The first thing Jack hears is a voice calling his name. Jack Frost, it says, and the voice echoes throughout his mind, the moons' voice ringing clear like a bell, warm and masculine. The first thing he sees is the snow, drifting lazily before him as he pushes himself up to his feet, the ice smooth and steady beneath him. It's dark, the stars a glittering blanket above his head and the moon bright and luminous, casting white rays upon the clearing. The soft white light shines down onto the snow covered banks and slants through the tree branches, illuminating everything with the moons' magic and casting an otherworldly glow around the clearing.
The wind greets him like old friends, playfully messing up his hair with its currents and he laughs in delight as it lifts him up for a few seconds, twirling him along with it before depositing him back down onto the ice.
Unconsciously, Jack raises a hand to rub at his neck, easing the knots of tension that had gathered there. It feels as if he had been sleeping a long time. He frowns, a thought nagging at the back of his head before slipping away as he turns, his eyes landing on a limp figure laying a few feet away beside a jagged, gaping hole in the ice.
The ice around the figure is jagged and cracked, sharp black gashes marring the surface. Jacks' eyes trail over the body laying splayed on the ice, the tattered brown clothing sodden and frosted, one pale hand still dipping into the frigid waters. He doesn't breathe, doesn't move a muscle; just stands there, transfixed to the spot. All he can see is the prone from of the boy, dark brown hair stark against the pure white of the ice and chest not rising.
That's a body, he thinks numbly, real body. Because there's no mistaking it. That's a human being, frozen to death, feet bare and porcelain skin tinged blue, veins dark and etched like spiderwebs on his flesh.
There's a choked off sound behind him and, startled, Jack turns. There's a boy standing there by the muddied, frozen slush of the lake's banks, hands clasped over his mouth and eyes huge and green. He looks like he's been punched, like his whole world has fallen out from underneath his feet and Jack cannot understand why he feels a hot stab go through his heart at the sight. Instead, Jack watches as the boy tries to takes a step forward before his legs give out, falling to the dirty snow instead. The boy- Hiccup- a voice supplies, doesn't move. Tears are gathering in his eyes now and Jack feels the illogical impulse to comfort him. He takes two steps forwards, hand outstretched towards the green eyed boy. His mouth opens, forming around the word, "Hicc-"
"Jack."
Jack freezes, a shock going through him, a thrill of electricity running down his spine.
His name.
The boy whimpers, looking so small and fragile and broken. Tears trickle down his cheeks.
"Jack," he cries.
Established Hiccup/Jack. Jack dies, leaving Hiccup to deal with the aftermath, unaware that Jack is watching him. It was originally a short, angsty little thing but it seems to be spiralling out of control. I may continue this in the future, with a happy(ish) ending to boot. We'll have to see. For now, this is where it ends.