11. The Winter Prince
Over the years, Jack has found that belief is more than just blood to keep him alive.
There was the incident with Sophie – when she stumbled into the woods in the midst of winter. She'd only been about six years old, and he rescued her from pneumonia. Oh, how her belief in him had surged; though she'd been unconscious, he could feel it beginning to thrive, and after seeing her safely to her home he'd almost danced with joy.
The best thing about the little blonde was that her belief had never faded. Jaime's did, as time went on, and that had hurt Jack emotionally more than it had in regards to his power. But Sophie, who never saw him more than once afterwards (due to his then embarrassing tendency to avoid the Bennett household following Jaime's ascension to adulthood), never stopped. And when she fell victim to old age, Jack had felt the blow like a hole in his gut.
She was the only one to hold belief until the very end—and for that, Jack keeps a special place in his heart for her.
It's hard for him to say otherwise about any child, though, because he finds each and every child who believes special enough for his memory: tiny-framed Allegria of Pisa, who grew up to become a world-renowned composer and flautist for her revolutionary music; the large-bodied Chandrakiran, who became a huge facilitator of the India-Pakistan Peace Agreement of 2067; the beautiful Iolani, born in Hanalei, Hawaii but raised on the mainland America, who suffered from bulimia but uncovered an inner strength, growing up to be an advocate of the anti-body shaming cause.
Each and every child is special and oh-so precious, and Jack savors each and every one of them. He remembers them all individually and with such crystal-clear, vivid memories. The more there are, the easier it is to know them, it seems.
And the job gets easier, too – he no longer has to interact with them to get their attention. Often times a child will say, "Look, there he is! That's him!" And just like that, that child's friend who didn't believe now does.
Jack noticed some time ago that they don't refer to him as "Jack Frost" much anymore; simply "him" or sometimes things like "sir winter" or even the more ridiculous, half-gibberish "his coldliness." He doesn't mind, not really; but it isn't until 2103 that he realizes why.
As he's rushing through town in the midst of night, icing over the windows of hover-cars and creating a plethora of unique, never-before-seen snowflakes ready to be cast out into the world with only a word, a young girl sees him.
It hurts Jack at first, because he sees how she's dressed and knows what it means; she's a victim of the sex-trafficking boom that's been made all-too easy by such advanced technology and security. He usually tries to avoid the hubs because he knows they must work under any conditions, even in the event of a tornado, and he despises making their job even worse than it already is.
And he's done it again. Shame glazes his vision and he looks away from her, unable to meet her eyes. He doesn't know why she believes in him, exactly, because he's most certainly never done her any favors, but she speaks and he's relieved it's not anything spiteful.
"Are you the Winter Prince?"
He blinks at that, and it confuses him to the point he looks back to her. There's a certain sparkle, wonder in her eyes, and though he's never heard himself called that directly, it makes him grin.
"I am," he says to her, bowing – and the wind does him a favor, flirting with his dark blue cloak to add a dreamlike quality to him. "And might there be something I can do for you, little one?"
She giggles, though he's not much taller than her, and he's glad to have given her such entertainment. "My friends and I," she says, and he notices the apprehension she speaks with that can be mistaken for modesty or timidity, and oh how he wishes he could help her, "we've been, ah, talking about you within recent times, and… we would adore it if you would bless us with a blizzard."
"A blizzard?" At this, Jack frowns. Blizzards can be dangerous, especially this far inland, where they're not as frequent. "Why would you want that, if I may ask?"
"Oh, it's…" She shrugs, her face flushes, and then she says, "We all have younger siblings, you know. I mean, my friends and I. We haven't been able to get in touch with them, but, when it snows, the post office across the light-way from us can't deliver mail. On those days, it's… I mean, it'd be so easy to just sneak around and slip a letter into their stacks of 'to deliver…'"
He knows there is a risk in that. He doesn't want to disappoint her, but at the same time, he can't help but worry. "Won't you get ill?" he asks, confused. "To go outside during a blizzard, especially in your uniform…"
"Oh, don't worry about that." She laughs now. "We've, um—acquired some of the new pre-cold medicine that prevents it. Or, um, at least it'll keep us from showing or experiencing any of the symptoms."
He hums, his fingers drumming on his staff as he thinks. He would be doing her a favor, in a way—he'd be helping her, making up for all the times he hadn't helped those in her position. But on the other hand, what about all of the children, whose deaths during unpredicted blizzards had only barely decreased over the years?
After a moment, Jack smiles at her. "I'll see what I can do," he says. It's a promise, for sure, one that he intends to keep, and he sees her eyes light up like fireflies against the dark twilight.
But before she can articulate her gratitude, a man appears from around the cornerstone of one of the half-buildings. Jack feels every bone in his body, every cell, every pore demand that he help this young woman out—because there is only one identity that man can have.
Well, Jack can't turn down such a passionate request, now, can he?
Jack recalls that North once told him that he's not allowed to interfere with the personal lives of his believers. That's fine. This will be just like that snowstorm with Sophie – but instead of unexpectedly letting up…
"Hey," he says, before she can turn around. "Run."
The hesitation is brief, and when she hugs herself, shivering and her brow crinkling, the wind urges her past him—but it is only when the large man stumbles and she hears him, recognizes his presence, that she bursts into action, not looking back.
The man curses and though the wind is guiding the young woman to shelter – its harsh, freezing blasts are hard to ignore – at the same time a gust of that same air is antagonizing her pursuer.
At his will, ice crystals begin to fall, tiny and harsh, and a malevolent grin takes to Jack's face – out of character and at the same time so natural.
"For those who antagonize my believers," he declares as he raises his staff, "I have no pity. Now prepare to dance!"
Tick, tock.
Tick, tock.
Jack groans and pulls his hood over his eyes as head, curled into a ball on his pond of ice, so that it covers his ears fully. The clock, unforgiving, continues its ticking and tocking, but now it seems louder than ever – even more decibels than those of his own pounding heartbeat.
His hands, which he'd been desperate to occupy, are creating an ice sculpture that he has yet to conceive and can't yet fathom. His mind is so, so full—where is that young woman? Is she safe? The wind is supposed to be seeing her home, what's taking it so long? And the words, the things she said to him…
He stops his train of thought, jerked almost awake by the sudden revelation that his sculpture is complete. When he glances down to it, half-expecting a likeness of the young girl, but instead, it's … it's a crown.
Disgust fills his stomach, and Jack drops the offending object, kicking it away. It shatters like glass against the thick ice, not near deep enough to withstand the force.
How in the world is he princely? After being so reckless, so stupid, so utterly brazen and grotesque! After he'd – for the first time in four hundred years – intentionally taken another's life.
Jack bites back a whimper, although his only companion is the freezing cold.
Oh, no, what if she's dead? What if by accident, Jack killed her? Oh—oh, no, what if he hadn't helped her out at all—what if he'd given her and everyone else she worked with pneumonia, those outfits weren't much warmth, after all—oh, no, what—
"Oi. Shut up."
Jack blinks and looks up; standing in front of him is Bunny, who's glaring at him, and Jack's eyes dry without him even realizing they were wet.
"W…" His throat is raw as if he'd been screaming, and he clears his throat before he says, "Was I talking out loud?"
"Nah." Bunny sits down next to him, on the frost-encrusted lake, and he looks as if he's about to freeze because he's got his arms wrapped around himself like a blanket. "I just know you well enough to be able to tell by a look when you're yelling at yourself. Usually it's when you're mopin' around, like so."
Jack laughs – empty and hollow, it sounds, even to him – and changes the subject. "So what're you doing here, anyway?"
"Eh, I'm surprised ya didn't hear it. Ellie made me come 'ere when I was headed down to North, and I argued with her somethin' fierce." Jack chuckles, a smile taking his face, and Bunny smiles back, glad to have enticed such a reaction.
Jack sighs and begins to shift away, hoping to keep Bunny from catching a cold, when—
"'Ey!" Now Bunny grabs him by the shoulder opposite him and yanks him back. "Where d'ya think you're goin'?"
"Agh—!" Jack yelps and finds his cheek buried into Bunny's upper chest, combating a sneeze as his fur tickles his nose. "Y—! I'm gonna' make you cold, you stupid rabbit!"
"I'm being serious. Shut it."
Is – is Bunny hugging him?
"I don't know what's got you down, mate," he says and Jack tries to peek up at him, "but I'd bet my boomerangs that it wasn't your fault."
Jack tries to laugh, but it sounds like a pathetic half-sob. "You're going to lose those boomerangs then," he says, and his voice is shaking as he's trying not to think too hard on it. "Because it's one hundred percent my fault. God, I could've… I should've—"
His efforts fail him, and his shoulders are shaking now, despite his best efforts, and Bunny gives him another gentle squeeze before he pulls away and looks at him eye-to-eye.
"Easy there, tiger," Bunny says with a frown. "What happened? You want to talk about it?"
"You'll hate me for it." It's the whole truth and nothing but, but when Bunny opens his mouth and looks ready to argue, Jack blurts it out.
"I killed someone today!"
Bunny blinks, his ears fall back. He seems shocked for a moment and Jack knows he's going to snap at him any second, but Bunny recovers and says, "Well, Jackie, in snowstorms, it ain't uncommon—" He's struggling to articulate now. "I mean, you of all people should…"
"No, no, no!" Jack runs a hand through his hair, the hood falling back, and with it comes the tick tock, tick tock—"You don't understand, Bunny, I—I meant to! I did it with every intention, and… and…!"
He lets out something akin to a whine, low and pitiful. "And, oh, why did I ever—I must've killed so many others, it must have been too harsh for more than just him, and I can't just…"
Bunny's staring at him now, and Jack's bracing himself, he's ready for anything the Pooka can throw at him, and then Bunny says, "I'll be right back."
He hops up, taps the ground (likely not wanting to go through Ellie again) and he's gone.
Jack, alone, curls back into a ball and he tries not to cry, though the guilt and the apprehension that are killing him are a far greater enemy than any he's faced before.
An hour later, Jack is awoken by the wind's return. It comes to him and circles around him, nudging him until he opens his eyes, and it whispers to him gently.
She is safe.
Jack may have sobbed in relief, had he not already worn himself out. He stands, and the wind helps him to keep his balance as it rushes against him. He laughs at it, trying to assure it that he's fine, he really is – but the wind does not believe him. Jack doesn't blame it.
Then there's a small ding, and he hears a distinct voice: "Floor ten."
"Keep messing around, Ellie, and I swear to Morena, I reprogram you and make you unable to talk!"
"North, mate, you've reprogrammed her at least twenty times already. I don't think that threat means much to the sheila—or to the artifi—I mean—whatever she is!"
Jack sighs as he begins to walk forward, off of the lake; the wind asks to dance with him, seeing that its news of the woman's wellbeing has done little to soothe his spirit, but Jack ignores it, brushing it away. He can't, not right now.
He stands in front of the two older Guardians and their bickering draws to a close. Bunny looks at him, and then he glances to North, who clears his throat.
"Right." North smiles at Jack and wraps a huge arm around the boy's shoulder, patting it roughly but with affection. Jack hadn't been expecting the gesture. "Jack, I must show you something."
Jack doesn't follow North so much as allow himself to be dragged, and he glances at Bunny, silently asking the Pooka for an explanation. Bunny just shrugs at the look and keeps to Jack's other side, as if he and Saint Nick were forming some sort of protective shell around him.
When they enter the elevator, North hits the button for the ground floor, and it lights up as bright as ever in response. Ellie chimes in as the doors close.
"Current destination: North, one."
Both Bunny and North let out a huge sigh of relief that may have made Jack laugh, if he wasn't certain that he was being led to his exile. Jack's not sure, really, how Guardians are excommunicated – for all he knows, there's some sort of ritual involved at the Globe, and maybe that's where this is headed.
"Good heavens," Bunny mutters under his breath when the door opens, "I was afraid she was gonna' start somethin' again."
"Ah, I as well," North replies, and they chuckle together. Jack cracks a smile, but he doesn't partake.
They do lead him to the Globe, and North pauses for one moment, and Jack thinks this is it—when North laughs. "So many lights," he comments, his brow crinkled. "Jack, where were you just earlier this day?"
"I—um—" Jack stumbles over himself for a second before he manages out, "Bolivia?"
It's a rough estimate – because really, Jack can't remember when so many countries are so close, Boliva and Paraguay and Argentina and Brazil, just like Germany and the Swiss Confederation and Austria and Liechtenstein, and how can you tell apart such fine boundaries? – but North points to a South America, and Jack sees what he does.
The lights. They're bright and bold and bountiful.
"When was last time there were so many right there?" North wonders, and Jack just stares, his jaw agape. "It is beautiful, is it not?"
It is. A laugh escapes Jack's lips, muffled but oh so real, and North exchanges a grin with Bunny that Jack does not see.
"You see," North says, patting Jack firmly on the shoulder once more, "sometimes, Jack, we must… make decisions. We must choose between right and wrong, and sometimes there is no such thing. It is nature of our work—and always will be."
Jack looks up at North – then to Bunny, who stands next to the older man and gives Jack a thumbs-up.
He's not quite sure what's happening—and then, when North's eyes meet Jack's, it hits him with the speed and strength of an oncoming train.
He's staying.
Jack's spirits are lifted – for if neither North nor Bunny think any worse of him, then how evil could he be? And Jack laughs, and he grins, and the wind rushes around him in congratulations. Its friend is well again, and they can play together once more.
The Winter Prince lives on.
Elsa's Notes: I must give a HUGE thank you to the-guardian-of-fun over on tumblr for allowing me to use her wonderful AU in this oneshot! The ideas of Jack as the Winter Prince and the origin of the title both belong to her. Please go pay her a visit. She's a wonderful artist, writer, and role-player. I would have linked you myself, but ff has a weird thing with links. You can check for it on our tumblr, which has a link on our profile!
(I may have brutally murdered her lovely story. She posted something recently with the "canon" of it and I had already almost finished this, so I neglected to read it for my own sake. I'm so terrible.)
This oneshot wasn't nearly as long as all the others I've done—you're welcome, mobile readers! (gives you all hugs and kisses) Remember, all of you who are reading are incredibly precious to me, whether you review or not!