A/N: I got bored. And lots of people seem to like my RotG fanfics. Anyway, bye bye and please review before you fave and critique/tell me why you liked it.

Decided to take a break from my angsty stuff. I don't care much for this kind of for humor, but this has been chewing out the inside of my brain.

Disclaimer: Dreamworks owns.

The Mrs. Claus

Jack Frost always knew that North had a wife, and that she too had become an immortal being such as himself and the other Guardians.

He always knew that the woman was fond of cooking gingerbread cookies that occasionally leaped off the plate, running around, and often shouting, "You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man!"

What he didn't know was of Mrs. Claus's true, brute strength.

The first time that Jack, the Guardian of Fun, had met Mrs. Claus was at a Christmas Party when he very briefly ducked into the kitchen to escape an expectant Toothiana under the mistletoe.

He found Mrs. Claus standing in front of an immense oven, her white hair pulled back into a tight bun, as she pulled a red-hot tray of cake batter from the fiery pit that was supposed to make her legendary cookies.

She turned to face him, and her face scared the living frost out of him.

Her back had been turned to him when he first entered the kitchen, making the surprise much more shocking; the woman's face was worn, and somewhat soft, like most old women. She had light blue eyes, almost like North's, but they weren't as large and wonder-seeking.

Her most disturbing feature, however, were the countless scars, some deep, some small, some skinny, criss-crossing her face.

This left his mouth ajar, a mystified gaze on his face.

"Not polite to stare, Jack," she said after a few moments. Her accent was far thicker than North's, likely because she didn't have to speak a well-known language such as English in order to communicate with her fellow Guardians.

"Oh! Sorry! Sorry!" he said. Though he couldn't stop staring. It was like he was a fish pulled out of water, left gasping for air and staring at whatever beast had caught him.

"'Tis okay. Back to party! Now!" she insisted. She waved him away with a wooden spoon that she had pulled out of her cooking drawer, using it to spread a thick, red icing over the large cake.

Jack shook himself from the shock, and then turned on his heel to exit the kitchen.

Bad mistake.

Toothiana and her hummingbird fairies were soon zipping through the air, chasing excitedly after him.

After a course of a few weeks, Jack's curiosity had piqued. He had to figure out where she got those many scars from.

So what was the logical thing to do?

Ask her husband.

"North?" Jack asked. After the defeat of Pitch, and with spring coming, he had little snow to create, so he was bored out of his mind. So, naturally, the thing that appealed to him most was hovering around his fellow Guardians and annoying the living crap out of them.

"Yes? May I help?" he responded. He was currently polishing his sleigh after Sandy (and Jack) took it for a joy ride. Sandy had taken the tongue-lashing of a lifetime, while Jack just stood around in the shadows, snickering.

"Why does your wife have so many scars on her face? Is she a Guardian too?" he referred to Mrs. Claus as 'your wife' for a reason. 1) he didn't want North, the strongest old man in the world, to think that he was disrespecting her by calling her by her first name and 2) he didn't know what her first name was.

"Call her Mary. And you should ask her yourself. She does not appreciate those talking about her," the man physically tensed upon his third sentence.

That was Jack's first hint that Mrs. Claus – Mary – was a truly intimidating woman.

Yet he was a rather curious boy, so he asked where Mary was.

"Do not know. Check reindeer stalls," North snapped. He soon returned to buffing out the many great dents in the metal of the enormous sleigh.

Jack wandered through the great halls of the castle for about ten minutes before he heard the tell-tale snorting of the huge reindeer. He also heard someone barking commands.

He approached the stalls, each of which were lined up in a row. He recalled the names of the reindeer, each of them having suck opposite temperaments from their docile-sounding names.

The frosty boy walked down that rows of reindeer, peering into each of their stalls. Dancer was bucking wildly, snorting as he rammed his back hooves into the heavy wooden stall walls.

Prancer was mimicking his neighbor's antics. In fact, all of the reindeer were slamming their hooves into the walls.

Jack shuddered as he passed Rudolph's stall. The red-nosed reindeer didn't have a red nose at all; the beast's eyes were glowing a wild red, a similarly-colored mist seeming to pour from the eye sockets surrounding his nose.

How the children ended up receiving the term 'Red-Nosed Reindeer' from that creature, the youngest Guardian never knew.

"Rudolph scares you, no?" Jack jumped several feet into the air.

He turned around to find he was face-to-face with Mary. "Uh... yes?"

It was more of a question. Namely because that he was a powerful ice-wizard that wasn't supposed to fear a fluffy Bambi-like creature, but also because if he said no, Mary would laugh in his face and call him a coward.

"Ha! He scare North too. Why do you think I have many scars?"

Jack cocked an eyebrow. "You take care of them? I thought all you did was bake cookies and fatten North up for the Christmas-night rounds..."

"Ha! No. I take care of all reindeer needs. I get scratches from when I cut hooves. North too chicken to go near hungry reindeer, so I feed too," the woman was forcing herself into a laughing fit as she opened up Rudolph's stall, then took a halter off a hook in the room.

"Whoa! Whoa, you radiation freak! Hold still!" she shouted. Jack had an inkling that, even though his eardrums were ringing, the woman was barely at a whisper.

But, that was a story for a different time. As the Russian lady had her back turned, as she tried to whip the rebellious animal into behaving so she could file his hooves, Jack hustled off.

Mary Claus was attempting at being nice, but she was horrifying.

A/N: Over. Yawn.

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