This takes place around 314 years before the movie's time period! This story will be slightly historical to adjust to the pre-Revolutionary era, and that does include traditions, customs, and religious values. I hope no one will be offended. After I watched the movie, I just wondered if he had ever gotten attached to anybody during that long stretch of time. Here's the story, hope you'll like it!

Sophia

1698, Virginia.

It had been only four years since he woke up in a daze under the moonlight, floating over a sheet of ice. The man on the moon, Tsar Lunar, had only told him one thing: Jack Frost, his name. Other than that, he hadn't known a thing other than the fact that he could freeze things up, fly around, crash into trees, and not be able to interact with anyone.

Because of that, he could never be able to count the amount of times he had been jealous of the village children. Jack had always watched, muttering to himself at times, whenever kids played out in the snow with reddened cheeks and noses. They laughed, sang songs, pushed each other around, and stole each other's food. Whatever antics and ruses that the children had done, Jack had never been a part of it. Sometimes he did alter nature slightly for their entertainment, but it just didn't feel right. He had only wanted to be able to laugh with them, for once.

Why, they couldn't see him, so it was logical of course! None of them had believed in him, for who had ever heard of Jack Frost anyway? Maybe the Norwegians did but Jack was late by a couple hundred of years. Besides, it was not like he could travel to Denmark-Norway or anywhere nearly that far—he could only oblige to whatever direction the wind blows.

So, the boy only had two companions, his staff and the wind, but neither spoke a single word to him. Sometimes he found himself talking to random inanimate objects just to feel like he was being listened to.

Other times he moped and sulked, kicking rocks around and just doing nothing. To forget the state of his solitude, he was often out causing mischief. And he had caused a lot of trouble over the years. Most of the time, he didn't regret what he did. But the ones he did regret, he knew he was going to regret it for all of eternity.

Jack just so happened to be at a certain village that was nestled between a lake and a dense forest. He didn't know what it was called and didn't even bother to check-he usually wouldn't stay too long anyway so it didn't matter. Within the first few hours, the lake was as good as frozen and the pine trees were peppered with snow thanks to Jack's charm.

"Selling apples huh?" Jack commented as he watched a street vendor converse with a potential buyer. "Oops—how about some frozen apples?"

One touch and the frost crept all over the crimson apples like a second layer of skin. He snickered as he walked away, listening to the complaints from the unhappy would've-been customer.

'Never gets old' he thought with a content grin as he rested his wooden staff on his shoulder. Suddenly, he perked up to a sweet aroma. Jack turned his head to see fresh bread that was rested on a wooden stand in front of a bakery. He squinted at it as he approached it, "Gosh I hate warm things."

Before he knew it, several people ran past him—or through him, rather. He rolled his eyes when the people crowded the front of the stand, all of which whom seemed interested in eating something warm. "How rude," Jack huffed sarcastically as he watched the adults that were crowding the stand. "What are lines made for anyway?"

A sideways glance and he noticed a boy. This little boy was ragged, small-framed, and had these very desperate brown eyes. Jack gulped with guilt and just looking at this lad made him feel sorry for him. Not really knowing why, Jack always had a soft spot for kids. He sighed; alas, he couldn't do a thing even if he wanted to. "Unless…" He muttered as the silver haired boy tapped the bottom of his staff on the snowy ground. Maybe he could help... indirectly.

"Wind? Can you give me a hand here?"

On cue, a gust of wind coursed through the vicinity. Because Jack was unable to fully control it, it was only strong enough to startle the small crowd into a bustling mini-chaos. Just as Jack thought, the boy sprung into action, maneuvering his little figure through the appalled crowd before escaping with a loaf of bread. Of course, the catastrophy of picking up hats and pulling other people up was big enough for the boy to go almost completely unnoticed—almost.

"Hey! Hey, thief!" cried a tense voice.

Jack sucked in a breath and stared as the scene before him ruefully. "Oh boy… Oh no, oh no…" The silver haired boy widened his eyes as a tall, shadowy figure seized the boy.

It was a man, all dressed in black, who looked like a reverend or a holy figure of some sort. Although there was a rosary around his neck, he didn't look forgiving and benelovent with God's warmth, not even the slightest. With grim hawk eyes, tight lips, and a bony grip tightly around the boy's wrist, he lifted him up by an inch above the ground, "Here's your thief, baker. I suggest your customers to form a line to avoid this problem in the future.""

"Father Gordon!" Red-faced, the baker glared at the child, who looked utterly frightened. "How about we take off this rat's hands so that we never have this problem in the future?"

"Stop it!" Jack snarled, feeling the rage, guilt, and sense of righteousness bundling up in his chest. "Stop, please no it was my fault!"

Breathing heavily, he looked around to see absolutely no responses, no heedings, not even a glance. They didn't hear him—they couldn't hear him. And now they were going to punish this boy when it was Jack that provoked the temptation. In loud frustration, he threw his staff down as he continued to yell and cry out things, just anything at this point, to get their attention. Each moment he spoke, his voice faltered, becoming more and more desperate each time.

They couldn't hear.

It was just his breaking point. Just his breaking point. It had been four long years and Hhe couldn't bear it anymore. Whatever fate the moon had given him, this was the worst. This was the worst form of punishment—a punishment for just existing without knowing. Why?

Jack had no idea why he could freeze things, control the weather, and ruin things—heck he didn't even know if he could do more or not. All he knew was that he was completely and utterly alone with no one to hear him, see him, feel him, or love him. It didn't help that Jack couldn't even love himself. In fact, he hated himself with every waking day.

He was on his knees now, right in front of the staff that had started everything. He clenched his hair as he reeled over from the conflicting emotions from within. When he opened his eyes, Jack stared at the wood staff, the blue veins that snaked around the handle, with his frozen blue eyes.

No, he couldn't bear seeing the boy be dragged off to whatever fate that had unjustly been given to him. "I'm sorry… so sorry. I-I... didn't mean to," he whispered under his breath as he gently picked up his staff. "Just tried to... help."

"Please, please stop!"

It was a girl's voice. Jack looked up to see a girl in a bonnet with deep brown hair that curled into waves at the tips of her long locks. Studying her face closer from the distance, she had the same expression of desperation as he. There was something in those green eyes with the sheen and sparkle of something more brilliant than ice. No, not ice, not nearly as cold.

She stood out—her entire appearance struck him as just 'different' compared to the other girls in the village. This girl looked… tidy, clean, and strangely pretty. Not beautiful or ethereal, he would admit, but nice enough to stare at for a period of time. It was that teenaged-boy in him that perked up to her presence.

"Please sirs, please reverend, let him go. He meant no harm." She pleaded.

"Ah," the reverend turned his head to the girl. "Sophia, the Robert Miller's daughter. How is the plantation doing, my dear?"

"It's doing fine," she replied hastily, looking rather bothered at his attempt to off-track the situation, "Please just—just let him go."

"Why's that?" cried the baker in his hoarse voice. "He's a thief! He's going to do it again like how all of the damn rift-rafts do!"

The adults that had crowded around the stand nodded and muttered amongst themselves, their eyes full of reprimand and scrutiny.

"I'll pay," Sophia replied with a small, earnest smile. She nodded stiffly to reassure the people around her. "Yes, yes I'll pay."

Quickly, her dainty fingers went through a little intricately designed pouch and pulled out a few coins. "Here you are—five shillings is it? H-Here have ten." The girl fumbled as she clumsily handed the coins onto the baker's large and plump hand. The baker, with his heavy mustache and squinty eyes, gave a look at the reverend and then huffed.

The tall lanky figure that was the reverend staidly dropped the boy, who landed on his bum. At a loss of what to say, the child gave Sophia a look of brief gratitude before running off. Positively surprised, Jack couldn't believe that the tragedy was rewritten. "Sophia…" He murmured as he approached closer to the girl that completely disregarded his existence. Though she didn't know that he existed, somehow, he felt as if she had heard him.

"You are much too kind, Sophia. Those kind of people are vermin. Thieves and sinners only have a quarter in Hell."

"He was hungry," She replied softly as she put her pouch away. Quickly, she added, "...Sir."

Although Sophia looked reluctant at first, she resumed, "I am sorry but God said to feed the hungry too, reverend." Then the girl looked up expectantly at the man-almost defiantly-and looked straight into his sullen gray eyes. The middle aged reverend looked as gaunt and sickly to be a healthy and walking undead, and those features alone made fear visible in the girl's stature.

The man smiled toothily in response, his eyes twinkling with the deepest disdain and bitterness. "Child," he seethed under a low breath. "Know your place. That mouth of yours can get you in more trouble than you know."

The smile quickly faded into a sunken frown before he walked away, the blacks of his cloak flowing after him with every stride like fleeting shadows Everything resumed, back to normal, as if nothing had happened. The town went back to its own business.

Jack furrowed his brows at Sophia, who stared blankly into the distance as she let out an unsteady and unsettling sigh. She was brave—gutsy, a hussy even to be speaking like that to an older man and that spelled trouble. But he definitely did not judge her. Rather, he was more grateful than anything else. But then he noticed something else.

Her eyes—wow her eyes were so green. The color reminded him of the shade of green that would sprout during the Spring. Jack found himself so intrigued and curious about her and wondered if-and only if, she might be able to really hear him. As if she read his mind, she shook her head after muttering something inaudible. Apparently, she was scolding herself or something, which struck him as something odd . When she began to walk away, he followed her.

There was no real logic behind what he was doing. Whether it was just because of fascination or something else entirely, Jack just didn't care. Wherever she was going, he walked beside her as if they were companions or friends of some sort. There was this faint connection he was feeling with her, like the feeble but cohesive strings of gossamer spider webs. Their fates just seemed connected, he could feel it. Jack would be damned if he could explain his feelings. In short her presence just felt so... welcoming. For the first time, he felt wanted in those eyes that saw him as nothing.