowing around him had stopped, the air frigidly encasing his body as he slipped through the open doorway, stomping forward through the bedroom and passing through a small group of men congregated in the center of its floor. Usually, he would have laughed, or at least have noticed their sudden shivers and exclamations of how cold it had suddenly become, but Jack hardly noticed, glancing around the room for a window, a balcony, an anything, that led to the outside. Cold. Yeah, it felt cold. Really cold. To believe in him, stay with him, dance with him, heck, even kiss him, and then—POW. Like a punch to the soul. Given how cold he felt on the inside, for as far as Jack was concerned, the Snow Queen of Arendelle might as well have actually frozen his heart.
What was left of it, anyway.
Seeing a long set of curtains across the room, Jack stomped forward towards them, setting his jaw. A balcony. A little balcony, in this guest room. A way to the outside, to the stormclouds, so he could be up and gone and one with the wind and sky, to fly away and pretend that this blasted little kingdom had never existed…
Stepping carefully behind the curtain, his hands shaking as he angrily dropped the staff on the carpet beside him, Jack gave his head a quick shake, crouching down to figure out the lock. Shakily pulling in his breath, he blew into the keyhole of the balcony door, but instead of a finely-controlled, careful mist, there was a sharp creak, and he looked down to realize that the mechanism was now jammed, a messy, spiked clump of ice protruding out from the keyhole.
No!
His hands trembling, Jack reached forward, frantically trying to brush away the ice, only to see more flurries materialize across it from under his fingertips, setting the jammed lock into place.
NO!
"AURGH!"
Jack slammed his hand onto the surface of the wood in frustration, uncontrolled, jagged shots of ice blasting over the door.
"Did you hear that?" exclaimed a voice.
Jack froze.
"Why—yes! A thump!" another man's voice chimed in, "From—from over there! What do you think it was?"
"Well, go and see, you fool!"
"Yes, your highness."
Jack's heart leapt into his throat, and he sharply sucked in his breath. Scrambling to his feet, he whipped around, pressing his body against the door behind the curtain.
YANK!
The curtain was ripped back, and Jack winced, suddenly standing inches from a well-dressed man in his forties, staring into his eyes.
Silence.
"Well?" demanded one of the men in the center of the room. "What is it?"
The man holding the curtain gazed blankly forward, staring through Jack's body to the door. After a few moments, he shrugged, looking back to the center of the room.
"It's nothing, sire."
Jack's breath caught.
Nothing.
He was: nothing.
Still paralyzed against the door as the man turned back to him, staring straight through his body, Jack bit his lip, fighting back the stinging in his eyes.
"Your majesty?" the man said, "Look. Come look at this…"
Bending down and reaching through Jack's body, gingerly feeling the ice on the door behind him, Jack could feel the shadow of the man's arm stretching through his stomach. His eyes started stinging again, and he clenched his teeth together, bending down and snatching up the staff. He felt like nothing. No—Jack felt like less than nothing.
He felt invisible.
"It's—ice!" the man exclaimed as Jack passed through his body, stomping away from the balcony doors. "Do you—do you think that—?"
"—I was assured by her Royal Council that the queen has been keeping her—mutation—at bay," the older man said. "She shouldn't lose control."
Lose control, Jack thought. Yeah. Sure. He'd lose control. Maybe even get caught—it might feel better, anyway. But, then again, what he felt didn't matter, right? He was nothing!
There is no such thing as Jack Frost.
His eyes stinging again, reaching the door to the hallway, Jack furiously grabbed the knob.
"Well… we'll see soon enough," the oldest man shrugged, "My audience is first. And I specifically requested a private one."
Jack stopped.
His hand still on the knob of the door, jagged trails of frost spiking out onto the brass from underneath his palm, he slowly turned around, staring at the brown-haired, older man in the center of the room.
MY audience?
The man drew himself up, holding the newsprint in front of his face in the air and studying it. "You really couldn't find any full-length portraits?" he sighed.
"N-No, sire," the attendant apologized. "I did try. I will do better next time."
"Ah, well," The man sighed. "It's a shame. But, I believe you. And I suppose I will be able to look her over myself, soon enough."
"You are too kind, my king."
Jack carefully released the knob, turning around and looking to the little group of men in interest. This man—this king—was one of Elsa's suitors.
Her first suitor.
His curiosity suddenly overtaking his pain, Jack readjusted his grip on the staff, walking slowly towards the men in wonder.
"Rather bony little thing... isn't she?" the king mused, looking at the picture again. "Up top, at least. She'd need to put on some weight, before the wedding."
"That could be accomplished, sire—"
"—As it should be. And she shouldn't be allowed to have her hair loose like that. In the front," he continued, "It doesn't look regal. And it isn't the fashion, at all. Also, I've heard she's quite pale. Sickly-looking, almost; most unattractive."
"Yes, your majesty."
"Well," Jack muttered under his breath. "You're a real piece of work, aren't you?"
"I don't like it when women wear makeup like this," the king went on. "I want to see her face. I deserve to know what I'm buying."
"How right you are, sire."
"And her ears stick out too much," he whined, crinkling his nose as he eyed the newspaper, "But if she wore her hair like the women in my kingdom, it would hide them better. As for the tilt of her…"
Yeah. He'd heard enough.
Shifting his fingers on the staff, Jack Frost scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning and walking for the door while trying to drown out the rambling voice of the man continuing in his condemning analysis of the young queen's portrait. What a loser. It might actually be kind of fun, to go and watch Elsa take down this moron…
Elsa.
The thought of her name sent him reeling again. After a few moments, biting down hard on his lip, Jack shook his head violently, gripping the staff harder and continuing to pace for the door.
"B-But sire," one of the attendants tried helplessly, "You must admit—despite the unusual characteristics—she's rather pretty. For you, I mean?"
"Oh, I suppose," the king conceded. "She is pretty. Not—beautiful, but—yes, pretty. In a sickly kind of way…"
His attendants looked at each other, and he whipped the newsprint open with a thwack as the paper began to go limp, eying the depiction of the young woman again.
"A pretty little kingdom," the king muttered. "With a pretty little queen..."
Jack started to reach for the door handle, tossing his staff into his other hand just as he heard the king drop his voice to a whisper.
"This one shouldn't be too hard to hold down," he chuckled darkly.
Jack jolted.
His throat tightening with shock, he whipped around, staring at the king in disbelief.
WHAT... did he just say?
"These young, female rulers think they're so powerful," the king continued, folding up the newsprint and shoving it to the attendant on his left. "That's why it's best to get these issues sorted out early on. Make sure that the little creatures knowwho's really ruling the kingdom."
The attendant nodded, brushing off the king's coat. "You are very clever, your majesty."
"And wise, sire!" the other added.
The king smirked, nodding matter-of-factly. "How convenient it is," he chuckled, "That the most effective method of getting the message across is such a natural one. Is it time yet?"
"Yes, your majesty!"
"You look dashing, your majesty."
"She'd be a fool to refuse, sire."
"She would indeed. I don't expect her to, but… Queen Elsa is young. Quite young," the king sighed, taking the gloves from his attendant's outstretched hand. "And from what I've read, it appears that the little mutant of Arendelle doesn't seem to know her place. She might need to be—taught."
"You are a most excellent teacher, your highness."
"Well, naturally I am, Wilhelm. And if I do need to teach her respect—respect for powerful men," the king enunciated, raising his eyebrows, "She will not be my first pupil."
The other attendant gasped. "Do you mean, that she might not respect you?"
"How could she not respect you?"
"You are so strikingly powerful, your majesty!"
Jack's eyes narrowed as he watched the king puff himself up, nodding approvingly and beginning to pull on his gloves.
"Oh," the king said coolly, "She will respect me."
He finished pulling on the glove, drawing himself up and inspecting one of his cufflinks.
"I will teach her to respect me," he added darkly.
Jack's blood boiled as the attendants scrambled for the king's possessions, and he jumped, whipping his staff around and aiming it straight at the king's chest. His heart pounding, Jack's hands began to tremble as he slowly crept towards them, his jaw set in fury.
"You," Jack growled, glaring menacingly as his hands trembled with fury on the staff, "Will not be teaching Elsa anything."
"If there's one thing that I've learned in my life, it's that women," the king stated matter-of-factly, "Are like dogs. If they misbehave, you punish them. Have you my crown, Wilhelm?"
"Yes, sire!"
"And you know what we discussed," the king said. "My sources inform me that there are to be two guards, outside of the throne room. If I need to—leave an impression—"
"—We remember the discussion, sire. Two minutes?"
"Correct."
Jack lowered the staff slightly, an expression of confusion sweeping over his face.
What was that supposed to mean?
The first attendant nodded, and the other took a step back, pausing for a moment in front of the dresser. Still preoccupied with the strange statement, Jack watched as the man then reached for the newspaper, gingerly holding it up to the light and eying the young woman's portrait. After a few moments, he drew in his breath.
"Do you think it's true?"
The king paused, looking back to the man with raised eyebrows.
"Do you—do you think it's true?" the attendant asked again, dropping his voice to a whisper. "What they say about her clothes? That the Snow Queen's clothes are made of—ice?"
Jack looked down to his feet as the king stepped forward and snatched up the newspaper, the painful reminder of Elsa's beauty sending him reeling again. Oh, yes. The Snow Queen's clothes were made of ice.
Not that this moron would appreciate that.
"Well… if they are," the king mused, eying the portrait, "And if it turns out that I am called upon to teach the little mutant a lesson…"
He looked up, raising his eyebrows at the attendant with a smirk.
"This will be even easier than I thought," the king muttered.
Jack's grip on the staff tightened, his fingers twitching involuntarily as he glared. Just as he started to aim the shepherd's crook, his hands trembling with fury, he suddenly heard North's voice, the echoing counsel of his mentor sucking him into a memory.
"A-BUSE the power, LOSE the power, a-BUSE the power, LOSE the—aaaaurgh," Jack had groaned a few months earlier, standing in the Workshop's head office, "NORTH. WHY are we doing this?!"
"Because you cannot afford to forget it, Jack."
"But I—"
"—You are a GUARDIAN now, Jack Frost," North had said sternly. "Your power will only grow. We MUST make sure you can control it. Again."
"I'm not gonna to lose control."
"AGAIN, Jack."
"A-BUSE the power, LOSE the power, a-BUSE the power, LOSE the power…"
And Jack was suddenly back in the suitor's room, his feet planted, glaring down the end of his staff straight at the king's heart.
"She's really asking for it…" the king chuckled darkly. "Isn't she?"
Jack stood frozen in his place, paralyzed with anger as the king's attendants accompanied him to the other side of the room, one of them leaping forward to get the door for his employer. It was pulled back, and before Jack had the time to respond, the men had passed through, the thick wood swinging shut behind them.
BOOM.
And they were gone.
Clenching his teeth and looking to the floor, Jack suddenly realized that he was gripping his shepherd's crook so hard that his knuckles had gone white.
He's not worth it! He thought at himself desperately.
The entire staff was glowing, the strange blue light of its power eerily shining around him as he gripped it with all his strength, feeling the magic within the gnarled shepherd's crook pulsing under his fingers.
Not. Worth it.
Jack Frost let out his breath, shakily lowering the staff and glaring up at the door where the suitor had disappeared. What a loser. Who did this idiot think he was, anyway? This guy was a—jerk. A JERK, through and through, that did not deserve someone as incredible as Elsa. Even the thought made Jack's blood boil. But, she'd would never fall for someone like him. And she was perfectly capable of fending off any attack on her power that the moron could devise. At least, Jack thought, there was that. Elsa could take care of herself.
The Snow Queen's heart of ice would protect her.
Pulling in his breath, he forced himself to turn around to go back to the balcony, his hands still trembling with fury. He needed to calm down. To get a grip, get out, and get away, from Elsa, and from him, and Arendelle, and all the blasted, stupid memories associated with it. But—
He glared back at the door.
Yeah. Elsa will marry you, he thought sarcastically. And North will relocate to the tropics. Scumbag…
Jack grabbed the curtain, violently yanking it back and crouching down by the lock to see with relief that his formerly uncontrolled ice had almost completely melted from the warmth of the room. His eyes narrowed with concentration, he bent down, gently blowing a new ice key into the keyhole. Straightening it up, he took it, turning it until he heard the faint, familiar old click of tumblers falling. After so many years of busting into places, Jack knew that sound. Blow into the keyhole, tap the ice, twist, click, and done. Locks were easy. Locks made sense.
Locks couldn't betray you.
His eyes started stinging again, he gave his head a quick shake and pulled back the tall glass door, turning and taking one last glance back into the Snow Queen's castle. Seeing King Edvin's crumpled newspaper lying on the dresser, Jack's jaw tightened, the fury rising up inside of him again. That scumbag shouldn't be left alone with a girl for two seconds. Let alone two minutes…
Jack froze.
Two minutes.
A wave of nausea swept over him, the bitter taste of the realization in his mouth. The comment. The jerk said needed about two minutes. But—b-but he didn't actually mean—he wasn't PLANNING on—!
The realization falling onto him, he slowly looked up, turning back to the door through which the king and his attendants had disappeared.
What could happen—in two minutes?
Jack's heart started pounding, and he spun around to the balcony, seeing the sky outside the glass, clouds gray and beckoning. Biting his lip, he then turned, looking back towards the door where the men had disappeared and anxiously sliding his fingers into his hair.
Elsa didn't want him back. She'd thrown him out. And he was leaving. He had to leave. He was going to turn around, and walk outside, and leave, now. Right now. Not another—!
Ripping his fingers out of his hair with a yell of frustration, Jack stumbled backwards into the room, turning and leaping into the air to take off after them.