Elsa tried hard not to think of the cruel irony that was a death on her birthday; everyone's birthday was someone else's death... but it had never been this close to her before.
The day after was when they held Nicholas' funeral. It was colorless and snow fell like the sky was shedding tears. Perhaps it was the weather, or it was Jack's misery. When word spread through Arendelle that Nicholas had died, people were coming forth with their sympathies. All those sad faces were not just for Nicholas Overland, but for his widow and two children. Jack might've been grown, but he was still too young to lose a parent, and Sophie...
Although she loved each of the Overlands equally, Sophie was the one Elsa felt the most for. She came to Arendelle right when she turned ten, and before her eyes, it felt as though Elsa had seen her grow up so quickly. She was glad to be there to watch her become a young woman who was so spirited and strong-willed. But no one was impervious to the grief that came with such a loss, and she cried until she became sick.
Sophie didn't seek refuge in the arms of anyone—like Jack, she seemed to push people away. It wasn't something that was learned, as it had been her way since she was small. Elsa still kept a close watch on her in case she wanted someone, and though she felt compelled to reach out to Jack, he wasn't speaking to anyone. No one. He hadn't said a word since he'd gone to get Agnarr and Iduna's help... not even when he heard how they spent months trying to reach out to medics across the kingdom who might have access to better medicine but never found any good news. They'd tried so hard to help keep his father alive, yet he didn't know why they bothered—Death came for everyone, and it wanted his father's company next.
For some reason, King Lear came to his mind; it was all that struck him when he tried not to think about his father... then he knew why. It was the last memory he had of him when he thought all was well.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind.
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to th' poor.
Nicholas Overland would be the first of his name to be buried outside of his village's cemetery; Emily had thought about sending his body back there so he could be with his family, but then she and her children would have no place to visit him unless they wanted a two-day trip. The weather was much too harsh for his corpse to be brought anywhere, so all their back-and-forth arguing had been for nothing.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
Fathers that wear rags
Do make their children blind.
But fathers that bear bags
Shall see their children kind.
Fortune, that arrant whore,
Ne'er turns the key to th' poor.
He thought of his face when he'd said, "I wish I could have known you better." It was probably the most sincerity Jack had seen in him in his life.
Nicholas was buried in Arendelle's cemetery right behind the castle. Sophie listened to the words the priest was saying, but none of them made sense to her. Her mother, the King and Queen, and Elsa were all with her, but she felt so alone without her brother beside her. Jack had seen his father's dead body, he didn't want to see it again. All he could think about was all the blood he'd lost. Sophie didn't know to be angry at him or not—she couldn't fathom his desire to be totally alone when they needed each other.
Then part of her grew angrier when she remembered of course Jack wanted to be alone. He'd abandoned them, and now he was doing it again. No, she'd never forgive him for this!
...
When night came, Elsa gently knocked on Jack's door, not expecting an answer, but she had to try. She had yet to learn about Jack's will—if he didn't want to speak, he wouldn't. Plain and simple. "Jack?"
He was alone at the window seat, watching the snowfall. Ice was crawling up the walls and snowflakes were hanging in the air. Jack heard her but didn't answer. He refused to let her see him cry—to give himself credit, burying his emotions was always easier for him than letting them show. It was his nature, even when he was younger. Children cried for many reasons—when they're tired, when they're sick, when they're frustrated—Jack had cried for all these reasons, but most of the time, his tears were from the guilt, the shame he brought them from being born a freak. As he grew, he began to want to hide from his parents whenever he wanted to cry. He'd either hide away in his room or wait until they both went to sleep to let everything out. He'd cried during the nights he thought his parents didn't love him; that one day they'd walk him into the woods and leave him there to be rid of him.
But those were the distressed thoughts of a child. The ones of an adult were far worse.
He worried that if he opened his mouth, all the tears would come out, along with the horrific truth he feared uttering: I killed him. The note, the blood, the fire, it only made sense. Amelia had known what a fool he was and he carried out her plan for her.
"I know you don't want to talk... but I'm right here if you need me. I got Sophie to sleep." She hoped that would ease his mind, but it only made it worse. "I love you." She said in one last effort to get him to open the door. Jack didn't even flinch; he instead touched the glass to make frost in the shape of his father playing with him as a child. He held him in the air as the toddler joyfully kicked his legs.
...
Bunnymund impatiently circled North. "How much longer are we gonna wait?"
"Be patient with them."
"The moon will be full in a day!"
"They'll complete the final task. I know it." North replied briskly. "At the very least, one of them will." Sandman casually sipped eggnog while they argued. He was used to their bickering. "I thought showing them what they could earn if they're chosen would motivate them... Jack didn't even recognize his own home!"
"You expect a spirit that hasn't been here since the twelfth century to remember anything?"
"I thought he would." North grumbled. "It's been so long since I've had this much hope. I was starting to think he would never find his way back to us." He said more solemnly. Bunny knew what hope meant to the man... and it was his own duty to bring such to the world.
The rabbit sighed and shook his head. "You should be more focused on Christmas in a few days. Maybe Sandy and I can give 'em a shove." He murmured, "I can't believe I have to go back to that frozen wasteland."
Sandman looked startled and he pointed to the ceiling with wide eyes. Bunny and North turned to see a light shining through the skylight; the waxing gibbous appeared before them, baffling all three!
"I thought he said we wouldn't hear from him until it was finished!" Bunny exclaimed.
North was listening carefully to the words only heard by him.
A darkness poisoned my tools
And filled them with blood
The boy's family was cursed
And so now they grieve
"Amelia." North said out of the blue.
"What?"
"She did something to the parchment! They have no access to the trials now!"
Bunny's ears folded back. "Oh for fuck's sake! What do we do?"
"We'll have to just tell him the next task ourselves."
"And do you know what that is, Mate?"
"Ah... no."
Bunny shouted to the sky, "Why don't you tell him yourself and save us all this trouble? We spent bloody centuries looking for this kid, the kid you killed!" He pointed his fuzzy finger at the celestial being. "And you're still making us jump through hoops to bring him back!" The Moon was silent for Bunny. He didn't answer to rage. "Bloody, bloody, bugger!" He began to curse to himself.
"Sandy, go peek on him and make sure he's all right." North instructed the Sandman. He turned back to the skies. "Man in Moon, please. Let us help you guide him home!"
...
Blood. It was everywhere.
"Jackson!"
Nicholas' hands and clothes were soaked in blood. He was leaning helplessly against the bed frame.
"Jackson!" He stammered hoarsely, raising his hand pleadingly, his fingers red with his own blood. "Help me!"
Right as his cold touch reached his shoulder, Jack jerked free from his nightmare with a gasp to see in front of him was not his tortured father, but a worried Sophie. No blood anywhere. Jack was panting, he felt a steam hammer in his chest, his shirt was sticky with sweat. Sophie had never seen such a look on his face; one like a scared child.
"Are you okay?" She asked.
Jack's breathing steadied. "I'm fine. I was having a bad dream." She fidgeted nervously. "What's wrong?"
Sophie stepped closer to the bed. "I can't sleep." Sisters always forgave their grudges when they were afraid... and when she'd gone to ask to sleep with her mother, she heard her still crying. Jack didn't answer and instead made her room to crawl beside him. It was her that was folding herself into his arms this time, desperate to be held. She couldn't believe that she ever even thought about hating him forever.
Jack had no desire to fall back asleep and possibly meet with his father or Amelia. He tried to focus his attention on getting his sister to sleep... of course, he didn't know how at this precise moment. He always felt like he had so much to make up for with her; so much time wondering where her brother had gone, why he'd left her, making her be as alone as he was. And his mother, who wept into his clothing and held onto the blanket she'd cradled his infant body in. His father... who just wanted to know whether his son would return or if his body was lying somewhere to never be found and put to rest. And before, he'd always assumed that he'd hurt his family just by being born.
I am the way into the city of woe,
I am the way into eternal pain,
I am the way to go among the lost.
Jack felt like he was traversing his own nine circles of Hell. Did that make him Dante and the guardians Virgil? He should've remembered what Inferno had told him: Abandon all hope you who enter here.
Who knew if Amelia would stop at his father? What if his own mother or sister were next? Why was he just lying there feeling sorry for himself? Yes, the pain was immeasurable, but it would be worse if he let it happen again.
He'd told Sophie he'd be there to take care of her, that much he could promise. He tried to remember the tune of the lullaby she'd hummed for him, but it was already gone from his memory. "I'm right here with you." He managed to say, though he sounded unsure. "I've got you."
Sophie suddenly squeezed around his neck. "Don't leave me!" His heart sank into his stomach. "Don't leave me."
"Sophie–!"
She'd never seen death before. She'd heard about people dying in her village but they were always a stranger to her. How inevitably and unpredictably it had come for her resurfaced old fears. It had been so hard for the young girl not to resent her brother for vanishing and not protecting her like he said he would; she had not seen what chaos his powers caused in their home until the Overlands were the talk of the village for the following weeks, spewing words like 'sorcery' and 'witchcraft.'
She'd thought that maybe the neighbors were keeping Jack hidden somewhere to do tests on him, as witches did on their subjects. If only she'd known what Jack thought he'd done to her all that time.
"Calm down." He tried to say in a soothing voice. "I'm not going anywhere." Somehow, even with her pressed against his chest, he felt more alone than ever. How was it that he made her so insecure that she was begging him to be with her? He hated himself for being so weak—too weak to protect his own family. But all of this was normal; they just had to process their grief... this too would pass. "We're gonna be okay." He said more assuredly. "I promise, we're gonna be fine. Just go to sleep." He smoothed the blanket over her. "It's fine."
She looked reluctant, but closed her eyes. Jack, meanwhile, didn't intend to do the same. He wasn't going to have Amelia plague the lives of the people he loved.
He'd made a decision.