Chapter 1: The Winter Kingdom
Jack made his way through the streets of his kingdom, clothed in pauper's clothes. He liked doing this, sneaking out of the castle, away from his guards, and just being among his people. The Winter Kingdom was always a cold, harsh place, but that didn't mean that the people were. The people wore bright colors, laughed and played games in the streets. It was one of the many ways they stayed positive. A nearly impossible feat, given the constant warfare in the land.
The Land of Seasons had its own list of problems. For one, none of the four kingdoms that inhabited the land mass got along. They each had their own agendas, and could never agree on anything. Old rivalries were constantly stirring, starting unnecessary warfare. This happened often, though Jack always did his best to keep his kingdom out of the conflicts.
In the Spring Kingdom, Prince Aster E. Bunnymund, called Bunny by the common folk, ruled with an iron fist. His rough body was lined in tattoos, and he was a well-trained fighter. He disliked killing but he enjoyed conflict. It was one of the many reasons he chose to fight with boomerangs as apposed to more traditional weaponry.
The Summer Kingdom was ruled by a kind, yet stern Queen, called Toothiana, or simply Tooth to her subjects. She seemed sweet on the outside, however underneath her feathered dresses and smiles was a hard ruler. She could wield a sword as well as any other man, and the ranks of her army were primarily women. That's not to say that men could not fight, however the Summer Kingdom held a tradition of female warriors. They were not to be messed with, as they could be just as dangerous as their queen.
The Autumn Kingdom was ruled by a short, mute man, who was called Sanderson ManSnozzie, or Sandy. His technical title was Prince, however he disliked the term. Like Jack, he chose to keep his kingdom out of disputes when he could. However when he was required to take up arms, he had a formidable Calvary and far range bowmen. He usually only intervened when the end was near, and he was constantly holding peace councils.
That left Jackson Overland Frost, who held land up in the north, a harsh, desolate place where nearly nothing grew. He was the youngest Prince out of the four rulers. He had only come to the throne in the past couple of years, when his parents had died of unexpected illness. He was barely seventeen, and disliked responsibility. Nicholas St. North, his advisor, and uncle was constantly confining him and forcing him to preform his duties.
Let it be said though, that Jack was not a completely lost cause. He loved his people with all of his heart. He would lay his life down for them if he had to. He always did his best to rule fairly and justly. He was wise beyond his years, thanks to having to grown up so fast after his parent's death. Not to mention he had a little sister to care for. Pippa was young, barely eleven, but very smart, witty.
"Your Highness? What brings you here today?"
Jack smiled at the woman who had caught him, and lowered the hood of his blue cloak, revealing his silvery hair. He had been born albino, except for startling blue eyes. As a child he had always been teased because of it, but he had never let that bother him.
"Just wandering through, Bertha," he placed a silver coin on the wooden counter and took a piece of warm bread from the basket she had just placed there. Bertha had been his wet nurse when he was little, before she had married a baker in town near the castle. Now she and her husband ran the little shop together along with their two children. Jack always enjoyed visiting.
Bertha gave him a disapproving look, "I keep telling you, you don't have to pay for anything."
"What kind of Prince would I be if I didn't give what is owed? I always pay my debts, Bertha, you know that," he grinned at her as she reluctantly took the money off the counter, hiding it in a bite of bread. It was still soft.
"I've heard rumors of that Bunny stirring up trouble again," she said nonchalantly, placing a large slab of dough on the counter. She always pretended to be indifferent about the state of things in the surrounding kingdoms, but Jack could tell she was nervous. She only ever made large amounts of bread when she was nervous. She claimed kneading the dough helped calm her nerves.
"Its just the usual riff-raff. He'll be over it in a week, I imagine," Jack finished his bread, and leaned up against the doorframe, watching her like he had as a toddler. There was something nostalgic about it.
Bertha didn't seem satisfied by his answer, "I hope you're not taking this lightly, Jackson. He's held a grudge against you since the last Meeting. He may try and drag you into the conflict."
Meetings took place almost every month, during peacetimes, which was never often. They had been taking place for centuries. The idea behind their creation was that the four kingdoms could meet and discuss ways to work together. However they usually ended in loud debates and often times fights. Not even Sandy could hope to keep the peace during those tense days.
Jack laughed and leaned over the counter to kiss Bertha on the cheek, covering himself in flour in the process, "I promise you I'm not, Bertha. I will do everything in my power to keep this kingdom out of war. I always have."
Bertha didn't smile often; she was a hard woman, accustomed to hard work and hard times. But Jack almost thought he caught one as she nodded and went back to her kneading.
"Sometimes I worry about you, Jack. You are still very young and carefree. Yet I do I have to say, you always seem to do the right thing. I trust you," she tossed him another bread roll, "Take that one, on the house. You have a long walk back to the castle."
Jack took that as his cue to leave and stole out the front door. He put his hood back up and grabbed his shepherd crook from where he had left it up against the outside wall. Bertha disliked it whenever he took it inside. He had found it years ago in his fathers armory, and he preferred to use it in self-defense as opposed to swords. He had never been good with those.
He continued to walk the streets, buying something here and there. The adults he came across recognized him, and gave him warm smiles and profound thank you's when they realized who had bought their merchandise. The children seemed to sense their parent's admiration and respect for this hooded stranger and came up to him, full of questions.
"Come back here. His Highness doesn't need to be bothered by children," one of the mothers chided.
Jack shook his head and lowered his hood, "On the contrary, I don't mind." He leaned down to the height of the assembled children, a group of about ten boy and girls, between the ages of two to ten.
"Hey do any of you know how to build a snowman?"
And that was how Jack spent the rest of his day, playing with the children and turning the main square of the Market into a snowball arena. Some the adults were appalled that a Prince would lower himself to play with the children of common folk. Jack, on the other hand, didn't care. After all he was still a kid himself.
It was almost dinnertime when he snuck back into the castle, exhausted and happy. However his good mood was promptly ruined when he opened his bedroom door to find North glaring down on him.
"I've been searching for you for hours. Where have you been?"
North was tall, overweight, with a thick white beard much like everyone else in the kingdom. They had to be, or else they would freeze when the frost came. Jack was an anomaly, aside from being albino, he had also been born skinny. And he had stayed that way.
"Just visiting Bertha," he said simply, taking of his cloak and hanging it up to dry. He pulled out the roll she had given him earlier and tossed it to North. It was no longer warm, but it was still dry and edible. North seemed to accept his excuse, and the food, and stopped glaring, but he hadn't made a move to leave.
Jack pulled off his shirt and laid it out to dry by the fire, before making his way over to his wardrobe in order to find something more suitable to wear at dinner. The downside of being in charge was that he had to always look presentable, no matter what the occasion.
"Usually you leave by now. What's wrong? Afraid I'll run off again?" Jack tossed a black doublet to the side. He didn't need that. He didn't like black as a color anyways, so why were his tailors always making him black things? He pulled out a white shirt and blue doublet. It would still be restraining but it was more his style.
"We received a letter from Prince Bunny," North said solemnly.
"Really? What does that rabbit want this time?" he pulled the fabric over his head, glad to be in dry clothes.
"He's not actually a rabbit you know…" North sighed.
"So? With a name like Bunnymund he's perfect for teasing. Its funny."
"I don't think he found your jabs at his name at the last Meeting very funny," North scolded.
"He had it coming to him," Jack turned around and faced the mirror, attempting to make his hair more presentable. It wasn't working.
"Ombric and I would like to speak with you about the letter after dinner, as I imagine your hungry."
"Starving," Jack turned around to face him at the mention of the Kingdom's healer and wise man, "But if this letter concerns the safety of my people then food can wait. I'll read it now."
"I can have food brought up Ombric's chambers if you like."
"Please do. And get something for yourself as well. I don't want you starving yourself," Jack gestured for him to leave.
North laughed at this, "As if that is a problem!" he composed himself and gave Jack a warm smile, "I'll meet you at the tower."
As Jack made his way up the cool marble steps, torch in hand, he let his mind wander back to earlier that day at Bertha's shop. She had seemed more worried than usual. Did she know something he didn't?
He knocked on Ombric's door gently. He had left his guards at the bottom of the staircase, telling them he was more than capable of walking up a few steps by himself. He hated being followed all the time.
"Come in," the old man's voice invited. Jack did as bid, placing the torch in a holder inside near the door.
"North said that you have received a letter from Prince Bunnymund today," he said conversationally.
"That we did. A most worrisome one," the voice replied from the back of the large bedroom, "Do come in Your Highness, and sit down."
Jack wove his way around odd objects that littered the ground, and intricate wall hangings with strange words woven in them. Ombric was old, having been around for the last Dark War, and was said to even had known Tsar Lunar, the last Tsar of the Realm of the Seasons, before it was split into four kingdoms.
"You can just call me Jack, you know, I won't mind," he said as he sat down in front of Ombric's work desk. Ombric Shalazar was the perfect image of a wise old wizard, though it was unknown if he actually possessed magical ability. His white beard was long and flowing, to the point he should be tripping on it, but somehow never did. His eyes were kind, and his face was wrinkled with smile lines.
"You are no longer a boy, Your Highness. I will call you what your position demands you be called," Ombric smiled at him, offering him a cup of tea, which Jack accepted gratefully.
"Prince Bunnymund has sensed a threat," Ombric cut right into the heart of the matter, "Old enemies are stirring, one in particular, that he fears with threaten the whole of land and its safety."
"What kind of threat?" Jack took a sip of tea.
"One that has been eluding us for centuries. General Kozmotis Pitchner."
"Pitchner? He should be dead! He was already old when the Dark War was fought!" Jack placed the tea back down on the desk. This was bad.
"Precisely. Prince Bunnymund speculates that we might be dealing with one of his descendants. One who has learned to control his dark powers."
"You're talking about magic, Ombric. Magic died out with the Dark War."
"Died out? Your Highness, magic does not simply die out. It is as much as part of nature and who we are as our looks or personalities. That staff you choose to carry is a relic from an age when that was universally accepted, and in the right hands it may become a conduit for such power once again. We may not know whether or not this threat is real, but North and I believe it is better to be prepared for anything," Ombric gave Jack the piece of paper, covered in Bunnymund's messy scrawl.
"He wrote it with his own hand instead of using a scribe. He must really believe that we are in danger."
"Bunny may be insufferable, Jack, but he does have good idea of predicting when something bad is going to happen," North interjected, having entered during their conversation, food in hand.
"I can vouch for that," Jack agreed.
"The question is what are we going to do about it?" North asked.
"If I were you, Your Highness, I would wait this one out, until we know this threat is tangible and can be fought. We need to know exactly what we are up against. North," Ombric glanced at the other man, "I know you'll want to go in, swords drawn, but I advise against it. So get rid of any thoughts of it. In the end, it'll be your nephew who has the last word on this, not you."
"I know," North said, "No need to lecture me."
"Should we respond? He asked for allies in his letter," Jack said, re-reading it.
"That's up to you. What do you want me to tell him?" Ombric gave him an encouraging smile. Jack wanted to cringe. He liked being Prince before he had come of age. He hadn't had to make all the decisions. North had done that all for him as his Advisor.
"I'll reply myself," he decided, folding the letter and stuffing it in his pocket, "He took the time to write this himself, then I should do the same. I'll send it up to you to deliver when I'm done."
"A wise decision," Ombric said. He took the food North had brought with him out of his uncle's hands, "Eat."
Jack did so, but only grudgingly. Ombric and North were holding a jovial conversation across the table from him, as if they were pretending the problem didn't exist. And maybe for the moment, it didn't. They didn't even know if there was even going to be a problem. They had simply left Jack to deal with the politics.
Later that night, Jack lay staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. His mind was swimming with thoughts of Bunny's letter and the dangers it warned of. He was worried. He hated that. He was barely of age, but he already had so much to worry about. He might end up growing old prematurely.
"I'm not cut out for this," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. He found himself longing for the days when his parents both still lived. He had had so much more freedom then. He and Pippa had seen each other daily, always playing some game or pranking one of the servants. Now, he hardly ever saw her, he was always so busy.
"I'll visit her tomorrow," he promised himself, before rolling over and shutting his eyes. It took a while, but eventually the toils of the day over came him, dragging him into dreamland.
