Disclaimer: I do not own RotG or Frozen

Author's Note: So, at first, I was only unsatisfied with the first chapter. Which then turned into rewriting the second and third chapters. Which turned into a reexamination of the plot as a whole. Some things have been changed (Pitch and Jack are not nearly so chummy as they were in the first version) but the core plot is basically the same.

I hope you enjoy reading this, despite the differences!

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Thud!

Elson cracked open an eyelid, frowning slightly.

Thud!

He closed his eyes again and leaned his head back on the throne.

Thud!

BANG!

The throne room doors were thrown open and in walked a gigantic snowman wearing a very disgruntled look on its face.

"I thought I told you not to do that anymore." Elson opened his eyes halfway, seeing Marshmallow – he still couldn't quite tell if the name was ironic or not, considering the dumpy snowman's physique – standing right in front of him. "What is it?"

The snowy behemoth grunted, gesturing to the closed doors leading out to the balcony. Elson's eyes drifted in the same direction. What-?

Oh. The blizzard – it was oddly strong and he was sure it wasn't his doing. Still, they were already well into the winter months. Blizzards happened.

"I'm fine, Marshmallow," he said. "There's nothing wrong."

Somehow, the snowman managed an unconvinced expression.

…Alright, perhaps that was unnecessary; unintelligible though Marshmallow may be, he wasn't completely inept, either.

"Nothing is wrong," Elson repeated.

Marshmallow looked at the doors again, and Elson sighed slightly.

"It isn't my doing, I swear. Please, relax."

A low rumble emanated from Marshmallow as he turned to face the snow winter storm raging outside the sturdy walls of the icy castle.

"Come now, Marshmallow, I'm not always to blame when we have a bit of bad weather–"

Crash!

They both froze, staring at each other in silence. A heartbeat passed. Two. And then Elson tore out of the room and down the hallway, his previous lethargy a distant memory as Marshmallow lumbered after him.

Were they being attacked?! Had the weather somehow messed with the wards he'd set up?

Elson turned a corner, ran up several flights of stairs, towards the sound of the crash and burst into an old room–

He came to a dead stop at the doorway. Inside, were sharp pieces of the broken ice roof scattered all around the floor. And in the middle of it was a figure clad in blue with a head of long, white hair. From under it, a pool of red blood was growing.

Elson swore beneath his breath as he surged forward, dropping to his knees in the middle of the mess, taking the figure, the person, the girl into his arms. "Hello?! Can you hear me?" He swiped choppy white bangs – now stained a worrying pink – away from the girl's forehead. She was unbelievably cold, but still somehow breathing. "Miss?!"

White eyelashes fluttered for a few moments before closing again. She was completely out. And bleeding to death. On his floor.

Of course.

Did he even have a choice? He hoisted her up – surprised and slightly concerned by her lightness – speeding down the halls of the castle's western wing. Elson kicked the door to the nearest workroom open where he lay her down on a thankfully empty table. He took a small step back, observing her injuries, fully aware of Marshmallow hanging back by the doorway.

There was an ugly cut on the side of the girl's head and her clothes were torn up with fresh bloodstains. He couldn't see what exactly was wrong until he got a closer look but if the slightly shredded state of her hands and bare feet – he'd think about that later – was anything to go by, then her entrance through the ceiling had torn her up something horrible. However, most problematic were the shards of ice he could see sticking out of her.

Elson took in a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his hands, forcing his heart rate down. Now wasn't the time to panic. Now was definitely not the time to panic.

He tore part of his cape off, bunching it up and pressing it to the girl's forehead. That should help some… The shallower scrapes and cuts on her hands and feet could wait a little, he hoped. But right now, he needed his attention on the ice shards in her arms. He conjured a pair of ice tweezers as he rolled his sleeves up. Should he wear gloves? Probably. He summoned a pair.

Elson bent over the girl, forcing himself to breathe deeply and calmly. After a moment's hesitation, he ripped one of the arms off her shirt's sleeves and forced the bile back down his throat as he took in her torn up arms.

"Marshmallow!" he called out. "I need you to get me a bucketful of water! Now!"

"What's going on in here?"

Elson whipped around, his eyes landing on a smaller snowman waddling into the room.

"Olaf," he said, "Help me with out with this."

Olaf sidled up next to Elson, his eyes wide. "Is she alright?"

"She won't be if we don't hurry. Get one of the trays in the cupboard – and rags if there are any."

Elson felt the edge of the tweezers, glad that his hand was steady. When he'd cleaned his hands with the melted snow Marshmallow returned with, Elson zeroed in on one of the larger shards and took in a deep breath. Very, very gently, he took hold of it and pulled–

Elson jerked back, letting go of the ice shard, as the girl's entire body convulsed. Her eyes flew open and a shrill scream rang in Elson's ears. Her eyes flashed wildly before locking onto him. She was moving too much, losing more blood–

"Olaf, help me hold her down!"

Elson slid down to the floor. His heavy breaths filled the air as his heart rate started climbing down to its normal pace. His hands were a sticky red, blood stained his clothes – and his hair, he was fairly sure, but he was trying not to think about that – and he had worked well into the sunrise, but it was done. The girl's breaths were deep, if a bit ragged. And if the medicine he'd coated on her injuries held up, then nothing should infect.

Slowly, Elson stood, forcing down the exhaustion as best he could. He dipped his hands into the bowl of water before realizing its deep strawberry hue.

It was a good thing he stomach was empty or he might have thrown up. As it was, he merely threw a glance at a snoring Marshmallow before shaking his head. No, Elson could fetch his own water – besides that, he strongly wanted a bath after this, too – and the fresh air would be good for him.

He cast his gaze on the room, resisting the powerful urge to run a bloody hand down his face.

While Elson had worked, dangerously sharp spikes had grown on the walls, and the girl's blood had frozen onto the table and floor already. He'd move her into a bedroom as soon as he could. But, oh, he needed to redress her, wouldn't he? During the surgery, he ended up not just tearing up the girl's shirt, but also ripping a large part of her trousers off. And while at the time, it hadn't seemed too important, thinking back on it now made Elson feel a little more ill.

This intruder … who was she? Why was she here? Should he have even helped her?

Elson shook his head, shuffling down the empty hallway. His questions could wait – right now, he just wanted her blood off him.

The girl was a spirit – Elson could tell that much. No matter how many blankets he swaddled her in, anything else would have died of the cold. But she was alive, breathing, with a steady heartbeat.

"She has white hair like you!" Olaf gasped. The first thing he'd done that morning was waddle into the room Elson had settled the girl into. He'd stayed there since then, as if watching over her life signs was his duty.

Maybe he felt like it was.

"My hair isn't snow white," Elson scoffed, folding his arms as he leaned back in his chair. "And who knows? Maybe that's her name."

"Her name's Snow," Olaf said with a touch of wonder only he could manage even after all these years.

Elson rolled his eyes. "Maybe. We'll find out when she wakes."

Until then, all they could do was wait.

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