Once upon a time, there was a lady.
This lady smiled and laughed, but she did not live. The world feared her, for things that do not live should not smile and laugh. What they could not see that was her heart was broken. Most things that do not live cannot have broken hearts, for most must have their hearts beating in order for them to break. So the lady was alone, and she stayed so for a long time.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Grim danced with Pitch for hours that night, twirling through the silent, bloodstained halls of the abbey. They stepped over and upon the bodies of the prince's cronies, though not on the prince himself- Grim steered their course quite clear of the black room.
Afterwards, they drank, Pitch sipping demurely and Grim gulping from goblets filled to the brim.
"Are you trying to give yourself a hangover worse than all of your previous ones combined, or are you hoping to put yourself into a coma?" the Boogeyman commented dryly.
"And who says I'm not going for both?" the Reaper slurred before taking a hearty swig straight from a bottle.
Pitch chuckled and took another sip from his not-quite-half-emptied cup. "You're going to hate yourself for this in the morning..." He glanced out a window contemplatively. "...or later today, as it were."
Grim laughed hysterically.
"The round Moon rolled behind the hill,
the Sun raised up her head.
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;
though it was day, to her surprise
they all went back to bed!" she belted drunkenly, emphasizing the last verse by sweeping her hand to indicate the bodies scattered across the floor.
"Oh, the sun's far from rising right now, darling. Your sins won't see daylight for a couple hours yet."
Grim wrinkled her nose. "It's not sinning if it's your job, dear," she corrected, wagging a reprimanding finger at her companion before taking another gulp of wine.
Pitch rolled his eyes. "Try telling that to your brother. Every time I try to scare a child, he takes issue with it like it's a personal affront."
"Well, maybe getting in your way is his job, hobgoblin. Have you considered that?"
"It's a stupid job," he grumbled with his lips to his goblet. "He's always had a problem with me, but ever since his little 'promotion' from Mim he's been positively insufferable. Can't a specter haunt in peace nowadays?"
Grim stuck out her tongue. "If you can't rest in peace, what's the point of doing anything else in peace?"
"Don't get philosophical now. I'm not drunk yet."
She opened her mouth to retort, her head lolling back, but the only thing that came out was a snore.
Grim woke alone in the dark, with a hangover that, if not worse than, certainly rivalled all her previous hangovers to date. This was not helped by the fact that the first sight greeting her eyes upon her opening them was the moon shining full and bright through the window. She groaned and threw a hand over her face.
"Not now, Mim. Turn it off," she grumbled.
The moon, most disagreeably, did not turn off.
With a resigned sigh, Grim slowly peeled herself off the ground and stumbled her way through to the doors leading outside. Upon opening the door, she immediately regretted her decision, her brow creasing as the moonlight seared her face.
"Can't you take that somewhere else?" she yelled, wincing at the volume of her voice.
The moon stayed put.
Grim sighed again, slumping to the ground.
"I'm so tired," she mumbled. "I'm so...I just...I don't want to do this anymore, Mim. I don't want to be like this anymore. Why am I like this?"
The question was as much to herself as to the moon, though neither provided any answer.
She hid her face in her hands. "I never asked to be like this. I never asked to be in the first place. Why do I exist?"
Grim felt dampness on her palms and yanked her hands away, staring uncomprehendingly at the tears shining below her fingers. She moved her gaze up to the moon, squinting against the brightness.
"Do you know?" she asked, voice cracking. "You were here before me. You were here before all of us. Can you tell me?"
Her throat pulsed as she fought back a sob.
"Can you change me? Make me something else? Anything else?"
"Why would you want that?"
She flinched, turning to see Pitch standing behind her with his arms crossed.
"What on this earth would drive you to ask him," the Boogeyman seethed, "to change you? You scorned your brother's decision before: now you seek to make the same? Are you so desperate to become Mim's lackey?"
Grim sneered. "Not all of us enjoy being the monster, darling. You might revel in your role, but I tire of mine. Now, if you're done criticizing my wanting to be something other than ugly and despicable-"
"You think you're ugly?" he interrupted.
"And despicable. As I was saying-"
"Well, you're wrong. On all three counts," he stated bluntly.
"I only said I was ugly and despicable. You didn't let me list a third trait."
Pitch knelt next to her.
"You said we were monsters. Am I? Certainly. You, however, are not."
She scoffed. "Does it make a difference? It's all the world sees me as."
"I don't," he said gently.
Grim sniffled and wiped her eyes with a hoarse laugh. "You're not the world."
"I don't mean the world to you? I'm wounded, Grim. Truly."
She shoved him. "You already seem to think the world of yourself, dear. I don't think your ego needs the help."
He put a hand over hers. "Your self-esteem does, apparently."
Grim closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his arm.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The lady had wings, and so she would fly. She rarely let her feet touch the ground.
The world did not understand how she could fly, when her heart did not beat like all other flying things. The world tied her up and cut her wings, trying to figure out how something that did not live could soar and swoop and feel joy.
After that, the lady could not soar or swoop. For a long time, she could not feel joy either.
Then one night, the lady met a child, beautiful as the first snow of winter. She loved the child as her own, cradling him in her arms and rocking him to sleep.
The moon saw this and mourned, for he knew the child could not stay with the lady. He told her this, but she refused to believe him, and so her heart was broken again when the child left.
The child could not stay, but he could visit her, and so he did.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Grim smiled at Jack as he spun across the ice. "Pookie was right when he called you a show pony."
Jack laughed, the sound like icicles clinking. "What's up with that nickname anyway? 'Pookie?' 'Grimace' I get, but how do you get from the Easter Bunny to 'Pookie?'"
"Well, he wasn't always the Easter Bunny, you know. Once he was a púca."
"A what now?"
"A púca! They're a kind of shapeshifting fairy."
Jack raised an eyebrow as he gracefully slid from one foot to another. "A fairy? You mean like Tooth?"
Grim grimaced. "Mordice, or 'Tooth' as she's known nowadays, might be a fairy, but she and Pookie aren't much alike. For one thing, Pookie was born a fae: Tooth was made into one."
"Sorry, I still don't have everyone's backstory yet. I didn't even know there was really a Mrs. Claus until yesterday, you know. Oh! That reminds me, Natasha says hello. She also says you guys need to get together for cocoa or something sometime."
"Tosh is back?" Grim clapped her hands together delightedly. "Lovely!"
"'Tosh?' Do you have nicknames for everyone?"
"Not everyone, darling."
"Do you just call them 'dear' or 'darling' until you've figured one out, then?"
"My my, I've been found out. I'll admit, I haven't one for you quite yet. If you've any suggestions, I'm all ears."
"Nah, Bunny is all ears. You're all...I dunno," Jack mused, waggling his fingers in the air expressively. "Flowy?"
"Flowy. Hm, I don't think I've heard that particular description applied to me before."
"Have you ever been described as 'amazed?'" Jack questioned, skating over to her.
"Probably. Why the curiosity?"
Jack took her hands and led her to the middle of the frozen lake. "Prepare to be."
She laughed as he placed her hands over her eyes, peeking through her fingers. "What's this?"
He replaced the stray fingers. "Ah-ah-ah. It's a surprise!"
"Ooh, a surprise! Fun. That's your specialty, isn't it?"
Jack gently parted the back of her robes so that her scars were visible. Cautiously, he touched a finger to each scar and began tracing outwards, his hands quickly leaving her back and moving through open air.
Grim shivered, and he briefly placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder before remembering he was the equivalent of a human freezer. Or spirit freezer.
Carefully continuing his work, Jack blew a few stray snowflakes from his creation before adding a couple finishing touches. "Okay, look!" he commanded.
Grim dropped her hands, her expression bemused as she turned to see what was causing a cold weight on her back. She turned in several circles like a grim chasing its tail before thinking to look down at her reflection in the ice. Her hands flew up again, this time to her mouth, catching the gasp that escaped as she saw the blue-white wings sprouting translucent behind her.
"What do you think?" Jack asked cheerfully, hiding his mounting apprehension as he studied Grim's frozen face.
The icy wings glimmered as Grim swayed from side to side experimentally, studying the glint of the moonlight off of each feather. She spun in another circle, slowly this time, eyes glued to her reflection.
A drop of water hit the ice.
Jack stared at the tear tracks freezing on her face. "Grim? Grim, are you okay?"
She laughed, wiping her eyes and turning to face him. "Never better, darling."
She twirled again, opening her arms as if she might take flight. Jack followed her, summoning the wind to make the wings flutter. They danced across the ice, the sky reflected below them as if they were spinning through air instead of across a lake.
Finally Grim slowed, swaying to a stop and taking a seat on a nearby snowbank, clapping her hands to applaud the show. "I have it!"
Jack chuckled, sliding to a stop. "Have what?"
"Your nickname, mon flocon de neige."
He whistled. "That's kind of a mouthful for a nickname, don't you think? Aren't nicknames supposed to be short?"
"They usually are, but above all, nicknames are supposed to be affectionate, verglas."
"Verglas? Is that another nickname?"
"Mm. Do you like it?"
He shrugged. "I mean, I wouldn't want somebody else to call me that."
"But as for me?" she inquired, fiddling with the chain around her neck.
Jack smiled. "Yeah, sure, you can call me mon flucon dee nej or whatever. I don't mind."
"Flocon de neige, my snowflake. Flocon de neige."
"Whatever you say, Flowy."
"Ooh, I get a nickname too! What a lovely present."
Jack raised an eyebrow mischievously. "So if the nickname 'Flowy' is a lovely present, the wings must be something really special, huh?"
Grim grinned back at him. "Oh, the wings are marvelous, darling. Thank you."
She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his hoodie to hide the tears welling up again.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The child was no longer a child when he returned, but a man. Yet his eyes were still laughing and youthful, and his heart loved as a child's did.
The man found the lady broken and alone, though she hid it with smiles stretched wide. He had the wisdom of a child also, the young wisdom that only those with clear sight of the world can keep without it being tarnished by expectations or assumptions. The man saw the lady was broken, and he knew he could not heal her, could not take away her pain.
But he could dull it, for a little while.
And so he did, and kissed her ice cold so that her pain was numbed. He gave her beauty, crystalline and glittering and temporary, beauty that would fade in the warmth of long summers ahead. He gave her laughter, and smiles that were not masks, and he cared not that her heart did not beat, for his did not either.
They were fleeting moments, the ones he gave to her, but they both knew in these fleeting moments she would find strength when the pain returned, and treasure the reprieve all the more because of it.
The lady had been alone, and she knew a day would come when she would always be so. But for now, the lady is not alone, and she will treasure that while it lasts.