A/N: Well guys, I thank you so much for your patience and here is the second chapter. I hope you enjoy it and hope my grammar is better. It's not normally as bad as the prologue s i have no clue what went wrong there. Sorry. Also, I feel the need to inform you now that this isn't a super happy fic. Nope. It's going to deal with forced marriage and Jack being treated like some whorish slave, even though he would have done nothing to earn that little respect. Anyways, enjoy this chapter and if you haven't already I suggest you listen to my inspiration songs stated previously ^.^

Swrostlyn was a ruckus with men and women dashing around trying to make themselves and their village look at least presentable as they had just discovered that they had a little over an hour until their king was to arrive. Parents were included in those bustling around thus chose to leave their children a member of the Frost family, one of Swrostlyn's founding families, Jack Frost. He was held with high esteem for his skills when it came to caring for and entertaining children. That, along with his white hair, bright blue eyes and over all good looks also made him the most sought after man in the village. Not that Jack really cared about that. He found that all the attention was nice at times but he didn't overly see the point in having people all over him all the time. The teen found he much preferred spending his time either alone of with the village's children and as Swrostlyn was cold and snowy nearly all year round, one could be certain to find Jack and the children running round in the cold, having snowball fights, building snowmen and just doing what children do best; having fun.

However, today was one of those rare days when the sun shone brightly and the snow had melted away, meaning that Jack had to find something else to do to distract the children. He'd decided on a bit of arts and craft to help with any decorations that may have been put up. He started off by getting them to make some paper chains and lanterns in the village's colour to put up outside houses and shops, knowing that they all wanted to make some contribution to making the village look pretty. After that had been done, he got them working on drawings and paintings. Jack himself had pretty good art skills and hoped that the children would too, as he knew a lot of them wanted to get out of the village and see more of Eriwynne in their later years which would be very hard to do unless they had something like art to capture the interests of others and give them a chance to leave. But the simple idea of the kids that he cared for so much being able to make something of themselves filled his heart with joy and made him push for them to be everything they could.

Jack was pulled from his musings by a young, pitchy voice calling his name.

"Jack! Jack! Look what I painted!" One of the kids called. It was Jamie, a short, brunet boy whom Jack had grown very close to. The kid was like his protégée, he'd always had a nack for painting and sketching and an imagination wilder than the animal's living outside of the village's boarders. The white-haired teen smiled when he saw the kid's painting; it depicted a bright, golden palace that hovered in the air. Surrounding the palace what looked like thousands of tiny little fairies were flying around, with one larger one painted in the middle.

"That's the fairy queen," Jamie said, pointing to the large fairy in the centre of the painting, her face had a light blue tinge to it that matched her turquiose feathers. The fairies reminded Jack somewhat of humming birds, zipping around a field of flowers. It was truly beautiful just how much detail the 10 year old put into the painting, it was a skill level beyond any Jack had seen before.

"That's amazing kid!" He beamed, ruffling the boy's hair. "Where did you get the idea for this?"

"I dunno, I think it was from a dream..." Jamie said with a shrug, acting nonchalant over the praise he was getting even though internally he was lapping it up like a sponge. All the kid's loved getting complements, especially from Jack, so many were envious of Jamie for the attention he got for his drawings and paintings, the teen didn't quite get why though. He always made sure to pay all of them attention equally. The least thing he wanted was for one of the kids to actually get upset over it.

Suddenly, a young woman came jogging down the street to place in the market where Jack would sit with the kids. The teen couldn't make out who she was at first, then he recognised the messy mop of brown hair and the faint glimmer of hazel eyes. It was his sister, Mary.

"Jack! Jack!" She yelled down the street. "They're almost here!" The excitement in her voice was obvious. The kids hurriedly stopped what they were doing and dashed over to Mary, asking he all kind of questions about the King and his escorts.

"Did you get to see them?"

"What did they look like?"

And "Is it really him?" seemed to be the most popular questions. Mary laughed and hushed the kids, telling them that she was sure that if they ran to the village centre they would get to be the very first to see the person who they all hoped would change their town and lives. And the children ran. Jack chuckled as they ran, leaving him and Mary stood alone. Neither of the teens worried about them getting lose since everyone knew the village like the backs of their hands.

"Guess we should go after them," the white-haired teen said with a grin.

"Bet I could beat you there," his sister challenged, smirking when a deep laugh ripped it's way out of Jack's throat.

"You're on!" And with that, the siblings broke off into a run.

By the time Jack and Mary reached the village centre, literally everyone else was already there. The siblings had called the 'race' a draw bout three quarters through, both realizing they were just feeling too lazy to finish it. They had noticed the kids still cutting to the front of the crowds and the noise of a horse-drawn carriage in the distance. So at least they weren't too late.

"Jack! Mary! Get yourselves over here!" Their mother, yelled from near the front of the crowd and a hand shot up above the heads, waving to them. The two started to make their way through the people, no one overly caring that the teens were cutting through, reaching their mother just in time to see the oncoming carriage. It was large and black, with golden vines reaching up the sides in a elegant pattern. The horses pulling the things were large and majestic, their inky black coats glimmering in the sun. There were, for lack of better words, guards riding horses, circling the carriage in case of attack. The horses and their riders marching the carriage perfectly. Jack thought it beautiful yet strangely daunting.

The carriage pulled up just outside the village hall, the guards stopped after it before dismounting, two of them going to open the carriage door. From the angle he was at, all that Jack could see at first was the black, velvet inside of the carriage. And then he saw the man they had come to call their king. He was tall and pale; so pale that he looked dead. He hair was jet black and messy. The clothing was in the old military style, a custom for all royal's to wear when out in public. Unsurprisingly, the garments were black and gold. The colours and something about the king himself deeply unnerved Jack, something that seemed to effect him exclusively.

"Greetings, my subjects," Pitchner boomed. "As I am sure you're all painfully aware, my family hasn't been so kind to you in the past years." A small cheer rippled through the crowd. Although the people of Swrostlyn were willing to accept that this man may not be all bad, they still knew what he was capable of. What his predecessor were capable of. And deep inside all of them was a hatred waiting to come out. However, they were peaceful people; people who believed that, although action were better for proving one's self, words were far more damaging. They would hear the man out, then decide what they thought of him.

"I have come here, wanting to make a deal with you," Pitchner continued. "I shall help this village thrive, I shall provide you with all the luxuries you could need; all the food, tools, money and weapons you could need to keep yourselves living comfortable-" A cheer rang out through the crowd and the man paused. The villager's excitement and hope obvious is their reaction, it was almost like their very souls were lifting.

"-But," the crowd hushed instantly. "I will want something in return."

Kosmosis Pitchner slowly walked closer towards the crowds, glancing over the masses, eyes settling of Jack for a second before flitting off again. It made the teen shudder nervously.

"I wish to pick a partner. You see, as king I'm supposed to marry but, honestly, there is no one I know aesthetically pleasing enough. And then I heard about Swrostlyn. If you allow me to find myself a bride here, then I shall give you everything your heart desires." The noise went from hushed to a dead silence. It was eerie, how a just a few select words could have such a strong effect. There were a few hushed whispers, before Isaac Oleander, the head of one of Swrostlyn's founding families, stepped forwards awkwardly. He stood in front of the crowd and waved a hand to calm them down.

"Although, for many of you, this may not seem preferable I believe it to be in our village's best interests to follow through," he stated firmly, albeit guiltily, Pitchner smirking in agreement. Another hushed murmur ran through the crowd, many people nodding their heads.

"Good," the king said before stepping closer to the people of Swrostlyn. Again, he glances over everyone in the crowd that he could see, eyes settling on Jack for longer than the teen was comfortable with. "Him," the man said at last, making the white-haired boy's heart sink. Jack wanted to protest, wanted to scream that it wasn't fair, that he didn't want to go with such a man but he knew it would be no use.

Pitchner walked over to him, leaning over so their faces were mere centimetre apart. He brushes a thumb along the boys cheek, resisting a chuckle as the intriguing boy's mother and sister held on to him closely. Yes, he would be absolutely perfect. The man then stepped back, facing the villagers once again.

"I shall stay until moonrise as that shall give me sufficient time to see your wonderful village and to let my, new partner gather his belongings," he stated before waving the people away and watching the crowd, along with his partner-to-be (or should he say pet?) and his family, waiting for the moment he could take the boy back with him and claim him fully.