Thanks a lot for your horror short story, posted in the Jelsa tag without even thinking to post it under a cut, for those who don't wish to read it. I now have to console my 11-year-old sister, who likes to sit with me and look through the tag in the hopes of seeing new pictures of her favourite pairing, and instead read that instead. Seriously, did you even think?
Hello, Anonymous. I am so sorry that this caused so many problems. I did write a warning that there would be mature and violent themes at the beginning. But that probably wasn’t enough. I took your comment to heart and did an undercut. I’m so sorry. EireneHarmonia.
The sun was just setting past the horizon when Jack and Elsa pulled up to the quaint little French restaurant. It was a new establishment in a neighbourhood on the edge of the city. The restaurant had refurbished the old Romanesque house into a picturesque restaurant that stayed open late into the night. It worked well for the young couple, especially since Jack preferred to eat much later.
The restaurant was empty when they entered. It was dimly lit with the soft light of crystal chandeliers, tables were covered with white cloth, chairs were lined with red fabric, and sweet piano music played in the background. Jack suddenly stopped, pulling Elsa to a sudden halt. His nostrils flared, and he blinked in surprise.
“What’s wrong?” Elsa asked. He turned at the sound of her voice as if pulled from his thoughts. His eyes were hard, narrowed for just a moment before he shook his head and smiled.
“Nothing. I just – just thought I smelled something funny,” Jack said.
“Ah, you must be the couple that reserved a table at 10 pm,” called a voice with a melodic French accent. The young couple turned to see a young waitress greet them. “Come let me take you to your table.”
She wore a complete black ensemble with her brown hair tied back in a neat, tight bun. Her stiff appearance looked a little out of place for such an elegant restaurant. But she led them to a small table in the far corner of the restaurant out looking the expansive, dark forest behind it rather than the quiet street in front of it.
“Here are the menus. I’ll give you two a moment,” the waitress said cheerily before strolling away.
Elsa opened her menu to find nothing but French words and no pictures to guess her way through dishes.
“Do you know any French?” Jack asked lightly.
“I’m Norwegian, Jack,” Elsa replied, flipping through the menu and trying to decipher the language. “Why did you pick a French restaurant if we can’t speak French?”
“Because it was the only fine dining restaurant open this late,” he replied. “Besides, it’s fun to be a little adventurous…right?”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Right.”
“Have you made a decision?” the waitress asked, making an appearance again with two glasses of water.
“Actually, could you recommend me something?” Elsa asked.
“Of course! Our bourguignon is exquisite. It’s a mushroom, carrot, and ah, meat stew cooked with red wine.”
“Sounds great,” Elsa replied, handing the woman the menu back. Jack hesitated for a moment, scanning the list with confused eyes.
“And I’ll get the… uh… cass..ou...let,” he said, attempting to sound out the name of the dish. Elsa pressed her hand against her lips, trying to suppress a giggle.
“Ah, the cassoulet,” the waitress said. “Good choice, sir. Could I get anything for you two to drink? We have quite a nice wine collection, not as wide as the larger restaurants, but our family has deals with a small vineyard in France that makes excellent flavourful red wines.”
Jack nodded. “Sure, we’ll take two glasses.”
The waitress grinned and walked away, ducking behind a sliding door that Elsa assumed was the kitchen.
“She’s certainly lively for someone working at 10 pm,” Elsa commented. Jack hummed.
“Not everyone is a morning person as you are,” he replied. “Some people actually like to sleep in.”
Not soon after, their meals came. The waitress set before Elsa a steaming bowl smelling richly of spices and in front of Jack a plate with bean casserole of some sort. She then placed two wine glasses onto the table and popped open a fragrant bottle, pouring dark red.
“Enjoy!” she said, disappearing behind the doors again.
Jack swirled his glass once before raising it in a toast. Elsa followed, playing along to his antics.
“To trying new things,” he said, clinking glasses with Elsa’s. She took a sip. The wine was crisp, but it left a strange aftertaste that coated her tongue in a strange, floral film. Jack made a face, putting his glass down.
“Uh…I am no wine connoisseur, but that tasted terrible.”
“Maybe that’s just French wine,” Elsa said, putting down her glass and pushing it away.
“Hopefully French food is better,” he said, picking up his cutlery. She followed in-suit, dipping her spoon into the soup and taking a mouthful. The broth was rich, warm, and full of flavour and now she finally realised just how hungry she was.
“The stew’s really good,” she commented after another mouthful. She scooped a piece of the tender meat onto her spoon. “How’s your uh… dish.”
Jack didn’t reply, picking at his food with an anxious look on his face. “The beans taste fine – pretty good actually. But… I just can’t… pick out what kind of meat it is… and it tastes kind of.... Elsa? Are you alright?”
Something felt wrong.
She was blinking rapidly now. Her vision was beginning to blur.
Everything was starting to spin.
“Elsa,” Jack called again.
His voice sounded muffled.
“Elsa?”
Far away.
“Elsa can you hear – Ugh!”
“El…”
“Elsa…hear….up?”
“Elsa…. Please wake up.”
Cold.
It was freezing.
“Jack?” she mumbled, her tongue felt so thick in her mouth.
“Oh, thank God. Elsa, I’m here.”
She blinked, trying to clear away her blurry, dark vision. Trying to peel open her stiff eyelids and keep them open.
“Love, you have to stay with me,” Jack said.
“What’s going on,” she asked, almost incoherently. Nothing made sense. She couldn’t remember what happened. She needed to rub her eyes, but she couldn’t move her arms. Her fingertips were so cold that she couldn’t even feel them. “Why was it so cold?”
“Elsa, Elsa. I am so sorry. The food, the wine, everything. It was drugged. They drugged us – knocked me out cause I found out before the drugs took effect…then dragged us here.”
“I – I don’t understand. Where’s here?” she asked.
But then things were starting to piece together.
“Love, I’m so sorry. This is my fault.”
Her vision cleared.
She shouldn’t move her arms because they were hanging above her head. Tied together and attached to a hook.
She couldn’t feel her fingers because she was cold. Shivering cold. The room was cold. Across from her was Jack in a similar situation. Blood dripped down the side of his face, caked in his white hair.
More images formed now.
Scents filled her thoughts.
Iron. Suffocating iron. Blood. Blood. Blood and red.
So much red.
Beside her hung frozen figures.
Filleted. Skinned.
“Jack,” she whispered. “Is that. Is that –”
“Yes,” Jack replied hoarsely. “The restaurant owners are cannibals. We’re in a meat locker, Elsa.”
“Jack, wait!” Bunnymund shouted as I weaved ahead of him. I slowed, lingering in the Mirror House, stepping only when my outstretched hands touched empty-air.
Then cold-glass pressed against my fingertips and my reflection pouted in the mirror before me.
Dead-end.
But there was someone behind me.
A girl in a tattered blue-dress and platinum-blonde hair matted with blood.
I spun around.
But there was no one, nothing but endless reflections of my startled face.
“Ah, forbidden love.” Kozmotis Pitch scoffed, brandishing an ebony dagger in his hands. “To think that the cold Prince of Winter has fallen for a mortal human.”
“Jack,” she whispered, “Run he’ll kill –”
But her words were cut short, as Nightmare King wrapped his tendrils of shadows tighter around the young woman’s throat.
“No. Stop!” Jack yelled. “Alright – alright. Whatever you want – I’ll give it to you.”
“Your powers, for her life.”
Jack quickly tossed the conduit of his powers to Pitch in one swift, thoughtless motion. “There. It’s yours. Just. Just let her go.”
“Arendal Castle,” Aster said as he and Jack wandered through the halls of the old castle. “Famous for being haunted by the ghost of the Ice Queen Elsa.”
“Ghost, did you say?” Jack asked.
“Don’t get any ideas –”
“Wait, did you see that?” Jack snapped.
“Ha. I am not falling for that, mate.”
“No,” Jack insisted, following a retreating figure into the throne room. “I’m not kidding you – ”
Then the doors slammed behind him.
His breath suddenly came in cloudlike fogs.
He turned to see a woman.
Elsa.
“Hello, Jack Frost,” she whispered. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Fin.
Image found on Pinterest.
Please help me credit the amazing artist if you guys know who.
Jack wasted no time exploring the beaches of the island when his ship docked on the shores of the Caribbean. When he happened on a hidden cove with calm, clear, blue waters, Jack was quick to tear off his shirt and boots, leaving only his breeches as he dived with a mighty yell.
The salt burned his eyes, but he caught a glimpse of a fish with thin fins in a blue-green hue.
He blinked, turning to catch another glance at the beautiful creature.
He waited in the throne room, kneeling on red-carpeted floors anticipating her arrival. His hands were clammy and he could barely breathe: the room was filled with the foggy mist of incense.
Jack: son of the Emperor of Shuang and an Imperial Consort.
The Second Prince, but never to take the throne for his mother was a concubine.
Reduced to a political chess piece.
Now he stood before the court of another country, prepared to marry for the sake of an alliance.
He hated this.
“Presenting, Her Imperial Highness, the Empress of Arendaru!”
But there was no turning back now.
Fin.
Kogarashi - a cold North wind that blows at the beginning of winter
Shuang - is pinyin for frost in Chinese (I think)
Arendaru - is the romaji for Arendelle in Japanese.
Jack sighed, the smell of incense always lingered in the palace. But now, there was another scent that filled his senses.
Elsa’s perfume.
He lay by her side. So close that he could hear her breaths. So close that silk-sleeves of her dress brushed against his cheek.
He closed his eyes, imagining how gracefully she moves as she plucks the strings of the guzheng. Oh, how he wished that she played those songs of love for him instead of just… for him.
But that was just his fantasy, for he was the crown prince and she was a court musician.
