A/N: Hey all I'm back! Kinda long hiatus but I really wanted to think through this one before diving in! Many thanks to all my lovely readers who are joining from Immortal, you guys rock! And for all you first timers just jumping on this boat: WELCOME! I can't wait to hear form you guys!

Shout outs:

Bug349: Thanks so much and I hope you like this one!

Magiccatprincess: lol she was so much fun to write!

MysteriousSherlock: Aww no I love Jack! His angst just makes such great stories…. Speaking of which this will be angsty so be forewarned (but the eventual ending is happy!)

Rezzkat: HERE TIS! NEWWWW STORY! Can't wait to hear what you think!

Taylor Rose: Oh gosh thanks for the tip, I almost forgot to change it!

UltimateNinjaOfDoom: Thanks!

Firedrakegirl: glad you enjoyed it!

EmperialGen21: Here's a new story to cushion the blow! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians

Chapter 1: Welcome to the World

He hadn't been too terribly hard to find. The woods had been alive with the excited whisperings of a new little winter sprite since the moment the pond gave birth to him. And just as a babe stayed close to its mother's breast, so too the sprite hung close to the icy banks. But Pitch didn't need the whisperings to know where the spirit would be, he had been present for the birth, present for the discovery that he truly was alone, and now, on his second night of existence, Pitch would be there to comfort.

He hung back in the shadows and watched as the boy played alone, talking to himself as he decorated the trees in their ethereal frost garbs and laughing into the wind as it lifted him as though he weighed no more than a snowflake. Hung back until he saw the child settle on the banks of the pond and his shoulders began to heave with tears that would only freeze on his skin.

Pitch set an ashen hand on the frost-covered shoulder. The boy yelped and skittered away, the wind moving him as much if not more than his feet. His eyes were wide and Pitch's mouth split into a sharp-toothed grin.

"Hello, little winter sprite," The Nightmare King said and crouched down to meet the boy's stare.

The boy swallowed. "You…you can see me?" His voice was caught in that strange time between childhood and adulthood. Hints of what could have been a rich baritone mix with the trills of a child's voice.

Pitch dipped his head and smiled again. "Of course frost child, all spirits can see each other."

"Spirits?"

"Yes little one, you are a spirit. As am I."

"Oh." The boy seemed to relax a little, the wind setting him down—albeit a bit sloppily—in a snow bank. "Are there…others?"

"Yes, many. But they are dangerous creatures and we must avoid them at all costs." Pitch reached his hand forward and the boy took it hesitantly. "Do you have a name, little one?"

"Jack Frost."

Pitch chuckled. "How very clever! Did you think of it all by yourself? Such talent!"

"No, the moon told me so."

The smile melted from Pitch's face. "The Moon?"

The boy nodded. "When I came out of the pond."

Pitch grabbed the boy's shoulder. "Never, ever speak to the moon again! Do you hear me, snowflake? He is a dangerous spirit. He will only bring you hurt." The Nightmare King paused when he felt the boy squirm in his grasp and let go when he saw the boy's wide blue eyes fill with fear. It was absolutely delicious, but there would be time enough for that later. "Have I frightened you, Jack? I'm sorry. I only meant to give warning to keep you safe. That's all I want."

Jack nodded slightly, but kept his distance, his hands clenching the staff. Pitch smiled again. "Jack, child, come now and don't be frightened. Show me what you can do!"

"Do?"

"Yes, boy! Show me all the wondrous gifts you have brought the world! What are your talents?"

The boy's eyes lit back up a little at the prospect of sharing. He was a bit of a showoff, Pitch was sure of that. But he didn't look at it as a trait to be remedied, rather a venue to be expanded.

With a wave of his staff the boy sent a shock of ice across the surface of the lake, allowing the wind to lift his lanky form into the air. White hair flying, he touched trees with the staff, sending frost spiraling down the evergreens and firs as the staff began to glow and a tentative snow fell from the sky. Pitch laughed delightedly at the boy's work. Such potential in such a moldable package! The man in the moon couldn't have possibly sent him a better birthday present.

Jack landed a ways off, cheeks flushed blue with his excitement, and flash froze a bare bush in his rush. Pitch clapped and laughed again as he slowly inched his way towards the sprite.

"Wonderful, Jack! Just wonderful!"

Jack smiled. "Really?"

"Absolutely! I've never seen anyone with a talent like yours!" The boy was within reach. Pitch held out a hand, his own excitement unable to be curbed. The boy looked as if he was going to take the hand when he suddenly stopped and began to draw back. Something was not right here. Something was wrong and every instinct within him told him to run far away from this creature.

"Take my hand, Jack," Pitch said and leaned a bit closer. "I know a great place where we can go."

Jack shook his head. Instinct said to fly, so that's what he would do. But before the wind had a chance to wrap its arms around its frost child, ashen fingers gripped Jack's wrist tightly and wrenched the staff away. With a cry, Jack fell from the sky, one shadowed hand deftly catching him and pinning his arms to his chest. Pitch threw the staff into a nearby shadow, smiling when the boy stopped fighting him long enough to shudder when it disappeared.

"Let me go!" He screamed. "Help! Someone help!"

Pitch muffled his cries with a hand across his mouth and tightened his grip on the boy's body.

"Shhh," Pitch cooed. "Hush now my little frost spirit. All will be well."

Jack kicked out both legs jerking frantically against the arms holding him. The moon shone brightly above them. Pitch grunted when one of the wild kicks hit its mark. He was quickly loosing his patience. Tightening his grip on the teen's jaw, he placed his other hand over the boy's eyes, releasing a tiny bit of his newest experiment. Dream sand that cast the dreamer into a deep sleep, filled with nightmares. Wouldn't Sanderson be proud?

The boy grew lax in his grasp, eyes lolling as Pitch ran his fingers through the white hair. "Rest now," He cooed. "My little Jökul Frosti."

o.O I got creeped out writing this. Pitch….*shudder* Anywho, do your thing with those buttons below and I will post chapter 2 soon!