Chapter Text
Jack Frost was in a storm cloud, and he wasn't alone. Something was circling him like a shark, illuminated only briefly by a flash of lightning before disappearing again. Jack tried to keep hold of both his staff and the tin of cookies Phil had thrust on him before sending out into the storm. A thermos rested in the pouch of his hoodie, safe and secure even as the winds swirled restlessly around Jack. He thought he saw butterflies in the flashes of lightning, but that was just too weird, even for him.
"If Phil thinks he can bribe me into turning this storm back," something hissed, "then he's in for a grave disappointment-" Jack popped open the tin – there were cookies! He was gonna turn that yeti into an ice sculpture for this! "Are those... cinnamon raisin?"
"Still warm from the oven," Jack confirmed, plucking one of the cookies from the tin and popping it into his mouth. The tin was snatched out of his hands, sending Jack spinning briefly before the wind caught him again.
"Ooooh, that sneaky-" The woman's dressed blended into the clouds, with pale skin and a cloud of black hair the only things clearly visible, and Jack doubted he'd have been able to spot that much if she disappeared back into the cloud. "Where's the drink? He always sends a drink with the bribe." She turned suddenly to face Jack, grey eyes narrowing.
"Phil just sent me with the cookies," Jack insisted innocently. A hail stone the size of an apple wizzed past his ear, and the woman held out her hand expectantly.
"The next ones won't miss."
Jack pulled out the thermos, a slow smirk spreading. "For someone who doesn't think she can be bribed-"
The second hailstone smacked into Jack's hand, sending the thermos tumbling through the open air. The woman caught it quickly, unscrewing the cap and sniffing. "Praise be, he remembered how much I loathe egg nog." The cap went back on with a businesslike twist of her wrist. "You tell Phil that he's won this round, but this storm can't be put off forever. This side of the mountain is long overdue." She disappeared into the storm cloud which rolled back from whence it came, leaving Jack alone, confused, and nursing an aching hand.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Phil wasn't the least bit sorry, declaring Jack a big baby after giving the hand a cursory examination. He was more interested in his offering having been accepted, and he was pleased. North came sweeping through the Workshop like a great wind, sweeping Jack up in his wake while Phil escaped the rightful freezing that had been coming his way. "So, you have met Mother Nature, and she has not zapped you with the lightning!" He clapped Jack on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble.
"So you knew Phil was setting me up!"
Oh, a dark and terrible vengeance was going to fall on North's Workshop...
"Set up? There was no set up! I decided it was best you meet Mother Nature with a peace offering, so she does not make with the lightning to tender parts. No hail against my windows is only bonus." North spread his arms expansively. "Last time we beat Pitch, stones the size of small horses! He is very sore spot for her," he added in a confidential tone, draping a beefy arm around Jack's shoulders, "so it seemed like a good idea to make the first meeting friendly."
"You call hitting me with hail 'friendly'?" Jack demanded, holding up his injured hand.
North took Jack's wrist and looked at the hand. "For her? Very. I think the cookies helped," he went on, mostly to himself. "I will remember to keep some on hand when I take out the sleigh." North focused his full attention on Jack once more. "Nothing broken, and the bruise will fade."
Jack jerked his hand away, shaking it out. "You gonna tell me why Mother Nature would throw lightning and hail at us over Pitch?" he wanted to know. "Or is it one of those things you guys always forget to fill me in on because I'm not a million years old?"
And there were a lot of things the other Guardians were very bad about explaining. They had centuries of history together, and that added up to a lot of stories. For instance, Jack still didn't know why Bunnymund and the Groundhog loathed each other, just that it was 'an old story no one felt like hearing repeated'. This had the feeling of being one of those stories.
North looked sad for a moment, glancing away from Jack and towards the sky. It was still light out, but Jack could just barely see the outline of the moon in the sky. "It is our oldest story," North mused, "and when it is told, Mother Nature's part is usually left out. I think this is how she likes it, but who can say?" North studied the sky, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Now, long before there were Guardians, or Manny, or even Pitch Black, there was a Golden empire out there among the stars. This empire, it dedicated itself to destroying or capturing all the great horrors of the universe. The Dream Pirates, the Fearlings, the great Abyssals, they hunted them all, and leading this hunt was their greatest general. This general, he was wise and brave and perfect, the way they are in the stories. And they say he was like this because he was fighting for the most important of causes; his little girl."
North herded Jack towards his office as he continued the story, gesturing theatrically as he went. "It was a great and terrible war, but with that great general leading the way, they did win. All the Fearlings and Nightmares were locked into an impenetrable prison with only one door, and the general was made it's guard. Which was all well and good in the short term, but in the long... not so much. Because the general was still a papa, you understand, and he missed his little girl very much. And Fear, it has it's way of finding the cracks and slipping in."
"I think I see where this story is going." And Jack could, too. "The Nightmares got to him and – what, they got him to let them out?"
"And then they ate him all up," North confirmed, "from the inside out."
"Turning the general into Pitch Black-"
"Who then terrorized the universe until Manny stopped him. By then, he had destroyed the empire and all it's people, except for a scattered few. The general's daughter, she came following in Pitch's wake, and when she saw what had happened, she said 'I will stay here too'. No one is really sure why." North's whole body rippled with his shrug. "She does not fight on Pitch's side, but she does not fight against him either. Mostly, she is just Mother Nature – she calls the tune, the seasons dance to it, and she keeps herself to herself."
"Except for the hail and the lightning," Jack reminded him dryly. North made a noise of reluctant agreement as they reached his office. Through the window, Jack could see a storm raging on a distant mountain peak. Enjoying the cookies? he wondered.
"She is very old," North reminded him, "and being alone for as long as she has can make a person very strange indeed."
Lightning danced in the distant storm, and Jack made a vague noise of agreement. He never noticed North's pleased little smile as he drummed his fingers on his gut.