AN: My fondness for mounted combat might be showing. As may be my wikipedia abuse! . . . I am also totally aware that a) an axe is a horrible weapon to use on a horse holy shit what is he thinking, and b) by virtue of it being used at a distance it's probably more like a halberd or poll axe anyways but all Jack knows is it's a big blade and it's coming at him. Mythology, what can you do?
For the meme: . ?thread=1752295
It was a crisp April morning when Jack rode a breeze low across the rolling hills of Scotland. He might be the harbinger of winter in autumn, but there was something beautiful too in skimming white filigree across green grass and new leaves, wreathing vineyards and farmlands in silver gilt. Jack knew damned well he only had a week or so left to visit Europe before Bunny would be chasing after him with his boomerangs, so—best make the most of it while he could, right?
He brushed low over rows of trees he'd just encased in ice to admire apple blossoms like delicate creations under glass. In his humble opinion, there were fewer things prettier than ice gleaming over green in the light of dawn.
To say he wasn't expecting the vine whip coiling around his ankle was an understatement. Jack tumbled out of the sky straight into the orchard.
The frozen branches cracked and gave way under the force of his passage until he landed flat on his back on hard ground and skidded to a stop. Jack went one way. His staff went another.
He heard the frosted grass crunching under heavy steps before he could do more than cough air back into his lungs and get his elbows under him. He looked up—and up, and up—the blade of a really wicked axe held by a man on a horse who looked like he'd climbed out of one of Bunny's dyeing streams. One of the really green ones.
"Whoa, uh, hi there. Nice axe."
There were probably smarter things he could have said but damn it he was working on the fly here. The man did not look impressed; Jack belatedly noticed that his scowling brows and beard were actually vines and leaves; his hair was more oak leaves than anything else. Even the horse he rode had hide of bark and a mane of moss. Oookay. Noticing a theme, here.
"Winter. You are trespassing."
Jack edged backwards as best he could without managing to get his feet under him. The horse and rider took a step forward, pressing the blade under his neck. Yep, this was new and uncomfortable.
"Look, I'm not Winter. I'm Jack Frost. Guardian of fun. You might have heard of me." Jack tried a winning grin. "Take it easy. Who are you?"
"You are of winter, and you have overstayed your welcome."
"I didn't know I needed one. I'm kinda a world-wide phenomenon." Jack aimed for cavalier, buying time to get his bearings.
"You threaten my trees. You will not remain unless you can best me," the green guy was alarmingly dour.
"Oh. . . kay. . . best you in what?" Jack held very still, but he had a very bad feeling he knew where this was going.
"In combat. Prepare yourself, knight of Winter."
The enormous axe swung away, held at the ready while the man waited for Jack to get up. Jack scrambled to his feet, trying not to be too obvious about looking for his staff. If he could get the staff, he could fly, and fly very fast because this guy was crazy. He was definitely not the heavy combat sort of guy; maybe North or Bunny could have taken him, but shepherd's crook versus axe? He was so much kindling.
When the man backed his horse up, looking for all the world like a statue made of green living trees, (if someone had carved one of a crazy axe murderer made of trees and why didn't anyone warn Jack about this guy?!) - Jack darted for his staff, creating ice beneath his feet to skate across. His finger tips just missed snagging it when he looked up at the sound of heavy hoof beats.
As if he didn't have enough bad memories of fighting equines. The wood-horse was fast- Jack barely threw himself aside under the incoming hooves in time, fetching up hard against a tree. He had a moment to pull himself upright as the beast skidded, hauled by the green rider into an abrupt about-face that sent it galloping back towards Jack.
Jack pushed off into a mad slalom, dodging branches, swinging around trees to change direction and attempting to stay ahead of the rider that was most definitely herding him away from his staff. Why wasn't there any water around?! This would be so much easier if he had more ice- freeze the horse solid and make the guy walk!
And that was when he ducked just a second too late and ran straight into a low-hanging branch. Jack went down sideways, curling into himself and attempting to roll back upright on the slippery ground. Shit shit shit-
Jack would deny for millenia the noise he made when he looked up just to see the mad man's horse right there, plunging down at him with that huge freaking axe swinging.
His horrified yelp (totally not a girly scream that could have belonged to Sophie nope) was lost in the ringing of the great axe meeting a blade inches in front of Jack's nose.
Jack fell off balance backwards, finding himself sprawled in between two men on horses: one in green, one in . . . black. What the hell?!
Pitch rode a nightmare, holding his scythe casually so the blade hooked and blocked the green man's swing. If anything, Pitch looked nonchalant, like this was something he did every day. He sounded like it, too, drawling, "Really, Green Knight, you bout with knaves and boys not a quarter your age now?"
"Nightmare King." The green man looked displeased, but did not try and disengage. "What brings you here?"
"Your fear." Pitch let derision drip from his voice. "You so fear the winter freezing your seeds, withering your leaves, blighting your fruit, that you can't stand even the slightest hint of frost. So much for your vaunted legendary plenty."
Yeah, whatever else Pitch was, diplomat was not high on the list. Even clueless and confused as he was, Jack could tell that wasn't making the green knight happy. The man reined his tree-horse backwards, unhooking his axe to bring it back up to guard.
"You would champion the winter sprite?"
"Please. As if this was a valid fight to begin with." Pitch scoffed, but his nightmare stepped forward over Jack, putting him in between Jack and the crazy man. Not the cavalry Jack was expecting, but gift horses, right?
The Green Man nodded as if that was a declaration of intent, then the two not-horses were charging at each other down the lanes of the orchard. Jack winced as the heavy sweep of the ax cut the air, but Pitch ducked somehow, knocking it aside. He spun his nightmare on its hind quarters just after the green man passed-
And lashed out with the scythe from behind in a strike that parted the green man's head from his body.
Jack watched, open mouthed, as the head rolled into the grass and the tree-horse kept galloping away to the end of the row. Pitch slowed his horse to an amble, the shadows of the scythe shifting to form a wicked spear that he used to halt the decapitated head's rolling.
"Well struck," the head said.
Jack was immensely glad he wasn't the one staring it in the eyes because holy crap holy crap what the hell?!
The Nightmare King paused, considered his prize, then deliberately stabbed down in one sharp motion to impale the green man's head. Pitch casually hefted his spear as if he was thinking of treating the green man's head like an olive on a toothpick for a really messed up martini (oh man, Jack was seeing Sandy next time he wanted to sleep because this was just beyond the freaking pale). Jack could feel the menace pouring off the Nightmare King as he faced his victim held aloft.
"That's what you get for underestimating fear." Pitch smiled, and it was a terrible sort of pleased, "Do you surrender?"
"This time. The sprite may pass unharmed."
"I'm thrilled to hear that you've reconsidered." Pitch spun his scythe-turned-spear and sent the head sailing off. The green knight's body had evidently turned the horse back, because it caught the head by its leaves-and-vines hair midair. Oh, that was whole new levels of disturbing.
"Until the new year, you are the victor, champion of Winter." The headless body bowed, the axe now held non-threateningly at its side. "I grant you the field."
And with that, it turned, trotting off through the orchard to vanish into a stand of old woods.
Jack watched it go with a strange sense of disorientation, then finally shook himself out of his funk. He scooped up his staff and rode a quick breeze to a low branch beside the mounted Nightmare King, more to prove that he still could than anything else. He leaned the staff against his shoulder, kicking one dangling foot. "So, my hero. That was . . . interesting. What the hell was that for?"
Pitch turned his head from where he'd been idly watching the Green Knight disappear. "A diversion, nothing more. And how could I just ignore the chance to see the youngest Guardian panicking?"
"You play white knight often?" Jack cracked, taking in how comfortable Pitch looked, seated on his nightmare with his black spear slung low against one knee. He looked like something out of a proper fairy tale, all stark black against the white of the ice-sheathed orchard. Evidently knighthood suited the man.
"About as often as you play damsel in distress, I imagine." Pitch mocked, "Or are you a fair maiden to pay me back with a kiss, Frost?"
Oh, he was just asking for it. Pitch ought to have known better.
Jack's grin widened with mischief. "I don't know about maiden, but I guess you've won my favor all right."
Pitch had an instant to look alarmed before Jack swooped off his perch, hovering on the wind just a hair higher than the Nightmare King. He tilted Pitch's chin up and pressed their lips together, not entirely chaste about having a taste when the man's mouth opened under his. The narrow lips weren't particularly soft, but kissing Pitch was like . . . a cup of hot coffee at North's after a good dizzying flight across the Arctic ocean. Thrilling, a little too bitter, a bit dangerous, and almost scalding.
Jack laughed outright at Pitch's stunned expression when he pulled away, just out of reach.
He called out breathlessly, "So we're even, then!"
Pitch sputtered, scowling, "Brat, that was-"
"The deal." Jack grinned, silently calling the East wind to him. "Until next time!"
Jack took off, laughter echoing over white hills. He had a lot of ground to make up before Easter, after all.