Chapter Text

CHAPTER 2

Snowball Fights With A Frost Giant

The way North was looking at Jack really reminded him of the way parents had looked at Jackson Overland, just lacking the overall contempt and disdain. Eyebrows pulled together and lowered in an almost exasperated crease, mouth tugged just a little bit down at the corners, and a jaw not quite clenched but tense all the same. It only had the worst part left over: disappointment.

North cleared his throat, crossing his arms a bit tighter over his chest before letting out a slow sigh. He gestured to Jack, Bunny, and Tooth. “Well?”

“Oh!” Tooth fluttered up so quickly her fairies were nearly sent tumbling. She offered a bright (but a bit sheepish) smile as she zoomed over to North. “We solved the problem on our own! I’m so sorry for summoning you, especially with Christmas so close.”

“Bah, is fine. Always willing to help!”

Behind North, Jack could see the sleigh in all its glory, polished wood gleaming beneath the lights of the Pole, bells chiming softly beneath the restless shifting of six massive reindeer. They didn’t look too happy to have been brought out at three in the morning, throwing their heads around and stamping in the frozen grass. One snapped its head toward Jack with its dark, intelligent eyes fixed squarely on him. The moment they spotted him, a chorus of snorts and rough chuffs rolled through the air, several of them stamping and tossing their antlers. Jack got the gist: it translated perfectly into ‘you’re in deep trouble’ and ‘caught red-handed’ and a bunch of other curse words.

Jack looked away and nudged the water with his staff, watching as a thin layer of frost spread across part of its surface. The cold usually took hold quickly, freezing the water and transforming it into solid ice. But this time, the frost weakened almost instantly, dissolving and melting away as if the water refused to freeze.

A small frown crossed Jack’s face. He stared at the rippling surface for a moment before turning back toward North.

The man was still staring at him, his bushy eyebrows furrowing more. “Jack?”

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Just act like you always do. Jack smiled, rolling his shoulders back and leaning on his staff. “North! Don’t worry about it. Like Tooth said, all’s good—”

“I heard. But I am more concerned about what else I overheard.” He gestured, again, to Jack and Bunny.

Bunny looked as awkward as Jack felt. The guy really sucked at hiding his feelings. “That was nothing. Just—”

“Still not getting along?” There was humor laced in North’s voice as he looked between them.

Jack scoffed. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Jack was the reason Tooth called you in the first place,” Bunny said.

“Snitch!”

Bunny shot him a scowl before turning back to North. “The ratbag stole my teeth and ended up dropping it into that lake—”

“Because you threw a boomerang at me!” Jack snapped, pointing his staff at Bunny. “If you’re gonna snitch, don’t leave out details!”

“I wouldn’t have thrown it had you just given me the bloody teeth!”

“Hey hey hey!” North exclaimed, stepping between them with a grand sweep of his arms. In one motion, he pulled out his swords and held them between the two of them like a referee stopping a duel.

Jack only stared at the blades with a growing frown. Bunny, rolling his eyes with a little snort, reached over and casually nudged one sword aside with his paw. “Mate, no need to point swords at us,” the rabbit grumbled.

“See?” North said, looking from one to the other with exaggerated disappointment. “This is exactly what I mean! The fighting! The bickering! The very thing these group projects were made to stop!” He lowered the swords with a huff. “We are supposed to learn trust, not who can annoy each other fastest!”

“Clearly Bunny wins that,” Jack muttered.

“You little—” Bunny groaned and pulled at his ears before jabbing a furry finger at Jack. “You are the most aggravating creature I have ever met!”

Jack grinned. “Aw, that’s almost sweet.”

Bunny let out a snarl with narrowed eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Really, you should be renamed the Guardian of Grumps,” Jack jeered. “You can’t even take a joke.”

“And for someone who’s supposed to spread fun, you spend a shocking amount of time pissing people off.”

Jack’s smile wavered, his grip on Twinetender tightening. “Pissing you off specifically—”

North groaned. “Again with the arguing!” He said, effectively shutting both of them up. “What are we going to do with you two…” North rubbed his temples with another groan, grumbling in Russian under his breath so softly Jack couldn’t make anything out as he paced back and forth.

Jack grimaced, shifting on his feet and staring aggressively at the sand and grass under his feet as if he could glare a hole straight through the earth. His fingers drummed against the familiar wood of his staff in an uneven rhythm before tightening around it hard enough for the edges to bite into his palm. He took a slow breath. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

The words felt flimsy the moment they formed.

It stung—the disappointed look, the exasperated words, the particular sort of weariness hidden underneath them. Not anger, though somehow that would’ve been easier to handle. Anger burned hot and fast, sharp and loud and brief, and he kind of enjoyed it. This was tired, frustrated, someone looking at him and wondering why he kept making everything harder than it had to be. It sent jabs of something akin to guilt throughout Jack’s body. He had a very clear memory working around inside his head, of Jackson’s father saying the exact same thing, pacing the exact same way.

What had happened? Jack squinted.

Oh. Right. A freak sledding accident. “Accident” being an exceptionally generous description of Jackson’s decision to launch himself down a hill on a sled that was very obviously going too fast and very obviously impossible to steer. Jackson had somehow managed to miss every tree, every rock, and every ditch on the way down. Instead, he’d hit the house, effectively tearing a hole into the back wall, and right before winter no less. Jackson himself had escaped with little more than a bunch of cuts, bruises, a sprained wrist, and two missing teeth, but the house…

Jackson had gotten a lecture that lasted the better part of an hour, lost sledding privileges for the rest of the winter, and spent every waking moment from the second the sun rose to when the moon took its place helping with cleanup and repairs. He considered himself lucky for that, but the disappointed look from his father, who normally supported and laughed at Jackson’s antics, had been the worst part.

Jackson had learned then that even parents could run out of patience.

“Oh!” North exclaimed, placing his hands on his hips (somehow avoiding impaling himself) and jerking Jack out of his own head. “I know exactly what you need! A bonding exercise!”

“Oh god,” Jack mumbled, right as Bunny immediately said “not on your nelly.”

Look, it did make sense. Jack could see how North jumped to that conclusion, since bonding exercises were supposedly made to strengthen trust and relationships.

But come on.

“It will be fun!” North looked between them with his grin somehow growing. “I already have idea. Up in islands near place called Svalbard, a Frost Giant was thawed!”

“A Frost Giant?” Jack asked, perking up. “As in a Jotun?”

North nodded. “Yes! It is heading towards the capital. Children live there. How about you two—” he pointed at Jack and Bunny, “go deal with it! It will be easy.”

“How do you know about this?” Bunny asked warily. North barely opened his mouth before Bunny pointed his boomerang at him. “If you say you felt it in your belly, I’m gonna throw this at you next.”

North laughed. “The Winds told me.”

Jack glanced toward Sandy, who had a cluster of golden symbols swirling above his head while he gestured with both hands. Something along the lines of: a Wind spirit came to the North Pole requesting help an hour ago. It was going to be my job to take care of it once my shift was over, which is why I was with North.

“I mean,” Jack began, shrugging half-heartedly, “I don’t mind going after a Frost Giant. It’ll be cool facing off another spirit with frost powers.” If anything, he was downplaying the slight excitement buzzing throughout his body. “But I’m not doing it with him.” He jutted a thumb at Bunny.

Bunny scoffed. “Like you said, I’m the warrior. You’d need my help, you frosty little—”

North held up his hands and they both fell silent once more. “Together.”

“Okay, no offense North, but why should I listen to you?” Bunny asked. “I don’t have to do this if I don't want to.”

North hummed at that, closing his eyes and nodding before turning to Tooth and Sandy. “Alright, vote! All for sending Jack and Bunny after Frost Giant?”

Sandy raised his hand almost immediately, as well as North, and Tooth at least shot Jack an apologetic glance before raising her own.

“Traitors,” Jack grumbled as North happily said “well, that settles it!”

“You have been fighting with Bunny a lot more recently,” Tooth began. “This could do you some good, maybe?”

Bunny crossed his arms, his foot thumping rapidly against the ground. “If Jack screwed up something as simple as gathering teeth, how would a battle go any better?”

Jack frowned at that. “I can take a battle seriously.”

“Yeah, sure you can.”

“I can!” Jack insisted.

“See?” North declared, nodding his head confidently. “Fighting. Again!”

“I think a-a—I dunno, a board game would work better,” Bunny said as he turned to North. “Like Chutes and Ladders, or something that doesn’t involve putting my life in his hands—”

“No, no, you two are too competitive for board games.” North’s smile grew. “Just think! Instead of fighting each other, you fight together!”

Jack wanted to argue some more, but North’s smile grew in a way that told him that there would be no winning this argument and deflated. Bunny, however, did not seem as willing to accept this and continued arguing.

He heard a familiar tweet and glanced over as Baby Tooth flew over towards Tooth. Tooth smiled as the little fairy approached her before turning to Jack. “Jack, do you mind handing me the teeth?”

He’d forgotten he was still holding the bag—well, both of them. Jack nodded and tossed it over to her, as well as the other bag, and watched as the bigger fairy turned to the smaller one right as another baby fairy zipped forward. “Perfect! Girls, will you take these bags of teeth back to the palace?” Tooth asked.

Baby Tooth hovered in place for a moment, her large eyes flicking toward Jack. She let out a questioning chirp before giving an enthusiastic yes. Wrapping her tiny hands around the bag’s strap, she somehow managed to lift the sack with ease despite it being several times larger than she was. Jack watched with amusement. How she was able to carry something that should have weighed more than her entire body, he had no idea. He gave her a small wave as she chirped happily back at him and shot off into the sky, disappearing into the night in a streak of shimmering gold and green.

Jack tilted his head to the side, listening. “Little Gale?” he asked quietly. “You still there?”

Nothing answered him.

For a moment he stayed where he was, waiting for the familiar tug of wind against his sleeves or the playful brush of air through his hair. Instead, nothing. Bunny’s argument with North was finally sputtering out, the oversized rabbit apparently deciding that whatever point he had been trying to make wasn’t worth making anymore, though Jack could have sworn Bunny had said at one point “I’m countless years older than you, you can't order me around!” Sandy hovered nearby, golden symbols made of sand forming above his head only to dissolve a moment later into glittering dust as he spoke to Tooth. Beneath it all, Jack could feel the faint hum of magic in the air, subtle but steadily growing stronger the longer the Guardians remained gathered together.

But there was no answering breeze, no curious gust tugging at his hoodie, no Wind spirit.

Jack frowned. The gale had most likely wandered off. Despite it often hanging around Jack, Wind spirits weren’t exactly known for staying in one place for very long.

After another second, he gave a small shrug and turned his attention back to the others. North was watching him with a look on his face that Jack couldn't describe. Which said a lot, considering Jack spent three hundred years on his own studying people and magical creatures as much as possible.

After a few seconds where North was stroking his chin, the man nodded. “Jack, come with me.”

Jack winced—he recognized that tone. It was the same one his father used to have whenever he wanted to have a talk. A rare occurrence, but it happened.

“No, I’m fine, I can just—”

“Jack.”

“Alright.” He ducked his head and hurried after North, dragging his staff lightly across the ground as he went. Halfway there, he glanced back toward the others just in time to see Bunny thump a foot against the floor and disappear into a tunnel.

Jack snorted quietly to himself. “At least I didn’t call him a kangaroo this time.”

North let out a big, jolly laugh at that, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Back to North Pole!” North grinned down at him as he climbed into the sleigh. It rocked under his weight, swaying as he grabbed the reigns.

“And the others?” Jack asked as he followed suit. The reindeer chuffed at him as he approached, thrashing their heads and stomping at the ground and more or less cursing him out. Jack paid them no mind, hopping into the sleigh. North silently scooched over as Jack climbed in next to him.

“They’ll be fine. Tooth has more duties, Sandy has dreams to spread, and Bunny can use one of his tunnels to go wherever. He will fetch you when ready.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “He said that?”

“Something like that!” North grinned. “Seatbelt?”

“Why do you say that every time when there are no—”

The sleigh lurched forward so violently that Jack nearly slammed into the back, only being held up by one of North’s hands pressing up against his back. He shot North a grin before he regained his footing. He gripped the handlebar as the six reindeer exploded into motion, charging forward and lifting off into the sky. North bellowed out a laugh, yanking on the reigns and looking over at Jack.

The wind roared in his ears, clouds whipping past beneath the runners. Below them, forests and houses became dark smudges against endless snow. The sleigh always felt different from flying by himself. North’s sleigh rattled and surged beneath him, every turn tugging at his stomach, every climb pressing him back against the seat as the reindeer hauled them higher into the sky. He occasionally wondered what it would be like to ride the reindeer themselves, but he was more likely to get impaled on their horns.

They burst through a bank of clouds in a spray of mist and moonlight, emerging into a sky so clear and vast that it seemed to stretch on forever. When the sleigh was so far up in the sky they were over the clouds, North pulled out one of his snow globes, sending a wink in Jack’s direction before breathing into the glass. “The North Pole.” He reached his hand back and launched it into the air. It exploded in front of the reindeer, a glimpse of the North Pole before it warped into a spiral of colors and sparkles. The reindeer and sleigh ran right into it, and the world seemed to twist around before snapping into focus as they burst out the other end.

The North Pole came into view as a burst of white, the only color being the brown wood and the glowing honey lights from the windows of the workshop and the blinking Christmas lights that decorated the lining—the elves work, no doubt.

North yanked on the reigns. “Take us down!” He called. The reindeer didn’t say anything in response, but they yanked downwards, dragging the sleigh with them. North turned to Jack with a near manic grin. “Hold on tight!”

As if Jack needed to be told. He was already gripping the rails as the tunnel in the ice came into view, his hands tightening as the opening grew closer. The reindeer banked hard, sending the sleigh into a sharp turn before diving straight into the passage carved through the glacier itself.

The tunnel twisted upward through the mountain in impossible spirals and sweeping loops, strings of lights flashing past as the sleigh raced along the frozen passage toward the runway above. The sleigh corkscrewed around another bend, runners throwing sparks where they scraped against the ice and eventually, the tunnel widened and the runway came into view.

It seemed like North really had no idea how to gently land his sleigh. Granted, that could have been because of the six beasts he had steering it were wild and crazy, but that was besides the point. Maybe it was easier during Christmas Eve, otherwise Jack had no idea how the reindeer and sleigh didn’t cause more damage to the roofs than Jackson had with a small sled.

The sleigh slammed into the ground with a bone-rattling thud, fishtailing wildly as the reindeer thundered on for several more yards before finally dragging it to a stop in a spray of snow and debris.

Jack laughed as the sleigh finally skidded to a stop, the runners carving through fresh snow as the North Pole erupted into motion around them. Yetis were already pouring onto the runway, chattering and waving clipboards the second the sleigh touched down. Beside him, North was moving before the sleigh had even fully settled. Without a word, he handed the reigns to Jack before jumping from the sleigh in one smooth motion, promptly heading towards the reindeer.

The reindeer gave an impatient tug on their reins, nearly pitching Jack over the front rail. “Hey—!” He dug in his heels and shot an offended look toward North, who didn’t even bother turning around.

“You know,” Jack called, wrestling the six beasts back under control, “one of these days they’re actually going to drag me off this thing.”

North’s shoulders shook with laughter as he adjusted Comet’s harness. “Then you hold tighter!”

Jack rolled his eyes despite the grin tugging at his mouth. He gave the reigns another tug before leaping out of the sleigh himself. He landed gracefully on the ground, waving hi to Phil as the yeti passed him, before turning towards North.

North was moving down the line of reindeer, patting thick necks and broad shoulders, murmuring praise in Russian as he checked harness marks and tangled fur. He had a soft look on his face, a fondness that could only come from having the reindeer for decades. It was odd to see the way they interacted when the sled wasn’t involved—whenever they flew, the reindeer were much more brutal and big and hard to control, and North appeared to drive the sled with a forcefulness to match their brutality. On the ground, North scratched behind ears and spoke to them like beloved pets. Granted, those same ‘pets’ occasionally tried to gore him or knock him over with a casual swing of their heads, but he seemed to consider that part of their charm.

Finally, North turned around to Jack and held out one massive hand.

“What are we doing?” Jack asked as he handed the reigns over.

“Taking the reindeer to stables. Have you visited?”

Jack shook his head. “Phil kept kept saying they’re too dangerous and then always threw me in a different direction.”

“Good, good. No visitors allowed. Only can visit after flights.” North rubbed Dasher’s shoulder and the reindeer flattened his ears, jerking away before attempting to shove past him with his antler. North caught the antler with practiced ease and pushed him back into line. “They’re much more docile when tired!”

Jack eyed the six beasts before glancing at North’s big and boisterous smile. “Right, sure.”

“Bah, don’t worry about them! You can heal, right?”

“I shouldn’t need to.” He did heal, however. He found that out very early in his immortality, after accidentally impaling himself on a tree during a flight gone wrong, feeling an awful lot like a shrike’s victim as he struggled while suspended in the air. But, after several injuries (including elves shooting at him), Jack learned that ice always covered any wound and within an hour they would be gone, leaving behind no blemishes or scars, and he never even bled.

So that was a bonus.

“Come!” North beckoned for Jack to follow him as he started down the runway. “Stalls are this way.”

With nothing better to do, and curiosity pricking at the back of his neck, Jack shrugged away all of his reservations and ran after the man.

The stalls were surprisingly normal, found at the very back of the runway, with a typical large wooden arch greeting them first. The back wall was just packed glacier ice, so thick Jack couldn’t see anything behind it. There were nine stalls in counting, rather large and spacious and made of a dark red wood with tall enough gates that the reindeer couldn’t jump or fly over. Each stall had a reindeer’s nameplate nailed into the gate decorated with happy red and green Christmas lights bordering it. Two of the stalls already had reindeer in them—Donner and Blitzen, apparently, both of them staring holes into Jack’s skull as he walked in. Hay covered the floor, holly garlands bordering the ceiling with the average ornaments you’d find on a Christmas Tree thrown in at random.

Lastly, there was a set of doors near the front, away from the stalls, with a big glowing EXIT sign above, with the words This Way to Workshop scrawled messily underneath.

The six reindeer peeled away from North without so much as a nudge, drifting towards their own stalls. North moved after them, swinging each door closed with a practiced hand and testing the latches one by one until they clicked into place.

Jack lingered where he was, watching the quiet routine with a flicker of amusement, until a stall at the very end caught his eye. He squinted as he looked at the nameplate. “Who’s Petrov?”

“My horse.” North grinned, looking over to at stall with a fond look on his face. “He’s in Santa Claussen with Mother Goose.”

“I’m sorry, Mother Goose?”

“Yes, Katherine! Guardian of Storytelling.” North waved his hand. “She takes him on daily rides, so he stays with her most of the time.”

Jack let that information roll around in his head for a second before tucking it away, deciding now was not the time to ask about another Guardian and what Santa Claussen was.

“So!” North said happily as he closed the last gate belonging to Cupid. “Let’s talk.”

Jack glowered. “There’s nothing to say.”

North hummed, stroking his beard as he bent to snatch up a box. “Ah, yes. This, I know very well.” He jabbed a finger in the air, the box tucked beneath his arm. “In my experience, this is exactly what people say when they have very much to say.” He gave a knowing nod. “‘Oh, is nothing.’” North waved a hand dismissively. “‘Do not worry about it.’ ‘There is nothing to tell.’ Bah!” He threw his arm up. “When person has truly nothing to say, they do not make grand announcement of it. They simply say nothing! The louder the ‘nothing,’ the bigger the something hiding behind it.”

Jack sighed and held his hands out as North handed him the box. “You and your weird wisdom stuff.”

North laughed. “My wisdom stuff is very good.”

“What is this?” Jack glanced inside the box. It was a green stringy plant that had a bunch of little branches, with what looked like oats and carrots mixed in as well.

“Lichen and snacks to feed the reindeer!”

“Wait, we’re feeding the reindeer?” His head snapped up with a grin on his face.

“Why else would I bring you to the stalls?” North gestured around before picking up another box. “Feel special, only yeti have come in here.”

“Awesome. Who do I get first?”

“Dancer, I’ll get Dasher.”

Jack looked around with a small frown before placing his staff against the wall. He waited to make sure it wouldn’t fall over before he hurried over to Dancer’s stall. The reindeer eyed him with a hungry look, tossing his head up in an elegant manner before hoofing at the floor. Jack didn’t even need his internal magical creature translator to know Dancer was hungry.

He reached a hand into the box and grabbed a fistful before holding his hand out expectantly. Dancer leaned forward slowly, nostrils flaring as he inspected Jack’s offering, before turning to Jack himself. For one alarming second, Jack was fairly sure the reindeer was deciding between the lichen and his fingers.

Apparently deciding in his favor, Dancer grunted out something that sounded like a thanks and took the food delicately from his palm. A soft, fuzzy muzzle pressed into his palm and Jack made a little noise.

Beside him, Dasher solved the same problem by ramming his nose into North’s shoulder hard enough to make the giant man rock back a step before immediately demanding food.

North only laughed. “See?” He said proudly. “Very docile.”

“You and I have very different definitions of ‘docile’,” Jack mused as Dancer chomped away at his food.

“So!” North exclaimed. “Where were we?”

“That there was nothing to say?”

North tsked and wagged a finger. “There’s always something!”

“Can you please drop it?” Jack asked, focusing on Dancer as his teeth snapped at his now empty palm. Jack hurriedly reached back into the box and pulled out more of the mix.

“Bah, if I drop it, it’ll never be brought up, and you’ll just get angrier and angrier.”

Jack glanced up with a scowl. “I am not—” he began harshly, before catching his tone. Jack sighed and turned back to Dancer. “I’m not angry.”

“But you are!” North shook his head. “Tonight was prime example.”

“He threw a boomerang at me.”

“He’s done that plenty of times,” North countered.

Jack bit back a frustrated groan and tilted his head back to stare at the wooden ceiling. “Look, I wasn’t angry to start with. I was just having fun with him. I didn’t think he’d get so upset at it. And I poke at people, yeah, but then he—” Jack took a deep breath. “I get it, I push too hard. It’s how I’ve always been. Maybe he just finally got sick of it.”

“I do not think Bunny is sick of you.”

“Then what is his problem?” Jack snapped, shoving his hand back into the box and moving on to the next reindeer—Prancer—with his hand outstretched. Prancer seemed a bit less hostile than Dancer, just going straight for the food rather than debating on eating Jack’s hand or not. “Because I can never tell where I stand with him. One minute we’re joking around and the next he’s glaring at me like I ruined Easter.”

“Well—”

“Don’t.” Jack winced. “I know I’ve ruined it, twice, but I thought he got over one of them. I apologized for it, repeatedly.”

“And the other?”

That darn blizzard.

“When the moment is right.” Jack couldn’t even look at the reindeer staring at expectantly anymore, staring holes into the box in his arms as his stomach gave an unbearable squeeze. “Please, can we just…talk about something else?”

North moved, giving Dasher a pat on the nose before heaving his box and heading over to stand in front of Vixen. “Fine,” North said. “Tell me how you’re doing. If not angry.”

“I’m doing fine,” Jack grumbled. “Met up with Jamie and the kids yesterday. They were ice skating on that lake. Should have seen their faces when they saw me.” Something warm and nice bloomed between his ribs, spreading throughout his body. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”

“Over what?”

“Them seeing me. Their faces always light up like Christmas lights and they look so happy.” He thought back to their expressions as they shouted his name and struggled to skate over towards him. “Saying goodbye is never easy. We’re going to have a snowball fight today, though.”

“I take it you like being Guardian?”

Jack smiled. “I do. I’m glad I accepted the invitation in the end. I don't know what I’d do if I wasn’t a Guardian. It makes me feel…complete, if you get what I mean.”

North nodded, patting Vixen’s head before moving on to the next Reindeer. Jack followed suit, standing in front of Comet and North got Cupid. “So you’re happy.”

“How could I not be?” Jack scoffed

“You say that,” North began, “but I have a feeling you aren’t being entirely truthful.”

Jack nearly dropped the box. He stumbled a bit, which evidently pissed Comet off, as the reindeer jerked its antlers and whacked Jack in the face. This time, he actually dropped the box, grabbing at his face as pain shot through his body. “Ow—seriously?!”

Comet let out a smug, wheezing sort of laugh that somehow sounded like he was entirely too pleased with himself.

“Oh, that’s funny to you?” Jack shot the reindeer a glare, only for it to sour when he caught North chuckling too. “Really? You’re taking his side? It’s your fault.”

North just patted his belly and gave a Jack a grin.

“Are you listening to your belly again?” Jack grumbled.

North grinned. “My belly has never been wrong,” he mused.

“Well, it’s wrong now.” Jack picked the box back up and frowned at Comet before shoving his hand back in and grabbing more of the food. “I’m happy. What else could I be feeling? I’ve gotten everything I wanted for over three hundred years.” He watched Comet look up at him before eating out of his hand, calling Jack a few choice names.

“Jack. You can be honest with me.”

His stomach gave that same painful twist. Jack wanted it to stop.

“I…” he hesitated. “Something… is wrong. I-I don’t know what. I feel happy, I do. I spent centuries wanting this. I kept on begging the Moon to tell me what do because of how badly I wanted someone to see me. And now they do.” He laughed, but it came out bitter rather than genuine. “Why does it feel wrong?”

North’s face softened and Jack looked away. His chest tightened, squeezing uncomfortably. “I have Jamie and the kids. I have Baby Tooth and the Winds. I have the Guardians. I have you.” He paused. “I should be happy.”

“Yes,” North said gently. “You should be happy. But that does not mean you cannot also be hurt. You spent centuries being unseen. That hurt becomes part of you.” North tapped a finger against Jack’s chest. “Right here. It does not vanish overnight because few people finally open eyes.”

“But I have you guys,” Jack protested. “How could I feel—” his words died on the tip of his tongue as Jamie’s words rung throughout his head like a bell.

“Are you lonely?”

The ache in his chest when he saw Jamie leave with his family.

North looked at him knowingly. “Who are you trying to convince, Jack? Us, or yourself?”

Loneliness. It had began like a sickness in his chest, growing in the secret places. It had eclipsed his heart every moment he gave pause and every moment he hadn’t, spreading, insistent like frost, across everything inside of him, reaching to his mind, his fingertips, his feet. A whisper in his ear like the magic he heard, but one instead he shoved as far down as he could and ignored, denied.

“Oh,” Jack mumbled. He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide underneath his clothes. For once in his life, he wished he was invisible to everyone. “I’m finally able to be seen and yet I feel lonely.” He spat the word out with a slight sneer. “I really am selfish, huh?”

North hummed as he held out more lichen for Cupid. “Is not selfish.”

“Feels pretty selfish to me.” Jack curled his hand into a fist around the lichen and oats, ignoring how Comet whipped his head up to stare daggers into Jack’s head. “I mean, I’ve always kind of been selfish. That’s sort of my thing, right?” He let a small, humorless smile work its way onto his face like a crack in a mask. “Even now… I’ve got people. Real people. Friends. A place to be. And somehow I still end up thinking about how lonely I am.” He looked down at his hand. “How I want more people to see me. How some stupid part of me still wants someone my age to talk to.” He glanced at North. “No offense.”

“None taken.”

“Even when I was—” Jack stopped himself, his grip tightening around the oats. He shut his eyes and took a breath. “Even when I was Jackson, my village was just kids. Don’t get me wrong, I love kids. They mean the world to me, and I know my purpose here, as Jack Frost, is to protect them and bring them joy, but... with the kids now, they have a life outside of me. At the end of the day, their parents call them to go inside, and I’m left alone.” His voice dropped. “And that’s stupid, right? I mean, I have everything I wanted. I should be happy.”

He shook his head quickly, forcing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Whatever. Forget it. I’m being stupid. I just…” the words seemed to get stuck in his throat and he looked at Comet, who was still staring at Jack like he was contemplating how the Guardian would look impaled on the reindeer’s horns. Jack gave a small smile as he opened his hand and held out the treats. Comet did the closest thing a reindeer could to a scowl and bit at Jack’s hands before pressing his muzzle into Jack’s palm and eating. “I really thought being seen would make me stop feeling invisible,” he murmured.

North reached a hand over, a bit hesitantly, before clasping Jack’s shoulder and squeezing it gently. “You’ll find what you’re looking for.” He said. “You will.”

Jack shrugged the hand off and offered a laid-back smile. It was forced, of course, as that feeling in his ribs was growing more painful by the second, but it was all he knew how to do. “Maybe it won’t take me another three hundred years?”

North laughed. “Maybe!” He let go of Jack’s shoulder and turned back to his reindeer. “But I think,” North said, scratching Cupid behind the ears, “that working well with others will help. Like getting along with Bunny. You have more in common than you think.”

Jack’s smile vanished immediately. He muttered a few choice words under his breath and set the box of lichen down with a harsh thud.

“Jack, wait—”

“No, I’m not doing this!” He marched over to his staff, plucking it off the wall before whirling around to face North. “I-I opened up for once, and you’re just going to go turn it into a talk about fixing my attitude?”

“I’m not—”

Jack marched over to the doors with the exit sign and yanked them open, almost immediately nearly slamming into a yeti passing by. “You are, I recognize a lecturing tone anywhere.”

He scooched around, walking through the busy halls of the workshop. Toys flew around his head and he managed to weave around the giant yeti’s that were clambering about, yelling at each other to hurry up and handing projects they were working on to the other. He could hear North struggling behind him, being too big to slink around his even larger yeti’s.

“I didn’t mean to lecture, I just think getting along with Bunny would do you some good!”

Yeah I know that! Jack hissed inwardly, ducking underneath a yeti’s arms.

The Globe of Belief blinked down at him as he stormed past, only sparing a second to look up at all those blinking lights. The wonder of if he’d ever get that many people to believe in him passed through his mind before he shoved the thought down and continued onward. Yeah, as if.

“Yes, Phil, that’s the right color, now excuse me—”

Jack nearly tripped over a few of North’s elves as they hurried past carrying armfuls of wrapping paper way taller than themselves as he stomped over to the fireplace, which was currently unlit despite it probably being cold inside. Jack couldn’t tell. He just ran a hand through his hair and started pacing as North caught up to him.

North stopped a few steps away, chest rising as he caught his breath. For a moment he said nothing at all, just watched Jack wear a path into the floorboards.

“I am not saying this because I think you are problem to be fixed,” North said finally.

“No, no, I get it,” Jack said as he stopped pacing. “I am part of the problem, I get that. You don’t need to remind me.”

“I am not saying that.” North insisted, his brows furrowing with something close to exasperation. “You tell me you feel alone, and I am trying to help.”

“By telling me to play nice with Bunny?”

“You said you wanted someone closer to yourself. Bunny might not fit, but he understands more than you think.” North challenged.

“North, can you just drop it already?!” Jack shot at him.

North paused, glancing at Jack as if waiting for him to say something else. Maybe snap again, but when Jack said nothing, he let out a slow breath through his nose and fixed Jack with that steady, unshakable look of his.

“I just want you to listen.” He said at last, the words soft and gentle. “You are very good at hiding, yes? From fear, from anger, from things you do not want to feel. Like now.” Jack flinched. “But eventually, hiding becomes lying. Be honest with others, and yourself.”

Jack sighed and looked away. The words ‘I’m sorry’ were at the edge of his tongue, but he couldn’t push them off. He was trying, he was, but what came out instead made him want to whack himself with Twinetender. “Got it. I’m going to head out now.”

“Jack—”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” Jack managed to shoot him a smile. “I’ll go after the Frost Giant, and I’ll do it with Bunny. Build trust or whatever. I just…need a breather.”

“Jack—”

“I’ll see you later.” Jack eased one of the windows open, flashed North a half-hearted wave, and leaned back until gravity claimed him, dropping through the open snowy tundra.

❅⋆༺❆𓆩✧𓆪❆༻⋆❅

He found his grave months ago.

It had been by complete accident. Jack had been wandering the forest where he grew up, memories of his life there flooding his mind: Stakeouts with the kids where he’d insist they would find something if they just waited long enough, treks by himself to find the most beautiful of places to sit and do nothing. He ended up beside a massive tree, its thick trunk twisting upward in a maze of ridges and curling bark, the roots pushing through the earth like the knuckles of some ancient hand reaching up from below. Huge branches stretched far and wide overhead, forming a broad canopy that filtered the sunlight into scattered patches. The tree looked (and was) ancient, as if it had stood there for far more centuries than even Jack had existed.

Jack had many memories about that tree. It had been Jackson’s favorite—he’d spent ages trying to figure out just how high up into the branches he could climb, trying to touch the blue sky, wishing he could fly.

Jack had took a step back to look at the tree better, smiling at the surge of memories.

And then he straight up fell over a rock.

For one embarrassing second, he’d been convinced a particularly malicious rock had decided to take him out. Which, in a way, it had.

Half buried beneath moss and tangled roots was a weathered headstone, tilted so far into the earth it had almost become part of it. Time had rounded its edges, and centuries of rain had worn the carving nearly smooth. Jack had proceeded to crouch beside it, brushing away damp leaves and scraping dirt from the face of the stone with careful fingers. Fragments of a name remained there:

J CK O     O ER   D

A lot of emotions had gone through him at that moment, his fingers frantically trying to claw the dirt out of the faded letters and peel the moss away, yanking at roots that had wound themselves around the stone over centuries, stripping the weathered sandstone bare just to look at it more intently as his stomach twisted with a hollow ache splitting his ribs, an ache so deep it felt as though his chest had caved inward around it. There were more faded words underneath, a typical inscription for a grave in the eighteenth century, declaring how he’d died and his years as well. It was small, maybe two feet tall, and half swallowed by the earth that had been keeping it.

He’d sat back on his heels.

Jackson’s family had been poor. Granted, most people in the village had been, making enough to just scrape by. The people were mostly hunters and farmers, with a handful of merchants scattered among them—all considered lower class, though Jackson had never truly understood what that meant. The village men would occasionally taking him along on hunting trips, trying to teach him the skills they knew, but he’d eventually run off in search of trolls. Trading and buying food was an option, of course, but it was easier and cheaper to do it themselves.

To afford a gravestone must have cost them a fortune, probably months and months of savings. Maybe if they went around to the other villagers, asking for help, but he doubted any of the parents would have. They had hated him.

He wondered if Mary and his parents had visited the grave often.

Now, Jack sat curled up on the stone, his hood pulled low over his face and his staff clutched tightly in one hand, the matryoshka doll in the other.

Was the body he had currently the same one that fell down the lake, or did that one sink to the bottom? Did his grave have his bones, or was it empty?

He didn’t dare check. A shudder went up his spine at the idea of looking at his bones, the bones that belonged to him in another life. And yet at the same time, the idea of his own grave being empty was terrifying. That would mean he was a walking, animated corpse.

He curled up closer on top of the stone, closing his eyes shut. His thumb rubbed up absently against the doll in his hand. There was something both comforting and unnerving about sitting on top of his own grave, soothing the knot in his stomach but gripping his unbeating heart tight.

He took a deep breath and looked back up.

The forest had changed since he was Jackson. The trees were taller now, their branches reaching toward the sky he had once wished desperately to touch. The little paths he used to run down were completely swallowed by undergrowth.

His gaze dropped back to the gravestone beneath him. Who carved it?

Had it been his father? Had his hands, rough and calloused, carefully held the chisel as he carved the letters into the stone? Had he sat there for hours, shaping each line because he refused to let his son disappear completely? Had it been his mother, who told him to be careful, and he had promised her he would—a promise he had broken.

Or had it been Mary, who had watched him die for her?

That hurt worse.

Mary had been the one who always noticed things. The little things. When Jackson had scraped his knee but pretended he hadn’t. When he was upset but trying to hide it. When he had stayed out too late chasing some impossible adventure and came home muddy, soaked, and grinning.

She would have known exactly where to put the grave, by his favorite tree, where he spent hours trying to reach the sky.

Jack swallowed. “Sorry,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to. His parents, maybe. Mary. The kids he left behind. All of them. “I should’ve come sooner.”

It was a ridiculous thing to say. He knew that. He had been dead for three hundred years, with no recollection of his family or previous life. There was no version of sooner that existed anymore. No amount of wishing or waiting could change the fact that centuries had passed without him knowing where he came from.

And still, a part of him—the smallest, youngest part of him—felt guilty.

Like he had abandoned them.

He pressed his head between his knees and took a deep breath, already knowing what was blossoming between his lungs and squeezing against his chest. He shoved it down.

A tweet. Jack looked up as a little blur of green and pink came zooming into view. “Oh, Baby Tooth.” He plastered on a smile as she came skidding to a halt in front of him, smiling up at Jack and asking how the conversation went. “Not important. Right now I’m waiting for Bunny to show up so we can go fight that Frost Giant. Because nothing builds trust like battling a foe together, apparently.” He slid the doll back into his pocket and held his hand out for her to land on.

Baby Tooth perched in his palm before she rolled her eyes and chirped exasperatedly.

“Oh, so now you’re siding with them?”

She scowled at him. A funny look on such a small and adorable fairy, but he got the message and held his hand up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. They’re all right, anyways.” He reached over his head and lowered his hood.

Baby Tooth immediately straightened, wings buzzing excitedly. She pointed at herself, then to Jack while giving an insistent little nod.

Jack frowned. “You want to come with us?”

A rapid series of approving tweets followed as she hovered higher, clearly pleased.

He raised an eyebrow as she chirped. “I don’t think it’s safe—”

She trilled, soaring up and pecking him harshly in the cheek. “Ow! What was that for?!” Baby Tooth crossed her arms and peeped rather angrily at him. “I can’t just bring you into fights—” she poked him again. “If anything happened to you, Tooth would have my neck!” A third like, right between his eyes, before she sat back and began berating him.

He rubbed the space between his eyes with a playful grimace, before it turned into a smile and he ran a finger over the large feather on her head. The little fairy fell quiet. “Fine, you can come with. Just stay safe, okay?” She nodded before hopping down into his lap and crawling her way into his pocket. She stuck her head outside of one end and smiled up at him.

It fell silent after that, and Jack stared out into the forest before him. He could see the moon ever so faintly between the thick canopy of trees, filtering light onto him and illuminating the mossy gravestone he perched on. He could read some of the inscription carved into the sandstone, but his eyes were more focused on the remnants of his name. His thumb brushed over the grooves of the letters, tracing shapes time had almost managed to erase.

Three hundred years.

Three hundred years, and this little patch of earth and weathered tablet stone was all the world had kept of him. He didn’t even know what happened to his family, if he had ever seen them and not even realized who they were.

Baby Tooth poked her head farther out of his pocket, following his gaze down to the gravestone. Her expression softened, and after a moment she let out a quiet, questioning chirp.

Jack huffed a laugh through his nose. “Yeah. It’s weird.” His fingers tapped absently against the sandstone. “Not even a year ago, I didn’t know this existed. I think…” he shifted slightly. “Seeing it is probably why I feel the way I do. Made me realize how alone I felt.”

The little fairy climbed farther out of his pocket and pressed herself against his arm, giving an indignant little peep.

Jack smiled faintly. “Yeah, I know. Not completely alone.”

She nodded firmly.

“He’s right.” Jack said, leaning back. “North and I already had this whole talk back at his workshop, and apparently step one of his master plan to keep me from turning into a miserable lonely ice hermit is working better with Bunny. Insane, right? Gotta get along with others in order to not feel miserable.” He gave a small laugh as he ran a finger over her feather. “He told me I should start being more honest. With myself and others. You think that’s a good idea?”

She nodded again.

“I’ll apologize to North when I get back,” Jack decided. “I kind of snapped on him. I didn’t say anything too bad, but I just…I feel bad about it. He’s trying to help me, and I’m just not really used to that. The Moon gave me powers, told me my name, and then disappeared for three hundred years. And most magical creatures I’ve met aren’t exactly lining up to have heart-to-heart conversations with me. Not like I was helpful to them, either.” He faltered a bit as his mind flickered to a snowstorm, to a feeling so violent and strong swirling around in Jack’s stomach that it had scared him. “He also said, for some reason I don’t understand, that Bunny could understand me. Can you believe that?”

Baby Tooth gave him the most judgmental look he had ever seen a fairy make.

“Well—okay, sure, I don’t know much about his past, but he knows nothing about mine,” Jack replied hotly. “We know nothing about each other except that we have nothing in common. He’s still my friend. I think. It’s…it’s complicated.”

Somehow, against all odds, Baby Tooth looked even more judgmental.

“Okay, fine, I’ll ask him at some point. Maybe it’ll explain why North thinks we have something in common.”

There was a slight rumble and Jack watched as a hole began forming in the ground. “Speaking of the devil,” he said, getting to his feet and hopping off of his tombstone. Baby Tooth chirped out and snuggled back into his pocket.

Bunny’s ears popped out of the hole first, twitching around before cupping towards Jack. The rest of him followed soon after, and the second his paws touched the ground, the hole disappeared behind him, a little flower popping out of the disturbed ground.

“Where on earth are we?” Bunny asked as he rubbed his paws against his face.

“Burgess,” Jack replied with an eye roll.

Bunny stopped rubbing his face—grooming himself, presumably—to scowl at Jack. “Yes, obviously, but I mean in the forest.”

“Just at a tree I like.”

Bunny’s eyes caught on the stone beside Jack and his nose twitched. “Whose grave is this?” Bunny asked, nudging the tombstone with his foot.

Jack smiled. “Mine.”

Bunny froze.

Jack had, obviously, failed to directly tell some of the Guardians about his past—the only people he’d told were Baby Tooth and North. Baby Tooth because, well, she’d been there when Jack found out, and North because Jack had decided to confide in him after defeating Pitch. He had a feeling Tooth knew, as she’d been the one to make him aware of the teeth in the first place and the mini tooth fairies were apparently a part of her, and likely Little Gale as well—there was no keeping secrets from the Winds (they made for great gossipers despite not having mouths).

Bunny and Sandy had no clue. It’s not like Jack was hiding it from them, he just…how was he supposed to tell them? The Guardians didn’t exactly have a monthly meeting where they went around the table sharing fun facts about their lives before becoming Guardians, and Jack knew little about any of their pasts. He only knew about their full names thanks to North making small talk during the summer. Besides, there was no need to make a big deal out of it by pulling them to the side and telling them.

He guessed Bunny finding out about Jack being, well, dead by kicking his gravestone was a good alternative. The expression on Bunny’s face sure was worth it. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and mouth hanging open a bit. His gaze flicked to the grave and back to Jack before he shut his jaw. “I…”

Jack had the split-second thought to rub it in Bunny’s face by bringing up the fact he drowned to death and never got to grow up, but decided not to. That was too low, even for him. Besides, North’s words were still echoing around in his head.

Instead, he shrugged his shoulders and held his hands up. “We all had a life before being a Guardian, right? I just happened to have two.”

“Jack, I’m—”

“Don’t.” Jack shook his head. “I died three hundred years ago, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Bunny’s ears cupped forward and his nose twitched, but he said nothing, just staring at Jack expectantly. He almost seemed to be searching for something before giving up, his body slumping. “Fine. We’re heading over to the islands right now. We’ll use the tunnels.”

“Oh great, already taking charge, aren’t you?”

Bunny scowled. “Well I’m not letting you fly me halfway across the world, and I doubt you could carry me the whole way.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“I don’t like heights, so tunnels it is.” Bunny tapped his foot against the ground, a tunnel opening up right by his paws. “Reckon this is quicker. I can make this tunnel appear near the Frost Giant instead of us having to search around.”

That…does sound better. Jack sighed and turned to the tunnel. “Fine. For once, you’re actually making sense.”

“I’m—” Bunny gave a small groan before turning to the tunnel. “Let’s just go.”

“Bunnies first.”

Bunny hopped inside the tunnel, and Jack spared his grave one last look as moonlight filtered through the leaves and kissed the weathered stone.

He tore his eyes away and slipped into the tunnel.

Mossy walls surrounded him as he plummeted down, ice shooting out under his feet and giving him his own little runway to skate on. He could barely make out Bunny bounding ahead of him.

“Hey!” He called. “How do these work with the ocean?”

“Obviously we’re below the ocean, dipshit!”

“Jeez, do all Australians cuss this much?” Jack grumbled. “All I did this time was ask a question.”

Baby Tooth poked her head out from his pocket and chirped.

“I’m glad you agree with me. I’m innocent! For once.”

He wisely decided to stay quiet for a bit after that.

The tunnel twisted sharply, the walls shifting from damp earth and moss to glittering layers of ice. A sudden rush of wind swept through the tunnel, carrying the sharp scent of saltwater and snow. Jack slowed slightly, looking around as the moss disappeared completely, replaced by smooth walls of ice glowing faintly.

“We’re close,” Bunny called.

The tunnel erupted upward, ice and snow bursting apart as the entrance opened onto the frozen landscape above.

Bunny emerged first, his paws sinking into the untouched snow as he stepped onto the frozen surface. The oversized rabbit immediately stiffened, his ears flattening as a shiver ran through him. He wrapped his arms around himself, grumbling under his breath. “Crikey, it’s freezing.”

Jack followed after him, stepping out into the open tundra. The landscape stretched endlessly in every direction, a vast sea of white beneath a bright sky with jagged mountains in the distance. It was snowing, and the sun hung high above them—probably around ten or eleven in the morning.

Time zones. Weird stuff.

His gaze shifted back to Bunny, and he didn’t bother hiding the grin spreading across his face.

“Don’t you have fur to keep you from feeling cold?” Jack asked, glancing down as frost began creeping across the ground beneath his bare feet.

Bunny narrowed his eyes at him. “Shut up.” But his expression changed quickly, attention snapping toward something in the distance.

“You can see it, right?”

Jack followed his gaze.

A figure stood far across the frozen landscape. The distance made it difficult to tell what it was, but Jack could sense it, feel its exact location somewhere deep inside his body.

“Yeah.” His grip on Twinetender tightened.

Bunny raised a paw, signaling for Jack to stay still.

“That’s it,” Bunny muttered. “I think. I thought Jotnar were supposed to be giant. Surprisingly, I’ve never seen one.”

Jack shrugged. “Never met one. Though supposedly they’re related to the Norse gods or something and just have the magic to turn big, hence the Giant part of their name. I’m not an expert.”

“Know more than me.”

Jack couldn’t help but snigger at that. “Like that’s hard.”

Like clockwork, Bunny sent him a withering glare. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it and looked away. “Let’s just get this wrapped up with as soon as possible so we can go our separate ways.”

There was that horrible feeling in Jack’s stomach again. It was being twisted and pulled at by those words alone. “As if, you’ll invite me back to the Warren in no time!”

The corner of Bunny’s mouth twitched up in the ghost of a smile. “Maybe.” He shook his head. “The Jotun being small should work to our advantage. We don’t have to worry about it crushing us under it’s giant feet.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Well—” Bunny suddenly cut off, his eyes narrowing and ears laying flat. He leaned forward, his nose twitching as he frowned. “There’s someone with the Frost Giant.”

“What?”

“Shit, it’s spotted us! Jack, get the other person away from it, I’ll get closer to the Giant.”

Jack was already shooting off into the distance before Bunny even finished his sentence.

An old lady stood next to the Jotun, taking a few steps back as it bellowed something out. Jack paid its words no mind, instead focused on the old lady—she was hunchbacked and covered in a giant cloak that blocked almost everything from view. She also had something in her hands, but the fact she was staring right at the Jotun meant more to Jack than whatever she was holding.

She could see it.

Jack sped down below, reaching his arms out and quickly snatching the old lady. She let out a noise but didn’t fight against him—or phase right through, which sent a rush of thrill down Jack’s spine—and he soared to the side, narrowly avoiding the normal sized Frost Giant’s hand as it came reaching over. “Don’t worry, lady, I’ll put you somewhere safe!” He shouted over the rushing wind. She said nothing.

He came skidding to a halt a good distance away and carefully put her down, offering a smile. “Sorry for that, we’re going to go deal with that Frost Giant now.”

The old lady remained quiet as he whirled around and commanding the wind to pick him up and carry him to Bunny.

Bunny was crouched down on all fours, looking more like an actual bunny rather than…well, a kangaroo. He had gotten closer to the Jotun than they had been, and looked up at Jack as the winter spirit approached. “Is the person safe?”

“Yeah, some old lady. What about the Frost Giant?”

“Take a look yourself.”

Jack turned back as he landed on the ground in a balanced crouch, fingertips sprawled on the snow, his staff held behind him as he watched.

The Frost Giant looked like a normal person, if not for incredibly pale skin and being slightly bigger than the average person, maybe eight feet tall. He had a dark black and thick braided beard that could have rivaled North’s in length. What looked like a moose’s skinned head and pelt sat on his head, the antlers still attached and reaching out, and he wore a bunch of furs and a torn up dull blue tunic, otherwise no armor in sight.

The Jotun held something out—a club of what looked like wood surrounded by thickly packed and jagged ice.

“At least he’s not giant,” Jack supplied.

The Jotun let out a yell and raised his club high in the air before slamming it against the ice. Just like that, a pale shimmer drifted across his skin. It spread in intricate patterns that no hand could have carved, lines and spirals that glowed with a quiet blue.

The first thing that grew was his shadow. At one moment it got his size perfectly, before suddenly shooting to be so enormous it made the Jotun look tiny. And then the actual body followed. Jack had to crane his head back and watched the Frost Giant’s body rose higher and higher, his clothes stretching and reshaping with him. His boots were now large enough that Jack had no trouble imagining himself being crushed beneath them like a mouse. He had to be over fifty feet tall.

Bunny looked about ready to strangle Jack himself.

“What? Look, he was clearly going to do that regardless!”

“And now he’s a literal giant!” Bunny shook his head and pulled out one of his boomerangs. “Dammit, I should have packed chocolate.”

Jack blinked, turning to stare at the rabbit. “Chocolate? What is chocolate supposed to do during a fight?”

“More than you know,” the rabbit said with a sullen look. His nose twitched and he quickly turned back to the Frost Giant, ears laying flat.

The Jotun tilted his head to the side before bending down.

“Crap, what’s it doing?!” Jack watched as the giant reared its colossal hand down. It ripped off a chunk of a glacier and clenched it tight in its fist.

The ice exploded in its grip.

“Jack—”

The Jotun reared its hand back and before Jack even had time to process what was happening, a volley of ice chunks were being thrown at him and Bunny.

“GET DOWN!” Jack screamed, throwing his staff into a wide arch. Ice exploded outward, racing across the ground before heaving into a massive, uneven wall. It was rough and hastily formed, its jagged surface fractured and unstable, but it was a barrier all the same.

He turned around in the same moment and shoved Bunny as hard as he could to the floor.

Giant chunks of ice slammed into the barrier. Cracks splintered against the bright-blue ice, and each echo shook the ground underneath the two Guardians. Jack slammed his back up against the barrier, his staff pressing up against it and fern-shaped patterns coated it as more ice spread and thickened.

“Jeez,” Jack mumbled. “I promised I’d be involved a snowball fight today, but I didn't think it would be with a Frost Giant.”

“Can you take this more seriously?!” Bunny snapped. He was still smushed into the snow, and quickly sat up, shivering as he brushed it off of his fur.

“Oh please, we wouldn’t be in this mess if you didn’t make me drop the teeth!”

“At least you admit you dropped them, you bloody—”

A loud crash of another volley of ice came slamming into the shield. Bunny cursed loudly, tapping his foot against the ground and a hole forming. “We need a plan.”

“First thing you’ve said that I agree with.”

Baby Tooth chirped from where she sat in the pocket of Jack’s hoodie.

“Freeze him? Isn’t he a Frost Giant?”

She tweeted again, this time sounding much more annoyed.

“Okay, okay, freeze him! It’s kind of hard to do that at the moment though, when—” more ice crashed into the shield, and the very top of it came flying off.

Bunny waved his paws. “We don’t have time for this, we’re going to be crushed if we stay here. Let’s just—”

“I’ll blind it,” Jack decided, gripping Twinetender tight.

“Wait—”

Jack didn’t wait. He launched himself into the air in a burst, grinning as the wind caught beneath him. With a flourish, he spun his staff in a wide circle over his head. Frost streamed from its tip, gathering the falling snow into a tightening spiral. The wind howled louder, faster, until the swirling flurry became a roaring white cyclone.

Jack thrust his staff forward.

The blizzard shot across the snowy field and exploded around the Frost Giant’s head. Snow and ice wrapped around its face in a freezing vortex.

Jack pumped a fist. “Look at that! He can’t see!”

The Frost Giant answered with a thunderous roar. It began blindly lashing out, stumbling backwards and swinging its massive arms. One wild swing caught the crude wall Jack had thrown together moments before. The uneven slabs held for the briefest heartbeat, groaning beneath the force. Then the seams split, and the barrier collapsed in a deafening crack, scattering chunks of ice in every direction.

Crap, Bunny was—

“Jack!”

Jack whirled around, spotting the Guardian of Hope a ways away, a tunnel closing up just behind him with a little daisy popping up in its absence. “What?”

“He also can’t see us, you—” the giant hand holding the equally giant club swung near Bunny, and the rabbit barely avoided being hit by jumping out of the way. “—you stupid FUCKWIT!”

Huh. Jack never heard that one before. Judging from the sheer venom Bunny had packed into the word, it probably wasn’t a compliment. The curse word definitely didn’t help.

“Can you stop yelling at me? At least I did something! Your boomerangs would just bounce off of it like they’re paper!”

Bunny was scrambling down below, ducking and dodging and weaving around enormous flailing limbs. For such a large thing, it moved surprisingly fast. Magic, probably. Jack dropped to the ground near Bunny, spinning around and swinging Twinetender near the icy floor. Ice shot across the glacier in branching streams, racing toward the Frost Giant’s feet.

The frost wrapped around its ankles, climbing higher and higher until thick layers of ice imprisoned both legs.

Jack grinned, shooting Bunny a quick but smug look before turning back to the giant. “Let’s see you walk now, big guy.”

The Frost Giant grunted and shifted its weight. Then, with one violent wrench, the ice restraints burst apart into a glittering cloud that sprayed across the battlefield.

The Jotun laughed. It raised one of its hands towards the blizzard raging around its face. Every swirling flake slowly began to freeze, locking together into a thick crust of ice around the giant’s head. With an impatient grunt, it dug its fingers into the frozen shell and tore it free, hurling it aside where it burst against the glacier in a shower of crystalline fragments.

Did he just freeze my blizzard?!

Jack didn’t even have time to feel affronted by this—the Jotun lunged at him instantly.

Jack shot to the side, nearly slamming into Bunny just as the giant’s club smashed through the patch of ice where he’d been standing. The glacier buckled beneath the impact, jagged cracks racing outward in every direction.

“Move!” Bunny barked.

“I am moving!” He barely managed to duck as shards of ice came hurtling toward him, one slicing across his cheek. He hissed softly, raising a hand to touch it and grimacing as frost quickly began coating the wound.“Okay. So my plan was less effective than I was hoping,” he admitted.

“You’re fighting ice with ice, what did you expect?”

“You have no room to talk for someone who keeps getting almost crushed.”

“At least I’m not throwing snow at a fucking Frost Giant!”

“It was a blizzard!”

The Jotun raised its massive arms, fingers curling as frost began to crawl across its skin. Cracks of ice spread outward in every direction, twisting across the ground like veins of crystal. The wind howled around the giant, pulling snow and shards of ice into a swirling storm that gathered around its hands.

“Jack, we need to go—”

“I’ve got this!” Jack shouted.

Bunny looked frantic, his eyes wide with panic, but Jack didn’t move.

A colossal wave of ice exploded from the Jotun’s palms, a roaring avalanche of frozen spikes and jagged crystal that ripped across the snow-covered ground. It tore through the drifts beneath it, hurling clouds of powder into the air as it surged forward, swallowing everything in its path.

Jack planted his feet and stretched out his arms. Ice erupted around him like lightning, spiraling and snapping through the air in flashes of blue-white energy. Frost crawled across the ground beneath him as the power gathered, prickling against his skin. Jack clenched his jaw and slammed his hands together.

A wave of glowing ice burst forward, surging through the air like a frozen storm as it raced headlong toward the Jotun’s attack.

The impact was like a thunderclap.

A wall of frost erupted into the sky, blasting snow in every direction. The ground trembled before it erupted as enormous pillars of ice burst from the earth, rising higher with every passing second. Jagged spires shot upward, forming a colossal structure of twisted and frozen stone, spikes jutting out at all sides.

Jack stumbled back half a step, exhaling sharply. A faint ache pulsed through his arms, but he steadied himself quickly. I’m fine.

The Frost Giant gave a sneer. It was an ugly look, revealed a row of jagged and chipped teeth, the look all but mocking Jack. One thought sunk into his head: I’m not strong enough.

Crap.

He knew he was strong. Strong enough to fight Pitch without a single believer behind him. Strong enough to stand against nightmares that should have overwhelmed him. Had becoming a Guardian changed him? With his power no longer truly his own, now tied to the belief of children who couldn’t even see him, was he weaker? Or had nothing changed at all?

Why did North say this would be easy?!

Jack wasn’t even meant to be a warrior, to fight things like this and worry about how strong or weak he was. That was Bunny’s job—Jack was supposed to spread fun and cheer. That was one of the very reasons they could never see eye to eye.

The Frost Giant stepped forward, the frozen battlefield cracking beneath its weight. Jack snapped back to reality just as the creature lifted its club again. It let out another yell, its club crashing into the frozen ground where they’d been standing a heartbeat before. Ice and stone exploded outward.

Bunny shoved Jack aside with the flat of one boomerang before hurling the other into the giant’s shoulder. As expected, the boomerang did nothing, but Bunny didn’t seem to care at the moment, too busy turning to Jack.

“Can you stop being so reckless?!” He snapped.

Jack skidded across the ice, planting his staff just in time to stop himself from tumbling over the edge of a frozen ridge. He shot Bunny an incredulous glare.

“How was I being reckless?” Jack shouted back, sending a blast of frost at the giant’s legs. “I had a plan!”

“One you didn’t think to share with me, and look what happened to it!”

The giant ripped one leg free with a thunderous crack, swinging a massive fist toward them.

They scattered in opposite directions. Jack vaulted over the blow, wind whipping around him as he landed atop the giant’s arm. Bunny cursed and launched another boomerang, forcing the giant’s attention away before it could swat Jack from the sky.

“You keep putting everyone in danger!”

Something snapped. For half a heartbeat, the battlefield vanished beneath a crack of ice, and Jack could see a frozen pond under a winter sky, thin white fractures racing beneath skates, Mary’s eyes, wide and terrified, locked on his as the ice splintered beneath her feet.

“Jack—”

The sound of cracking ice became the groan of the Frost Giant’s elbow joint as it swung.

Jack jerked sideways, the blow missing him by inches as frost exploded from his staff. He fired at the creature’s elbow, ice racing over fabric and locking around the joint.

“When have I done that?!” he snapped.

Mary’s frightened face flashed in front of him again, the words so honest they had shattered Jackson’s heart. “Jack, I’m scared.”

Jack shoved the memory away and blasted the joint again. Just freeze in place already!

“Easter! You left us. We were swarmed and overpowered by the Nightmares because you weren’t there!”

A jolt of guilt shot throughout Jack’s body. “I came back.”

“After we lost! What good was that?”

Jack bristled. “Would you have rather I joined Pitch like you thought I did?!”

Bunny froze, the anger draining from his expression as surprise and then a flicker of guilt took its place. “What? No—”

That split second was all the giant needed. An enormous backhand swept through the air—WHOOOM!—and the icy fist slammed squarely into Bunny’s back.

There wasn’t even time for anyone to react. Next thing Jack knew, Bunny disappeared in an explosion of snow.

“BUNNY!”

Dread. For a split second, all Jack could see was Sandy getting shot in the back by Pitch. Fear ripped through him, crawling beneath his skin until every muscle locked and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Jack cursed, turning around just in time to see a giant foot coming down over his head. He let out a yelp and hurled himself sideways as the foot crashed down. It missed him by mere inches, but the impact shattered the ground beneath it. The blast of force snared Jack anyway, ripping him off course and sending him tumbling through the air. He caught himself quickly, but not before a hand swung right past him. The air flung in a different direction and he crashed into the frozen pillar.

Something slammed into his back and for a moment, Jack forgot how to breathe. A brutal spike of pain tore through his body as something jagged and frozen punched through his back, just inches from his spine. His fingers instinctively clawed behind him, finding only the icy shard buried where it shouldn’t be, poking all the way out of his stomach by an inch. He tried to inhale, but all that came was a strained gasp.

Jack snapped the icicle off with a burst of desperate strength and fell back to the ground.

Snow exploded around him as he crashed into the earth, the impact knocking what little breath he had left from his lungs. Jack lay there for a moment, dazed and struggling for air, one hand clutching his side while the other searched blindly through the snow for his staff. He could feel the frost already growing on his back where he’d been shanked, coating every inch of the wound. He hurriedly reached back and yanked the icicle out, biting down hard on his cheek as pain screamed throughout his gut. He was thankful he was incapable of bleeding, otherwise the snow would be stained red, and he was pretty sure he’d somehow find a way to vomit.

Jack’s eyes flicked away, scanning the snow for any sign of blue-ish fur. Around him, the snow had began to swirl around violently like the blizzard he had created. He could barely see through it, but just a couple yards away, he could sense two ears poking out of the snow.

The moment his fingers closed around his staff, he planted it against the ground and forced himself upright. Every movement protested, but he looked up. The Frost Giant stood in the distance, unmoving, so large and looming that it made Jack shudder. A wide, bloodthirsty grin stretched across its face.

There was a little squeak and he froze before frantically checking his pockets and pulled out Baby Tooth. “Are you hurt?!” She shook her head, staring up at him with wide, worried eyes and chirping out a list of concerns—if he was alright, if they needed backup. Jack’s shoulders slump a fraction. “No, I got this. Just stay there, okay?”

Baby Tooth let out a nervous tweet before scrambling into his hood. She hopped frantically against his shoulder, tugging insistently at his ear.

“I need to get him!” His gaze snapped back to Bunny and he started to get up. Pain jerked through his back so sharp and harsh that his vision wavered for a split second. He stumbled, his ribs and his stomach protesting, but he gritted his teeth and got to his feet. He flicked his wrist and the wind propelled him forward just in time to avoid another volley of ice. Chunks of shattered ice and stone followed behind the attack, slamming into his body and face.

He reached his arms out and barely managed to snag Bunny before crashing back into the snow, tumbling several feet before coming to a halt. Crap. He could barely fly with how much pain he was in. Breathing hard, Jack looked down at Bunny and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him harder than he meant to. “We could really use one of your tunnels right now! Come on, come on, wake up! Bunny!”

Bunny remained motionless.

Jack could hear the Frost Giant stomping closer and cursed, pulling Bunny close as he glanced behind. Sure enough, in only two strides, the Giant was nearly right there. Jack turned back to Bunny, panic rising in his chest. “Wake up! I’ll do anything! Just wake up already, you oversized rabbit!”

The second those words left his lips, his eyes widened. Jack’s mind flashed back to the promise he had made with the Naiad—the strange moment when the water had refused to freeze, when his ice had vanished instead of taking hold.

A light bulb.

Jack grabbed one of Bunny’s paws, hooking his pinky around the smallest furry digit. His grip tightened as the Frost Giant’s movements shook the ground behind him. “I swear, we’ll find a way out of this alive! Cross my heart and hope to die!” He hissed before pressing their thumbs together.

As expected, nothing dramatic happened—no burst of energy, no flash of light, no feeling in his bones, just like the last time. It felt as though the promise had done absolutely nothing at all, and maybe it hadn’t and Jack was just going crazy, but it was all he had at the moment.

A large shadow in the shape of a foot surrounded him and Jack let go of Bunny’s paw and tightened his grip on his staff. He whirled around, raising Twinetender up with a battle cry ripping from his throat and—

The old lady was suddenly beside him.

She drew her bony arm back with surprising confidence, winding up like a baseball pitcher, then hurled something. A small ball arched in the air and gently hit the bottom of the giants foot with a little dull smack!

The giant froze. A low, slow, puzzled rumble escaped its throat before the old lady raised a hand and the sound was cut off.

Jack blinked. “…What?”

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Everything around him seemed to have gone still, the snow stagnant in the air, the Jotun motionless with a foot mere inches from crushing Jack, Bunny, and Baby Tooth. As Jack looked up, he could see a rainbow bordering a circle of clouds like a halo high in the sky, barely notable behind the snow.

He glanced over at the old lady.

Now that he actually had a chance to look at the old lady, she seemed… wrong. A blindfold covered her eyes, with a row of big, animal-like teeth stitched onto it. Beneath the oversized cloak, her clothes looked ancient, and two bones hung by both sides of her face.

She slowly turned her head toward him. A smile crept across her lips, and it spread wider, wider, wider. Wide enough for him to see a row of rotten teeth. She lifted a finger to her lips.

“Who—”

The ground vanished beneath Jack and Bunny and his stomach lurched. There wasn’t even time to scream before the world dissolved into blinding white and he plummeted into nothing.

Light swallowed everything, so pure it burned his eyes. He could feel himself spinning, but all he saw was blinding white. He turned his head toward where he knew his arm should be.

Nothing.

Jack blinked again and again, tears stinging his eyes, until at last the blue sleeve of his hoodie and the brown from his staff still clutched tightly in his hand emerged from the glare.

“WIND!” Jack shouted.

Once again—nothing.

He kept tumbling through the endless white. Something about it felt wrong—he knew he was falling, that was unmistakable, but instead of air rushing up to meet him in a familiar resistance, all he felt was a powerful force slamming into his back, as though the wind itself was driving him onward, relentlessly propelling him deeper into an endless void. He couldn’t tell which way was up anymore. All he knew was the constant pressure at his back, pushing him farther and farther into the white.

He caught glimpses of Bunny below him, spinning helplessly above a giant chunk of ice, still limp, still unconscious. That couldn’t be good.

“Bunny!” He reached his staff out, trying to snag the rabbit, stretching until his shoulder screamed at him, but the distance between them refused to shrink. Could Jack even get closer? Was Bunny above him, below him, to his side? Was there even an up and down in this thing?!

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Relax. Stop fighting.

Slowly, he spread his arms and legs out. Jack adjusted instinctively, shifting his limbs by the smallest amount, letting the current move around him instead of throwing him through it. His body responded before his mind could even catch up—centuries of flying most definitely helped—and after a few seconds, the spinning began slowing down, until finally he was no longer spinning.

Once the spinning stopped, Jack became aware of other things. Every breath was getting thinner than the last, each inhale leaving his lungs emptier than before. Worse was the feeling spreading through the rest of him—a slow, steady draining, as though the endless plummet was pulling the strength from his muscles and carrying it away into the void below. Something was roaring in his ears.

The edges of his vision were slowly tinting black. His fingers were numb. He tried to clench his free hand into a fist and barely felt it move.

No. Not now.

He forced another breath into his lungs, then another, fighting the black pressing in from all sides.

No. No. I need—to get him—

His arms felt heavy. He could hear Baby Tooth screaming at him, but she sounded so distant. The blinding light around him occasionally gave away to something else—he wasn’t sure if it was his life flashing before his eyes or something else. He could see both battles with Pitch, first with the Guardians and the one where Pitch had ambushed him. He saw himself waking up from the lake, and he saw flashes of Jackson Overland’s life. One after another, like someone turning the pages of a picture book far too quickly.

His chest tightened. The force behind him was slamming against his back, pressing, crushing, beating the air out of his lungs. Crap.

He tried to inhale, and it came out as a small and pathetic wheeze. Crap. I can’t—

Jack’s head was dizzy. Spots jumped around in his vision, there was a ringing noise in the back of his head, and he felt…cold. He was pretty sure he could hear laughter, and the images dancing around his eyes as he plummeted were changing to things he didn’t recognize. People he didn’t know.

His vision was almost entirely gone. Dammit, stay—

—awake!

Maybe it was the fact he was nearly unconscious, but he thought he saw a collection of leaves surging forward. Jack forced his arm forward, focusing every bit of his consciousness on reaching for Bunny, but it fell short.

No……

His eyes closed and everything faded into nothing.