Disclaimer: I wrote the first few chapters of this story after watching the first Frozen trailer...I hadn't actually seen the movie yet. You may or may not notice that Elsa becomes more "in-character" as the story progresses since I saw the movie later and adjusted her character to fit.

A/N: Just fyi: This story takes place before the events of Frozen and after the events of Rise of the Guardians. Elsa's coronation was successful, and she is now queen of Arendelle. No one knows she has her powers (...yet), and she is still struggling for control over them. Other than that, you should be good to go! I was going to explain this later in the story, but I don't see why I can't tell you ahead of time. :) Enjoy! -Blue

Elsa, fair queen of Arendelle, sat upright upon her throne in her grand and tapestried hall. The epitome of poise, grace, and regality, she looked before her waiting subjects with calm detachment and patience.

A quick scan of the room revealed to her a group of portly men with aprons and rolled-up sleeves. Her gaze lingered, and many of their faces grew red with unease under it. She raised a considering brow.

This was the butchers' guild. They want salt for preserving their meats, as they always did this time of year. However, she had recently discovered that the traders of Bolgeria hadn't brought forth the agreed amount of salt in exchange for Arendelle's pine perfumes. This meant the salt would be delayed another two months at the least, and by then the butchers' meats would be sure to spoil. Yet there was simply not enough salt to go around. The salt Arendelle did possess was needed to clear the ice from the cobble roads during these cold months, and already a substantial amount had been used. No, there was not a chance they would be getting any amount from her. It was a hard lesson, but it was one that must be taught if they were ever to stay self-sufficient.

…Or…perhaps she could cut down which roads she salted by choosing only the heavy-traffic areas. There would be complaints from those residing in low-traffic areas, but these could be dealt with. A group of unemployed butchers….not so easily.

And so, before the butchers had said even a word, their queen had heard their case. After a revealing and succinct interview, they were sent on their way with three carriages full of salt, a stern reprimand for their consistent annual neediness, and a growing bafflement regarding the rumored sorcery of their queen.

Now for the baker, the craftswoman, and mother of eight…

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Queen Elsa stepped into her spacious bedchamber, head held high and gloved hands folded neatly across her midriff. "Thank you for your assistance, Rheba," she said smoothly. "I am sure I can take it from here. You are dismissed."

"Of course, your majesty," replied the servant girl with a quick curtsy. She was used to being dismissed at this time and was anxious for her supper. Elsa heard the girl's hurried feet pitter-patter down the back stairs before she turned the lock over in her bedroom door for the night.

With that, all pretenses vanished. The queen crumpled against the bedchamber floor with a soft moan and looked at her gloved hands. They were shaking. How long could she go on like this?

She tremulously peeled off her gloves, one finger at a time. They fell to the floor.

The temperature in the room experienced a noticeable drop, and she deigned herself to further inspect her hands. Mistake. Ice crackled over them in spiderweb-like patterns, and the tiniest of snow flurries followed in their wake. A ripple of power pulsed through them, and the flurries intensified.

Oh no. It hadn't been this bad in a while… Stress was definitely making it worse. The queen's hands shook harder at the thought. With effort, she stood. Any moment now, she would be unable to restrain it. Any moment, a torrent of wind and cold light and ice and snow would ravage where-so-ever she chose. But where was she to direct it? She must stay away from the window…they mustn't ever find out! A cold tear traveled down the fair queen's face, only to freeze midway.

A cold, tingling sensation—like ice sliding on bare skin-traveled up her spine. She let out a broken sob; all control was lost.

The whiteness washed over her.

It was only for a moment, but when she came to her senses, her bedchamber was awash in white snow, swirling ice effigies, and glistening frost. The enchantment still spilled forth from her fingertips; with every frantic turn, waves of white smothered a different area of the room, and her feet froze the very ground she stood on. This was the worst it had ever been—her condition. She couldn't control it.

She would freeze all of Arendelle-everyone that she loved. She would become the bane of her own people.

A tall, slender silhouette alighted on the windowsill.

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Jack Frost danced and spun in the dark skies of Arendelle, his delight in his snowy craft and the beauty of the lights in the city below emitting from him a long whoop of joy. Arendelle was one of his favorite places to visit during the cold months. The people were—like all countries in the region-isolated and ignorant of the technological world outside. Despite this, they were a happy and well-off people, if not very comfortable with change. This made them especially fun to mess with.

The Guardian of Fun swooped low over the city, breathing frost into the air and beckoning the clouds for snow. Ice formed in the fissures of the cobblestones, and snow collected on eaves. Cold nipped the noses of those few that still walked in the street, but they took no notice of the figure passing overhead. Jack Frost was to them but a gust of cold air. He was used to this; some children, at least, would recognize him. It was too bad they were off to bed.

He contentedly flew about the city, snow and ice quick to follow. Last but not least, the castle. The royals weren't going to get off that easy. If he iced the front walk just right, the morning guards would be tripping all over themselves come sunrise. He snickered at the thought; the kids who took that way for school would lose it. Maybe he could start a snowball fight between them and the sentries… Oh, this was going to be fun!

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it—a beam of cold, blue light blazing out of a high window of the castle above him, followed by a whooshing sound and vagrant flakes of snow. This disappeared shortly, only to be followed by another blast at a different angle. It repeated at random—again and again. He paused in fascination. Those lights looked awfully familiar. What could these royals be hiding?

Without a second thought, Jack flew up towards the high window and settled himself on its edge. His mouth dropped open.

A fine young woman with a crown—obviously a princess or queen—stood inside. Her blue eyes were wild with terror, and from her fingertips burst forth—he could hardly believe it—ice and snow. Just like him! However, unlike him, the woman did not seem know how to handle such power. She flailed about in desperation, coating everything in cold whiteness. The room was being steadily destroyed. From the woman's red lips escaped a low wail.

Jack opened the window and was beside her in a flash. She gasped back her cries and stepped away with a frantic shake of her head.

He ignored this, but took note of the tears frozen to her face. He looked at her hands; sparks of white light and ice fluttered from them. They trembled. She was attempting to hold it back. "Stay away!" she cried. "I'll hurt you! Go!" A bolt of light and ice erupted from her palm at the exclamation.

"Listen to me! I can help you."

"Leave me!"cried the woman. "You can do nothing. Save yourself, please." She held up her hands in a protective gesture. Snow and ice flashed from them in two straight beams, grazing both sides of Jack's face. Faster than thought, he stepped forward, enlacing his hands in hers.

Power raced through him—a cold, awesome power. It filled him up like a glass. Coldness crept up his chest, flowed down his arms, his legs. He gasped at the intensity, but it wasn't finished with him. It continued to spread to the back of his head and spilled from his mouth in a white vapor. It proceeded to numb the tip of his nose, the ends of his fingers, his toes. It slid down his back, cold as ice. It settled along his jaw, making his teeth chatter. Slowly, so slowly, it subsided. Its remnants dwindled from him and escaped back into the hands he was holding. He opened his eyes.

No one had made Jack Frost feel that cold in a very long time.