The Vikings were led past a stone bridge, around the outskirts of a forest and past lone cottages poking up through clumps of weeds and formations of rocks. The dirt path changed in colour from a blonde tan to a rich brown; the cottages were covered in thick evergreen ivy - but it was nothing to the castle.
Jack stared up at the castle, momentarily forgetting how important it was to stay focused and keep that bright red curly head in view; the castle was that magnificent. It was huge with massive stone towers and walls atop a grey cliff sprouting summer grass and moss; people milled about the dirt roads, buying and selling from hide and meat vendors. The stone walls were strung with ivy as thick as green leafy rope; the smell of freshly baked cakes and pastries came from what Jack suspected was the castle kitchen. He had to wipe his lip to keep from salivating; he might not have been able to eat but his mind and body sure missed the sensation.
Hiccup was in front of Jack; they were seperated by a few lines of Vikings and Scots. Jack could see Hiccup beside his father as Stoick and The Bear King continued to converse, rather loudly, despite the already loud atmosphere of the centre of the kingdom. Vendors shouted at Jack and the Vikings, trying to tempt them into emptying their pockets; Jack didn't enjoy having to ignore them as he had been ignored for three hundred years himself but none of the Vikings seemed interested in what the vendors had to give until they began offering ale and whisky and Jack wanted to stay as inconspious as possible.
"Aye, White 'Air," A voice said beside Jack; he blinked and glanced to the side, met by a head of unruly orange curls like summer flame and blue eyes as clear as a river's tide. "You with the Vikings, are yeh?"
Jack nodded, continuing forward.
She had to pull up her dress a bit to keep in stride with him; her pale freckled hands full of green cloth. Up close, Jack noticed the golden silky fabric poking through the top cloth near her hands, elbows and shoulders; the shoulder bit was obscured by her hair. She glanced at his face, as if wanting a better look. "'Ave never seen yeh come with the lot befer. You new?"
"Newer," Jack replied, his boots scraping against a patch of mud.
"What's yer name?" She inquired; Jack had a feeling she already knew. It was an odd feeling, but ever since Hiccup had told Jack he'd seen him before, Jack had began to feel as if he'd crossed paths with the Defenders more than once. But wouldn't he have remembered a girl with such fiery hair and a boy with such soft lips?
"Ja - ," Jack began, as the girl finished it, " - ck."
Jack stopped midstride, turning his face to stare at her. Then he realised she'd stepped into a pile of warm horse dung and was frantically trying to wipe her shoe in the grass, repeating over and over, "Ack!"
When she'd gotten as much as she could off her shoe, she glanced at Jack through the curls that had dropped in front of her face. She bit the inside of her cheek before thrusting her hand out, using her other hand to throw the hair from her face.
Jack stared at the pink freckled hand; the frill of gold silk protruded near her wrist. He felt his own reach up in instinct, his metal brace glinting in the light of the sun overhead; frostbit fingers met sunkissed and the two immeaditly shied away from one another at the feeling of the other's body temperature.
"'Am Merida," Summer said, still feeling cold snake up her arm in a shiver.
"Jack." His pale skin was burnt red at the contact.
The two stared at each other, one set of blue confused, another calm and collected. Jack rubbed the burnt bit of his skin against his chestplate and Merida brought her fingers together to preserve heat.
The girl's head turned at the call of her mother; she glanced at Jack, still holding her hands. "'Ave to go," She said, her tone still ebbed with confusion at the cold touch of the mysterious white-haired Viking, "'All see yeh at the feast, then, Yak."
Jack was about to correct her when she turned on her soiled heel and followed her family through a large wooden door, similar to those Jack had seen depicting the entrances of mediveal castles from Jamie's storybooks. The Vikings began to file through the door into the castle; Jack decided to follow, as his hair was beginning to catch the attention of the lot of Scottish vendors whom had all seen his meeting with the princess; they began to shout after him as he hastened to quicken his step. The calls of "White 'Air!" and "Yak! Yak!" met Jack's pink ears as he rushed back into line with the other Vikings, already on their tour of The Bear King's castle.
...
The tour began and ended with The Grand Hall, as throughout the entire tour, instead of complimenting the intricate carvings in the wood and the generous amount of bedchambers for their usage, many of the Vikings complained of their grumbling stomachs and their aching feet (everyone besides Hiccup, who did compliment the carvings and thank Elinor countless times).
When Elinor finally grew tired of the complaining (mainly from her husband, Fergus) she clapped her hands and addressed everyone with one word, a word that roused cheers from both the Scots and the Vikings: "Feast!"
In The Grand Hall, there was a seperate table for The Bear King and his family and his selected Viking friends (Stoick, Hiccup and everyone aboard the ship they'd arrived on). Jack sat near the end, farther from Hiccup than he liked but the lack of the boy's distraction allowed Jack to pay more attention to the people and their tendencies.
Halfway through the meal, Jack had already been able to pinpoint many of the Scots - 'The Trouble Triplets' or Three T's as Jack pegged them; the large woman who was known to scold but made Fergus' favourite cakes; Fergus, a loud talker and ravenous eater with a bit of a drinking problem who slurred with Stoick as they looped their arms together to gulp down their own mugs of fine malt whisky; Elinor, who watched her family disapprovingly out of the corner of her eye but tried hard not to scold; and Merida, the princess, who did not eat at all like a princess and talked out with a mouthful of lamb and rebellious tongue about her point of view on the sea dragon massacres that had been a topic of conversation by Hiccup.
Jack realised that the princess was as fiery and unruly as her summer flame hair; she told vulgar jokes under her breath, causing the Dragon Trainers to burst into laughter over their cups of watered ale; Snotlout actually spit his into his plate of sheep stomach, cackling maniacally and slapping his knee.
A set of wolfhounds prowled for food between tables and boot-clad feet; Jack noticed them and picked his plate from the table, setting it in his lap and glancing around the table. He dumped the plate upside down before stealthily placing it back on the table before him; the wolfhounds caught the scent and dashed to the table, fighting beneath it for the stomach with gnashing teeth and spitting snouts. One of them, victorious, flew off on a flurry of grey feet to the town centre to loose the other hound that was chasing it down; Jack glanced under the table to the other wolfhound that was lapping up the abondoned meat juice.
Jack glanced up, hearing his name. Merida was watching him, obviously awaiting a reply. Jack glanced sideways at the Trainers, all watching Jack; Hiccup and Astrid looked apprehensive. Jack looked around wildly, inclining his head slightly forward as he asked, "Huh?"
Snotlout and Tuffnut laughed; Merida repeated her statement. "You don't look much like a Dragon Trainer - so what are yeh?"
Jack raised his eyebrows, unsure how to reply to her bluntness.
"He's from Jotunheim," Snot said for him.
Merida laughed, her pink hand curling along the rim of her cup of watered ale. "'Suppose it fits - what with the 'air an' the cold."
Jack shrugged. "Yeah, well."
"But, the armour - yeh've gotta be something big, 'aven't ya?" Merida continued.
"We just brought him along for the Hunt," Snot continued. "He doesn't do much other than that."
Merida didn't look at Snot; she was focused on Jack and the attention unnerved him; after getting barely any attention before, suddenly being bombarded with looks and stares was hard to get used to espically when he'd been invisible for three hundred years.
"So, ya hunt, do yeh?" Merida inquired. "What do you use?"
"Staff," Jack said immeaditly. The Trainers all stared at him as if he were talking in foreign tongues; Merida furrowed her brow.
"Never heard of it," Merida said.
"It's typically used for stunning," Jack continued, "but it's got a hook on the end, to sort of finish anybody off or force them off their feet."
Merida nodded, obviously still confused; the only two to understand what Jack meant were Astrid and Hiccup, who could barely hear over Fergus and Stoick's loud drunken speaking. "How about you?" Jack asked, trying to keep from having unnessecary pauses.
"Bow," Merida said. "'Ave quite a shot."
None of the Trainers were eager to call her bluff; they knew that this princess wasn't an ordinary one even from just a first impression.
"Like Robin Hood," Jack muttered, remembering Jamie talking highly of the hooded bandit that stole from the rich and gave to the poor; his comment was only heard by Merida, as seconds later, as she was trying to recall what he'd said, her shoe was then unceremoniously ripped off by the hound beneath the table, which had been bitten in the rear by the two other wolfhounds that had reappeared under the table to fight for the soiled shoe. Any conversation was cut off by the angry barking of the dogs as they fought for the shoe.
Jack laughed slightly, looking behind him as the dogs left out the open door, knocking over the scolding woman as she tried to balance two trays of cakes. Jack leapt to his feet, knowing he had to save the cakes - it was the one thing he'd actually force himself to eat - and so he rushed to the woman's aid, despite how many children she had scolded in the past. She teetered back and forth and he nimbly caught a tray, loosing only a few cakes to the floor; the woman caught the next tray and Jack held out an arm to keep the woman from crashing into the floor and himself.
The room grew quiet until Fergus shouted, "CAKES!"
The room went back to its loud atmosphere, only louder by the shouts and hollers and applause for Jack's save of the cakes. The woman he'd helped blushed a rosy pink and he helped her by taking one of the trays to Fergus; more servant women came in with more trays, two apeice per table. Fergus clapped Jack on the shoulder, so that Jack was forced to stay in close proxmitity with his whisky breath, thanking him loudly by shouting in his ear.
Fergus let Jack go, giving him an armload of cakes to take to his side of the table, which already had its own tray; the tray was being quickly depleted, however, by the snatching hands of the Triple T's and the Trainers. Hiccup and Astrid moved to sit near Jack when Snot snarled that Jack was a show-off; they flanked him on both sides and there was no more talking, at least from those three, who were too busy eating to converse.
The cakes smelt divine and were warm to the touch, but Jack didn't know exactly what they tasted like. He tried one, only to be greeted by the bland taste of air instead of flaky pastry and strawberry jam.
He glanced at Hiccup, who was eating his own cake. "How's it taste?" Jack asked, lowering his voice.
Hiccup tried to speak through his cake, then thought better of it and swallowed hugely. He smiled sheepishly then glanced at Jack's half-eaten cake with sudden guilt. "Can you not ... ?"
"Nah," Jack said, placing it on the table; he bent his arms on the table and crossed them, placing his chin on his topmost arm. He glanced at Hiccup, smiling slightly, "Describe it to me, Hic."
"What? The cake?" Hiccup asked, his mouth suddenly very dry.
Jack nodded, letting his eyes flutter shut. He tried to block out the noise of The Grand Hall.
Hiccup glanced down at the cake in his hand. He sighed, took a swig of his ale and then a bite of his cake, molling the taste over his tongue. He was met by a barrage of flavours. "It's sweet," Hiccup began, "we don't have many sweet things in Berk. Astrid, do you remember that stuff Gobber tried making, with the goat milk?"
"Yeah," Astrid nodded, "he tried to make this icy drink that turned out really sweet and he got really angry about it because it aggravated his stone tooth."
Jack smiled, thinking about Tooth and how panicked she would be if she ever saw Gobber's stone replacement for his lower bicuspid. Jack peeked open an eye, asking, "Are you talking about ice cream?"
Hiccup and Astrid glanced at each other over the flare of Jack's winter-white hair; together they asked, "What's that?"
Jack laughed, shrugging, waiting for Hiccup to continue.
"Well, it's really soft and spongy," Hiccup continued, "and it has this berry stuff on it and it pretty much gets soaked inside the cake. Then there's this powder on it that's really sweet - "
" - powdered sugar," Jack told them. "My first believer's obsessed with the stuff."
Astrid smirked, glancing at Jack. "Look, Frost, can you taste ale?"
"Haven't tried," Jack said, running a finger along his cup rim. He sighed, picking the cup up and leaning up on his elbows to take a drink. He didn't exactly taste anything but he did get a buzz - Jack wasn't used to that. He wasn't sure how the buzz even got into his system - maybe since he hadn't had it since three hundred years or maybe it aroused his fun, he wasn't sure. All he knew was he missed that feeling and he wanted it. The fact that Jack took several more drinks after answered Astrid's question.
"Whoa, kid, calm down," Astrid said, grabbing Jack's wrist, "you're not going to be able to sleep if you keep that up."
She was right, of course, as when everyone else was snoring in their bedchambers, Jack was staring at the dark ceiling, his arms behind his head, squishing his pillow, the rest of his body covered with a fur blanket. Jack stretched his arm to get to his glowing satchel; he pulled a fiery red hourglass and a golden hourglass from the silver folds of the bag. They were both equally bright, although the gold one glowed brighter near the fairy story.
Jack shoved the time-keepers back into the satchel, slamming his back into the bed again. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to sleep - but everytime he closed them, he saw darkness and he remembered his first memory of the cold and the dark and the loneliness. He could see a shadow of wings and a flurry of claws and a twisting hourglass twirling upside down, tinkling grains of sand within the glass of its container.
After several hours of restless turning, Jack fell asleep, his fists clutching sections of fur blanket as if his life depended on it. He was dreaming again - of that memory - of his sister, of him, falling through ice and then of him letting the Guardians down, seeing The Warren destroyed and the hope leaving the kids' eyes, leaving Jamie's eyes; he saw Hiccup falling from his dragon, the princess with the fiery hair's fearful reflection in a pair of dark merciless eyes and strands of gold like curls of colour from a paintbrush. Soon, all the colour was gone and Jack was reaquainted with the dark and the cold and the fear that held him so endearingly, so tenderly as if he were a fragile thing, easily broken. Already broken.
...
Meanwhile, Hiccup lay awake, still feeling not as quite a buzz as Jack, but enough to keep him awake. He tossed and he turned, uncomfortable without Jack beside him or his dragon breathing next to a flickering fire. Hiccup sat up on his bed, grabbing his metal leg; he latched it on, letting it touch the stone floor until he was sure it could support his weight. Then Hiccup stood, teetering; he ripped the fur blanket from the bed as he walked to the door, pulling it open and peeking his head out. When the coast was clear, Hiccup left his bedchamber, trying to use to blanket to muffle the clinking of his metal foot.
Hiccup passed Jack's room, wondering if he was still awake. If he wasn't, Hiccup didn't wish to bother him; he knew how hard it was for Jack to sleep. Hiccup continued past Jack's door. He walked past the stuffed bear in The Grand Hall; it was a hauntingly tall figure with bared fangs and beady eyes and claws as lethal as knives. Hiccup made sure to skirt around it quickly.
Hiccup finally pushed his way past the castle doors, making sure they closed firmly behind him. Hiccup made his way down to the stables, as that was where the dragons were being permitted to sleep. Hiccup didn't see Toothless in the hoard of dragons resting on the straw-strewn dirt floor; he squinted, trying to see him in the lack of light. "Toothless," Hiccup called silently, "Toothless, come on, bud - AHH!"
Hiccup got hit in the back with a force of about three Vikings; Toothless panted at him, tongue lolling and eyes wide and emerald. The dragon started to lick on Hiccup's face and Hiccup threw his arms up to try to fend him off - "Toothless, honestly! I'm here to go to bed, not play!"
Toothless sat down at that, watching Hiccup as he pointed to a corner of the dragon stable that was unoccupied. Toothless gave a sigh and followed the order, which in his mind was a mere suggestion, and laid himself down, curling himself up and closing his eyes. He peeked one open expectantly. Hiccup stepped over and around the other dragons, all the while dragging a blanket; when he finally reached Toothless, he sat down and snuggled into his cool scaly hide, wrapping his blanket around him and the dragon's feet.
Toothless folded a wing over the two of them, rubbing his snout into the floor before letting out a puff of warm breath to disturb the straw near his nose. The straw floated back down, closer to the dragon's nostrils than before; the dragon puffed out another breath and finally closed his eyes, feeling Hiccup rustle into his side.
Hiccup fell asleep to the rhythmic beating of the dragon's heart and the radiated body heat of its hide; the heat reminded him of fire, of devastating flame, and he was choking on smoke and his eyes were watering from the flame and he was falling, the wind, it was screaming in anguish; the noise caused him to jerk and thrash against Toothless, who was having a similar dream, that from an airel view, watching Hiccup fall from below, his arms outstretched, a scream for the dragon coursing up his throat before the raging flames leapt upward and swallowed the boy whole.
...
Pitch had decided to wander the Highlands before he resided once again to his humble Dark Kingdom; it was refreshing, this taste of fear from children whom he haunted generations later in a modernised sense. Fear, it was a funny thing; no matter the time nor the age, there was always fear, always anxiety, always a way for him to prickle the hairs on the backs of rigid necks and enough darkness to manipulate into shadows and shapes, enough children to allow to quake beneath blankets and enough imagination to evoke the scariest beasts even Pitch hadn't wanted to let run amock.
Imagination was timeless, it seemed, as was fear.
"What a delightful combination," Pitch mused, peeking his head between shadows from across the Highlands; his very presence provoked such a fear in them all - even adults, especially adults. He watched a practically large man with fiery red hair whimper in his sleep; Pitch had the urge to laugh. He normally laughed at the incompetence of others whom were frightened to face their fears; what made this man any different?
You know that fear, An unfamilar voice said; he'd rarely heard this one since he'd felt the change of darkness overtake him. That's the fear of losing a family.
I haven't got a family, A bitter voice answered the first. I never have.
You did, once, The more fatherly voice urged. You want one again. You wish you could be with her again but she's frightened, she'll always be frightened of what you've become. Jack won't be any different; the one who has to change isn't them, it's you.
"PIPE DOWN!" Pitch shouted; his voice caused the black image above the man's head to falter, signalling his wakening. The black bear in the dream began to crumble to dust and the man rolled to his side, trying to see through bleary eyes and a fresh sheen of tears over bright blue eyes - eyes that reminded Pitch of a certain plan-wrecking white-haired winter spirit ...
Pitch's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared through the dark out at Jack; he could see the boy trembling from his most recent Nightmare. Pitch was torn between sneering at the fact that he'd broken the child so early in the morning and kicking himself for getting joy from this.
Eventually, he decided to leave, exhibiting his stay on the shadows under the townspeoples' eyes and the early awakening of most of the Highlands, even before the Sun came to force him into hiding; his hand gripped the neck of an hourglass of black sand, which he shook.
It's nice, having time on my side like this, Pitch thought for a moment before outstretching a foot through the portal, only to be greeted by the face of a certain curly-haired wench who glared at Pitch with burning eyes.
"I suppose the bear ordeal went well?" She snapped. "Did the thought of forewarning ever come to you?"
Pitch dully noted the fresh scratches on her bare arms, to which black sand bled instead of red blood of the Living, of the Real, of the Believed.
"Why, no, it didn't," Pitch said, turning on his heel and walking to his throne; he sat with a grand flourish, looking to the icy centerpeice before him. "You, there," Pitch called to a hoard of shadows much too close to his throne to his liking, "A little to the left, if you will."
/I'm on Fall Break so you guys get an update because you're lovely
I also have a Halloween party later tonight, to which I'm going as Jack, thought you'd like to know
Oh hey and Merida's great just