He felt pain. Such excruciating pain. He looked down at his leg, which had a wound the size of his fist piercing through it. It wasn't bleeding though, his semblance, in conjunction with the freezing climate of Solitas, made sure of that. He could feel his where the Grimm had impacted his chest, his flesh surrounding the impact area was caved in. His right arm was missing his prosthetic limb and his left seemed to fall limp at his side. As he looked up, he noticed the pine trees were bare around him, no doubt caused by the storm. The sunlight glinted off the snowflakes that swirled around him as he hobbled along on his one good leg; ironically, the prosthetic one. The snow covering his path forward did not make anything easier. The snow had formed dips and hills on the path that made the distance he walked seemed twice as long as it actually was. His breathing became labored before long, his stamina being long gone after the fight. He could feel his head slowly start to pound as the oxygen to his brain started to lessen.

Gods damn it all. If I pass out here, I'm as good as dead...

...but is that so bad? I've been fighting for a long time. Maybe it's time to rest.

He struggled to lift his leg after he approached another incline. The weight of his leg seemed to increase two-fold as he climbed, the snow underneath his feet cracking under the pressure of his muscular body and heavy metal armor. When he approached the crest of the hill, he felt the snow underneath him shift and realized he was about to fall.

Shitshishitshit

He felt the mound underneath him collapse under his weight as he went into a free fall, smacking the ground with a loud thud as the snow began to cover him. He felt his prosthetic shatter from the fall, leaving him with just his maimed leg to work with. He lay there, waiting for the snow to pile on top of him, trying to find the energy to get up and continue. It didn't come. He sighed.

So, this is it then? I'm just gonna suffocate in my own element? No struggling, just acceptance of my fate? How wonderfully poetic.

He snorted and started laughing at the ridiculous situation he found himself in. It being quickly silenced by the sharp pain he felt in his chest, his lungs being severely damaged in the fight. Being buried underneath the land he protected his whole life, by the element he used to protect such land, after finishing a fight to do the same thing.

Such is a reminder that Fate is a cruel mistress. With a really shitty sense of humor. Oh well, maybe I'll see her again. Or not if my luck is any indication. Regardless, I think a nap is in order. Either a permanent or temporary one. Hopefully the latter, but I wouldn't mind the former.

Just as he was about to close his eyes, he felt something outside the collapsed snow he was buried under. It wasn't a Grimm, their presence had a feeling of dread and, funnily enough, longing. As if they longed for the emotions that drew them. No, this presence was one of...warmth. Hope as well. A person then.

Hmm, someone to rescue me? Or maybe a scavenger trying to scrounge something off a corpse?

He smirked at that last part, content to let this stranger do whatever they wanted. He felt his mind slipping into oblivion as an explosion of light appeared above him, blinding him. Before his conscious faded though, he saw it. Someone had appeared above him. A person clad in a white cloak that had a silver rose pendant attached to said cloak near their collar. The figure moved towards him and his vision went black.

The aroma of chicken being fried awoke him. He didn't open his eyes and try to sit up like an amateur. No, he had made that mistake before once. Instead, he tried to visualize his surroundings while keeping his breathing steady. He was on a wool bed, most likely made for a civilian since his foot dangled off the edge. His leg was wrapped in a bandage, secured tightly underneath new garments. He felt something cool on his forehead and realized it was an ice pack, though it's contents had already melted. His left arm was in a solid cast and from what he could feel, it seemed oddly professional. He could even feel a tube connecting to the vein in his arm, probably an IV drip.

So, either the person is a skilled paramedic or they called a doctor. Either scenario seems good as of now. A paramedic wouldn't try to harm me after spending so long fixing me up, and a person that can call a professional to come out here to the Wilds has enough business sense not to harm me; their investment. I should see what else is around first before I decide to make myself known, however.

His weapon appeared to be missing, not that was for an immediate cause for alarm, since he felt its presence near the door via his semblance. Or rather, he felt the Ice Dust crystal in its hilt. He continued on with his musings, realizing he could now pick out the faint sound of a woman humming a tune he didn't recognize. It was hard to hear her over the sizzling of the chicken in the pan but he noticed nonetheless. He guessed he was within a single or maybe two-room cabin, since the sound of the chicken was so prevalent and he doubted someone moved a bed into the dining room so they could watch him. No, it was most likely a small cabin. He sniffed again and caught the faint whiff of antiseptic near him, to his right, most likely on a small bedside table. He smiled, realizing his first guess was most likely the correct one.

Maybe my fortune is finally turning around? Ha, yeah right. With my luck, she's probably some cultist here to butter me up with a recruitment pitch about how glorious her cause is and how I could help her with only a small lien down payment. A small consideration for saving my life.

He snorted at that, gaining the attention of the woman residing in the kitchen, who let out a small 'Eep!' in alarm at the sudden noise. He smiled and opened his eyes to find he had guessed right on all accounts. He was in a small, open room that seemed to house everything any single person would need in life. He was currently residing in the "bedroom" which consisted of a bed and a nightstand, directly to his front was a "living room" of sorts, a small couch was placed near a warm hearth that was currently lit, and further beyond was the door to the outside, his silver great-sword leaning on the wall next to it, along with a white cloak that was hanging off a coat rack. To his left was "dining room" that consisted of a small, round table that appeared to be made of some sort of dark wood, most likely pine considering the locale. In the opposite corner of the cabin stood the kitchen, which seemed to be fairly high-tech and furnished when looking at the rest of the small cabin.

But, what really drew his eye was the women standing within the kitchen. She had short, black hair with red tips that seemed to come down to her collarbone, a black corset that was laced with white strings, and a black… "combat skirt" as the children in this day and age seemed to call it. He started to remember what his old compatriots used to call their clothing before snapping himself out of his daze when he saw her approaching nervously.

Gods, I'm old. I was about to completely ignore her in favor of wallowing in my own memories, reminding myself of times long past. Since when the fuck did I become a stereotypical old asshole? Yeah that's not gonna fly.

"H-hey there. I-I hope you're feeling better now. You've been out for a few days and I was starting to get worried since, ya know, I-I kind of found you passed out in the snow, but I kept checking your pulse and bandages to make sure there wasn't an infection and tried to keep it all cleaned but I wasn't sure I was doing it right since-"

He coughed and she paused. He saw the blush creeping onto her cheeks as she realized she had been rambling and started twirling her finger through her hair, a nervous tick perhaps.

Damn, and I thought I had communication awkwardness. She's on a whole 'nother level.

"I maybe be old, but I'm not gonna bite you, ya know?" He chuckled as she started turning red with embarrassment. "Seriously though, thank you for saving me. It wouldn't have been much longer before I succumbed to my wounds, or the cold." Not that I would have minded really. "Would it be a bother if the fair maiden that hath saved my life, giveth her name to thee?" He smirked as he did a small bow, or attempted to within the confines of the bed.

She laughed at his use of the Old Tongue, as the modern era so eloquently called it, before responding with a cheeky grin, her embarrassment from earlier fading.

"Of course sire, this fair lady's lustrous name hath been heard 'cross all o' Remnant. Mine own nameth Summer Rose, Et tu, sire?"

The old man paused, as he recognized the name from somewhere, but couldn't put his finger on where. Shrugging, he continued, "What a wond'rful nameth f'r a quite quaint maiden. This fusty sir's nameth hast been hath lost to timeth. But, thee may calleth thee Jack." Jack realized after a second he may have slipped back into using the Old Tongue more than he should have and cursed himself in his head.

Oh well, hopefully she didn't notice-

"Oh wow, you're really fluent in Old Tongue aren't you? That's so cool! The only other one I know who can speak it that well is a coffee-fueled maniac they call professor at Beacon. He's really obsessed over history and he's been trying to drag me around onto his little archaeology hunts, but I've been so busy-" Summer cut herself off for a second after she realized she was rambling again. "Sorry." she squeaked out in an embarrassed tone.

Jack laughed and responded, "Please, it's fine. I was slipping into old habits there. I studied the Old Tongue extensively when I was younger and it's stuck with me since."

Jack paused for a moment, realizing there was something wrong with this picture. Then, he remembered the sizzling he had tuned out with their conversation.

"Uh, shouldn't you check on that?" Jack asked with a smirk, tilting his head towards the kitchen.

The woman's eyes widened and she let out a, "Oh, Crap!" before turning around and running back to where the scrumptious morsel lay sizzling in it's pan.

Jack chuckled at her antics before looking down at himself. His cast was a solid white color, with a blue sling holding his arm in the proper position. He was currently dressed in a yellow cotton t-shirt and long, black sweatpants, his combat boots had been removed and in their place, long wool socks covered his foot. He looked to his right, and saw a window that stared out into the snow-filled landscape that was his home. His ice-blue eyes focused on his reflection, seeing how his short, snow-white hair had fallen out of it's normal style. The wrinkles around his eyes that led down his face towards his mouth gave away his age. He sighed, sounding like the old and tired man he acted like he wasn't. He turned back towards the kitchen, intent on questioning his benefactor some more, before realizing she was looking intently at him with a plate of fried chicken and a glass of water in her hands.

"Here, take the water first. I want to make sure you can hold it down before we move on to solid stuff." She smiled at him and handed the water over.

Jack looked at the water, realizing his throat was extremely parched. He shrugged, figuring he didn't notice due to trying to analyze his surroundings. He downed the water in one chug and handed it back to her for a refill. Summer raised an eyebrow before placing the chicken on the bedside table and going back to the kitchen for a refill. She returned a second later, the glass refilled, but a pitcher of water in her other hand.

"Just so I don't have to go back and forth while we talk, since it appears you are really thirsty. Though I don't blame ya since you were out cold for so long." Her eyes lit up and she wriggled her eyebrows at the stupid pun she just made, trying to get a reaction out of him. Jack just stared at her, watching as she visibly shrunk in on herself at his glare.

Well, maybe this is a little mean. But, come on. 'Cold?' Really? The first joke I've heard in 20 years and that's what I get?

As Summer slowly started backing away from him, he let out a huff and guzzled down another glass of water. He paused for a moment before turning back to her.

"My apologies Mrs. Rose, I didn't mean to scare you. It's just… I've been away from civilization for nearly twenty years fighting Grimm in this frozen wasteland and the first thing I hear that resembles any sort of joke… is a pun. A really bad pun. Like, come on! It wasn't even clever or had a decent setup; not even a little punny."

Jack stayed silent for a moment with an evil grin on his face while Summer slowly registered the last word he said. She snorted and Jack couldn't contain himself anymore and started full-out belly laughing. Summer soon joined in and it took quite a while before they could calm down. Once it had died down, Summer had one of the greatest pouts Jack had ever seen on her face.

"That was mean! Even if it was just a setup, your glare is scary." She whined.

Jack snorted at that before continuing, "Well, when all you do is fight Grimm for as long as I have, the glare just sort of happens."

Summer's smile faltered and looked at him questioningly, "Jack, you said the last time you've been near civilization was twenty years ago, and you just said all you do is hunt Grimm. So you've been out there, by yourself, fighting Grimm for that entire time?"

Jack looked at her, a small smile on his face.

"Yes, Mrs. Rose. Let's just call it a 'long-term mission' and leave it there eh? I'm rather starving and as it so happens, there is a plate full of rich, delicious, and rapidly cooling chicken right next to me that I'd love to devour."

Summer looked at him, her face betraying her reluctance to drop the conversation, yet conceded anyways.

"Fine," She huffed, "But just so you know, we will continue this conversation later. Is that understood, Jack?" Summer commanded, her voice like Atlesian steel.

Jack smiled and agreed, "All right, I'll tell you later, as payment for services rendered." He moved to gesture, but quickly realized that his prosthetic arm was still missing. He looked towards Summer, who seemed to be pouting.

Wow, she is really good at that. If I was 40 years younger, maybe I would have fallen for it. Oh well, might as well ask.

"Mrs. Rose-" Jack had started before being interrupted.

"Please, Jack. Just call me Summer. It sounds way too formal to and it… sortofmakesmefeelold."

She added that last part in a rush, looking to Jack to make sure he didn't feel offended.

Jack just laughed and said, "Mrs.- Er, Summer. Relax. I won't be offended by such an innocent comment. I'm made of sterner stuff at that." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Could you actually do me a favor? Could you bring my sword over to me? I'll need it in for just a moment."

Summer looked conflicted for a moment before nodding her head and heading over to the great-sword.

My companion…

It was a great-sword made of Atlesian steel, one of the toughest man-made materials on Remnant. It was rather simple weapon, in design at least, no hidden switch to turn the sword into another weapon; just a simple old sword. Except for one thing. The hidden compartment in the hilt of the sword held an Ice Dust crystal that could be used in emergencies.

Forsworn

Summer picked up the sword, admiring it's design for a few moments, before bring it back to the bed and setting it down across his lap. Jack looked up at her.

"Do you mind opening the hilt for me? There's a switch at the bottom of the hilt. Flick it, feed it your Aura, and it should open up." Jack said, a small smile on his face, knowing what was about to happen.

Summer did as he instructed and gasped as the crystal was released. The coldness washed over the room, replacing the comfortable heat from the hearth with a harsh, bitter chill.

"Jack, how did you get this thing! This is a top-grade crystal! I-I've never seen one in person before. I've only heard about these things in my Dust-Theory classes at Beacon. What did you do to get this?" Summer looked over at me questioningly, shock and a little bit of fear in her face.

Jack looked at her and chuckled slightly, "Trust me Summer, this old man has more than a few tricks up his sleeve. But for now, let's just say the Dust King owes me a few favors."

Summer looked back at Jack in doubt, but sighed and moved away from him regardless. Jack closed his eyes and concentrated on the crystal in front of him. He felt it, the source of the bitter cold that had taken over the room. He focused on it and formed an image in his head. The image, blurry at first, slowly became clearer in his head before a sudden bang sounded out and he heard Summer jump in surprise. He opened his eyes on saw what lay before him. An arm and a leg. His arm and leg.

Made completely of ice.

He smiled before willing the prosthetics to go their respective places. Summer looked on, shock in her widened eyes. Jack felt the coldness connect with both his stumps before he willed his aura to enter the ice. He felt the coldness vanish as suddenly as it appeared, a warm feeling steadily filling the void. He groaned in satisfaction as he regained his missing limbs.

It's been so long since I've had to do that party trick. I really need to get the ice crystals in my stumps replaced when I head back to Atlas. That took a lot more out of me than I thought it would. Hope I didn't freak out Summer too much, but I feel like she's just gonna barrage me with questions instead of cry.

Jack looked over at the girl in question, an incredulous look was on her face.

"H-how did you do that? I've never seen anyone manipulate dust like that before. Gods, I've never even thought something like that was possible! Who the heck are you?!"

Jack smiled smugly at her, "Oh, did I not introduce myself fully? My apologies, let's fix that."

"Most people know me as the Guardian of the North, and used to refer to me as The Winter General, but I prefer to call myself-"

"Jack Frost"

Hello everyone, surprise! This is what I was hinting at last AotP chapter, a new story!

Now, this story is going to be remarkably different than AotP due to the nature of the protagonists and yes, before I go any further, this is an O.C. character. I know people on this site have mixed feelings towards O.C.'s but I'm trying something a little different than the norm with him. I've thought a lot about his character and I don't want a edgy, young, overpowered character that just seamlessly fits in with the cast. He's going to work to get his MC status. I will admit, he's somewhat overpowered, but that's mostly just because of how old and experienced he is (wink wink insert Yang joke here). He also has a bullshit semblance, but it's one of those that had to be worked towards being bullshit. I won't spoil it directly, but most people should be able to guess since I kind of gave it away at the end.

Anyways, I just wanted to say I won't have a set release schedule for this. I'm currently still planning out how exactly this will progress beyond the next 3 or 4 ish chapters. This is something I will work on in between AotP chapters, or if I'm feeling inspired.

Just a heads up, for those that read Arc of the Phoenix, there might be a slight delay for the next chapter. School just started back up and I need to settle in with my new schedule/workload. I'm planning on working on most of it tomorrow but the rest of the week is kind of insane for me so we will see what happens. Anyways, that's enough of me for now, this A/N got way too long. As always,

Review, Favorite and Follow if you enjoyed!

See ya next time!