Chapter Text
Bare feet should be able to feel the cold snow under them, and it should hurt as the ice bites at the warm skin. How could the cold bite, though, if those bare feet were eternally cold all on their own? If they belonged to winter and cold weather personified? Jack Frost's feet left tiny impressions on the untouched snow of a rooftop and faded within seconds as he walked along, staff slung over his shoulders nonchalantly. He felt anything but, a storm brewing within.
The moon stared at him, blank and pale as always.
Jack had been here for nothing short of 300 years, an invisible, lonely spirit destined to walk the Earth for eternity, bringing cold days and snowball fights as his only contribution. Even this was a burden for some.
All he wanted was a bigger purpose.
“If there’s something I’m doing wrong,” Jack started, staring at the bright moon in the dark sky, “can you… can you tell me what it is?”
The moon wouldn’t answer him. He never did.
Jack went on, “because I’ve tried everything, and no one ever sees me.” He stared down at his feet. Watched the imprints in the snow fade away. “You put me here, the least you can do is tell me why.”
A beat. Another.
Jack sighed. “Why do I ever try to talk to you? You never tell me anything!” He shouted, banging his staff against the roof. Frost shot out of it, beautiful blue magic bursting out and up around him, breaking apart into tiny little snowflakes that fluttered past his eyes.
“You’re useless.” He uttered, a glare of pure ice set on the sky.
A big mistake.
The moon shone a little brighter. Then a little more. Suddenly Jack was covering his eyes from how intense the light became, and then he was flying, not of his own volition.
His entire body lurched, limbs going in front of him but torso going back as if a rope around his waist had pulled him backwards, and kept pulling him, never slowing. He seemed to be speeding up, actually. Disorientation gripped at him; he couldn’t control his movement and the wind wasn’t doing anything to help. He just kept flying backwards and the moon kept getting brighter. His vision was a white out and he could feel nothing but the sensation of the rapid movement.
Then he was falling.
His vision cleared up. The moon was there with an off–putting air of smugness around it.
“Wind! Help!” Jack shouted out into the universe. Somewhere in his heart, he knew the wind wouldn’t answer. This was the moons doing.
Moisture penetrated Jack's clothes, and the sky, the moon, disappeared behind a dense fog. It took a moment to register that he had fallen through a cloud. He twisted himself around, knowing he’d hit something eventually. Maybe the impact wouldn’t be as brutal if he could prepare for it. Either way, he was already dead, and he couldn’t die twice, so that was nothing to worry about. But it still wouldn’t be fun to hit the-... water? It looked like water.
He closed his eyes, and braced for impact.
Jack had guessed, after much speculation, that he had drowned in his last life. He had no reason not to believe it- his first memory in this immortal life, after darkness, was being stuck under the ice of a pond. He remembered the confusion he’d felt. Though there was ice everywhere, even in the fibres of his clothes, he didn’t feel cold. Couldn’t, he realized later. It served him as both a blessing and a curse.
He wanted to feel cold, sometimes. Wanted to remember the chill of winter, instead of simply granting it to others. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t ask to die in the first place.
The water had come up and slapped him, desperately pushing him away so he could not penetrate the surface. Stubborn Jack did it anyway. He had no choice.
Dark blue surrounded him. He turned himself skyward and suddenly, he was opening his eyes for the first time again, like he was right back where he started, in that icy pond. The moon glanced out from behind a cloud, illuminating Jack in a sliver of dim light. Entirely intentional, Jack was sure. Whatever the moon wanted from him, it was working. He was done, learned his lesson. He wouldn’t dare insult the moon again.
He swam up to the surface and fixed an irritated glare at the pale thing in the sky.
“Okay, I get it. Please take me home, now.” Jack deadpanned.
But the moon hid itself behind a thick cover of clouds once again.
“‘Course not.”
Jack grimaced as he treaded lightly in the water, silently acknowledging that his staff was still in his right hand and thanking the universe for it. He was useless without it.
He weighed his options. The wind would not help, so that was out. He could find an island, or some land mass to station on- not that he could see one in any direction in the dark, and there was no guarantee that there was one anywhere near at all. Jack could have been anywhere, in any ocean, and there were few things to see to give him even the faintest hint. No stars to read (not that he could read them anyway), no flora or fauna.
He grimaced, turning in all directions to spot something, anything that could help him.
His only other option was to start swimming.
Out of pure desperation and hope for some luck, he shouted out a cry for help. Maybe some other kind spirit was around. They would be the only ones to hear him.
Jack sighed, quickly pushing his mop of wet hair back in frustration. The waves rocked him lightly.
Then, almost inaudible, he heard a new sound. Almost like a muttering voice. As soon as he heard it, it was gone again. Did he imagine it? No, there it was again, louder. It was for sure a voice. Jack turned his head, searching for the source.
Dumbly, he didn’t think to look up.
He was already in the air, dangling over the water and sopping wet. Jack froze up, not literally. Stunned by what had happened. A brief thought of the wind stepping in crossed his mind but no, something real and physical was touching him, holding him by the shoulders. It was warm. Couldn’t be alive, though. Some sort of spirit?
Slowly, afraid to break whatever illusion this was, he raised his gaze. Whatever it was that held him was entirely blacked out. The nights darkness wasn’t helping.
“Good job, bud.” That voice from before- it came from above and it wasn’t English but Jack understood it. It was followed by a weird garbled noise.
The wind whipped through his hair and whatever was holding him up was digging in uncomfortably. His legs swung around like a ragdoll’s would, uncontrollable in motion. He silently thanked the wind that he wasn’t afraid of heights, and then remembered the wind was giving him the cold shoulder and retracted it. Jack wasn’t sure what to do with himself as he was carried along to wherever. He would have tried to free himself, but it seemed he was being helped, which was exactly what he wanted, so why bother?
In the distance, Jack could see a dark island poking out of the fog that they were headed towards. It was coming up fast; they were moving much faster than Jack thought. There wasn’t much to gauge speed with before then.
It didn’t take long. Jack was gently set down on a grassy plain. He landed on his feet.
The dark entity landed in front of him and right at that moment, the moon peeked through the clouds. Pale light illuminated an unidentifiable large creature with giant eyes that bore intelligently into his soul. The black pupils were slits, like cat eyes. What kind of spirit was this?
A sudden light flaring up drew Jack's attention to the humanoid on the creature's back. They jumped down and when they hit the ground, something made a metallic clanging sound. Jack didn’t care to look for the source of the sound when they held some sort of beautiful sword, strangely on fire; the sudden flare of light. Jack felt like he was seeing the stars for the first time.
He hid this sense of wonder quite well.
“Damn, what kind of spirit are you?” Jack asked nonchalantly, twirling his staff.
The humanoid tilted their head to the side, taking a meek step closer to Jack who mimicked the gesture with a small smile, sensing their unease.
“What?” They answered in that same unrecognizable language. They sounded like an adult man.
Jack blinked. “I- never mind… Thank you for helping me, I’ll be on my way now.”
Jack slung his staff over his shoulders and began to walk through the tall grass, away from the spirit and his large creature. He wasn’t sure where his bare feet were going to take him, nor how far. How big was this island?
“Wait, where are you going?”
The winter spirit glanced over his shoulder. At the further distance, he noticed the strange clothes this person was wearing, illuminated by his fire sword- leather straps, metal plates all over, and a large brown animal pelt over his shoulders clasped in place over his chest with silvery metal. The outfit suggested an especially old spirit. Jack was older too, but he’d updated his look with a royal blue hoodie some twenty years prior. Kept the old pants, though. Comfy.
“Don’t know yet. Somewhere.” Jack sighed toward the sky. Continued walking.
He heard a wordless exclamation behind him, and a strange menagerie of footsteps following him. Rustle creak rustle creak, thud thud thud thud.
“Aren’t you cold? You were in the water and then the sky, you should be ice by now.”
“I’m always ice. Winter personified, Jack Frost. Haven't heard of me?”
The moon slid behind a cloud once again.
“What language is that? What are you saying?” He asked, a bit strained. Jack turned again to look at him, confused. “Ugh, this isn’t going anywhere…”
“You don’t know what I’m saying?” Didn’t all spirits know all languages instinctively? Jack pondered for a moment, then twisted the odd language around his tongue. “Is this better?”
(from now on all dialogue is in Norse unless stated otherwise)
“Wha- you do speak Norse! Why were you- oh, never mind. Are you okay? Aren’t you cold?” The man sputtered, frantic. “You must be, here I have an extra pelt.”
The flame of the sword suddenly went out. He walked with that same metallic creaking sound toward the direction of the large dark creature.. It was followed by a less scratchy sort of rustling, not of dry grass but of fabric. While Jack was focused on listening (since his eyes had yet to adjust to the dark), a fur was gently draped over his shoulders and clasped shut over his chest.
“There. That should help you warm up a bit.”
The man’s voice was higher up than expected, now right in front of Jack. He looked up, squinting at the dark silhouette.
“...Thanks.” Jack answered politely. The pelt wouldn’t do anything but he appreciated the gesture.
This person didn’t act like the other spirits Jack had known- didn’t understand his English, thought that Jack's low body temperature was an issue. He was acting human. Something told Jack that he was, that this was a living breathing human being that could somehow perceive him without knowing who he is, let alone believing in him. The moon had already changed so much, why not this too?
“Oh my gods, you’re barefoot!”
Jack wiggled his toes, accentuating that fact. He’d been barefoot for 300 years. Nothing to fret about.
The tall person pulled at his hair, contemplating something.
“Gods, you’re hopeless here. Maybe I should take you back to Berk…”
“Berk?” Jack questioned.
“My home. You can’t stay here alone in the cold. Unless you have a place to stay somewhere nearby I could bring you to?”
Jack felt a small catch in his chest. He shook his head, suddenly a child lost in the woods.
He felt a pat on his shoulder, through the pelt. “Come on, then. Toothless and I will take you there.”
“Toothless?”
The big creature perked up at its name. It had been resting down low, and it stood up now. Jack stared at it.
“My dragon.”
Jack held back a shout, pressing his lips together. “Ah. Your dragon, of course.” Completely normal. Dragons.
Jack was led over to Toothless and he gripped his staff a little tighter, apprehensive about getting on its back. The tall man stopped Jack just in front of the dragon's face and asked him to hold out a hand, showing him how to position it. Jack copied the pose, not quite sure why he was asked to.
Toothless huffed hot air onto Jack's hand through its nostrils.
“He’s very friendly.” Jack was told.
The strangest texture Jack had ever felt under hand was that of warm dragon scales. Very dry, kind of like shedded snake skin but tougher, like leather. Toothless had pressed his forehead area into Jack's hand like he’d done it a thousand times before. Maybe he had.
Toothless suddenly pulled his head back before Jack could pull away himself, and huffed loudly, a noise coming from his throat. Suddenly the dragon seemed impatient.
The human looked at his dragon with an impressive amount of concern, then to Jack when the dragon's head moved to gesture to the winter spirit.
A different warmth touched his same hand that was still outstretched slightly.
“Gods, you’re freezing. We need to get you by a fire.”
The human jumped up onto the dragons saddled back, and held a hand out to help Jack up. Though utterly unnecessary, Jack took it. He was already accidentally pretending that he was too cold, might as well pretend to be a clumsy human for a bit.
Jack wasn’t sure what to do with his staff, awkwardly holding it across his lap behind the tall person.
“May I ask why you still have that stick?”
“…cause it’s my stick.”
The man turned to look at Jack, his lips pressed together in moderate confusion, maybe slightly judgy. He patted down the hair at the back of his neck. “Alright. I’m Hiccup, by the way.”
What a strange name. Jack had the opportunity to judge him right back, but he kept it out of his expression.
“Jack.” He gave his own name politely.
The wind seemed to pick up in anticipation then, ready for them to touch the sky.
“Strange name. Hold on tight, Jack.”
Then they were up and gone, barely a shadow in the dark night.