Jackson Overland Pitchiner, popularly called Jack Frost, is the son of The Nightmare King.
He was born on the Isle of the Lost. Unlike most teens on the Isle, he's a loner. He may socialize and occasionally join in some fun, but he's not a gang jo...
Author's Note: This the next chapter edited by crossoverLIFE19. Enjoy! 😊
"So! Where is he?" A jolly voice breaks through my memories and rings me back to reality. At first, only blades of grass greet my sights. But, with a tearful blink and forceful shove, I see North searching the grounds. "Where's Jack Frost?"
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A sudden force of emotions hits me and blood begins to pump to my legs. Just as I lift my foot to follow my instincts' command, a hand lays on my back. Looking back, I grimace as I meet Ben's tender gaze. With a gentle shove, he moves me to North's line of sight.
"Here he is, King North," Ben speaks, bringing all the attention to me.
Looking up at the towering giant, all I see is the man who was supposed to be my grandpa. The man who raised my mom until he became incapable. It's hard to see, with his twinkling eyes and a wide smile. He doesn't look as if he can hurt a fly.
"Aha! Jack Frost!" He promptly lifts me off the ground and kisses both of my cheeks. A yelp rips through at the sudden intrusion. I squirm away from the large man, ignoring his chuckles until he finally places me down. "Finally, I met my grandson!"
New bitterness blossoms in my chest as the words fall from this man's lips. Even if he had helped Mom become what she was, he also did a whole lot to mess it up. I won't accept him as my grandpa, and I sure as shootin' won't be his grandson. He turned his back on our family when we needed help the most. A man like that is no family of mine. As such, I don't hesitate to scowl up at him as he continues, undeterred.
"So, this is Pitch's little ankle-biter!" My uncle, the rabbit, approaches until he's towering over me. In response, I set my scowl on him. I won't stand for some rabbit trying to intimidate me - he's a cottontail compared to Dad. "Gotta attitude like his ol' man too!"
A sharp gasp tears through our stare-down, and I turn to see a lady fluttering towards us. "Is that Seraphina's son!?"
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Mom's older sister; I remember Mom once opening her journal and I saw a picture of her and Toothiana. Even with her shimmering grin and innocent stance, I only recall how this same woman accused Dad of corrupting Mom. She had told the whole world that Mom could never love Dad, and it sends a wick of flame into my boiling blood. She flits closer to me, her wings glinting in the sun. As she reaches closer than three feet, I begin to back away. None of these people seem to register what personal space is.
