A/N: Warning: I wrote this while I was sick, shivering, and feverish. So it might be a little more choppy and incoherent than previous chapters.
Oh, btw, in case you were wondering, people die in this. Although I guess that was obvious. A lot of characters die in this story.
Also, Head Canon #1: Each Guardian has a way to alert other Guardians of danger. North has the Northern Lights, Tooth fills the place with the smell of lotus blossoms, Bunny makes asters grow all over the walls, and Sandy sends out little sand messengers. The reason Bunny didn't warn the others when he was killed by Jack, was...well, he had been stabbed. He was dying. Not much you can do when you're dying.
And, just one more thing: I've made a forum, people. No, this is not senseless promotion. I've made a forum where you can ask questions about this story (as well as others I wrote). That way I won't be answering the same question over and over via PMs xD. Of course, only registered users can post, but if you're a guest reviewer with a burning question, than feel free to attach your question to a review, and I will answer it at the forum. Link can be found near the top of my profile page.
Disclaimer: I do not own RotG. As evidenced by the fact that "Jack Frost: The Killer Guardian" is not a thing, and hopefully never will be.
"Those who'll play with cats must expect to be scratched."-from "Don Quixote", by Miguel de Cervantes.
North's workshop was, surprisingly, silent. The workstations and machinery were powered off, the yetis were patrolling the halls with grim looks on their faces and bulky weapons in their paws, and the elves were mysteriously missing.
There was no trace of the jolliness that had so pervaded the place for the last two or three centuries.
North himself was locked up in his office, staring morosely at the darkened field of ice and snow outside. Concern and worry for his three companions constricted his heart, but what hurt the most was the feeling of abject betrayal that held his soul in a vice-like grip. He had trusted Jack, despite the boy's otherworldly, elvish appearance, the bright blue eyes that appeared blank and emotionless, the cat-like pupils, and the suspicious-looking dark streaks in his otherwise snow-colored hair. Every detail had practically screamed out to North in a never-ending chant of WRONG WRONG WRONG, but nevertheless, he had ignored the signs. Now, he and his coworkers were paying for it.
He leaned back deeply in his chair, sighing morosely. He had hoped, vainly, that he would not have to resort to such drastic measures, but the best defense was a good offense, and as such, there was no recourse but to destroy Jack Frost.
First, however, they had to wait. With the new moon high in the sky, marking the time when their creator was not by their side, to attack a cat sidhe would be sheer madness. No, it was better to wait in safety until the next full moon, when the Guardians would be strong and the demon would be weak. He prayed that his companions were all alive and well-
The sickly scent of lotus blossums filled the air.
He jerked upright, breath stilling. That smell could only mean one thing: that Tooth was in danger, and needed help.
He practically flew out the door, grabbing his sabres on the way to his stash of magical snowglobes. There was no time to grab the sleigh, for when a cat sidhe was involved, every second counted.
He would need backup, of course. Sandy would not respond to the alarm, for the little man unfortunately lacked a sense of smell, but Bunny would definitely be there, and among the three of them, North was confident that they could chase away the sidhe for a little while longer.
The delicate glass construction smashed against the floor with a cry of "Tooth Palace!", and North hastily jumped down the whirling mess of colors that formed the portal.
When he arrived at his destination, it was to the torn and mangled body of Tooth, dozens of tiny lifeless fairies strewn about, and Jack Frost leaning casually by the lever that triggered the alarm, smiling like the cat that had swallowed the canary.
North gaped at the sight, horrified by the carnage around him, and Jack smirked. "What's the matter, North? Cat got your tongue?"
The cat sidhe laughed lightly at his own little joke, a dangerous grin on his thin face. North scowled, gripping the hilts of his swords tightly. "You will regret this, демон."
Jack snickered derisively, eyes narrowing menacingly as he tensed in preparation for a pounce. "Famous last words, North. Famous last words."
"The problem with cats is that they get the exact same look on their face whether they see a moth or an axe-murderer." ~Paula Poundstone
A/N: Was that last quote ina-purr-piate, yet a-meow-sing? Yes. Will I stop meow-sacring fictional characters? Probably not. Will I paws the making of terrible and tasteless cat-puns? LOLOL, NO.
...I'm sorry. I blame that on the fever. I swear I'll never do that again.
...Re-mew?