A Rise of the Guardians / Guardians of Childhood Fanfic
By Sakura Martinez
Author's Notes:
Alright, an update! Yay! *Ahem*
First and foremost, thanks to those who have read and review the previous chapters. Second, I have to say that I am still getting used to writing the way North talks. If, for some reason, it doesn't sound right, I apologize. I suck at russian-esque accents. :D
Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy reading this newest chapter! And please don't forget to review! :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians or the Guardians of Childhood series. It would have been awesome if I did, but I don't. Those belong to William Joyce and Dreamworks Animation.
Summary: Pitch's parting words to Jack and the other Guardians of Childhood during the Battle of Belief held a clear message: The Guardians may have won the battle, but the war was far from over. Now, Pitch is rallying the forces of darkness, calling to arms a dark and sinister group: The Fright Knights. The battle to end the war is underway, but are the Guardians ready?
Rise of the Fright Knights
Chapter Two
Two-and-a-Half Decades
Twenty-five.
That was how long it had been since the Battle of Belief ended with the Guardians' victory. It had been such a long time ago. But, for the Guardians it was nothing more but a fleeting moment, like a blink of an eye.
Twenty-five.
That was how long it had been since the Guardians saw any sign of the Nightmare King. They searched far and wide for any indication that Pitch Black was wreaking havoc anywhere around the globe, but they found none. Everything was peaceful, as it should be. Children were happily living their lives filled with hopes, dreams, and wonders.
Twenty-five.
That was how long it had been since Jack Frost—the spirit of winter—had been welcomed into the ranks of the Man in the Moon's Guardians, swearing to protect all the children of the world from any insidious and dastardly forces. It had been such a merry occasion, attended not only by the four oldest Guardians: Nicholas St. North, E. Aster Bunnymund, Toothiana, and the Sandman, but also by the children of Burgess who helped saved the world from Pitch. Of course, the ever-watchful and present Tsar Lunar—the Man in the Moon—was also there.
Those twenty-five years that Jack Frost had lived as a Guardian had been filled with many adventures and misadventures; with heartfelt laughs and ingenious pranks and tricks; and days of staying true to his duty—for if there was ever just one thing that Jack Frost took seriously, it was his oath as a Guardian.
The early parts of his life as a Guardian were divided into three: spending time with his fellow Guardians—visiting them in their own "hideouts" (as he still liked to call them), doing his duties, and spending time with Jamie Bennett, his first believer.
Jack and Jamie would have incredible nightly adventures together, although those adventures became nothing more but fragmented recollections of dreams come morning (courtesy of the Sandman's dreamsands). Every now and then, the other Guardians would join in on their fun and Jamie's belief and his imagination would grow with each passing night. Never once did Jamie ever questioned the existence of the Guardians.
But, like all children, Jamie grew up. Unlike the days of old when the Guardians could still be seen by adolescents and adults, Jack Frost and the other Guardians could no longer make Jamie see them and their adventuring came to a close. Still, Jamie continued to believe, never forgetting that long-ago dream (for that was eventually what the children of Burgess came to believe it was) when the spirit of winter had told him that so long as he believed, they will never really go away.
And so, when Jamie Bennett became a father and had children of his own, he continued to share with them fantastical stories of the Guardians who protect the children from the evil Boogeyman.
For Jack Frost, seeing his first believer and friend grow up stirred within him a bitter-sweet feeling. He was happy for the person Jamie had become, but at the same time he was sad that he would never be able to exchange stories with him again.
If the other Guardians—most especially North—thought that Jack Frost would become depressed in losing the ability to communicate with Jamie, they were wrong. It was the complete opposite. Jack grew more dependable as a Guardian. There was no shadow he would not help push back. There was no child he left behind. He was always there to give the children fun during the nights of darkness. And he was just as fervent—maybe even more so—with protecting Jamie's children: Jackie (whom he heard Jamie mention was named after the hero in his childhood, the winter spirit himself (which made his wife roll her eyes at him)) and Nathalie.
Ever since their birth, the twins had been able to see Jack Frost and the other Guardians. Unlike most toddlers, they didn't lose that ability when they grew up into young children. But like their father before them (and, like every other children who had seen and conversed with the Guardians), their interactions with the Guardians were only remembered as vague dreams. Vague, yet wonderful, dreams.
Jack Frost certainly would like to have one more adventure with Jamie Bennett, but he knew that it was no longer possible. Yet, he was content. He knew it was still quite a while before the twins grew up and could no longer see him again.
And it was the thought of all the fun to be had—all the adventures that would be experienced—that made Jack Frost excited. He whooped and howled with delight as the wind took him from island to island, continent to continent, to get to Burgess. Winter was still a long ways away, but Jack thought the children could benefit from one snow day. Of course, the places he touched felt a cold front blowing as Jack did loop-the-loops and aerial acrobatics. His enthusiasm could not be curbed and it made the wind push him that much faster.
It was nearing twilight when Jack arrived at Burgess. Despite the waning light, the spirit of winter immediately went to work and a light snow began to fall on the small, quiet town. He frosted the town's newly-built fountain, froze window panes and clotheslines. He created a thin sheet of ice on the electrical and phone lines before settling himself atop Burgess' monument.
He watched with a grin that lit up his face, proudly taking in how the town looked thanks to his beautiful snow. He nodded to himself, pleased with his handiwork before calling for the wind and instructing it to send him to Jamie's house.
Jack arrived just in time for Jackie and Nahalie's bed time. He watched as Jamie kissed his children good night and closed the doors to the twin's bedroom. Just as he was about to make it snow inside of their room—something that the twins loved and enjoyed very much—Jack caught a glimpse of the aurora borealis that he hadn't seen in twenty-five years.
"What's going on?" Jack muttered, his brow furrowing. It was the first time he had seen the Guardian's signal—a signal that was used when danger was afoot and the Guardians needed to meet.
He knew the urgency the signal brought and it pained him to have to leave Burgess without seeing the twins. He wanted to tell them so many stories! But Jack Frost knew that those stories could wait, they were not as important—and he was sure of it for North wouldn't just flip the aurora borealis' switch—as whatever it was that made North make use of that lever which called forth the magical display.
With a deep sigh—and one last look at the twins who were slowly drifting to sleep—Jack Frost leapt into the sky.
"Take me to the Pole, Wind!" He commanded. The wind howled and did as it was told.
Nicholas St. North had not been in that room for a very, very, very long time. Standing there, at that spot, made him remember the days of the past. Back before he became the spirit of wonder. He wondered why the Man in the Moon had instructed him to go there and make use of an ancient relic—a relic he had only watched others use but never used himself.
But now, the Lunar Lamas were around no longer and it fell on him to do the job which the Lamas had been tasked before. He sighed—both in remembrance and in thinking how troublesome it was going to be.
Slowly he made his way to the middle of the room where a pedestal of golden make stood. On that pedestal was a crystal gong. The very same gong the Lunar Lamas prized most dearly. It had elaborate designs and carvings depicting the story of the Man in the Moon.
North remembered how the story went. It was a story a very dear friend of his—his mentor—had told him, back when he was a ruffian-turned-wizard's-apprentice. It was a story that he, Bunnymund, Sandman, and Toothiana all knew, and one that he hoped to share to Jack Frost someday, after all, every Guardian must know that story.
He shook those thoughts away as he bowed in reverence in front of the gong before he hit the gong with all of his might, using the gilded scepter that sat beside it. As soon as he did, bells rang and horns blew from around him. The earth rumbled, and then the whole room began to glow. And then, a melodious sound reverberated around as the crystal gong began shinning, its surface becoming clearer and clearer.
As the reverberations quieted, an image of the moon appeared on the gong's surface. It grew larger and larger, swelling up in size, until a face emerged.
"Manny," North smiled. It had been a while since he had seen the Man in the Moon's face. "Is been a while since I saw you. You look as young as ever!"
The image of the Man in the Moon flickered and waned. Static and shadows, like from an old analog television set, accompanied the Man in the Moon's image. Still, there was no denying the look of kindness and warmth that emanated from Tsar Lunar. The smile on his circular face was as friendly and inviting as ever.
"Thank you, Nicholas," the Man in the Moon said, his voice calm and velvety—almost musical. "I apologize for having to ask you to ring the gong. I know it must be very hard."
"Is not hard," North said, and it was true. "Maybe in past it was."
"That is good to hear. Very good, indeed, my valiant friend." Tsar Lunar smiled even more. It was a smile filled with understanding. He knew North's past, just like he knew every Guardian's, every spirit, and every child. He was there with them, after all. Watching.
"Now, why did you ask to ring gong, Manny? What is it we have to talk to that required you to speak to me like this and not send little Moonbeams to tell me?"
The Man in the Moon paused. For the first time, North saw a look of uncertainty pass on his face. This made him worried. The Moon had never looked uncertain, no matter how dire the situation was.
"What is it, Manny?" North urged the Man in the Moon to speak.
"My Moonbeams," Tsar Lunar began. "They are dwindling in numbers. This has never happened before."
"Your Moonbeams? How is that possible?" North asked. He knew the magnitude of such news. The Moonbeams always return to the Man in the Moon. "The last time that happened—"
Tsar Lunar nodded, "It was during the time when Pitched was revived, freed from his imprisonment—during the Dark Ages."
"Don't the other Moonbeams know anything?"
The Man in the Moon shook his head sadly.
"You don't think Pitch has anything to do with it, do you, Manny?"
"I fear that may just be the case," the Man in the Moon replied. "Why he would have any need for them, or what he plans to do with them, however, I do not know. I have not seen hide nor hair of Pitch. I had hoped we had brought about another Golden Age but…"
"Not to worry, Manny," North puffed his chest and tried his best to be cheerful for the sake of his friend. "I will call Guardians. We will look into this and find out what happened to your little Moonbeams and what Pitch is planning—if he is planning something."
Tsar Lunar nodded, smiling at the kindness and understanding North displayed. "Thank you, my friend."
