Title: The Elf Inauguration

Summary: If there was one thing that Jacqueline Frost was certain of, it was this: there was absolutely no way she was ever wearing shoes. You'd think North's elves would get the point after – what – the upteempth time she froze them? Fem!Jack!AU. Post!RotG.

Word Count: 760

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians.

Warning(s): Jack's implied staff-happiness. Also, my attempt at humor.

A/N: Unbetad. Any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

There they were again. Jack grimaced. She grasped her staff tightly. North's elves. For some reason, after the Guardians defeated Pitch, North's elves have taken something of a shrine to her. This would be all fine and dandy, if they would just stop following her around so much, but that's not even the worst part. No, the worst part was when they decided to start dressing like James Bond (since when do they make elf-sized tuxedos?) and hum the Mission Impossible theme. Talk about an oxymoron.

A large, crimson present suddenly rustled. Jack smirked. She let her staff fall down gently.

"Oh, no, don't tell me that my big, strong, white knights are not here to greet me!" the white-haired girl cried, eyes watering.

There was a loud smack. The present, then, shifted with such intensity, that its occupants flooded out. The winter spirit's fanboys were involved in the gruesome fight the world would have ever seen. (For elves, anyway.) Jack wanted to settle this once and for all, though.

"Ahem," she said.

The elves stopped and looked at her. She winked and beckoned for them to come closer. They scrambled over themselves as they tried to be the first to reach the girl. One of the elves, Remy, threw in a lucky punch and escaped the knotted mess. He panted as he adjusted his tux. He looked up at Jack with merry eyes. Jack smiled. (She grimaced on the inside, though; this was going to be harder than she thought.) She leaned down to meet the elf at his level. The other elves glared at the victor.

"Now, then," she sighed, moving a stray white strand behind her ear, "guys, not that I don't like cyan blue, or jingle bells, but on shoes? Really? I doubt that, if the Easter Kangaroo was human, if even he would wear those shoes – if they can even be called that. No offense," she said shortly.

Remy giggled. Jack raised an eyebrow. This was odd.

"Oh, Miss Frost!" he laughed, "You are a most wonderful kidder!"

He fell on his back and clutched his sides. Tears were falling rapidly down his face. The other elves soon forget their feud and joined the rising laughter. Jack was confused.

"Uh, not that I don't enjoying seeing mirth in your spirits, but what just happened?" she asked.

Remy wheezed as he tried to catch his breath. When calmed, he gazed at the white-haired Guardian intently. He, then, grabbed hold of her shoulders and gave her a kiss on both cheeks. Jack blinked. The elf grinned.

"We have good news for you, Miss Frost! No longer will we try to make you wear the elfin shoes," he said.

The immortal teenage girl grinned.

"Really? Sweet – "

"Instead, we shall try to make you wear this."

Remy gestured for the others to bring something out. Jack knew she should have hightailed it out of there at the first sight of that grin, but, confound it, her curiosity was stronger. Her eyes were still wary, though. She watched as the elves heaved something pure white out of a small, silver box. When the something was fully out, her breath hunched, despite herself.

The something was an artfully crafted dress unlike any other she has ever seen. (And she has done a lot of window shopping – not that she'll ever admit it out loud.) It was of the finest silk and spidery in design. Now that she could see it closer, she can see that amidst the sea of pure white, there were little sheens of silver. At the waistline, there was a sapphire belt that was molded to the gown and had a long stripe that journeyed close to the hem of said gown. A tasteful snowflake-like tiara completed the ensemble.

She whistled.

"So, basically, you want me to be Galadriel now?" she asked as she felt the fabric experimentally.

The elves smiled sheepishly.

"Guilty," Remy answered, flushing.

The white-haired girl smirked.

"I'm actually pretty cool with that."

Some months later, it was Halloween night. North threw his customary holiday party and invited every spirit, Guardian or otherwise, to his shindig. Even Pitch was invited. (He kept on brooding in a corner, though.)

Bunnymund furrowed his fuzzy brows.

"And who exactly are you supposed to be, mate?" he asked.

"Only Elfin royalty," Jack said, "Why, jealous?" she winked.

The Pooka scowled.

"Like I'd be jealous of you," he grumbled.

The younger Guardian chuckled.

She adjusted her tiara and smiled at the fawning elves.

It felt good to be Queen.