The streets of Arendelle were cold, the kind of cold that crept into your bones and refused to leave. Snow blanketed the cobblestone paths, crunching beneath the hurried steps of townsfolk going about their business. Eight-year-old Jack sat in the shadow of a crate, his small body trembling beneath a tattered blanket he'd scavenged from a discarded pile. His breath came out in pale wisps, vanishing into the frigid air almost as quickly as it appeared. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, a persistent ache that had become his constant companion.
The marketplace bustled with activity despite the chill. Merchants shouted their wares, their voices cutting through the winter air like the ring of a hammer on steel. Noblewomen in thick fur-lined cloaks strode past, their gazes sliding over the boy without a second thought. The occasional child darted through the crowd, their laughter a sharp contrast to the silence Jack carried within him. He watched them with hollow eyes, wondering what it must feel like to have a family, a home, or even just a warm meal.
Jack pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, trying to block out the world. Memories of another life flickered at the edges of his mind—a life where he wasn't alone. He couldn't remember their faces anymore, not clearly, but he could recall the warmth of a hand on his shoulder, the gentle hum of a lullaby sung to him at bedtime. It was like a dream that dissolved whenever he reached for it, leaving him more aware of the cold reality around him.
Just as his head began to droop, the sound of approaching footsteps made him tense. He looked up cautiously, his blue eyes scanning for danger. Instead, he saw a woman kneeling before him, her auburn hair peeking out from beneath a fur-lined hood. Her face was kind, her eyes soft with concern.
"What's your name, child?" she asked, her voice gentle as the first snowfall.
Jack's throat felt dry. He hadn't spoken to anyone in days, maybe weeks. He hesitated, then whispered, "J-Jack."
The woman's lips curved into a warm smile. "Jack," she repeated, as if tasting the name. "My name is Iduna. Why don't you come with me? You look like you could use a warm meal."
Jack's stomach growled audibly, betraying his hesitation. He stared at her outstretched hand, unsure if he could trust this stranger. But there was something in her voice, something that reminded him of the lullabies from his fragmented memories. Slowly, cautiously, he placed his small hand in hers.
The warmth of her touch startled him. He followed her through the bustling marketplace, the sights and sounds blurring together as he focused on the steady grip of her hand. She led him away from the chaos, toward a quieter part of town where the cobblestones gleamed with frost and the towering silhouette of a castle loomed against the pale sky.
Jack's steps faltered as they approached the castle gates. Guards in polished armor stood at attention, their stern faces softening as they recognized Iduna. Jack's heart pounded in his chest. What was this place? Why had she brought him here?
"It's all right," Iduna said, noticing his hesitation. Her voice was calm, reassuring. "You're safe here, Jack."
The gates opened, and Jack stepped into a world he'd never imagined. The castle courtyard was alive with activity. Stable hands tended to sleek horses, their breath visible in the cold air. Servants bustled to and fro, carrying baskets of supplies or trays of food. A pair of children's laughter echoed from somewhere within the castle walls, a sound so pure it made Jack's chest ache.
For the first time in a long while, Jack felt something other than hunger or fear. It was a fragile feeling, like the first thaw of spring, but it was enough to make him follow Iduna through the grand doors of the castle and into a future he couldn't yet imagine.