For nearly seventeen years of his life, Frost had never attended school and he never wanted to.

The Gavaldon children didn't like him while the adults clearly loathed him, so why go somewhere he would only be shunned? His parents didn't push for him to attend classes for the same reasons and taught their son themselves. As a result, he learned basic survival and hunting skills along with how to read, write, and count. Nothing new was introduced to his education until he had his wings and his Mark.

Even now, he strongly disliked the idea of attending classes. He only agreed to do so because he wasn't sure of what would happen to Rose if he refused. This school called itself the School for Good. The name alone made him want to laugh. No one was good. Not fully. For all he knew if his sister was in his place and she failed, they'd consider her a witch and turn her to stone.

It was with thoughts such as this that he entered his first class, Swordplay and Weapons Training.

The moment he stepped in the room, all eyes turned to him, and it wasn't just because he had missed three days of a class taught by a teacher strict on attendance. Frost immediately saw that the uniform given to him was different from that of his classmates'. It was mostly gray, for one thing. The shirt, the coat, the gloves, the breeches, even the shoes were all different shades of silver with only the faintest tinge of blue. His uniform also seemed. . .shabbier, somehow. Not a butler's or anything like that, but definitely not as high-classed as the others. Odd. Or maybe it was because of his white hair. Mom had said before that its color was unnatural. . .

"You," the professor -Rowan Espada, if Frost recalled the class schedule correctly-  said loudly, pointing his blade at his new student before he was even fully in the room. "Step up here. Quickly now, we haven't got all day."

Frost raised an eyebrow but did what was asked of him.

"And you, Edward, come up here as well."

The prince complied, a smug look on his face. Most of the remaining Everboys realized what was about to happen and began nudging each other and making bets.

The professor cleared his throat, hushing the whispers. "Now I'm sure that all of you recall that I said that there would be consequences to skipping my class-"

"I didn't skip class," Frost stated. "I couldn't attend."

Espada narrowed his eyes at the student (Special student, he scoffed silently. How did Cygnelle choose him?) and just continued louder. "-and I am also certain that all of you remember what I have told you about having mutual respect in this class. Which means when I talk, you will listen. And when you talk, I will listen. Violations to that rule will have consequences as well. Now, your name, young man?"

"Frost Gracehill. Of Woods Beyond," he answered, recalling the title the dean told him to use. He'd have to ask her about the different uniform later on.

"Well, Frost," began the teacher with a knowing look at the rest of his students, "the boy before you is Edward of Phrygia. He has been the top scorer in my class for the past three days. As punishment for skipping my class and interrupting me, you will now have a duel with him. Retrieve one of the training swords from the wall behind you to take as your own and we'll commence."

To the teacher's irritation and his students' surprise, Frost didn't look at all upset about the challenge. If anything, he seemed curious and eager to fight. He easily hefted one of the bigger blades and returned to where his opponent waited.

"First to four strikes," Espada announced and stepped back. "Begin when ready."

The rest of the class surrounded the fighters from a reasonable distance, excited to watch the duel. Frost and Edward backed away from each other and readied their blades.

"Frost, was it? Want me to go easy on you?" the prince questioned tauntingly.

The white-haired boy remained silent as they circled each other. After a few more seconds, Edward charged, only to strike the empty air. He soon found himself knocked to the ground with a blade pressed lightly against his back. The class stared in stunned silence. The Reader had moved lightning-quick and struck like a snake.

It even took a while for Espada to recover. When he gathered his wits, he said. "We do not shove our opponents to the earth, Frost."

Ice blue eyes drifted to the teacher, then a soft huff. Frost moved away and Edward pushed himself up.

The prince glowered at his foe. "That was cheating."

"Nobody told me any rules, so it I couldn't have cheated," he retorted. "And in true battles, the enemy probably won't listen to whatever rules you make."

Edward turned to the professor with disbelief. "That hit couldn't have been considered."

But Espada was curling his mustache around his finger, studying Frost as if reevaluating him. "I will consider it. One point for Frost of Woods Beyond."

They Everboys were looking at Frost the same way, as if considering a new leader for themselves. Edward grit his teeth. "That was a lucky hit," he growled dismissively.

He readied himself, but it was Frost who charged this time. The Reader was just as fast and the blade was pressed against his throat before he could blink.

"Two points for Frost of Woods Beyond!"

The third round went just as well for Edward as the second one did. This time his foe had a taunting sort of look in his eyes and a calm smile, and the prince could almost hear him saying, 'Edward, was it? Want me to go easy on you?'

Edward surprised both the class and himself when he managed to gain a point on the fourth round. The moment before Frost could win again, he halted and turned to the door with an alarmed expression. Edward took the opportunity to strike the Reader on the chest with the butt of his sword.

Frost stumbled back from the force with a distracted look. When Espada announced, "One point for Edward of Phrygia!" with a voice carrying the slightest hint of disappointment, Frost continued to look at the door and seemed to be muttering something.

Deciding he was dazed, Edward charged again. . .only for Frost to sidestep and hold the sword against the back of the prince's neck.

"Four points for Frost of Woods Beyond." Espada stepped up as the boy lowered the blade and Edward scrambled up. Fascinating, a Reader beat his best student. Perhaps this was what part of what Cygnelle had seen in him. "Who taught you?"

"My father," he replied, still staring at the doorway.

"Boy," the teacher said sternly. "Look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Frost's hand clenched around the training sword, knuckles turning white. "I have to. . .do. . .something."

"Whatever it is can wait, Gracehill."

Frost's shot his teacher a look that sent a chill down the man's spine. "No, it can't."

Espada considered himself a man to be respected, and despite the sense of danger emanating from his student, declared, "You are not leaving this room unless you're injured, and not a drop of blood spilled when you . . .fought. . .oh my."

Before he had even finished his sentence, Frost had removed his right glove, drew a dagger of glass? from thin air, and slashed his palm. The Everboys and their instructor stared in shock as the blood dripped from the cut, but Frost just glanced at it uninterestedly. "Oh look, blood. I'll be heading to the infirmary now."

Then he left the room and the shocked Evers within it.

The Everboys soon began talking to each other uncertainly, about this strange boy, a Reader who could fight, how quickly their best had been beaten, and wondering what important task could have prompted him to cut himself. One mutely stared at the door with a frown, wondering if this Reader was who he thought it was.

When Espada finally recovered, he sat down, held his head in his hands, and muttered "Good Lord" over and over.

~ ~ ~

The bleeding stopped a mere fifteen steps after Frost left Espada's class.

Frost was relieved to find that he didn't have to hold the glove against it to prevent trailing blood over the hallway anymore, and quickened his pace to the infirmary. The nymph guarding it was, understandably, alarmed to find a student clutching a blood-soaked glove to his hand and fretted over him until she managed to bandage it. Once that was over, Frost entered the single curtained-off area in the room.

As he expected, Rose was shifting in her sleep. Tears streamed down her face, her lips moved but not a word came out, and her face was scrunched up in fear and pain. A certain nightmare.

Frost held her hand in his and used the other to gently stroke her hair. "Shh, it'll be alright. Don't be afraid, I'm here now. It's okay, Sis, I-"

Frost's eyes widened with alarm when she suddenly began turning once more, movements more erratic. She was crying again, whimpering in fear and pain and stop, please stop crying and hurting it's alright, the monsters aren't here the real monsters aregonesostopbeingsoAFRAID-

He sprang back, clutching his hand as if he had been burned. But he hadn't been burned. In fact, he froze. Frost had been peering at her face and worrying about why she was crying so much that he hadn't noticed when the ice began spreading from his fingertips. He stared in horror at the crystal-like ice that had crept up Rose's arm, swirling patterns of white that encased half her body and ended in a ragged edges far too close to her throat. He immediately willed it to disappear. The cold air lost its dryness as it disappeared, moisture returning as temperature rose.

Frost watched her face. She was calm again, or calmer, at least. He let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in, then stared at his hands. He had experienced problems with his ice before, but never this great. Remember, your Mark of Nature is linked to your emotions. As an anthroangelus, you must learn to control them or you might end up hurting others. His father's advice drifted through Frost's mind and he took deep breaths. Calm. . .he had to be calm too. He lifted his head towards Rose.

"I'm sorry," he told her softly. "I'll. . .be back."

Frost exited the infirmary before the nymph could pester him about the sudden drop of temperature.

~ ~ ~

Reed stayed at the back of the class as the other Everboys roughhoused and nudged each other on their way to the Theater of Tales for the History of Heroism.

There were two reasons for this. One, Edward and his cronies liked staying in front to the rest of them to be the so-called leader and stuck-up brat that he was and Reed preferred to stay out of his way. And two, it would be easier to see the boy who just caused Professor Espada's class to be turned into free time when he'd come. That is, if Frost didn't decide to just skipped today's class as well. He was sure that the Reader was the same boy who had helped him escape his bullies, though he kept questioning himself on whether he remembered his eye color correctly.

To his disappointment, nobody came rushing to the back of line. But there was a familiar someone in his usual seat at the back left corner of Good's side.

There goes my seat, he thought glumly. I hope he doesn't break my slate.

Professor Argina clapped her hands, getting the everyone's' attention. "Alright! The textbooks have finally been delivered so I want each of you to file up and get a copy of the newest edition of A Student's History of the Woods. Hurry, but no pushing!"

Reed stayed rooted to where he stood as the other boys scrambled to the front where history books were stacked beside the podium.

"Aren't you going to line up?" Frost was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Frost frowned as the boy stepped back and averted his gaze, his emotions a mix of frustration and stress. He remembered seeing the redhead watching him moments before with something like disdain watered down with disappointment. Odd. He hadn't done anything and there wasn't anyone else he could have been looking at. Unless he hadn't been looking at him . . . Frost then noticed a slate by the ground near his feet. Property of Reed of Hamelin was carved on its top. "Is this. . .your seat?"

The redhead started. Then hesitantly nodded. Frost slid out of the pew, the copy of A Student's History of the Woods he had gotten earlier in hand.

"Sorry, didn't know." An idea drifted into his mind, and he impulsively shoved his book into the boy's hands. "You can have this, I'll just go line up to get another for myself."

He didn't hear the redhead protesting or following him though a certain degree of surprise and regret and more frustration and. . .embarrassment? did emanate from somewhere behind. Ah well, they were even now. There were other empty spots by the back to sit in anyway. Argina gave him a raised eyebrow when she saw him lining up despite already having a book, but was understanding when he explained that he had given it to Reed.

"I can't be mad at a Good Deed," she said. "Though I'm frankly surprised that you, the spe- Reader," she quickly corrected herself "is the first one I've seen doing one this year."

When Frost walked back up the aisle, his sharpened sense of hearing easily picked up the whispers of "teacher's pet" and. . .well, comments that his mother would have washed his mouth out with soap for if he had ever uttered them. And they call themselves Good. He swallowed his laughter before it could escape him and returned to the back of the theatre.

"Does anyone sit here?" he asked Reed, gesturing to the other end of his pew.

The boy shook his head, and Frost sat down. The professor clapped her hands to get the attention of her students. "Does everyone have a textbook? Everyone? Good, now continuing our lesson yesterday, name me one of the oldest tales we've got. Theron?"

Somewhere near the front row, a boy lifted his head. "Er, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Wrong. Kelia?"

"Beauty and the Beast?"

"Wrong. That's what many say it inspired, but this tale is far older. Some say it even came from beyond the School Master Era. Reed?"

Frost watched in curiosity as the redhead used chalk to write in large, neat letters, Psyche and Cupid. Then he raised the slate. From the podium, the professor squinted through her glasses. "The names are swapped, but you're correct! The answer is Cupid and Psyche. Now can anyone list down the similarities between this and it's better-known modern counterpart, Beauty and the Beast?"

Reed was wiping the slate clean with a damp cloth when he paused. He glanced to his side. Frost was watching him. He immediately saw his chance, wrote Thanks on his board, and flashed it to the white-haired boy. When his response was a confused look, Reed tapped his copy of the textbook.

Frost smiled and waved his hand dismissively. Maybe there was a Good person in this class.

~ ~ ~

"You didn't have to thank me for the book, you know."

Reed started, then looked up from his lunch. Frost was standing beside him, lunch basket in hand. "Reed, right? Mind if I sit here?"

He shook his head.

"Thanks. So, uh," he sat down. "are you mute?"

Reed gave him a look that was part-surprised, part-offended, and part-relieved. Frost was really getting his emotion-reading skills tested around here. "Sorry, sorry, didn't mean to be rude," he said quickly. "Just, are you mute?"

The redhead rolled his eyes, as if saying, Isn't it obvious?

"Sheesh, I told you I didn't mean it as an insult, I've just never met anyone like that before." Frost leaned back against the tree behind them.

As they ate their lunch in silence, he kept sneaking looks at the Reader. He had imagined him more stoic, or heroic, or something. The model example of a hero perhaps. But save for his white hair, Frost seemed perfectly normal. A good sword fighter and maybe a little rebellious for skipping Professor Espada's class, but normal.

"What's it like?"

He gave Frost the deadpan look again.

"Right, did you bring a pen and paper? Anything you can write on?"

Reed shook his head. Like most students, he still didn't find the need to start taking notes yet. The slate was just there because of his condition.

"Well, this is going to be an awkward- wait a moment. . .I think I have an idea. Do you get cold easily?"

Another shake.

Frost glanced around, but nobody was paying close attention to them. Passing glances only lasted for a few seconds, and even those slowly lessened as students focused on food. "Then try not to panic."

Frost held his hand over the ground before them. This time it was Reed who was watching in curiosity as a sheet of ice about eight inches long and five inches wide formed. Its borders thickened, leaving a shallow indent in the center that was soon filled with snow packed flat. Then Frost twirled his fingers. A thin rod the size of a pencil formed between them. Frost lifted up the board and stylus with and grinned. "I can't believe that worked! Did you see that, Ro. . ." he trailed off, the grin dying. "Ah, sorry just. . .ignore that last bit, it's uh. . .force of habit, I guess. Here."

Reed took the tablet and stylus. The cold seeped through his gloves, but it was bearable. Ice, like on opening day, he noted. But first, he wrote in the packed snow with his neat handwriting and showed it to Frost.

"The quick onyx goblin jumped over the lazy dwarf?" he read. "Am I reading that right?" Reed nodded. "Because the one I know is the quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog." Frost held the stylus by its center and dragged it down the snow to flatten it out again as he said, "Well, regardless of goblins and dwarves or foxes and dogs, this should work."

When Reed got his hands on the tablet again, he wrote, I saw you before, I think.

"Before today?"

Reed nodded as he cleared the tablet and scribbled, First day, knocked down edward & cronies then disappeared.

Frost chuckled lightly at the cronies part. "Edward's that boy I fought earlier, right? Seems like a person to have mindless followers. I can't recall seeing him, or you, before today, though."

You helped me. They threatened, edward drew sword. You knocked them out. Snow I think. Then you ran off.

"I can't remember, honestly. When I woke up here I was. . .in the infirmary," he said, changing out chained to a table to avoid unnecessary questions. "Professor Cygnelle, the dean, mentioned that I harmed a few people."

Infirmary? he wrote, Why?

"They call me a Reader here, right? Because I don't come from this world? Well in Gavaldon, our world's village, they don't take kindly to magic." He made a dagger and stared at its translucent blade, "Or what they think is magic. Witchcraft, they call this. They tried to burn our parents and. . ." The ice cracked under his gripped and he sighed, the shards disappearing. "Long story short, we're most likely orphans now."

Reed gathered his guts and wrote something new on the board. Our. We. You're not alone?

A bittersweet smile was all the response he had. Then Frost lifted his still-filled basket and stood. "Well, thanks for letting me eat here, Reed, but there's something I have to do."

Reed watched him until he disappeared into the School for Good.

Perhaps he wasn't so normal after all.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
A/N: I live and I updated.

Thanks to -whimsicalnonsense- and ImTheEggman (sorry once more if there is incorrect spelling of names.)for following me all that time ago.