"Afraid?" asks the girl.

"They fear what they cannot see," says Jack. He pats the girl's shoulder, brushing at the clinging shards of ice that determinedly clutch at the coarse wools she is wearing. "And they fear what they cannot understand."

He takes the child's hand, and helps her to her feet.

"Then where will we go?" asks Jenny.

Jack takes a deep breath, and stares straight ahead with a frown. "We go home."

"But you said–"

"Not to yours," he clarifies hastily. "To mine." 

Jack's home is an impressive structure, half underground and built of snow and ice. The rooms are lit with an eerie bluish light, and the air is chilled and dry. It sprawls for nearly a kilometer beneath the ice in the frozen reaches of the north.

The girl had fallen asleep during the long journey; she awakes now, roused from her slumber by a deep, booming voice.

"Jack Frost!" A large, barrel-chested man throws back the door and moves as if to hug Jack. Jack steps back hastily, and the man lets his arms fall back, unperturbed. "Been awhile since I saw your sorry mug about, Jack," says the man.

"For good reason," says Jack coldly.

The man shrugs. "Who's the girl?" he asks. "Changeling?"

"Yes," says Jack.

"Treasure trove of information you are," grumbles the man, pulling Jack inside, the girl along with him.

"I do my best," says Jack. 

Gah, brain is frazzled by biology project. *headdesk*

Anyhoo.

*******

"What do you intend to do about her, then?" asks the man. "The fey won't want her back."

"I'm aware of that," says Jack tightly. "But what was I to do? Let her die?"

"You're not the type to suffer merciful impulses," says the man.

"It happens on occasion," says Jack, his lips barely moving.

"Um," Jenny begins.

"He won't be happy," says the man.

"He's never happy," replies Jack calmly.

"Your funeral," says the man with a shrug, as he opens a giant door of ice. 

It's really good from what I've read, and I'm on at the same time as you, TNÖ.

In case you are all wondering, I do go on Inkwell sometimes, but not very often, because it's too hectic for me.  I can't keep up.  🙂 

Argghhhhhhhhhh! That is so amazingly amazing that I am awed by its amazingness and amazingosomosity! That is so incredibly great! Can you teach me to write like you TNO (umlaut)? That's so great! You don't write, you paint pictures! I literally don't even realize what the words are saying, the pictures just pour into my mind! This is so great! You are amazingfullness!

The twisted figure on the throne lifts his head to blink at Jack. "You've come home at last, have you?" he asks tonelessly.

"You can hardly blame me for staying away," says Jack, clenching a fist.

The only response is a whispering chuckle.

"You know why I'm here, Father?" asks Jack.

"Judging by the changeling clinging to your arm, I can hazard a guess. But I can't help you, Jack."

"Why not?" asks Jack stiffly, with the tone of one who is not accustomed to being denied.

"You know the law, my son. The fey and the snow elves have an agreement that must not be breached – even for the sake of repairing family relations."

"I have no interest in repairing family relations," snarls Jack. "It is for my friend's sake, nothing more."

"So you still claim that no pity stirs within your soul?" asks the withered man sadly.

"No," says Jack. "I have no pity." 

 *zombie*

*******

The old man sighs. "If you insist, Jack."

"You will help?" asks Jack.

"I can't. You know that."

Wordlessly, Jack turns on his heel and marches out of the room, dragging Jenny behind him. She skids and slips on the icy floor, but Jack does not slow down or look back.

Behind them, as the doors close on the frigid throne room, Father Winter slumps over on his throne, and covers his face with a gnarled hand. 

They stand outside the magnificent frozen palace, the tall blue man and the small, delicate girl. Jack does not look down at the slender form clutching his hand; rather he gazes out to the horizon, watching as the last rays of the sun sink below it, leaving streaks of darkening purple and the evening star glowing brightly between two mountain peaks.

At last, Jack speaks. "So."

He does not continue for several minutes, still staring at the brilliant, illuminated planet in the sky.

"So?" asks Jenny, as the silence begins to drag.

Jack shakes himself as if awakening from a deep trance. "We're going back to your village," he says softly. "We're picking up a friend of mind – possibly my only friend – and then we're going on a little adventure." His lips twitch upward in a smile that does not touch his round blue eyes. He looks down at the girl, whose eyes are wide with fright.

He tugs her forward, with force enough to make her stumble, but she says nothing, and follows him as he strides out across the frozen terrain.

OoOoO

A few hours later, the girl asks, faintly, if he will carry her. Jack looks down in surprise, to see her eyes drooping and her feet dragging trails in the snow. He heaves a sigh and scoops her into his arms.

The rhythm of his steps lulls the girl into sleep, her forehead resting against Jack's chilly neck.

The frost prince strides on throughout the night. 

Poe is waiting for them as they approach Montaview. He stands calmly, his hands on his cane, outside his door. The moonlight lights the snow at his feet and sends up a steady radiance to light his face.

He bows his head as Jack strides up to him with Jenny in tow. "You were right, Jack," he murmurs. "As always. I suppose you want me to come with you?"

"It would certainly speed things along," says Jack cooly.

"I'm old, Jack. I turn ninety in a week. I can't go traipsing about in the middle of the night with a supernatural being and a changeling girl."

"So you'd rather hide in your study with your books and your fire?" asks Jack sharply, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows.

Poe sighs. "An old man needs his comforts."

"And frost elves do not," replies Jack.

"Especially not their prince?"

"Especially not him."

Poe sags, defeated. "Let me get my coat, and the book."

"Hurry."

Poe hobbles out of his house a few moments later, one gnarled hand clutching an enormous leather-bound book. The book has no title and the cover is thick with dust.

Jack blinks at it slowly.

"Let's go," he says. "There's a sleigh waiting for us just out of sight of town."

"Ah, good," mutters Poe.

The trio sets off across the snow, their backs to the small town in the valley.