Frost

I. THE TROUBLE WITH FAIRIES

"This has gone on long enough," Mother Nature said with a heavy sigh, rubbing circles into her temples. "It's mid-December and none of the northern hemisphere is experiencing winter!"

Father Time watched her with a somber gaze, his silvery hues as reflective as the surface of the moon. He had long since grown accustomed to how riled the lovely yet lethal Mother Nature could be. That didn't mean he enjoyed witnessing her moments of frustration. In a normal situation, such an emotional reaction had the tendency to produce frazzled winds and temperamental rains.

But now? Now, while the fairies in the north were duking it out over heaven knows what, all that Mother Nature's frustration created was scattered clouds.

Father Time continued to watch on quietly as she paced. He sometimes wondered how she didn't wear a hole through the floor, until he remembered this was an enchanted tree. Funny, with as old as he was, and given he'd watched the tree age, you'd think he'd remember that sort of thing.

"And Santa," Mother burst then, "don't even get me started on Santa! He's been pestering me with messages from elves since November!"

"Winter is a fickle thing anyway, dear," Father Time reminded her. "Sometimes it snows, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes there are blizzards, or ice, or merely light dustings."

"But there is never," Mother said sternly, pausing and turning toward Father, her eyes golden eyes aglow like the sun, "never nothing across the entire planet!"

Father hummed at that, nodding once. "What you say is true." He paused then, both hands resting atop the large, intricately carved staff he carried. "I believe it would be wise to again confront the fairies. Warn them to stop this behavior, or else other enforcements will become involved."

"Other enforcements," Mother scoffed, shaking her head and sending ringlets of inky black swirling around her shoulders. Mother Nature was a beautiful woman, and a powerful one. She always stood tall, garbed in shades of the deepest violet and the freshest blues, making it appear as though she was a wild ocean, tamed by nothing and driven by her own force. Or perhaps, the ends of a sunset, or the beginning of a sunrise, bathed in those darkest, most precious glows of the sky.

Her power was nearly palpable to all. When the fairies had refused to adhere to her command the first time, her rage had burned against them for days, an icy cold that sent chilling winds across the globe. Unfortunately, said cold did little to change the tides of the seasons; such a change would require tremendous power from Mother Nature.

She did not wish to cause another Ice Age . . . she merely wished that some semblance of order would be maintained.

"I will," she eventually said, turning her burning gaze to Father Time. "I will confront them again." She was decisive now, her mind made up.

"I have every good faith in you," Father said with a nod of encouragement. "And if they refuse, I do not doubt your ability to handle the situation."

Mother Nature nodded absently at that. She again found herself reminded of how much she appreciated Father. Though nothing about his face would give away his years -- for his hair was close-cropped, and his beard always neatly trimmed, close to his jaw, revealing skin as smooth as his first day -- his eyes spoke volumes, emitting waves of his wisdom. She never failed to be enraptured by the stunning, reflective shade, that was really not a color at all.

With his gray robes that appeared to come from the ancient days, with splashes of spontaneous color about them in the most random of places, Father Time displayed all of the ages to pass, and all that were to come. His mind was filled with knowledge from the past; every event imaginable, from the Great Flood to the Second World War. He knew obscure dates that even the greatest historians would never know, along with how famed individuals actually met their end.

He was a wise man, and a burdened man. The only thing he felt truly eased his burden was the beautiful storm of a woman that stood proudly in front of him.

"Very well then," Mother Nature said then, visibly having calmed after their discussion. "I will go now. When I return . . ."

"I will know for myself how the conversation has gone," Father assured her. He offered her a tender smile that shone like the stars, soft yet warm all at once.

Mother Nature smiled in return, though her smile blazed, with sharp edges and fantastic excitement.

No other words needed be exchanged before she was gone. The powers that she possessed allowed her quick transport to the focal point of the battle, and her arrival amongst the fairies caused an almost immediate pause. Each of them, with their picturesque faces and glowing auras stared up at her in moderate respect, though none spoke for some time.

"This is the last time I am going to ask, dear ones," Mother Nature said, her voice booming like thunder through the land. "Stop this fighting. Allow the seasons to occur as they ought to! Do this, and I will not be forced to bring in outside interference."

She watched them, a flame of hope shining in her chest, though she dared not let that hope shine through on her face. One of the leaders of the summer fairies approached her, the angles of his face sharper than most, his hair an orange that contrasted fiercely with his dark skin. "We cannot, Mother! For the winter ones have thought themselves better, and in years past over done their stay! It is our turn now!"

A cheer went up at that, invoking the fighting once more, and Mother Nature's hope smoldered into fury. She steeled her jaw, her petal lips thinning into a pale line. "So be it," was all she said before she was gone from their land. But her words whispered through the air into each of their ears, warning them that they should've adhered to their wise leader, instead of foolish council.

The whisper was all they had to warn them of their idiocy, for Mother Nature had other methods of dealing with their rebellion.