He had always known that one day he would meet her personally, whether she was prepared for it or not. Being born with the ability to control ice and bring forth an improvised winter of sorts did doom anyone to a life of quietness and isolation, were someone to get hurt because of it. Princess Elsa of Arendelle had been chosen by Fate itself to carry such a heavy burden, and as the merciless Seers of Destiny would have it, disaster happened as soon as she began to grow, and with her, the gift that would follow her for the rest of her life.

He remembered the fear and despair in the young royal's eyes as she faintly called for her Mama and Papa after hitting her younger sister with a small blast of ice. Even though he was not particularly specialized in elemental magic, the lord of fear knew perfectly that the mind and the heart were two places especially dangerous to tamper with. Such knowledge was apparently shared by the pale blonde infant as she shrieked and trembled in horror, feeling her sister's life slip away. The rush of emotions and distress that coursed through her small being only heightened his power and influence, and yet he did not need to do a single thing; nor did he feel like it. Something about the tiny damsel in distress told him that whatever was about to happen was enough.

While he did need to feed regularly on their fear, Pitch had never been too interested in humans themselves. He found them overly sentimental and irritating, and would most likely go out of their way to rectify their excessive emotional attachments if he did not need those to survive. This case was an exception, though. Most of the times, the sons of Adam showed themselves to be petty, selfish and self-centered, which only served to justify his disdain towards them. Part of the reason why he brought them so much fear and agony was to force their better instincts out, he assumed. In the darkest of times, humans were capable of pulling off the most noble of feats, feats that had surprised the Nightmare King before. In that line of thought, seeing a mother and a father whose hearts should have logically been solidified into cold stone in order to sustain a country take their two infant daughters with themselves to the middle of the unknown forest was another case of curiosity for Pitch.

During the entire course of the trip, he was sure Elsa had noticed him floating above their sleighs more than once; yet the small child did not say anything. He was obviously striking some terror into her, but at that particular moment, the source of her fears was mostly directed to the fact that Anna might not recover from their little playtime accident. Either that or she was also too afraid to bother her father with something else. Pitch knew all too well how much children could be afraid of telling certain secrets to their parents. Still, seeing the little girl stare him straight in the eyes and not make him her priority came of as some kind of an offense to the Boogeyman, who eventually stayed behind to further analyze whatever was about to happen to the little girl.

There was always something about the trolls that had irked him quite a bit. In spite of not being any sort of Guardian themselves, the little rocky creatures made it their habit to constantly aid humans and other creatures in finding all sorts of magical solutions to improbable issues. While he would often have fun terrorizing them in a daily basis, this time he took a step back and watched as the elder troll erased the memories of the slowly dying child, effectively bringing her back to health, part of him frustrated for being deprived of the chance to exploit such a possible trauma between the two sisters. His initial contempt was eventually soothed upon the mention of what would have to be done about Elsa. Fear would be her eternal companion? He could definitely work with that. The young princess was indeed a gold mine when it came to extracting fear.

Soon, the walks in the snowy grounds became small circles marched on a closed bedroom, the warm hugs became frosty distance and the wish to build a snowman became an impossible dream for Elsa and Anna, their relationship of love being cut in half by the stigma of fear and prevention.

Pitch had to hand it to the King: he really knew how to permanently scar his children for life. He did not care at all, since it did give him a much wider playground to have fun in, but even he could tell that he was only damaging things further. Love was such a weak and easily bendable emotion. No wonder he avoided the Saint Valentine's Cupid at any chance he had.

Elsa was probably very much aware of him being in her room, silently observing her from the shadows. He could tell by her breath growing huskier and much more accelerated, and by her hands trembling as she accidentally froze the edge of the window she had been holding onto. While she initially turned her head around to call for her father in fear, she halted for an instant, a cold chill going through her tiny figure as she once again came face to face with the two amber orbs quietly stalking her in the darkness. Part of the young royal knew that if such a thing was out to harm her, Papa would not come in time to stop it, so she merely took a few steps back, eventually tripping over her own feet in fear, small ounces of tears forming on the corner of her eyes. At this turn of events, the Boogeyman merely shook his head and rolled his yellow eyes in slight annoyance, finding this display of terror too exaggerated for what he was aiming for at such a stage. Sighing softly with his long arms behind his back, his grey fingers interlinked with each other, Pitch stepped out of his hiding spot, every step he took further terrifying the little girl until he halted mere inches from her.

"Don't scream." - He murmured in his soft, whispery voice, his slightly sharp teeth made visible for Elsa for an ounce of a second, which in turn only made her recoil in horror once again.

"W-what?" – she eventually blurted out in a faint tone that made it feel as if she was slowly being choked by his very presence. Even though her entire being was partly composed of ice, she was trembling in every single spot of her tiny body as this tall, grey skinned man with spiky onyx hair and devilish amber eyes stared down at her with a disturbing scowl.

"You heard me. Don't. Scream."

"W-who are you?"

"They call me The Boogeyman. I go by the name of Pitch Black."

"Why…can't I scream? You're the boogeyman…"

"Because it's no fun if you start screaming so early. These things must take time."

"Why?"

"That's just the way things are."

"Oh…why aren't you hiding under my bed?"

Upon this question from the little infant, Pitch raised his eyebrow, taking slight offense to her remark, especially to the ones who had most likely misinformed her about what he did and how he did it. Well, while it was true he did have fun hiding under children's beds, it was not as if he called it a home or anything of sorts. The Nightmare King had obvious standards, and did not like to have his pride questioned by anyone. He could tell she had gotten his irritation, for she had crawled into an even more hesitant position of uncomfortableness.

"Excuse me?"

"Mama always told me the Boogeyman hid under beds to scare children. You were next to the door…why?"

"Because I don't hide under beds!" he declared in a slightly louder tone, frowning at his own lie before looking away slightly ashamed and murmuring loud enough for her to understand his words. "Not all the time…"

After seeing the more intimidating man answer her in such an awkward manner, the usually quiet and withdrawn princess temporarily dropped her expression of fear and hesitance, letting a soft smile creep up her lips as she covered her mouth, hoping he had not seen her. Pitch's following retort would prove her otherwise, even though that much to the surprise of both of them he did not return to acting hostile.

"What's so funny, little girl?"

"Oh…nothing at all, Mister Black! Don't worry about it…"

"What did you just call me?"

"Mister Black? Well…you said your name was Pitch Black…and Papa always told me you have to call older people 'Mister'. It sounds nice."

"You're a polite little thing, aren't you, little doll?"

She smiled softly at him, nodding hesitantly as she got up, her hands holding each other in front on her small dress as her sapphire eyes met his amber ones. For some reason, talking to what was supposed to be fear itself in the form of a grown man seemed natural now that the two had struck a slightly strange conversation. While annoyed that he was not getting his way with her, Pitch did find her reactions to be interesting, so he kept retorting.

"I'm a good girl…I always have to be."

"Being a good girl won't mean I won't be around, you know? The Boogeyman goes after the good and the bad children."

"Will you come tonight, Mister Black?"

"That's not of your concern."

"Papa won't like it if you come, though, Mister Black…"

"Papa doesn't believe me, so he won't see me. It makes no difference."

"If people don't believe you they stop seeing you?"

This one took him slightly off guard, seeing that she might have figured out what made him and other Guardians tick. While he was not technically authorized to lie to her, especially since he did not believe in telling lies himself, he did have to play his cards carefully as to not lose anything.

"Likely. You'll keep seeing me, though. We've talked. You know I am real. Why would you not believe I'm here?"

"I believe you, Mister Black. You know I do. I'm talking to you."

"You are. So that means you'll see me again sometime later. I can either come today, or perhaps tomorrow or a week later. I don't know. I come when I want."

"So you're coming tonight!" – she said a bit out loud with a small giggle before assuming her calmer posture again, which made Pitch take a step back and sigh in annoyance at her remark. She was apparently having fun with him and he was allowing it. Something was not right at all.

"…Yes. Yes I am." – he confessed with an irritated scowl as he turned his back on her and began walking towards the shadows, complaining quietly about what had happened and why the event was the reason why he never interacted with others.

Elsa merely walked towards her bed and playfully hoped into it, moving her legs ever the slightest as she watched the incredibly tall man slowly fade away into the darkness of her room, likely to return that evening. For a Boogeyman he did not seem to be that bad of a person, even though some parts of him bothered her. Perhaps he had been locked in a room too and could never build a snowman ever again.

Letting herself fall back on the bed, her eyes fixated on the ceiling as she sighed softly and breathed in, her usual melancholy was replaced by a soft smile of hope as she mused that perhaps she did not have to be alone in the room and that perhaps the Boogeyman was the one person she could play with without hurting. Yes, it would go well. It had to.

Her blue orbs of innocence darting away into the corner once again, she smiled softly and whispered in her ever so quiet tone.

"See you later, Mister Black."