A Dragon Of Ice

Faces; shocked, horrified faces stared at her as her power revealed itself. Spines of ice, sharp and dangerous, had left her fingers, threatened her guests. Some queen she was to endanger her own guests in this way, some queen who couldn’t even control herself. She was a monster, too dangerous to be around people. And so she had fled.  Voices called behind her as she left her castle, racing towards the harbour where she paused for the slightest of moments before foot met water and immediately turned it to ice. First one foot, then the other, water turning to ice beneath her feet until the whole fjord froze, bringing with it an eternal winter for Arendelle.  The entire world had changed in the week following that day. A Gloveless Queen on the back of a Snow White Horse made the journey back to the Palace of Ice she had built in the mountains in a much happier mood than the day she had created it. She had left Anna in charge of Arendelle, and apparently Sven in charge of carrots, and set out to retrieve one of the few things she had left of her mother. What she had been feeling when she tossed away her crown she had promised herself she would never feel again. In such a short space of time, Elsa has gone from a withdrawn frightened creature, to one who fully embraced her powers. She had gone from feeling the pressure of her responsibilities, to vowing never to return to them, and eventually settling where she was now. Accepting them, realising that responsibilities could also be seen as privileges. Her powers were dangerous, but they were also protective, the greatest weapon Arendelle had against those who would do them harm.  The door of ice creaked as she pushed it open, eyes marvelling at the things she had created with her own magic. It had seemed impressive at the time she did it, but seeing how it held itself, the solid structure of ice, as strong as her castle in Arendelle, well she had to appreciate her own work. Her eyes scanned the room, eventually falling upon the thing she had intended to retrieve. Fingers stretched to pick up the golden crown, dusting off the traces of snow that had coated it where it fell.  A soft chirp behind her made the Snow Queen spin. It was a sound she had never heard before, and it spooked her. Almost instantly the fear that she had fought so hard to escape; returned, washing over her like a wave, causing snowflakes to amass around her. As she regained herself, a hand extended to draw the flakes to the floor, a breath filling her chest, relaxing her, bringing the snow to an end.  Ice blue eyes peered at her from beneath a pile of snow. She barely noticed them as she went back to admiring the palace, but a quick blink made them unmissable.  Movement in the still.  Her own eyes looked back, blue staring into blue as the blonde crossed the distance between herself and the snowy heap. Fear had left her completely, a distant memory as she found a strange comfort in those eyes, like the moment she had first met Olaf and realised that her power was greater than she’d ever known.  The creature she was approaching now was almost invisible in the snow, it’s skin the same colour as the fallen flakes. She knelt gently before it, extending a hand, resting it on the path before the critter as their eyes remained locked. Time stood as still as the two beings, unmoving, unconcerning.  Patience. One tiny claw moved, and then another and before she knew it, the small dragon had come to rest on her palm, curling it’s way up her forearm. Elsa and the dragon stared at one another once more, trying to work one another out.  “Did I create you?” She asked after a short while, fingers of her free hand moving to gently touch the tiny dragon’s horns, as clear and as cold as ice, sharper than icicles and yet, not completely ice. It was similar, there was no doubt, but it felt as though the ice was alive, as though she could feel a heartbeat. The dragon, seemingly sensed something about Elsa as she touched him. She felt a change in their dynamic as he continued his climb of her arm until he was perched securely on her shoulder. She looked at him, and it was as though she could read his very thoughts.  She knelt once more, pushing aside the heap of white until two shapes appeared. Eggs. They looked as though they had been expertly carved from ice, one a deep blue, the other as black as the night. A third, white and almost hidden, lay alongside, cracked open. Pale fingers wrapped around each one of the unhatched eggs, lifting them from their nest of snow.  “What are you going to call him?” The excitable red head practically bounced into her bedchambers as Elsa placed the dragon on her window ledge, dusting it with a foot of snow to make him more comfortable, laying the other eggs beside him.  “I bring a live ice dragon home, and your first question is about naming him?” The Queen turned to her sister, a slight twinkle in her eyes as she looked fondly at Anna, the sister who had sacrificed herself for Elsa only a week before. Anna was everything Elsa admired, brave and selfless, sunshine on a cloudy day.  “Do you remember when we were children?” She asked after a moment, “Before.. I became closed off from the world? Father used to read us that story.. the one you loved so much that you requested it every single night. The story of the dragon who grew so large that it was able to surround the world and grasp its own tail..” The red headed Princess chuckled and gave a nod  “The tale of the Mighty Jörmungandr” she responded lightly, almost proud of herself for remembering it given how fuzzy the memories of her childhood had become not long after.  “That’s right. Well.. there’s only one name befitting this little ice dragon” Elsa’s fingers moved again to run lightly over the dragons cold scales “isn’t there, Jörmungandr?”