First chapter! :D This is the first of three or four chapters before I put up the highly requested sequel to 'Dance of Death'. I was actually quite surprised at how many reviews I got. Seriously, I started crying, you people made me so happy. I just hope this little arc can live up to everyone's expectations. It's an idea I've been tinkering with since shortly after seeing the movie the first time.
Now, without further delay, enjoy!
Jack wasn't exactly sure when 'it' first happened, but he knew it had been at least half a century as an immortal. The white haired youth had already met the Sandman, Easter Bunny, North, and several other spirits; most of those meetings hadn't ended ideally. With each passing day his depression worsened and his will to live faded away little by little. Jack would sit and stare off into the distance for hours at a time, laying in the snow with no awareness of his surroundings. The four winds combined to try and save Jack Frost from the cruelty of his own element, but were met with failure. Sandy, whom Jack had met shortly after his birth from the lake, noticed immediately. The Guardian of Dreams had seen such a thing happen far too many times already and the thought of it happening to a spirit as young as Jack Frost troubled the Sandman to no end. However, he couldn't keep the Spirit of Winter under twenty four hour surveillance, no matter how much he wanted to. Sandy couldn't begin to fathom how broken Jack had become.
His first fit was with a few water spirits up in New York. Jack had been freezing over some of the rivers and lakes in preparation for the winter; making sure the ice was thick and sturdy enough to hold any of the humans who wished to ice skate. Until a tendril of water shot from the first, and thinnest, layer of ice he had just set down. It wrapped around his bony ankle with a feeling Jack associated with octupi (the winter child had a fear of the sea faring creatures since he first stumbled upon them.) Three distinctly female shapes slithered up from the river; they were of wispy limbs, angled faces, and constantly turning water made their bodies simmer in the sunlight. One floated forward, a school of minnow frantically swimming around in her torso while her lower half was still merged with the river,
"A winter spirit." the soft voice, accompanied with a hiss, made the spirit's liquid body ripple violently, "You are not welcome. Leave!" the other two moved to surround the snow haired child, his ankle still trapped,
"Leave this place!" a lower voice than the one before sounded, leaves swirling inside her head and hair,
"Leave!" the shortest whispered, venom lacing that single word thoroughly. Jack wiggled his foot slightly and the water relinquished it's hold, allowing the wind to pull its charge higher into its protective embrace. The river spirits kept their faces tilted in his direction,
"I understand this is your territory, but my duty calls for me to ice over bodies of water. I won't freeze it all the way, just-" Jack was barely able to dodge the water tendril that shot towards him,
"No!"
"We will not allow it!"
"You are not wanted!" Jack rapidly stiffened,
"Not...wanted?" so many spirits, the ones just like him, the only ones who could see him, had said those same words. He wasn't wanted. He wasn't needed. By anyone. Several water tendrils whipped forth from the river to surround Jack in a spiraling tower. The white haired boy wasn't able to dodge as the slithering water enclosed around him, constricting him,
"Suffer!
"Decease!"
"Die!" Die? Jack didn't want to die, not yet, not at the hands of these wenches. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. Jack Frost panicked. The river spirits were dragging him downwards inch by terrifying inch. North Wind tore round him, frantically pulling at its young friend, but the winter child's staff had been dropped into the raging waters below. The very same ones now licking at pale toes with a ravenous hunger,
"No! Let me go! Please!" Jack cried and struggled with no success. What did he do wrong? Why were they doing this? Sapphire eyes, wide with terror, stared pleadingly at the three spirits now lingering above him. They held no pity nor remorse, only a sense of righteous anger. In the fog of Jack's mind, a hollow chuckle resounded,
'It's okay, just let go. Let go, Jackie' the feeling of hands clamped over his eyes and he was pulled backwards into the devouring water; falling blindly into a forced sleep.
Jack regained consciousness hours later. He could feel the ice he was lying on, the quiet air of death, and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He dreaded opening his eyes; he didn't want to face the carnage he knew was waiting in the waking world. The wind snuggled around the child , pulling gently at his hair and soon Jack was opening his eyes. The sky was no longer clear; gray storm clouds blanketed the late evening sky to cast shadows on the thoroughly frozen river. Three crystalline forms jumped from the river beneath, their faces distorted in with horror and cracks skittering across their surfaces. What little light was left filtered through the sculptures (they were no longer river spirits, he knew, because they no longer had life) with an eerie beauty. There was a thin layer of snow but most of the area was encased in ice. A tomb that was once a small village less than fifty feet from the shore. Jack simply stood with wobbling knees. A fragile silence hing in the air; no birds sung, no insects chirped, no trees creaked, and the wind sat in mourning. The Spirit of Winter screamed. He screamed loud and clear, long and steadfast; his wails echoing and vibrating the air with such a broken cry that unseeing ears could hear the child's pitiful sounds. The four winds heeded his call, rushing to their child's aid in hopes of giving him comfort and security and Jack hoped, more so than the Guardian of Hope himself, that he hadn't been the cause of such a disaster.
It was all for naught.
Because Jack knew, deep in his child-like mind, Jack knew what he had done. He just didn't know how.
The child of winter could hear the wailing dead. Their lives ended prematurely. Their souls still lingered in confusion and fright, unable to find solace in their homes of loved ones; because Jack Frost had taken it all away. He sobbed and raged and shrieked louder still. The winds formed a barrier around their charge, reflecting his torment. Storm clouds of blackened terror rolled in. Sharpened snow flew in a frenzy. Hail rained down from the sky above. Sleet slashed at everything in reach, and a bone chilling cold spread throughout the land. The Great Blizzard of 1888 had begun.
Since that unforgivable year in New York, Jack would have occasional black outs with varying lengths of time between them. He was always relieved to wake up to an area of peaceful snowfall. It never stopped the crawling beneath his skin and the constant feel of predatory eyes on him left a loathsome feeling that seemed to slick his mind with a thick, consuming oil. This prompted the frost child to take to flying more often since his 'accident'. North Wind was constantly circling him, the protective deity easily picking up on its friend's discomfort. The East was usually nearby, playfully tugging the child out of the North's grasp and tossing him into the clouds. Jack enjoyed the 'Keep Away' game the East would initiate with the North. The South and the West would often join them for brief periods of time when they weren't busy shepherding the rain clouds and such. Being able to laugh and forget his piling troubles to enjoy clear blue skies ringing with the laughter of children. Though, whenever Jack awoke from an unexpected blackout, he noticed how his friends seemed...different. They would blow across his face, checking his eyes, wrapping around him with a delicate touch one would use when handling thin glass. Once they were sure of no injury, East would begin to coo at him, akin to a parent comforting a child. North merely ran soothing fingers through his colorless hair, whispering sweet nothings to Jack, he couldn't help but wonder if it was for his sake or the winds trying to reassure themselves. If another spirit expressed ill intent towards him, the winds were quick to dispatch of said spirit or just as soon whisk their child away to safety. Such security gave Jack a sense of contentedness and ease, but not even the winds, with all their might and wisdom, could not rid Jack of this dark foreboding. The strings wrapping around his limbs. The mist surging through his mind. The voices whispering at the edge of his conscious. Jack Frost knew all too well that 1888 had started an event of unforeseeable circumstances. The first domino had been tipped, but where would the last one fall?
The Great Lakes Storm of 1913 was Jack Frost's second tragedy. With over 250 human deaths and $100 million lost in cargo, it put a great dent in the community and economy for years to come. He honestly had not meant to cause anything, but the Spirit of Thanksgiving had meant every single word. Jack caught sight of the broad shouldered man with hazelnut eyes and hair. He towered over Jack with his impressive height. A fuzzy mustache and beard mixed with the colonial style clothing (much like the clothes Jack saw in that village by his lake when he had first awoken) gave the man of thirty something years a sense of benevolence. Add the warm twinkle in his eyes and you had the ideal family man, one who was continuously grateful for the good health of his loved ones and spent his spare time playing with his children or helping his wife around the house. The elderly spirit seemed nice enough at a distance but when Jack had gone for a closer look and possibly introduce himself, the man had pulled out an axe (Jack still hadn't figured out just where the other had pulled it from, considering the size of the thing) to swing in the frost child's direction,
"Be gone, Winter Spirit! I will not allow such a demon to wreak havoc upon a time of warmth and gratitude!"
"B-but I-!"
"I know exactly who you are, Jack Frost!" his axe glinted in the sunlight, "A monster of ice and snow with no regards towards others. The day of giving thanks is approaching. I cannot allow you to stay!" hazelnut eyes narrowed in disgust, the warm aura vanishing instantly. Jack panicked,
'He-he wouldn't-!' but all too late the winter child learned a harsh lesson.
Everybody will hurt you.
A flash of bright blue eyes reflected in the steel blade before it was buried deep into his right shoulder, tearing through skin, muscle, and bone with frightening ease. Jack could feel his collarbone splitting, shattering; his flesh being ripped apart with a sickening squelching sound. Crimson liquid splattered across porcelain skin, defiled the shining surface of steel, and labeling the tanned man before him with his cruel actions. His right arm went limp with loss of feeling, letting his precious staff fall thousands of feet into the lake below them. Gravity immediately took over, pulling Jack off the once clean blade with another horrific sound. The Thanksgiving Spirit stayed aloft in the air, watching with eyes hardened by anger and hatred as the Spirit of Winter slid between the wailing wind's fingers. Hitting the water from so far up was similar to hitting concrete, though the pain was minimal compared to the raging fire of his right shoulder, a pain that failed to reach the connected arm. Within seconds, Jack Frost had slipped beneath the water's surface. The waves of his swift entrance smoothed over, not a trace left to mark his existence. Only the mourning wind and the innocent blood splattered across a dead man and his axe.
White hair swirled in the currents, lungs filling with water, dragging the small body further down, and dimming blue eyes continued to stare at the light shining through the lake's surface.
Jack, I'm scared
Its okay
Don't look down, just look at me
We're gonna have a little fun instead
No, we're not!
Believe In Me
"Jackie, you're scared." A body with a build similar to his own pressed itself against his back. Lean arms snaked their way over his own lanky arms and around his torso to hug him tightly, "You're always so scared." a voice whispered but from within his mind or from the very water surrounding him he didn't know, "You shouldn't have to be so afraid."
He didn't...?
"No, Jackie. You shouldn't have to bow down to anyone." the arms squeezed him tighter, suffocating, "We will not bow."
But they...
"They mock us. Hurt us. Torment us." A hand closed over his eyes, "They cannot break us."
Us...?
"I'll protect you."
Jack had longed to hear those words directed at him, the Winter Child no one wanted. This voice in his head, this twisted anomaly, sent shivers down his spine with a bone chilling cold that made his small frame tremble. Those words dripping with sweetened poison were not words the words he dreamed of in his visions of family and comfort. These words were a death sentence, Jack later realized upon hearing news of finding the Thanksgiving Spirit's (Henry, he learned from eavesdropping on a group of immortal) mutilated body. There were no witnesses, no weapons, no evidence. Nothing but the mourning wind and the innocent blood splattered across a dead man and his axe.
Two of the worst storms in history caused by Jack Frost. Not many people could hold such a claim. The scar on his right shoulder burned with the memory of that day. He watched humanity from a distance, too scared to wander closer, least this thing inside him lash out again. Jack refused to allow such an act to happen again, be it human or spirit, deserving or not. He was afraid of himself. Spiraling deeper into himself, into a darkness he feared and yet revered. Letting his mind go numb cut him off from this reality or maybe this was a nightmare, a nightmare he just had to wake up from, wake up to a warm bed, a mother and father, and a little sister jumping on him to wake him up. The blood sliding across his skin, the wind's soft murmurings, and the sting of bruises and cuts assured him, however, that this was no dream, no nightmare, nothing he could wake from. No, it was something far worse than a nightmare. And Jack found, the farther he withdrew into himself, the longer he fell, he cared less and less. He didn't know which scared him more.
1940 was a particularly rough year for Jack Frost. The Great Depression, while officially over, still had a grip on parts of the United States. For years, Jack had been holding back winter at the cost of his own health. Sandy had already scolded him thirty two times (Jack had counted) and his three seasonal siblings had begun checking on him more frequently,
"The humans can handle a bit of snow, Jack." Hiccup had said while the white haired boy had been scratching Toothless behind the ears, much to the dragons delight, "Your body can't. Vomiting blood is a very bad sign."
"I can handle myself!" he protested, pale hands still petting the reptile,
"I never said you couldn't." the viking rolled his eyes with an amused smile, "But you're our youngest. We can't help but to worry about you no matter what you do." Hiccup then proceeded to ruffle his hair,
"I'm over two centuries old!" Jack smacked his hand away knowing quite well Hiccup was far older,
"Keep talking, sonny."
... ... ...
Merida had smacked him upside the head with her bow,
"I won't stop yew from doing what yew want." her accent thick with her Scottish heritage, "That won't stop me from doing what I want." She then guided his hand over Angus's fur,
"I thought we couldn't be in each others presence...?" uncertainty laced the boy's question,
"Hogwash." the red head snorted, "We can't be near other seasons for long periods of time. Ten minutes won't do any damage to the environment." Angus jingled his reins in agreement,
"Bending the rules?" Jack grinned, "You're a bad influence."
"Aye, that I am." Merida chuckled then rummaged through a saddle bag, "Sweet bun?"
... ... ...
"Jack!" Rapunzel had appeared out of no where, her brunette hair swinging wildly around in its braid. He swore the woman had teleportation powers no matter how much Eugene denied the theory and laughed at him. Jack would have fallen over from Rapunzel's infamous tackle hug if not for the wind catching them. The girl giggled when the wind flipped her up her hair in a gentle scolding,
"How do you do that!?" the younger asked, once released from the elder's arms,
"I'm a woman Jack, it comes with the intuition." just as sudden as her appearance, a cast iron frying pan was poking his nose, "Now, I heard from the others about why you haven't been feeling so well these past few years." Rapunzel's voice was casually sweet but the undertone of anger was clearly heard. Maximus standing right behind him didn't help either.
... ... ...
Jack had been on his way to Japan from the east coast of the States when the whisperings began. They were vague mutterings and the immortal teenager would have dismissed them as another figment of his imagination.
If it weren't for the bone chilling cold.
The mourning wind and the innocent blood splattered across a dead man and his axe.
The North Wind pushed Jack faster once it picked up on the boy's sudden panic. He knew he couldn't run. This...thing was connected to him somehow; the wispy hands at the edge of his vision were no shadow play,
"Go faster. Go faster" bright blue orbs watered, the words being whispered as a prayer of safety, though Jack doubted he was the one who needed protecting,
"I'll protect you." that horrid soothing voice caused his eyes to cloud over, his sight fading into nothing. He was over the mid-west of the States, if the wind could at least get him to the ocean...
That hope was swiftly crushed, his lethargy from holding back winter for so long became overwhelming. A low voice softly guiding him to sleep. With dread as his pillow and fear as his blanket; Jack Frost fell in the the Armistice Day Blizzard.
His fourth fit happened the day before Easter Sunday of 1968. Jack had been somewhere along the northeast coast of North America when E. Aster Bunnymund appeared before the young spirit. The white haired youth had been lazing on a tree limb after a day of bringing snow to the coastal towns,
"Jack Frost!" he blinked, then looked down to see a giant rabbit standing beneath the tree with a fierce scowl upon his face. Jack swung his legs over to one side of the limb,
"Peter Cottontail! A little lost?" he chuckled at the indignant look from the other,
"Its Bunnymund, ya drongo!" the rabbit growled, "What are ya doin' still hanging around here, mate? It's Spring time!" Bunny shook a fist at him. The younger boy merely dropped backwards to hang by his knees,
"So...?" He drawled with a mischievous grin,
"Yer not needed anymore! Get outta here and stop being useless!" Jack's eyes narrowed. What right did Bunny have calling him useless?!
"One day a year and you're calling me useless. That's an all new low, cottontail." he swung back upright to lean against the tree once more. He could practically hear Bunny's rage boiling,
"Millions of children wait all year for Easter. Millions of children wait all year for me. You, on the otha' hand, give kids hypothermia! No one wants ya around!" Jack stiffened at that. He knew the dangers of his element. The damage he could and had created. The deaths he had caused. It didn't make the knowledge any less painful,
"Please," Jack's voice portrayed confidence, not the anger and sorrow he felt, "Everyone loves winter. It signifies the most important holiday of all." If Bunny wanted to play rough, so would he.
"And that would be?" Bunny's hand drifted towards his boomerang,
"Christmas." the youth enunciated before being knocked from a tree with a carefully aimed boomerang. Jack's head popped out of the snow mound he had landed in before the wind suddenly wrapped around his torso and yanked him backwards. Bunny's huge feet implanted the snow, sending a wave of white upwards,
"Bu-Bunny!?" Jack yelled, ducking a boomerang thrown in his direction. He had yet to figure out how the piece of wood was able to circle around like it did and smack him across the head. Next thing the spirit knew, his wooden staff was knocked away from him and the pooka was throwing him into the lake with a furry fist. Luckily, he landed in shallow water, "What the hell, Bunny?!" Jack stumbled out, now weighted down with water. His cloak seemed to weigh three times as much, helping to slow him down enough for Bunny to pin him down. Blue tinted fur cannon balled at the youth, ramming himself head first into Jack's chest, slamming him into the ground,
"Hold still ya bloody show pony!" he yelled, trying his best to hold the squirming boy,
"No!" in an amazing feat of agility Jack managed to squeeze both his legs past a chest of fur and over Bunny's shoulders to grab his neck with bony knees. Once Bunny had let go of his arms, Jack threw the other to the side, using his weight and momentum to keep himself rolling off the giant rabbit to the ground. He skittered away, his head turning wildly, eyes searching madly for his precious staff. Not even a glimpse of the weapon could be found. One of Bunny's feet connected to his back, sending him into a nearby tree to be showered with the snow piled on its bare branches, "Ow..." Jack groaned, his arms shaking and vision wavering, "Why...?" wide, sapphire eyes gazed upward, a hint of fear laced through the snowflake irises.
"Easter is tomorra' an' yer not gonna ruin it again, Frost." his thick Australian accent rang through Jack's ears. "The otha' Guardians an' I are far to busy to be dealin' with selfish little sprites throwin' temper tantrums!"
"Other Guardians...?" Jack muttered, he had been trying to get their attention, just a moment was enough, to ask 'who am I?' and 'what is my purpose?'; they were supposed to help others...weren't they? Jack stood on wobbling legs, "But I-"
"WE DON'T CARE!" Bunny took a threatening step towards the Spirit of Winter, "Every year, ya do nothin' but cause trouble and destruction! Ya kill people an' destroy homes, just like that blizzard twenty eight years ago! I ain't lettin' ya do the same thing to my holiday!" Jack's mind
"I-It was an accident!" the wind shifted slightly to Jack's left and with a glance, the boy saw the end of his staff sticking out from a bush, "I lost control and-"
"I don't want yer excuses." Bunny started towards Jack with a fierce glare and paws out stretched to catch him,
"NO!" Jack screamed and ran to the side towards his shepherd's crook. He was only a few feet away when Bunny tackled him to the ground.
Jack Frost had no recollection of anything afterwards. A desolate winter scene greeted the white haired child upon awakening; five feet of snow camouflaged cars, mailboxes, plant life, and all of the unfortunate woodland creatures. Icicles hung from every available surface, broken windows were boarded from the inside, and a deathly still silence filled the air. He had to get out. Get away. Run away from that terrifying laughter that echoed in his head with a sadistic glee. He refused the comfort of the winds, the safety of their intangible arms. He refused to hear that familiar voice in the back of his mind. He refused to acknowledge that he was the one who did this.
It wasn't the sequel you guys wanted, but I hope everyone found this chapter to their liking. I had a hard time figuring out how to portray Jack's other self. I really liked writing Hiccup, Merida, and Rapunzel though. If ya'll are okay with it, I would love to write some more about them and their sibling bond with Jack and possibly throw in Seraphina/Mother Nature in as well.
On another note, all the blizzards/storms mentioned above are actual historical events (except the Blizzard of '68, pretty sure that one was made up just for the movie). I think I may have made Bunnymund a bit too cruel, but he has reasons that I might touch up on later. If I do more one shots or a series, I'm going to go into depth about the negative relationship between Bunny and Jack and explore his other relationships with the guardians, but for now, I'm just gonna stick to subtle hints here and there.
So, review, critique, point out any errors with spelling or grammar and I will be over joyed :D