Gift for blueyedragon

Gift from ???

Title:  The Legend of Joanna Frost

Pairing: Jackson x OC (Joanna)

Word count: 2659

Rating: Pg-15 (on the safe side)

Warnings: implicit and explicit character death - main and side (oohoohoo guess who!), verbal abuse, suggested physical abuse...oh yeah and child abandonment...


Note:  Hey, so i really tried to get this by Christmas (i had like three days tho...) and it would have if my WiFi was better and i didn't have freaking tornado warnings...but uh, i wasn't your orginal secret Santa but i am now and i hope i did good. I know you said you didn't really like fluff but there's like one scene that was necessary for plot/character growth/analysis...uh, sorry it turned out that Jackson wasn't really a big part. I based this off an old Russian folk tale of King Winter (Ded Moroz or something). I originally had something else but didn't have enough time and sorry I'm blabbering, but I hope you like it. Happy late Christmas!

The Legend of Joanna Frost

Cold. Cold was all Joanna felt. Bitter, numbing cold. But then, there was a spark of something else; a flash of warmth, a flourish of invitation -- no, acceptance.  It felt like how her mother used to taker in her arms. The feeling of safety and love encompassing her body. A blanket of --cold. Cold, her mother was cold now,  she had been for quite a while. Cold, like Joanna?

Mother…

The words sent shivers through her freezing body. Why? She did not know. Joanna loved her mother. She remembers cold winters snuggled up by a fire with her mother and father.  Warm smiles and loving words --

“! Useless! Ungrateful! Insignificant!”

No, not mother. Step mother.

The words sent crashes of pain and turbulent emotion swirling through Joanna’ s blood; white-hot fire vaporizing the cold in her.

Step mother.

What an evil woman. Every day without fail she would torture Joanna.  Tell her where her place was in the word. Tell her that she was ugly, useless, just another mouth to feed, a waste of space, less than dirt. Joanna became the atrocious product of that other woman. Oh, how Joanna step mother never failed to mention the inferiority of her breeding. Of how her own daughter,  Joanna’s half sister, was the perfect child: beautiful, regal, aristocratic. No matter what, Joanna was always inferior. Joanna was lazy. Joanna was stupid. Joanna didn't cook my food right. Joanna did wash my clothes right. Joanna needs to feed the animals. Joanna needs to clean the house. Joanna, Joanna,  Joanna.  Every day Joanna’s step mother complained to her husband. Everyday she told him to get rid of the little rat. She never cared that Joanna would hear her. She never cared about Joanna.  She never cared.

The cold tingled around Joanna.  It settled around her like a bed: soft and encompassing. It reminded her of the boy, Jackson - or Jack Frost as some would call him. The boy with wisdom well beyond his appearances. The boy who lived in the frozen lake.

Her father a weak man, unable to fend for himself or his child. He was a wreck of a man, not containing any of the qualities one would associate with a man, let alone a father. He was a weakling, a pushover, and he let his second wife control his entire life. He had achieved into  the wretched woman. He conceded to his wife’s plotting, and took his daughter, the child of his first wife and first love, to the ice lake. He walked her down the winding path through the woods, never once looking her in the eye. He brought her to a tree by the shore and bound her wrists to the trunk. He did not like back as he jumped on his horse and rode away. He did not come back for her the following day, not that he had to, at least.

Joanna cried silently as she watched her father leave her. Hands bound by coarse rope and skin exposed to v biting wind and cold, she could only suffer and accept defeat. Soon after, snow began to fall. She would have considered it beautiful hadn´t not burned her skin. The wind blew ice and  snow into her eyes and assaulted her frail, shivering form. She knew she would not last the night. Closing her eyes she snagged against the tree ready to embrace the cold blackness around her. But then, she heard a voice. It was low and husky, like the crunching of snow beneath heavy boots, and melodically captivating, like the cold wind whispering through trees and mountains.

“Are you cold?”

Joanna opened her eyes to find a handsome stranger standing before her. He was young, probably not much older than herself. His hair was white and shone like freshly fallen snow.  He had eyes like deep pools of water glistened over with a layer of ice. Dark, expressive eyebrows aided the emotion shown in his eyes and through his boyish smile. His angular, but broad body was covered in a long and thick, white fur coat that sweeps up snow behind him.

“Are you cold?” The boy asked again as he glided closer to Joanna.

“A-ah, no. I - I’m fine,” Joanna lied. You see, Joanna had lived a life where everything she did became an inconvenience. She was a kind girl with a good heart, despite all the tools and trails her step mother put her through. Even though she did not know this boy, she did not want to become a bother to him.

“No?” the boy tilted his his head to the side and leaned shifted to lean his shoulder against the tree Joanna was tied to, “Aren't you cold? Really?”

“ No,” she lied once again, despite the uncontrollable shivers in her body and the pallid color of her skin or the ice blooming across her skin and clumping her eyelashes.

“You aren't cold?” the boy asked again, now resting his head upon the tree.

Joanna merely nodded her head in affirmation, unable to speak due to the chattering of her teeth. The boy’s smile dropped for a moment as his eyes looked over Joanna. Then, he smiled again, a wickedly charming smile of pearly white teeth and soft pink lips. He pushed himself off the tree and took of his coat, moving it to rest on Joanna’s shoulders. He then untied her bounds with nimble fingers.

Joanna smiled to her best ability in her frozen state, “W-Won’t y-y-you b-be c-c-cold?”

The boy smirked, eyes flashing with mirth, “Sweetheart, I'm always cold.”

He stepped forward and tugged the coat over her front and pulled the girl into his embrace.

“You see, my name is Jackson,” He whispered huskily into her hair, “ But most know me as Jack Frost. I am the harbinger of winter, the controller of the icy elements, judge over the cold hearted...Not everyday you meet a winter spirit,” Jackson joked, chin tapping her on the head.

Joanna looked up in surprise, mouth falling open. Jackson simply laughed at the reaction, breaking away from the impromptu hug and leaning on a tree while his body shook in laughter. The sound reminded Joanna of the clinking of icicles broken off rooftops by strong winds. The sound was sharp and sweet like spearmint.  The sound was infectious,  as was his smile. With the coat slowly warming her body, Joanna felt her lips twitch up as quiet giggles tumbles from . Jackson’s smile only got bigger and his eyes glinted dangerously.  

Suddenly Joanna felt herself being pulled down into the the snow. She squealed in surprise. Jackson kicked snow in Joanna’s direction, laughing as she rolled away. The cold powder still found purchase through the neck of her coat and tickled at the warming skin beneath. Joanna retaliated with her own wicked smile, secretly balling up snow in one of her bare hands. When Jackson bent over to pick up more snow, she threw her own, hitting him on the top of his head. He jerked up in surprise, comically falling on his . Joanna laughed loudly and with abandon, unknowingly starting a war that would only stop when either of them could not longer stand due to their joyous laughter.

The two finally lied side by side in the snow, breathing hard as they caught their breath. Joanna no longer felt the cold. She was surrounded by a chill, yeas, but it was a reminder of life. She could feel the cold, that freshening, numbingly alive sense of cold. It reminded her that she could be happy. She should be happy.

“You should probably get home soon,” Jackson interrupted her thoughts, “The sun will rise soon.”

He had his face looking up towards the sky so Joanna copied him. She had never thought of how much time had passed. The sky was gradient from deep purple to pale blue, a few stars twinkling from in between dark clouds. The sun had not broken the horizon yet but its rays had already started the changing colors in the sky.

“No, I can't - I won't!” Joanna sat up and looked down at Jackson before turning away from him, “I won't go back to that woman- that monster!”

“Who?” Jackson prodded her to continue but something in his voice said he already knew.

“I-” Joanna stopped herself and sighed, “No, I couldn't bother you with my burdens…”

Jackson looked at her quizzically for a moment before smiling, “Go home. I'll have a friend you there.”

He stood up and held a hand out for Joanna to take. She reluctantly did so, not entirely keen on the idea. Jackson’s eyes looked over Joanna’s shoulders, which prompted the girl to turn around. Sitting at the edge of the path away from the lake was a pure white dog. It stood when it saw Joanna and barked.

Jackson silently pushed Joanna towards the dog, “Go on, go.”

The dog walked over to Joanna and walked in a circle around the girl. It barked happily and bit at the edge of her coat, tugging on it lightly. Joanna followed the dog in a confused manner, head turning back to look at Jackson in question. The dog just continued to pull her toward the path.

“Oh, and Joanna,” Jackson suddenly called out,  “Don't worry about your step mom. Just remember this: there are only two kinds of people in this word: the righteous who think they are sinners and the sinners who think they are righteous.” Jackson winked before turning away. A gust of wind raised a curtain of snow and when it settled Jackson was gone.

Joanna smiled in remembrance.  Jackson, or Jack Frost, the boy with a cold body but a warm soul and his friend the snow dog. The cm very same dog which would be the harbinger of death. That was the best part of her story. The day her stepmother atoned for her evils.

Joanna had followed the dog back to her house.  The fur coat she wore warded off all the of the chill in the early morning air. She reached the gate if her house right as the sun had completely risen over the horizon. Her father saw her through a window and burst out the door. He sprinted to his daughter, tears of confusion and guilt streaming down his face. Joanna found herself wrapped in her father’s arm, sobs of apologies pressed into her hair. Joanna’s step mother heard the commotion and came outside. Upon seeing her step daughter, she screeched in displeasure.

“YOU! How could you live! DEMON! MONSTER! Stay away you spawn of the devil!” The woman screamed and stomped over to her husband and ripped him away from his daughter.

“Scum!”

An unfamiliar voice rang out amongst the scuffle.

“Scum!”

Joanna looked to her side to see the dog bent over and growling menacingly.

“Wretched woman!” The dog barked, “You are a spawn of evil! You're heart is cold!”

Suddenly a chest appeared in between Joanna and the dog in a puff of white smoke. It opened itself and revealed its contents: gold upon gold, rich necklaces and bracelets,  lavish jewels and shining diamonds. Joanna’s step mother gasped and surged forward, hands extended towards the chest. However, with a sharp bark from the dog the chest slammed closed and disappeared. Then, in a flash of white light, the treasures manifested upon Joanna. Her neck and wrists were decorated with beautiful jewelry, her fingers with rings.

“Wretched woman!” The dog barked,  “This girl is more valuable than the riches you saw in that chest! She is kind and has a heart of gold! You have a heart colder than the ice atop the tallest mountains! This child has survived by the way of her heart, but should your offspring be left in the same spot, she would die by the King over Blackhearts, with no treasures, unwed and unhappy.”

The stepmother squared her shoulders and raised her chin, “Lies! Tell me that my daughter is fair and worthy of wealth and I will reward you!”

“Should your offspring be left in the same spot, she would die by the King over Blackhearts, with no treasures, unwed and unhappy.” The dog repeated.

“Lies, beast! I shall prove you wrong!My daughter is perfect!  Her daughter is a disgrace!” She shouted all the more louder.

“We shall see then!” The dog growled, “Take your daughter to the very same lake and the very same spot at dusk. Come back at dawn of the next day, should she live, you will have all the riches you want.”

Joanna’s stepmother huffed at the animal. She turned in her heels and stormed  back towards the house, ordering her husband to follow and prepare the carriage. Then at dusk,  she sent her daughter away.

Joanna remembered the tense wait they had all went through. She knew her stepmother was nervous. The woman would take it out on Joanna mercilessly that night. It seems that each insult was exponentially worse than the last. She couldn't have waited for morning any harder than she had. But she was glad. Joanna was glad because in the end, when they had finally reached the lake she had knew she had won.

They all went to the lake the next morning. They walked down the winding path through the woods. They reached the lake. Yet, Joanna step sister was nowhere to be found; all that was left was a frost bitten rope, tied to a tree and swinging idly in the wind. Then, the wind blew harder.  A strong gust lifted massive amounts of snow off the ground and lake, flinging it into the air and depositing it elsewhere in a cyclone of white. When the dust settled, they found her. Pressed up against the ice from beneath, shifting in the icy waters with opened in a silent scream was Joanna stepsister.

Joanna frowned as she remembered what happened next. Her stepmother had screamed in agony and rage. Her father fainted. Suddenly she was held by , her stepmother anguished eyes glowing like fire.

Then, cold: that same crisp, reminder of life that she felt when she was with Jack. She felt her body sinking. She saw the morning light, dancing in rays across the water, fragmenting off edges of broken ice. She had no idea how long she stayed there. All she felt was the strangle calming caress of the cold, the soothing calmness of oblivion. She opened her eyes and found no light above her. She found that she wasn't wet. She wasn't cold. She thought she saw saw a face. White hair that glowed in the moonlight. Shining teeth like freshly fallen snow. Deep, dark eyes that shone like the night sky. And, a husky voice that called out to her like winter winds whispering through tree branches, gliding across mountain tops, caressing the cheeks cheeks and noses of children playing in the snow.

“Don't worry about your stepmother, she's where she always wanted to be, and where she deserves to be.”

A legend would be told about that lake. A story about vanity always and purity. But no matter whether you believe in this story or not, should you find yourself near that frozen lake, search your heart. Are you as pure as the girl whose life was regiven as winter?