A/N: Yesterday was December 1st, so a happy late birthday to Rowan. This one is going up a little late because I was out most of yesterday and didn't proof read the night before like I usually do. Hope you guys enjoy this one, let me know!


Who was Rowan? Rowan and her silly stories that she had told while buzzed at the ball. What was so impressive about that?


Chapter Fourteen: What Is and What Was


What had been a long, long day of practicing simple songs had passed rather quickly, Melpomene realized when checking the time.

Something about the realization was comforting. In her mortal life, she used to sing for hours without realizing the time that had passed, entirely content.

But now, as Melpomene hadn't left her room for most of the day, she was unsure if Rowan had ever even bothered showing up for Euterpe and Terpsichore's attempts at assisting and welcoming their new sister.

If she had actually shown up, she might already have left, Melpomene considered as she approached the door and opened it but slightly. She glanced to the hallway, and when she saw no sign of life, opened the door further.

If another Muse in close range was in great distress, the others would get a strong feeling that they should go check on her. It was a truly annoying feature of their powers, one that Melpomene had wished to be excluded from multiple times, both as the Muse in distress and the Muse meant to be of assistance.

She did not feel any urge to check on anyone now, and hoped this was also a sign that Rowan was not around.

Melpomene was not in a big hurry to run into the newest addition. Rowan had barely paid her any attention at the temple and Melpomene had been glad for that, for her reappearance had immediately left Melpomene tense.

It was one thing to argue with Bunnymund about the night Rowan Sawyer died, to tell the pooka that he was only blaming Melpomene because she was the easiest option, that they had all played a role in Rowan's death.

It was another thing to actually face the girl who had rushed off to Burgess, to her death, because she could not trust Melpomene to keep her word.

When it became clear that apologies would have to be involved if Melpomene truly wanted to be better, to be more than a tragedy, Calliope had been insistent that she needed to start at home.

["For now, I want you to focus on our sisters. And that's all our sisters. I want you to consider the apologies you may need to give Rowan if she returns."

"If she had listened to me on the night she died—"

"No. You and Pitch Black actively conspired against Rowan and Jack for your own gain. Weeks before Rowan died, you were helping Pitch manipulate her and feed on her fears. You don't get to make excuses because she didn't trust you when you needed her to."

"Everything I did was for the Muses!"

"I know. I understand that your motivations were driven by loyalty to the Muses, and I appreciate that. But that doesn't change that you did a lot of damage in the process. Make no mistake, Mel, we all owe Rowan several apologies."]

The other Muses got in-person apologies, which felt less daunting by virtue of having been around all of them for several centuries. There was already an existing bond, an understanding of sisterhood.

Melpomene and Rowan had no such bond, no such history.

Melpomene had written Rowan's letter not long after Jack's, having put both of the letters off for quite a while.

She had hoped that it was one that wouldn't end up delivered. Rowan Sawyer and any associated guilt was easier to deal with when Rowan, the Muse of Illustration, was not alive and wandering about the mountain.

Rowan being present also increased the chances that Jack would be present, and Melpomene was still waiting with bated breath for him to do or say anything about the letter she had written for him.

Perhaps she would be left in limbo, forever tense and awaiting a reaction that would never actually come.

Hoping that Rowan had left already, Melpomene walked down the hall toward the kitchen, with intentions of brewing some tea. Her footsteps were silent, her loud high heels left in her room.

She paused near the archway that would lead to the kitchen, listening to the ongoing conversation within.

"I almost want to look up what I missed all year but I don't know where I'd even start." The voice was on the deep side of feminine. That was Rowan, for sure. Melpomene hadn't heard her speak much but tended to remember voices, perhaps out of envy.

"Hm, what did happen last year?" Terpsichore was saying.

"I mean, a lot of political stuff, but there's always a lot of political stuff," came Euterpe's reply. "Someone at the… was it the CIA? Someone leaked a bunch of stuff."

"Anything low-stakes that happened?" Rowan asked.

Melpomene carefully leaned over to glance inside the kitchen. Rowan was sitting at the table with Euterpe and Terpsichore. Their computer was on the table, but Rowan wasn't paying it any mind at the moment, instead writing notes on some pages that she must have printed out.

"Hmm… Oh! They 3D-printed an ear, I think that was last year," Terpsichore said.

"There's a new pope," said Euterpe.

They didn't notice Melpomene, and she leaned back, no longer able to see the group but out of their line of vision as well.

"Oh, Urania would be sad if we didn't mention that India sent a satellite to Mars," said Terpsichore.

"My Chemical Romance broke up—" Euterpe started.

"What!?" Rowan said at once. "I thought they were working on a new album!"

"Yeah, the album never came out. It doesn't seem like they hate each other or anything, though," Euterpe said. "I think they'll probably end up back together at some point, give them a few years."

"Oh, my friends in the band were probably devastated. Quinn and Nicolette started talking in the first place because they both loved that band."

There was no reason for Melpomene to stick around continue eavesdropping, and she started to turn to leave when the light spilling from the kitchen into the hall changed suddenly, brightening in a way that was reminiscent of a portal opening up.

"Hey, Jack," Euterpe said, and Melpomene paused.


Jack had no idea what a reasonable amount of time for a shopping trip, hair dying, and ear piercing was. He had been around the last time Rowan had dyed her hair before her death, but that had been over a year earlier and he hadn't exactly been timing it.

Still, after being brought up to speed with what Bunny had apparently been looking into for weeks, and after maintaining a fairly consistent level of anxiety for most of his time at the pole, Jack had been relieved to see that several hours had passed. He should be able to go back to Mount Parnassus without appearing as irrationally worried as he was actually being.

So, after grabbing a few more portals from North's stash, he headed straight for the Muses' kitchen, immediately relieved to see that the three women he had left there were sitting at the table now.

"Hey, Jack," Euterpe said. Terpsichore offered him a wave.

"Hey," Jack said. Rowan stood from her seat to walk around the table to him.

"Now, you, I recognize," Jack said as Rowan got closer, her hair that peculiar shade of burgundy that it had been before, small braids in a few places, ears cluttered with earrings. She was smiling, and seeing her walk about had eased his nerves immediately.

She was alive. She was alive and she was smiling.

"It feels like it's my hair now," Rowan said, clearly ecstatic to be saying as much. "Here, try touching it."

"You're sure?" Jack said. The Muses might have been optimistic about the hair dye but he was still unwilling to push it too far.

But Rowan nodded, still smiling. He reached forward with his free hand, moving a strand of hair from the side of her face, tucking it behind her now-pierced ear.

Jack quickly set his hand back to his side, her tearful reaction from earlier that morning still on his mind. "How, uh, how's that?"

"It just felt like you were touching my hair. I mean there's still a disconnect, but it's so faint now," Rowan said.

"Great," Jack said, his shoulders relaxing, finally managing a smile as well. "So, everything went well?"

"Mostly. Had an, um, an awkward encounter getting hair dye, but I'll tell you later, everything worked out," Rowan said.

"It's been smooth sailing otherwise," Terpsichore said before Jack could properly consider what this awkward encounter could have possibly been. "Got the piercing done, got her pictures for her tattoos."

"I still have the stuff out if you want something pierced," Euterpe said in a sing-song voice, tapping her fingers against the case in front of her.

"Uh, no," Jack said, shaking his head. "Thanks."

"Come on, Guardian of Fun, rebel a little," Terpsichore taunted. "How'd you end up with a girlfriend with a neck tattoo with this attitude?"

"Well, the girl with the neck tattoo told me I was her boyfriend and I didn't argue," Jack said with a slight shrug.

"Wait, is that really what happened?" Euterpe said with a slight laugh.

"More or less. After agreeing that it was a bad idea to date at all," Rowan said, reaching over the table to grab for a stack of papers near the computer, setting them in one of two shopping bags.

"See, this is what I mean, I'm so glad we have another fire sign around," Terpsichore said, gesturing to Rowan. "Although, I think Erato has pulled that 'you're my lover now' move as well."

"Sounds like Erato," Jack said, though he wasn't sure he would describe any of the Muses as being particularly shy, especially not after the last year.

"Is that what happened with North?" Rowan asked.

"No, she had plans to finally move out of the pole after Christmas and North kissed her and asked her to stay," Euterpe said with a slight sigh.

"Speaking of North, he said Moe would do your tattoos for you, he just needs the pictures," Jack said, assuming that was what the stack of papers was. "We can take them before we go back to the cabin if you want."

"Okay, sounds good," Rowan said. She paused. "Does he have an hourly rate, or…?"

"Moe will do it for inspiration," Terpsichore said. "He's got me on the hook for two inspiration visits for my cover-up, which is a steal, honestly. He works in the painting department, so sometimes he likes the boost."

"Inspiration?" Rowan said, unable to help her visible cringe.

"Apollo said you would be the Muse of Illustration. And illustration is a lot closer to what Moe actually does, too, so he'll be thrilled to get inspiration from you, I'm sure," Euterpe said. "It just takes some practice."

"I don't want to mess around with his head," Rowan said, shaking her head. "Or anyone's."

Euterpe and Terpsichore exchanged glances. Jack frowned, sure that all of them were remembering the instance in which all nine Muses had to inspire Rowan back into believing in the Guardians.

I should have been there, it shouldn't have happened at all, I should have been there.

I'm doing it again, the "nothing I do is enough" thing!

Jack tried shoving the thoughts away.

"I know you had a bad experience," Terpsichore said, her tone gentle. "I promise, it's not usually how it goes. Inspiring people—it really is a positive experience for everyone, the majority of the time."

Jack could recall the first time he saw someone being inspired by one of the Muses, an incident that had stuck with him over the years. Melpomene had approached a writer and left the man sobbing as he scrawled his words across the page as quickly as he could.

["Art moves people so deeply sometimes. This happens every now and again. But he'll be writing the rest of the night."]

It had been somewhat unsettling, and Jack had felt like he was intruding to witness it. But there had been something about it that seemed like a cathartic release, like a cleansing of sorts.

Rowan had inspired him by accident dozens of times, having no control over her powers as a mortal. None of these moments of inspiration themselves had left Jack having an emotional breakdown, though some of the actions he had taken based on the inspiration hadn't gone all that well.

"You can start small," Euterpe said. "I'm sure Jack would help you, one of the early exercises we do is trying to communicate a color or a number to someone."

Euterpe stood up and approached Jack, offering her his hand as though to shake. He took it.

"I'm thinking of the color of the mixing bowl we bought for the hair dye," Euterpe said.

Blue, seemed to fall directly into Jack's head. It was too quick for him to determine if it was in Euterpe's voice or not, the color itself clear in his mind's eye.

"Blue," Jack said.

Euterpe nodded and released his hand, turning to address Rowan. "See, you just have to focus a bit, kind of picture that the idea is traveling from you to them. And you can pull out ideas they're having a hard time finding, too, but it's easier to work on little things like this first."

"I don't want to make Jack's brain my Muse training wheels," Rowan said, the discomfort still clear on her face.

"You've already inspired me before, I don't mind," Jack said.

"But I don't know what I'm doing, I don't want to end up like M—I don't want to end up bringing out something upsetting in you or putting something negative there or something," Rowan said, catching herself before she said too much, though Jack saw Euterpe and Terpsichore exchanging glances anyway.

Jack forced a smile. "Like Euterpe said, we'll start small."

"I don't know," Rowan sighed.

"One thing at a time," Jack reminded her.

"One thing at a time," Rowan said, reluctantly nodding.

"You don't need to start tonight. Today was a lot," Terpsichore said. Rowan nodded again.

"So… the pole?" Rowan asked.

"Yeah, we'll drop by just for a minute," Jack said, pulling one of the portals from his pocket.

"Okay, this one's the right size, why were the others smaller?" Rowan said, pointing to the snow globe in his grasp.

"The smaller ones are Clio's," Euterpe provided.

"Oh," said Rowan.

"Anyway, I hope everything today helped," said Euterpe. "I know you weren't sure about a lot of it."

"It helped a lot," Rowan said, collecting her shopping bags. "Thank you both, I appreciate it, you've been, well, very patient with me."

"Yeah, thank you for helping with this," Jack said. The hair dye, the piercings, none of that was anything Jack could even begin to help with, not unless the tense moment of brushing her hair earlier that morning counted.

"Of course, we're here if you need help with anything else, okay?" Terpsichore said.

"Oh! Before you go, uh, we do have a message from, uh, from Calliope," Euterpe said, noticeably hesitating by the time she got to the eldest Muse's name. The way Rowan's face fell was enough to show why.

"Yeah?" Rowan said. She looked like she was bracing for impact again.

"Well, um, she's working on an official statement, so that Apollo and Artemis know our grievances when we leave them," Euterpe said.

"Basically, if you have anything specific that you want included, she just needs them before the fourteenth," Terpsichore said.

"Well, I mean the big ones are threatening Jack's safety, trying using my life and death as leverage for their own gain, and taking away my bodily autonomy," Rowan said with little hesitation. "But that's mostly Apollo, is my understanding."

"Right, we'll pass those along," Euterpe nodded.

"I guess if I think of more, I'll… write it down or something," Rowan said.

"That would be great," Terpsichore said. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"I'll try," Rowan said.

"Thanks again, see you around," Jack said before whispering to the snow globe and tossing it forward.


Melpomene had finally turned away and silently stalked off to her bedroom, her mouth a thin line.

But I don't know what I'm doing, I don't want to end up like M—I don't want to end up bringing out something upsetting in you or putting something negative there or something.

But I don't know what I'm doing, I don't want to end up like M—

I don't want to end up like M—

Melpomene stepped through the threshold to her room, gently closing the door behind her despite the strongest urge to slam it.

She turned away from the door, exhaling a breath that she hadn't realized she had been holding.

"I don't want to end up like Melpomene!" she sneered, her tone mocking, her arms brought to her chest in an exaggerated, fearful manner.

"I don't want to be like her, the one who kept Jamie Bennett alive and double-crossed an ally for the sake of her sisters," Melpomene continued, her mocking tone giving way to her usual hoarseness partway through the sentence. She walked across her room, past painting upon painting upon painting of Ophelia, dead in the river.

Who was Rowan, anyway? Some girl who became a spectacle, not because of anything special about her, but because the was adjacent to spectacular things and then vanished, baffling the mortals in the process.

Who was Rowan to look down on Melpomene?

"I don't want to be like her, the one who knew that ally was needed in the first place to keep her and her sisters safe, and did what she could to secure the information that ally had," Melpomene said, stopping before one of the paintings, Ophelia's gaze distant and lifeless.

Ophelia was always painted face-up in the water.

"I don't want to be like her, the one who inspired some of the greatest minds of this, or any time! Her, the one who gave countless plays their impact, their most memorable scenes!"

Who was Rowan? Rowan and her silly stories that she had told while buzzed at the ball. What was so impressive about that?

Rowan, who captivated the immortals around her, who fought with the eldest Muse, who faced down dark creatures alone, as though she was ever anything more than painfully ordinary, exceptionally unspecial.

Another painting, one of the few that Melpomene had that didn't depict Ophelia's death, but rather a scene of Ophelia and Hamlet.

"I don't want to be like her, the one who took a fragile thing in her hands and tried, tried not to crush it in her grasp, but the sound and the feeling of it breaking was just so satisfying that she couldn't stop," Melpomene said, turning away from the wall and taking a few steps to the harpsichord, sitting at the bench.

Who was Rowan? Some girl who desperately needed Jack Frost to hold her hand and coach her through her emotional turmoil.

Some girl who apparently worried just as much about his, if her desire not to be like Melpomene was any indication.

Some girl who held something fragile in her hands and cradled it as gently as she could as the world jostled her about.

"I don't want to be like her, who carries grief and suffering around because she doesn't know who she is without it and she's afraid there's nothing else there."

The dark-haired woman gazed at the door, that sour look still on her face.

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE SPECIAL!?" she called as though Rowan was standing right there, her throat painfully protesting at the volume. She set a hand there, coughing slightly. "I didn't want to end up like me either!"

Illustration. How did Rowan luck out and get Illustration?

Melpomene had been so sure that things would be easier than they had been when Euterpe returned to life as the Muse of Song, the greatest insult possible.

But why would anything be easy?

Who was Melpomene to expect or to hope for that?


The last time Rowan had been at the pole, she had barely been able to walk. While Jack once more steadied her after they got through the portal, he wasn't hovering close behind her like he had before, fearful that she would topple over at any moment.

It had been a charming, but annoying, gesture at the time. Rowan was just glad that it was not necessary now.

"Back already?" North said. Rowan's eye had been caught by an odd toy that resembled a jellyfish, floating through the air with blinking lights, and hadn't noticed that the man was nearby. He seemed to blend well with the yetis.

"Tattoo references," Jack said. Rowan took the papers from one of the shopping bags and held them up, the top sheet showing the book cover she had printed out.

"Ah, of course," North said. He beamed at Rowan. "Is good to see you again."

"Oh, thank you and, uh, I'm sorry about the snow globe I stole and used to get to Burgess," Rowan said quickly, wincing slightly as she said it, waiting for the impact of his response.

The small child in her was acutely aware that she had stolen from Santa Claus, and truly what was more shameful than that?

"Snow globe?" North said, brow furrowed.

Jack leaned over and said to Rowan, "I actually forgot to mention that to him with everything else going on."

"Ah," Rowan said, still wincing. "I stole a snow globe. I was just checking on home with it until, um… until that night."

"I see. Is understandable you were homesick," North said with a nod. He didn't seem upset. "You are still on nice list. Now, Moe should be at the painting station—"

"Oh, Rowan, your hair looks so much more you now!" came Erato's voice from a few paces behind. Jack and Rowan each turned to find the Muse in question heading their way. "Your natural color was also nice, of course."

"Thank you," Rowan said awkwardly, having been sure that she was done with the Muses for the day when they left Mount Parnassus.

Erato, at least, was never malicious to Rowan.

"You're here to give pictures to Moe? I'll take you," Erato said. "I should be able to translate, I'm much better at understanding Yeti since the last time you were here."

"Sure, yes," Rowan said, once more being hit with the realization that a year had passed without her.

"Nicky, have you eaten? Real food?" Erato asked as she passed, Jack and Rowan moving to follow her.

"Yes, lubov moya," North said, waving her concern away with a smile.

"Good!" Erato called, already a fair distance across the platform.

Erato walked quickly, Jack and Rowan having to each speed up to keep up with the Muse who easily dodged equipment and stepped around yetis and over elves as though it was second nature.

Perhaps, by now, it was.

How odd, for Erato have become so comfortable at the pole. The last time Rowan had properly spoken to her, she had lamented how slow and monotonous things could get at the pole when one was stuck there.

Maybe the place had grown on Erato once staying put there was an option.

Erato reached Moe, setting a paintbrush he had just cleaned aside, before Jack and Rowan did. She glanced over her shoulder and looked sheepish as the younger pair caught up.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Erato said. "I'm so used to walking faster to keep up with Nicky and the Yetis now."

"It's fine," Rowan said, though her heartrate had increased somewhat in her attempts to keep up. She was almost thrown off over the fact that her heart was racing over something besides anxiety.

"Moe, this is Rowan," Erato said to the yeti. "The one North spoke to you about."

Moe babbled, holding his large hand out to Rowan. Rowan set her hand in his palm for what was thankfully a very gentle handshake.

"He says it's very nice to meet another tattoo enthusiast," Erato said brightly.

When he released her right hand, she held the bundle of papers in her left hand up to show him.

"I was able to find pictures of all the tattoos I had. And I, uh, I have some references in there for one more, if you're up to it, I know I'm already asking a lot of you," Rowan said.

Moe carefully took the papers from Rowan and began to leaf through them to examine the pictures and her notes.

"One more?" Jack repeated, raising a brow. "What are you getting?"

"You'll see," Rowan said with a slight smile. "If Moe's up to it."

The yeti seemed to have reached the references in question and babbled again, nodding along.

"He says he can definitely do the extra tattoo for you," Erato said. Moe babbled another short statement. "And he asks where you want it."

"I'm thinking here," Rowan said, gesturing to the inside of her left upper arm. "Because the rib tattoo isn't going to be painful enough."

Moe nodded again before his babbling took on a thoughtful tone and he walked off.

"He said he can do that, and that he will be right back, please wait here," Erato said.

"So, can you speak Yeti or just understand it?" Jack asked.

"I've tried speaking it a little, but it's hard for human mouths to get the accent right. Nicky's come the closest but they still laugh at him every time," Erato said with a shrug. "They're not much better with human languages. They understand them fine but it's hard for them to really get the words unless it's a Slavic language. Sometimes I'll hear a Russian swear and get thrown off it's not Nicky."

"Russian swears are really fun to say, to be fair," Jack said as though he was an authority, and Rowan rolled her eyes, sure that he was.

Moe was returning now, with a marker and a length of butcher paper. He was babbling again, pointing from the butcher paper to Rowan.

"He would like to trace where these tattoos are going so that he has a sense of the scale he needs to work at. I know you probably feel weird about touch right now, though," Erato said.

"I mean, he's going to be tattooing me. Regardless of how weird it feels, he's going to have to touch me," Rowan said, though she was wincing a bit. Thankfully the touching when Euterpe pierced her ears had been minimal, but she couldn't expect the same with this body modification. She set down her shopping bags where they would hopefully be out of the way and stepped forward.

Moe raised his arms to the side and Rowan mirrored the gesture. Moe gently set the butcher paper up against her and began tracing roughly where her feather quill tattoo had once been. The feeling was incredibly odd, there still seemed to be a disconnect as though she was feeling the sensations of someone else, but at least it wasn't prompting tears the way her hair had that morning.

Moe worked quickly, moving the butcher paper to her arm, marking where her potential new tattoo would go. When he pulled the paper away this time, he reached his left hand forward, palm facing up.

Rowan made the same gesture and her wrist was quickly covered by the paper and hastily traced.

She turned around, Jack casting her an encouraging, if nervous smile as she did. She reached to move her hair aside, but wasn't sure how helpful that actually was as Moe set the paper against her again and roughly outlined where her neck was.

By the time she was facing Moe again, he was already writing notes on the odd shapes he had traced, labeling them in a language that Rowan did not recognize.

Moe capped the marker, and returned his attention to Rowan, babbling thoughtfully again.

"He says that he will work on the stencils tomorrow and should be ready to tattoo you the next day, unless you need more time," Erato said.

"I want this done as soon as possible," Rowan said. "The day after tomorrow is great, thank you."

Moe nodded, babbled again with an inflection that sounded like a question.

"Did you want to get all of the tattoos done in one day?" Erato asked.

"That sounds like a lot," Jack said, cringing slightly.

"I could probably do it," Rowan said. It wasn't necessarily ideal, but she had somehow managed to get her rib tattoo done in one session before.

Moe babbled again, making a few gestures as he went.

"He says he'll go until you tap out," Erato said.

"Okay," Rowan said. "Terpsichore said you work fast."

Moe beamed and made another statement.

"He's learned a thing or two the past couple centuries," Erato said.

"Thank you for helping me with this," Rowan said. "I definitely felt better about it after seeing Terpsichore's tattoo you did for her."

Moe babbled and reached his hand for her to shake again.

"He says 'thank you for trusting me with this,'" Erato said.

Rowan shook the yeti's hand.

Ideally, she would still have the tattoos that she had gotten in the first place, by the artists she had researched and saved her money to go see.

But it wasn't every day an artist with several centuries worth of experience was willing to help with your tattoo-related conundrum.