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The Child of White	By : Hnoss Category: A through F > Chronicles of Narnia Views: 4547 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the Chronicles of Narnia. I'm also not making any money here either. I'm just having fun.

Chapter List
- 1-The Child of White
- 2-Chapter One
- 1
- 2
The Child of White
Flora_Winters
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that has to do with the Chronicles of Narnia. I’m also not making any money here either. I’m just having fun.
Summary: Winter is returning to Narnia. His icy fingers will creep, freezing all with frosty kisses. Will he be just as heartless as his mother? Language, MM, OC, Violence, WIP
Prologue
When leaves have fallen and skies turned to grey
The night keeps on closing in on the day
A nightingale sings his song of farewell
You’d better hide from her freezing hell
--Within Temptation
Eyes the frozen color of silver moonlight on fresh fallen snow opened to darkness, blinking twice as thunder echoed just outside the stained glass window to his left. The roar of the wind was like the wild howling of wolves on the prowl. Shadows danced across the ceiling, vanishing for a second when a bolt of blue lightning flashed, hissing across the rolling sky like a slithering serpent.
He slowly sat up when a loud blast of thunder boomed directly overhead, deafening him for a few silent heartbeats. Lightning must have struck something not too far off.
Where had this storm come from? There had been no news of it on the radio.
He did not fear storms. In fact, he didn’t fear anything that he knew of. He was always being called such a strange and odd child. It didn’t anger him. It just made him wonder what made him so weird.
Was it because animals feared and ran away from him when he came near? Was it because he never felt the need or desire to put on heavy clothing when there was four feet of snow on the ground? Was it because he was lithe, pale as a shimmering moth, and more lovely to gaze upon than any girl at school?
He was never picked on. Like the animals, the boys at school seemed to fear him as well. He didn’t know why. He considered himself rather charming and nice.
It was a night exactly like this one that had taken his adoptive parents from him one year ago. His parents had died in an automobile accident. The wind had been blowing so hard and the rain was blinding. Their car had skidded, flipping several times. Both of their necks had been broken.
“You’re such a brave boy,” his father had told him. “Never show fear.”
“You’re such a beautiful boy, Jacinth,” his mother had told him while fixing him some cookies. “I just wish you would smile more, my dear.”
He had always smiled just for her because it made her so happy. He never showed any fear because it made his father proud of him.
He shook his long mane of snowy blond hair, running his slender fingers through silky coils. His mother had never wanted him to cut his hair and his father had conceded to her wishes. The two of them had seriously thought him to be a faerie child. They had often called him so. His features were sharp and delicate, but he was strong for his size.
He pulled the photograph of his parents out from under his fluffy pillow. It was held in a silver frame of coiling vines. He never wanted to forget what they looked like. He often caught himself sitting and gazing at their photo for hours, wishing they would walk in and yell at him for dragging in dirt or taping Whisker’s tail to his back again.
Whatever happened to that cat?
He kissed each of their smiling faces and slid them back under his pillow, putting his head back down once more. Let the wild storm blow and rage all it wanted to. He didn’t care. He smiled in the darkness, showing no fear as he drifted off.
Snow was falling like sparkling diamonds and white polar bears were dancing.
~*~
“Good morning, Jacinth,” old Mr. Wells smiled. “Did you sleep during that storm we had? It sure was a noisy one, my boy.”
He nodded, taking a bite of his fried sausage. “I dream of snow a lot, Sir.”
“Hmm,” Mr. Wells smiled, adding some more yellow eggs to his blue plate. “Now that is interesting.”
“What is, Sir?” Jacinth asked him, putting down his silver fork.
“These eggs, my boy,” he said, taking a big bite of them. He smiled as he chewed. “They’re simply delicious and I keep telling you to call me Grandpa.”
Jacinth lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Grandpa.”
The old man chuckled. “You’re such a polite young man. You must have gotten that from your mother.”
Jacinth looked up and over at him, looking at the deep wrinkles that now lined his once smooth face. He could tell that his grandfather had been a handsome man once upon a time. It just wasn’t his bone structure, but all the photos he had seen as well.
“I miss them,” he whispered under his breath.
“I know, child,” Mr. Wells said, reaching out, taking hold of his smooth white hand in his worn one. “I miss them, too.”
Jacinth could feel the tamed strength in his grandfather’s wrinkled hand. The man was still powerful. It gave him comfort in knowing that.
“Thank you for taking me in, Grandpa.”
Mr. Wells squeezed his hand. “You tell me that everyday, Jacinth.”
“I just want you to know how grateful I am, Grandpa,” he said, smiling warmly. “I would have had no place to go if it wasn’t for your kindness.”
“So mature,” Mr. Wells said, gently letting go of his hand. “You are my grandson and I love you. This will always be your home, child.”
Jacinth slowly rose to his feet. “Thank you for breakfast,” he told him, grabbing his schoolbag. “But I really need to go now.”
“Is it that time again?” The old man asked, pulling out his watch. “Well, you run along now and have a good day.”
“I will,” Jacinth nodded, walking for the door. “And you, too.”
~*~
School was the same cycle for him everyday. He would sit at his desk, do his work, answer questions when called on to do so, eat his lunch, and then doodle on his pad. But, something different happened today.
“Wow,” a deep voice said from over his slender shoulder. “You’re really talented. That’s one sharp snowflake.”
He stopped his drawing and turned to see who it was that had spoken to him. His eyes slightly widened because the boy was very handsome. He had the face of a fantasy hero. His skin was the color of warm peaches and cream.
“Thank you,” he said, noticing the bigger teen’s eyes were a little wide, too. In fact, those eyes looked a little spooked. “And you are?”
“I’m Peter Pevensie,” he said and Jacinth looked at the large hand offered him. He very politely shook it. “I just transferred here with my brother and two sisters. What’s your name?”
Jacinth released his hand, telling him. The teen nodded, taking the empty desk beside him. He didn’t quite know what to make of the brown headed guy. He seemed nice and he was talking to him. Nobody ever really did that.
“Do you draw all the time?” Peter asked.
“Yes,” he told him, handing him his little sketchbook. “I have many more of these at home.”
He sat there, watching the handsome boy slowly flip through his work. He took notice of how the taller teen’s eyes gazed at each work with such interest.
“What is it?” He asked when Peter seemed to freeze and gawk rather openly at one for some time.
“Nothing,” Peter smiled, flipping the page. The guy looked a little nervous. He didn’t believe him. He could always tell when someone was lying to him. “I really like the polar bears,” he said, handing the book back to him.
“Thanks,” he said, flipping back three pages to the drawing Peter had been gawking at. It was the one he had drawn just a few months ago. It was of a shaved lion being offered up for sacrifice on a great stone altar. A beautiful woman was holding up a large knife, preparing to bring it down with all her regal might.
“You seem really nice,” Peter said. His voice sounded very nervous. “I hope we can be friends.”
Stormy eyes blinked. What did he just say? Did he say friends? This guy wants to be my friend? Well, that was a first.
“Sure,” he said, giving him a rather friendly smile. “I would like that, Peter.”
“I’ll see you later then,” Peter told him, rising to his feet. “And I’ll introduce you to my brother and sisters.”
Jacinth watched him depart with deep interest. He felt warmth spread out from his stomach. Peter was very good looking and very nice. Well, this was simply interesting. His mother and father would be so happy. He had just made his first friend. It took him long enough, but as his Grandpa always says, “All good things come to those who wait, my boy.”
He traced the frozen looking woman’s drawn lips, realizing that he was looking at his own in the drawing. He softly chuckled and went back to finishing his snowflake. He wanted it to be beautiful and have the appearance of being sharper than a blade. He was definitely going to get a good mark in art today.
~*~
Peter quickly made his way into the school lavatory, locking himself in one of the more private stalls. He couldn’t believe it. That boy had given him a really good shock. He was like looking into the face of a much younger White Witch.
He leaned back against the wooden door, running his hands through his hair. That had been scary. The guy even had a drawing of Aslan under Jadis’ blade. Just who the heck was he?
“But, he is very beautiful,” he whispered, scratching his left cheek with his index finger, letting out a sigh. “He almost fooled me for a girl.”
That was just embarrassing. There was no way he would ever tell Edmund or Susan about that. They would never let him live it down. Lucy, on the other hand, she would see right through him with those piercing eyes of hers as if he were a ghost or something of that nature. She could always seem to tell when something was up with him. It was just one of her many special talents.
“Hmm,” he said, thinking really hard and then quickly dismissed the thought like a piece of used paper. There was no way he could ever do that and it couldn’t possible by true. He couldn’t let anyone know he was attracted to the beautiful boy and there was no way a man could ever sleep with the White Witch.
He quickly relieved himself, politely flushed, washed his hands with sweet smelling soap, and returned to his classroom. He would have to think on Jacinth and that drawing during recess. It was just too much and too scary to think about right now. All he wanted to do was fit in and live a normal life. Well, as normal as any life a Son of Adam could live that is. He wasn’t a king anymore. Was that asking for too much?
“Ah, Mr. Pevensie,” the teacher said, calling on him. “What is the answer to the equation on the board?”
He inwardly groaned because he hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him and he positively loathed arithmetic. He suddenly breathed a sigh of relief when Jacinth raised his slender hand. It was so smooth and pale in the light.
The teacher pointed. “Yes, Mr. White?”
“Forty-two,” the blond answered, lowering his hand.
Peter gawked. Jacinth was beautiful, artistic, and smart. He needed to be very careful because he could so fall in love with the guy and that would be bad.
He didn’t take his eyes off his slender back.
~*~
Recess was something Jacinth really enjoyed. He was seated in his usual spot under the large tree in the schoolyard, watching the boys play with their bouncing balls. The girls were jumping rope and playing hopscotch. It was what they did almost everyday. There was also a few playing tag and hide and go seek. It was a mixture of both games. One person counted while the others hid. The seeker went looking and the hiders had to get back to base without getting caught. It looked like a rather fun game.
“Hey!” A loud voice yelled, startling him out of his reverie. “What are you doing all by yourself, Jacinth?”
He looked to see that the shouter was Peter. He was with another boy and two girls. Were these his siblings?
“Nice to meet you,” the smallest said, smiling. “I’m Lucy.”
He nodded his head.
“This is my brother, Edmund,” Peter said, slapping the slightly shorter boy on the back. “And this is my other sister, Susan.”
Jacinth politely introduced himself, noticing how they each had a strange look in their eyes. Was there something on his face? It made him a little nervous.
“Come on,” Lucy said, snatching Susan’s hand with lightning speed. “I want to jump rope.”
Susan sighed a little unhappily, but followed after her smaller sister. Jacinth thought they were both rather pretty. It was just that Susan looked as though she were lost in a world all her own. He wondered if all the people knew her there.
“I’m going to go play some ball,” Edmund said, running off towards the group of shouting boys.
Edmund was dark and easy on the eyes, but Jacinth didn’t like the way the boy gazed at him. His eyes had seemed almost hostile.
“And they left me,” Peter sighed, looking down at his feet, shaking his head.
Jacinth chuckled, leaning back against the thick trunk of the tall tree. Peter was stunning to him. He found that he wanted to draw him in shining armor and swinging a great sword. He could suddenly see the taller teen in his mind, lifting a sword to the sky, issuing a loud battle roar. It was only a flash, but it was enough to cause a sharp pain to hit him right between the eyes. He hissed in pain, putting his hands over them.
“What’s wrong?” Peter suddenly asked in concern, kneeling down beside him. “Are you all right?”
The blond was momentarily stunned. Here was a person other than his grandfather who was concerned for him. What was it with this boy? Why was he so different from all the others? Everyone else paid him little mind and he was fine with that. He had never been in a fight before, so he was thankful.
“I’m fine,” he said, smiling to reassure the muscular guy. He had never experienced a pain like that before. “Some of my hair must have gotten caught in the bark.”
“Ah,” Peter said, laughing. “Some trees like to play pranks on people.”
Jacinth looked at him then. “You think so, too?”
Peter snorted. “Well, they are living things after all.”
Jacinth rubbed his head, nodding.
“Want to go to the library with me?” Peter asked, rising to his feet. “I want to check out some books to take home with me.”
“Sure,” Jacinth said, taking the offered hand that pulled him to his feet. He liked Peter’s hands. They were so big.
He followed along beside him, wondering why this boy wanted to be his friend. He would think more deeply on it later. Right now, he just wanted to experience what it was like to have one.
He could tell right off that Peter’s younger brother didn’t like him at all. The boy hadn’t voiced it and he wouldn’t. He just knew it to be true because the boy glared at him as he walked by with Peter. A person’s eyes could never lie to him.
Lucy’s eyes were open, trusting, and happy. She was laughing as she jumped rope with her older sister. She reminded him of spring.
Susan’s eyes were deep and filled with secrets. There was such a distance in them and they were locked away from the world. She seemed…lonely.
Peter’s eyes, however, they were…alluring. There was fire and passion burning brighter than any flame in them. He could tell just by looking into them that he was brave, loyal, honest, and a really kind person. He reminded him of leaves blazing red in autumn.
“Can I draw you?” He suddenly asked as they both walked into the silent library.
Peter turned, looking at him as the door closed behind them with a click. “You want to draw me?”
He nodded. “I would like to, yes.”
“Just me as I am?” Peter asked, winking at him rather playfully. “Or me as something else?”
“I’ll show you after I’m done,” he smiled, fighting not to blush. Was Peter openly flirting with him? Boys only winked at girls or at least that is what he always saw.
“All right,” Peter said, walking beside him up to the librarian’s desk.
Jacinth smirked to himself.
The older woman looked up with thick glasses on her pinched face. She actually looked happy to see kids wanting to read.
“Excuse me,” Peter said to her. “Where are the books on wars and fairytales?”
Jacinth blinked. Well, that’s definitely specific. He wanted to draw him in armor more than ever now.
“Right this way,” the friendly librarian told them, getting to her feet. “I’m so happy to see a child who actually enjoys books.”
Peter laughed.
Twenty minutes later, Jacinth was flipping through a thick volume of Grimm’s Fairytales. They were dark, twisted, and frighteningly beautiful. He liked them.
“I want a bunch of mice to make me clothes,” he said, smiling across the table at the darker headed teen. There was a mound of books before him. There were books on Alexander the Great, Napoleon, and lots of other war generals.
“When do you want to draw me?” Peter asked, looking up from his rather large book.
It was red and had a golden eagle on the front. It was a book on Alexander’s battle with the Persians.
“How about after school tomorrow,” he said, putting the Brother’s Grimm down. “I can ask my grandfather tonight if you can come over.”
Peter looked at him. “You live with you grandfather?”
He nodded. “He is a retired professor.”
“Where are your mum and dad?” Peter asked him.
Jacinth looked away. “They…died.”
“Oh,” Peter said, making him look at him. His golden face looked stricken. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t…”
Jacinth smiled, shaking his head. “They were not my birth parents, but I loved them as if they were,” he said, picking up the book on Napoleon. “I was taken in by them when I was a baby.”
Why was he telling Peter this? He didn’t even know him.
“My dad is in the war,” Peter said, cocking his head to the side. The boy’s smile warmed his heart. “And my mom is very busy. She works really hard to support us.”
It was the oddest feeling. He was really starting to like him more and more.
“Susan and Lucy handle the housework and Edmund helps out at the bakery across from our home,” he told him. “The baker gives Edmund free leftovers everyday.”
“Is that so?” Jacinth asked, feeling intrigued by all of this. He had never had to do chores and he didn’t have to work. All of his parent’s estate would become his when he came of age. “What do you do?”
“I study,” Peter told him. “I want to go to college and obtain the means to take care of my family.”
Jacinth looked down at his lap then. His life was so blissfully sheltered compared to Peter’s. The only hardship he had ever known was the loss of his parents.
“What about you?” Peter asked him.
Jacinth shook his head.
“My life is easier. The only thing I have to worry about is if my grandfather is going to blowup the house,” he said, looking up, suddenly blushing. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Peter snorted. “Your grandfather sounds funny.”
“Oh, he’s crazy,” Jacinth said. “But I love him.”
“Well, I think these will be good,” Peter said, stacking up the books he wanted. “Shall we go?”
Jacinth more than happily helped him. He was so excited. His grandpa was going to be thrilled. He had a friend.
~*~
Peter was taking a small rest on his bed. He was tired and his mind was dancing around in circles to Jacinth’s musical voice.
That’s what it was! His voice was like music.
He still couldn’t get over that drawing he had seen. It had looked like a moment captured in time. Jacinth’s drawing had looked just like the scene Lucy and Susan had both described to him.
How on earth had Jacinth been able to draw that? Had he been there? Did he know about Narnia?
It made no sense. Did he have more drawings of Narnia?
He couldn’t possibly have been there. There was no way he could have been…was there? He didn’t know. Oh, his head was hurting now.
He wants to draw me. Why would he want to draw me? I wonder how he is going to draw me. Is he going to draw me or me as someone else?
He couldn’t wait. He was so excited. He had never been drawn before.
It was sad. Jacinth’s adoptive parents were dead. No wonder those smoky orbs looked so lonely. He was so beautiful in his sadness.
He was going to have to be very cautious. He couldn’t let anyone know his secret.
“Who is that boy, Peter?” A voice asked, making him open his eyes. It was Lucy. She was standing at the door, stepping inside. “He looks like…her…”
“My new friend,” he told her, rolling over, sitting up. “He’s very nice.”
She smiled, cocking her head to the side. “Is he only your new friend?”
“Huh?” He asked, quickly looking lost and very confused. “What do you mean?”
She shook her head. “You do so love your secrets.”
He frowned. “What secrets, Lu?”
“The one you keep so closely guarded,” she laughed. “Susan will have supper soon.”
He watched his little sister dance like a happy little nymph from the room. He squeezed his pillow tightly to his broad chest.
Did she know? Well, she seemed fine with it.
Oh, yes! He was going to have to be very careful.
“I don’t like that boy you’re talking to,” Edmund said, walking into the room they both shared. “He looks…”
“I know,” Peter whispered, cutting him off. “He startled me, too. But, this is our world. She’s gone, Ed.”
Edmund sat down in the wooden chair at the old writing desk. “I thought I was looking at a ghost.”
“She can’t hurt you ever again,” Peter told him. “She can’t hurt anyone ever again.”
“Are you going to be his friend?” Edmund asked, kicking off his shoes.
Peter nodded. “I am.”
“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be civil.”
Peter grinned. “That’s all I ask, Ed.”
Edmund tossed his shoe at him, getting smacked in the face with a pillow in instant retaliation.
Jacinth had been adopted as a baby. He did look startlingly like the White Witch. Was it possible? No, it couldn’t be. Something that frigid could never give birth.
“Supper!” Susan yelled.
“Yeah!” Lucy shouted. “Supper!”
~*~
Jacinth was seated in the bath, soaking in steamy lavender scented water. The white tub was so big the milky water was up to his pale neck.
He was leaning back with his eyes closed, thinking about Peter. His grandfather had been so happy, telling him that it was more than fine to have a friend over. The old man had been so delighted his latest experiment had exploded, covering the walls with green goop. It had been funny, but the goop had tasted like lettuce.
He hated lettuce.
~*~
Miles and miles of endless winter stretched on before him as he walked through the falling snow. The trees were trapped, locked away in thick blankets of destructive ice. All around him, the world was frozen in sparkling white.
He laughed with such euphoric joy, dancing around in graceful circles. The icy clear crystals swirled up from the ground, slithering around his willowy alabaster frame, magically clothing his naked body in a breathtaking cloak of cold.
He was the storm, the ice, the snow. He was the cold power of winter. He was winter walking in smooth white flesh.
“Come to me,” a chilling voice boomed like the silent depths of a depthless ocean on the freezing winds. “Come and set me free.”
He laughed and the world groaned as he let loose his cold wings upon the dying land. It was his. It was all his. He would make this world like himself.
He raised his moon white arms to the dark sky, riding the mighty avalanche like a dazzling white stallion into battle. The wind howled all around him like a thousand-thousand wolves and the earth shook with his wild laughter.
~*~
“Wow,” Peter said, smiling at him. “This is an amazing house.”
Jacinth showed him around for a little bit. He introduced him to his grandfather who instantly took a liking to him. It made him glad. If his crazy grandfather approved, then everything would be fine.
He led Peter up the stairs and down a long hall to his bedroom. He asked Peter to kick off his shoes and they both walked upon a sea of white carpet.
“You have this whole room to yourself?” Peter asked. He was looking at all the pictures hanging on the walls. They were each in different styled frames.
Jacinth nodded his head.
“I share a room with Edmund,” Peter said. He was looking at a large drawing of a majestic unicorn grazing in a grove with a full moon in the sky. It even looked real. “Beautiful…”
“Thank you,” Jacinth smiled. “Do you like unicorns?”
Peter nodded. “I…I dreamt of riding one once.”
“You can have it then,” Jacinth said, walking up beside him. “As a token of our friendship.”
“What?” Peter asked, looking at him with wide eyes. “I can’t take this.”
“Why not?” Jacinth asked him in return. “I said you could, therefore it is yours now.”
“But,” Peter said, looking back at it. “I have nothing to give you.”
Jacinth felt warm and put a hand on his arm. “You’ve given me your friendship and it would make me happy that a friend of mine has one of my drawings hanging in his room.” He could feel the hard and toned muscles under Peter’s shirt. He quickly removed his hand, biting his lower lip. What would he look like without his shirt on?
“Really?” Peter asked him, smiling brighter than the sun. His teeth were very white. “I have just the place to hang it, too.”
Jacinth grinned and walked over to his desk, picking up his pad of drawing paper and a pencil. His grandfather always made sure he had plenty of each. He pulled out the chair and asked Peter to take a seat for him.
He moved back from the taller teen, taking a seat on his bed. He flipped to a blank page, focusing on the boy’s handsome face and neck.
“I feel nervous,” Peter chuckled.
“Why?” Jacinth asked, making quick and precise strokes on the blank paper.
“I’m not sure,” he said, looking like he was fighting to keep as still as he could. “I guess it’s because you’re so good.”
“You really think so?” Jacinth asked him.
Peter nodded. “You really are.”
“Hold still,” Jacinth told him, drawing like the wind across a mountain pool of water.
Peter snorted. “So serious…”
Jacinth rolled his eyes, laughing. Peter had spoken in such a deep, mocking tone. He had to roll his eyes again.
“There,’ he said, putting the pad down. “I’ll go get us some snacks and some juice,” he said, rising to his feet, walking towards the door. He turned back, seeing the handsome teen creeping towards the pad on the bed. “And don’t you dare look at it.”
Peter froze, putting up his large hands. “I won’t,” he said, smiling innocently. “I would never dream of daring to do something so atrocious.”
Jacinth laughed at him. Peter was funny.
“Would you like orange juice or grape?” He asked him.
“Hmm,” Peter said, rubbing his smooth chin. “Surprise me.”
Jacinth nodded. He would.

To Be Continued
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The Child of White