Notes: For Nonakani, who I had a wonderful discussion with about the "Finn the Human/Jake the Dog" episodes. Warnings for Season Five premiere spoilers and some disturbing content.

Coronation

The crown whispers, and Finn understands.

He can feel himself crystallizing, solidifying into something that's more him than he ever could have hoped to be alone. Doubt and trepidation are buried under layers of frost; fear and guilt are transmuted into the wind itself, whirling and howling beneath the guidance of his fingertips. This feels good, better than peeing outside or strapping a blade to his prosthetic arm. Natural and deliciously raw, the frost biting into his skin and peeling it back.

For the first time in his entire life, everything is clear.

The bomb went off—and, that's his fault, all Finn's fault, that stupid donkus—but he can fix it. He can fix the sky that writhes and screams and the barren earth that has gone silent. He can make it so that there are no roaring, consumptive fires ever again, no more Destiny Gangs or careless little boys who lose their limbs. Even Jake—whose eyes glow with a malevolence the same color as the clouds, his body mangled and skeletal and horned like the demons from Pop's stories—yes, even he can be saved.

He can reach out and cover the whole world with a blanket of ice. Tuck it in, keep it calm, put it to sleep. Make it so that the frost's whispers swell into a lullaby that everyone can hear.

Finn wants that. Oh, he wants that ever so much. If they sleep, they'll be safe. Only he can make it happen, only he can keep them safe from each other, themselves, him.

It must be this way, the crown whispers, and Finn repeats it aloud in a high, tremulous voice. He laughs so hard he sobs, his tears freezing on his cheeks. The whispers beckon, and he obeys, the hair underneath his cap flapping and kicking up a frigid gust that lifts him into the air.

Oh, how he wishes Mama and Pop and Bartram could see him now. Him, their little Finn Mertens, who would run barefoot in the wintertime. Their clumsy oaf of a boy, one-armed and simple and barely literate. Look at me now, he shouts over the howl of the blizzard. I'm a king!

For now, Jake will have to suffice.

His old friend is still cackling when he finally freezes over, his face fixed in a rictus of malice. His eyes are on Finn though, watching his ascent with rapt, captivated attention.

Finn screams and laughs and cries, all at once, until he vomits slush.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this piece! Reviews and feedback are always appreciated!