Please be warned: this is a JackRabbit story, meaning yaoi. There may be some strong language but nothing past kissing or cuddling (I've never written smut before, I know I'd be horrible at it.) Plus, I imagined this as one of those 'innocent/ true love' stories.
For readers of my other story 'A Dance of Death', please note: that story will remain pairing free and continue as a 'general' fiction.
Please enjoy! :)
During the course of his 300 years before Guardianship, Jack had taken an intense liking to music and the instruments that made such beautiful sounds. He would linger around schools and the houses of private tutors and absorb the teachings, certainly more enthralled by the lessons than most the students (and if an instrument or piece of sheet music went missing, well, no one could see him, let alone care enough to track him down.) From violins and cellos, to flutes and clarinets, all the way to the massive harps and organs; Jack Frost learned them all. He'd been there next to Mozart and Beethoven on stage, enchanted by their genius; rocked the concert halls with Pink Floyd and Three Doors Down; toured the world beside Tool and Florence + The Machine; and followed Lindsey Stirling and The Piano Guys through their rise to stardom. Jack embraced it all and found that music held a magic of its own. One that could comfort him on the coldest of nights; the loneliness of a child shunned by the world.
It was the piano, however, that truly held Jack's affection. The first time his cool blue eyes fell on the large instrument, the Winter Spirit seemed to automatically know just what to do. His pale fingers would fly with an ethereal grace across the ivory keys, his bare feet moving the pedals with a natural flow that spoke of years of practice and a love of something more. A certain melody would always dance on the edge of his memory, but he couldn't quite grasp that ghost of a forgotten past. He used the few notes he could recall to search for this work of art but he would always come up empty handed. His melody simply didn't exist within the confines of the mortal world. Still, the teen played it when the chance arose; he always treasured the sense of love and comfort, warmth and acceptance that would wash over him like a tidal wave.
Jack knew this song was meant for him.
And he knew he was wanted at one point in time.
Now, nearly six months after the Battle of the Nightmare King, Jack Frost wandered the halls of the North Pole. His feet guided him blindly down the corridor that led him further from the work shop with each step. The white haired youth turned a corner and was met with a brown door, standing by its lonesome at the end of a hallway. This door of oak, with its gleaming golden handle, gave a sense of trepidation as Jack stepped closer. He didn't hesitate. A pale hand grabbed the knob and the door clicked open, swinging on rusty hinges. The room, conquered by dust, was fairly sized with enough space to comfortably sit five people plus room to spare. A loveseat and three cushioned arm chairs sat around an ornate fireplace of marble carving. The carpet was a deep red that matched the gold trimmed walls. A white ceiling stood over head, allowing the sun, that peeked through two large bay windows through faded gold curtains, reflect around the room; but Jack's attention was not on the furnishings. It was on the grand black piano that stood to the front of the room as a center piece. The winter spirit blatantly ignored the microscopic dust in favor of sitting on the padded bench before the instrument. His fingers twitched with excitement when they lifted the cover, revealing the black and white keys beneath that were worn from use, but yellowed with age. It reminded Jack of when the room was still in use, not lying abandoned and forgotten with the memories that seemed too painful to recall. The memories of over three centuries ago, when Jack Frost did not exist.
High and low notes rang through the air, comprising themselves into a heart felt melody that spoke more of the soul than words ever could. A warm love of two people who needed only each other to survive. The ending notes vibrated the air seemingly too soon, leaving echoes of their former selves. Thin, tan fingers pulled back from the worn keys while joyful hazelnut eyes looked up at his audience,
"That was so lovely!" A flurry of green, blue, and yellow feathers darted across the room to hug the brown haired boy of seventeen,
"Da, truly beautiful. I almost cannot believe it was composed by such a grumpy bunny!" A tall man with wrinkled features, white hair, and tattoos also stood, an amused twinkle in his eye,
" 'EY!" The large humanoid rabbit shouted in resentment while the boy laughed from his place on the piano bench,
"Thank you. That means a lot..." he shared a glance with the animal like figure, "to both of us." his voice held a tinge of Irish accent,
"That it does, mate." The pooka smiled fondly back at the human boy. The fairy creature hovering nearby gave a light giggle,
"I always enjoy it when you play for us, but I have to get back to my fairies." Miniature versions of the woman floating around her gave small trills of disappointment but followed their mistress out the door, "Don't forget to come visit!" was heard from down the hall,
" 'Tis shame not everyone could make it, but you know how busy he is. I'm sure he'll drop by your village soon though." The older man paused a moment, "Shostakovich! I need to check my lists!" black boots tromped heavily against the floor as he rushed out the door, "PHIL! Where are my lists!?" A moment of silence lapsed before the brown haired boy stood and stepped towards his furry companion, who stood to meet him,
"Thank you, really." the rabbit's ears twitched at the sound of the younger's voice. Their hands came up to grab the other's so they stood palm to palm and face to face. The heat from the fire surrounding them with a pleasant atmosphere,
"You gave me a right challenge, but I was too bloody stubborn to give you up."
"I'm glad you didn't, wouldn't want the big bad Easter Bunny to be lonely, now would we?" Brown eyes sparkled with mischief, soon to be followed by laughter when the taller gave an eye roll accompanied by a soft smile. The boy reached up on his tip toes to wrap his lithe arms around a furry neck. A pair of muscled arms wrapped around the smaller one's back, offering silent support, "I love you, E. Aster Bunnymund." Chocolate eyes stared up into brilliant emerald,
"I love you, Jackson Overland."
Jack Frost lowered thin, white fingers to the keys and a song began to play. A melody of longing and desire, of happiness and joy, of love and hope.
It was a melody of the heart.
Brown hair turned white; white as the snow he brought; and chestnut eyes turned as blue as the ice he wielded. His center, his love, remained the same, however. So the Spirit of Winter played his confession on keys made of memories long past. He played his sorrow of the life he lost. He played his tears from the years he suffered alone. He played his dream of a brighter future. He played for a love, crumbled and decayed into dust.
Jackson Overland died three hundred years ago, loved.
Jack Frost was born three hundred years ago, alone.
Jack Frost was not Jackson Overland.
No one could love Jack Frost.
Short prologue is short O.o Sorry if it seems confusing, any questions will hopefully be answered as the story progresses ^-^
I want to know if this is any good before I write anymore. So please tell me what you think :D By the way, has anyone else noticed that North swears with the names of Russian composers? I thought that was a neat and creative idea for getting around that issue in a children's movie xD
This piece was inspired by 'The Heart Asks Pleasure First' by Michael Nyman; it also what I imagine the 'melody' that I constantly referred to would be like. It was written for a movie called "The Piano."