Rise of the Guardians - Pitch's Revenge

by PotterheadStormHawk

What if... Pitch wasn't carried away by his Nightmares? What if he didn't initially fee the scene after Jamie ran through him? What if instead of fear, Pitch black was consumed by anger and hatred... for Jack Frost? This is a semi-direct continuation of 'Rise of the Guardians'. Frostbite. Sorry, updates will be slower than I planned. Rated T for possible future chapters.

1. Chapter 1

As much I wish I did, I don't own 'Rise of the Guardians' or any of its characters or plots. This plot, however, is my own.

It wasn't possible. He'd had it all planned out. He was so close. He could feel the fear; he could practically smell it. On the children, on those infernal Guardians, on HIM…. Jack Frost.

That boy; that interference, was almost in his grasp. The giant scythe had been so close to striking him down, taking him out of the picture for good. But no, the Sandman just had to reappear in that moment. Oh, he knew his oldest foe wasn't really dead, it would take more than an arrow made of nightmare sand to kill one of the oldest spirits. All he did was severely weaken him, enough to use his control of the dream sand against its true purpose.

Pitch Black had been planning his return for centuries. He knew everything that could hurt the Guardians, what would weaken their spirits, he even knew that the Man in the Moon would do nothing to directly assist them; he would only warn them that he was up to something. His old friend never was one to give much help when it was really needed. He discovered too late, however, that there was one little thing that he did not factor in his schemes…. A new guardian.

The spirit of fear never took into account the MiM would assign a new Guardian to help the Big Four out of their newest problem. He also had no idea what could've possessed him to choose Jack Frost of all spirits. The boy was reckless, he was all about fun, how could he possibly have been his downfall? How could this one boy be responsible for the breakdown of such a foolproof plan?

Pitch watched as the children played with wide eyes, a touch of fear adorning his features. That boy, the one who wouldn't stop believing, ran straight through him. He could still see him, how was it possible that he could still move through him and not be harmed? Pitch was confused, the fear within him being masked by the other emotions and thoughts swirling through his person.

Pitch looked around, eyes darting from one point to another, until they landed on one certain figure. The boy, white hair, blue hoodie and eyes as blue as an icicle. Jack Frost. The cause of all his pain, his suffering, the reason his plan hadn't worked. Pitch's fear disappeared, and instead he was consumed with anger, hatred, a lust for revenge. Slowly, so as not to alert anyone of his movements, Pitch slipped into the darkness and returned to his lair, sealing off the entrance, so as not to be disturbed. His lips twitched into a cruel smile. He had a lot of planning to do.