Rapunzel couldn't stop picturing it. Beautiful, and crystal white, and so incredibly small. Her imagination was as vivid as could be, but this had to have been real. Surely her desperation for Jack Frost and freedom hadn't reached a level of insanity, had it? Was she becoming like the monsters outside?

A sudden fear gripped at her heart. If she was seeing things, she should inform Mother immediately. Rapunzel knew it; it was one of Mother's rules. If you see anything out of the ordinary, tell me. The infection may have gotten to you somehow. Still, she kept her mouth shut even as she watched Mother go. She'd tell her first thing in the morning.

Rapunzel stood only when the door fully closed. She walked slowly around the room, lighting candle after candle as she went. Revealing every dark corner that she could. It was only when she was done that she walked back to her bed, stood still a rock, and said in whisper overflowing with hope:

"Jack?"

When nothing came, her hope flared brighter, stronger.

"Jack Frost? I... I summon you," she tried when more quiet met her, "to reveal yourself." It was a lame effort, even she knew it. But she was certain she'd read something about spirits needing to be summoned in some way, in one of her books. And unless she'd misunderstood The Guardians of Childhood, Jack Frost was indeed a winter spirit. Though he was present, he couldn't be seen unless children believed. Rapunzel's eighteenth birthday was in but a few days. In technical terms, she wasn't an adult just yet, making her chances of seeing him that much more stronger. And surely she hadn't imagined the snowflake kissing her wrist. The delicate sting of the cold had been very, very real.

"I know you're here," he tried again.

Something shifted in the air behind her. Rapunzel stilled. She couldn't quite explain it, but the room felt different now, as if something within had changed. As if there was a new presence in the room. It was awfully similar to how she felt when the dark man visited her. For a moment, as she turned around, she expected to see him instead. Though this boy was equally as tall and slender, he sported a long, crooked staff, no shoes, and a shock of messy, snow-white hair.

Rapunzel's heart beat furiously—and for once, not with fear. With anticipation. She recognized him from the pictures in her book. She'd summoned him! Finally! Like a wicked witch from her stories.

Reality suddenly caught up to her. The yelp escaped her throat before she could stop it, and she realized with a jolt that she was indeed afraid. She snatched Pascal from her bed and ran hard for the small nook of a kitchen. She flattened herself against the wall as if he hadn't seen her run right past him. Perhaps his eyes couldn't process quick movements and she'd been but a blur! Perhaps the dark was playing tricks on her again and she'd really just imagined him. Perhaps it was the dark man playing more tricks on her.

With movements as slow as a sloth, Rapunzel glanced around the wall. No. He was solid and there. Jack Frost! He breathed something unintelligible as he gazed at her hair, held up to eye level by the hook of his wooden staff.

Her hair.

Another short yelp escaped her. Rapunzel jumped back behind the stone wall and pulled hard at her hair until all of it was securely bunched up into her arms. But she knew it was too late—if he hadn't seen her before, he had now. Rapunzel had to face her fear; she'd wanted him to come so badly, hadn't she? And now he was here. He'd answered her thousandth prayer and here she was, ruining it with her utter lack of capabilities.

Hesitantly, hair still in her arms, Rapunzel stepped out from behind the wall. Jack's sharp, ice blue eyes immediately found her. It was startling—she'd never seen eyes of that colour, so pale and striking. The memory of the snowflake rushed back to her. Snow! She'd really touched snow!

He'd given it to her.

"Jackson Overland Frost," she whispered, voice weak even to her own ears. "You're Father Frost. Old Man Winter."

The corner of the spirit's lip pulled into a half smile. He spread his arms wide. "Whoa, there, do I really look that old? Is it the staff, or should I start using that new face cream I've been seeing everyone advertise on TV?" Jack scratched his head after a moment's silence. He spared a glance at the room. "I guess you don't know what a TV is, huh?"

No, Rapunzel couldn't understand many of the words that were coming out of the man's mouth, but she could easily brush that away. What mattered was that he'd really come to save her. He was real. He was...

"What's up with your glowing hair?"

Mother's words of caution whispered through her ears, about how the monsters had caught word of her powers and would do anything to claim it—or, in other words, her. Without thinking, she shot back toward the kitchen and wrapped her hand around the hilt of a still-drying frying pan. She swung around to aim it at her Jack Frost, Pascal sitting intimidatingly on her shoulder.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my tower?" She demanded, tempted to call for Mother Gothel.

Jack slowly lifted his hands up in surrender, which proved to her that he truly wasn't who she'd thought he was. Jack Frost would have done more than stand idly in the face of an attack. He would use his power. However, if that were the case, Rapunzel couldn't understand how he'd gotten inside of the tower without even Pascal noticing.

"I think the real question here is," the boy who was not Jack started. "what in the world are you doing in a tower, in the middle of nowhere?"

Rapunzel tried for her best glare as she repeated her own question. "Who are you, and how did you find me?"

"Okay, okay!" The boy cleared his throat, shifting. "Um, I'm Jack. And I was curious. Wanna know why?"

Now it was Rapunzel's turn to shift. He said his name was Jack, but perhaps he'd simply taken that from her calling him Jackson earlier. And what sort of viable answer was 'curious?' From Pascal's look, he didn't seem to be buying it either. She reminded herself that Mother was nearby, and she felt the courage flow inside of her. "Have you ever heard of the saying, 'curiosity killed the cat?'"

Jack lifted a brow, smiling again in that crooked way. What was he finding so funny? "Are you planning on killing me?" He asked.

Rapunzel hesitated. "No."

"Good."

He took a step forward. Instinct carried Rapunzel's swing. Not Jack dodged it easily.

So she swung again. And swung and swung and swung.

A pang! suddenly sounded, followed by a faint, pained chirp, which made Not Jack still just long enough for Rapunzel's pan to hit home.

Not Jack cursed hard, in a way no true Guardian would, as he brought his knee up into his chest to ease the sting. Next was his shoulder, but before Rapunzel could slam the pan down on his head, Not Jack grabbed her wrist. Rapunzel's stomach sunk horribly as she tried, and failed, to wrench it free. Suddenly, a bite of freezing cold rushed through her fingers, forcing the pan out of her grip. Maybe Jack snatched it through the air with his free hand and tossed it across the room.

Rapunzel clutched her wrist to her heart as soon as he let go. The cold didn't hurt, exactly, but it was unlike any pain she'd ever felt before. Rapunzel watched as Probably Jack rubbed at his knee and shoulder.

"Wow, you give a mad swing," he breathed. He rolled his shoulders once before standing straight again. "Well, aren't you gonna ask why I was curious?"

Rapunzel did no such thing.

"Good, I like enthusiasm!" Jack smiled. "A little birdie told me someone needed my help. Does that ring any bells? And you still haven't answered my question about your hair, by the way. Which I find kind of rude, considering you want my help and all. "

Rapunzel stiffened. So he'd heard her prayers, then, which meant... Was she truly speaking with the Jack Frost? The one from the fairy tales?

What could he want with her hair?

"Tough subject?" Certainly Jack took a step forward, then another. Rapunzel backed away in time with his approach. Other than his ghostly, grey-white skin, he seemed human enough. Handsome, even. He sported a navy sweater that seemed to be covered in a permanent frost, despite the heat wave currently blooming through the valley. His bark-brown pants were ripped at the hems and tightened by even darker ribbons.

Still, an appearance meant nothing when it came to who's mind was sinful and who's was not.

The world had grown corrupted and diseased—what would to stop it from affecting spiritual beings as well? After all, they'd done nothing to save them. But saving an entire world did seem like a big task. Perhaps they'd tried, hard. Rapunzel couldn't blame them for failing, could she?

"If you're really who you say you are," she said, voice still lacking the strength she wanted to convey, "why show up now? I wished for you a thousand times. For others, too, and no one ever came."

Jack glanced away, briefly. Was that shame, she read? "This time was different."

"How?"

"It's hard to explain..." he tried. "Just, different."

Rapunzel frowned. "How did you find me?"

"With a light sprinkle of luck. And levitation."

Rapunzel spotted Pascal perched atop Jack Frost's staff. He seemed just as unimpressed by his answers as she. He rose a tiny brow, stomping a foot down onto the wood. Rapunzel looked back at Jack. "Can you..." she started. "Can you really make it snow? Everywhere?" She and Pascal had always dreamed of seeing it, and that glimpse he given her earlier made her crave it even more.

"Oh," Jack took an unbalanced step back. "You mean like this?" And like pure magic, he pulled a snowball out of thin air.

A snowball.

Snow.

Out of thin air.

Rapunzel's feet wobbled at the sight. She itched to reach for it, to feel the sphere inside of her palms. An uncertain grin broke over his face. Then, he threw the snowball at her shoulder so fast she couldn't even think to duck. A sudden, pure bliss ignited through her like a spell. Was she dreaming? She must be. Surely, this couldn't be real... Jack Frost couldn't truly be here with his snow.

Jack Frost.

When he looked up at the ceiling with a wide smile, Rapunzel followed his gaze. She had to stop herself from gasping as she did—a million drowsy snowflakes started falling from the ceiling as she watched. Already, a small layer started collecting itself on the floor, freezing the hot hair significantly.

"Old Man Winter," Rapunzel breathed, turning to grin at the Guardian, who scowled at the name. "You're really here." The cold remains of his snowball stung her bare feet, but she couldn't care less.

Jack opened his mouth to say something else just as Mother Gothel banged through the door. 

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*Edited, (March 11th, 2020).