Hi, so... First off, sorry for no author's note on my first chapter, I wasn't sure how to post one, currently I'm just writing it as a bold part of my chapter, is that the correct way of doing it? Anyway I hope you enjoy the story, I've got quite a bit written already, but I haven't finished it, I'm actually currently in the middle of writers block, which is why I started posting it, I figured support might give me a reason to keep writing. Either way, you wont be effected by said writers block for a while, so hopefully I'll get it together. I'll try to post a chapter a day, but if I don't get further in what I've written, I might have to slow down a little as I approach the end. I want to thank my first favorite-er and follower, pinkiepiez for your support, and everybody else who gave my story a shot. Reviews are appreciated, even if they're critical. And please enjoy the next chapter :)

Pitch spent the next few days silently observing. The girl spent most of the time in her room, so it was easy to avoid being noticed as he explored the rest of the castle. From what he gathered, her name was Elsa. She'd had her snow powers her entire life, and until that night, her sister, Anna, had been aware of that. In order to save her, though, the trolls had to erase her memories of Elsa's powers and now Elsa had to stay hidden away until she had learned to control her powers, or risk further incident. Pitch spent most of this time sitting outside her closed door, close enough to benefit from the fear still surrounding her. At first, he had worried his position would be discovered by her sister, who made regular visits to the door to request Elsa to play with her. But the younger girl was an infernal optimist that, in any other circumstance, would have annoyed him endlessly. Yet as it was, the fact that she couldn't see him was actually beneficial for once so he didn't attempt to remedy it. A week passed by like this, Pitch steadily growing stronger, and Elsa's fear remaining constant. Yet by the end of the week, Pitch was beginning to sense a change.

Trauma in children very rarely stays with them without some sort of constant reminder. The fact that he had gotten a week out of her without any effort was a testament in its self. Yet her fear was starting to ebb. Now was the perfect time to strike, when the fear was still present enough to be relevant, but was lessened enough that she wouldn't automatically be frightened of anything new. He smiled humorlessly at the extra effort he was taking with this girl. This may be the first time he was attempting not to scare someone on sight. Silently, he slipped through a shadow and materialized from the shadow her bed cast on the wall.

She did not see him arrive. She was looking out her window, curiosity playing on her features. She had her hands placed unconsciously on the windowsill, and Pitch saw his opportunity.

"Careful not to freeze the pane." He cautioned softly, before fading once again into the shadows.

Startled to hear someone in her room, her fear spiked once again, causing her to lose control as ice crept across the windowsill on its own. Further startled, she pulled her hands away before turning toward the source of the voice, "w-who's there?" She questioned cautiously, holding her hands in front of her defensively.

Pitch wanted so much to tauntingly ask her what she planned to do to him other than give him a slight chill, but he refrained, he was supposed to be getting on her good side, after all.

"Don't be frightened," he cooed, internally hoping for the opposite, "I'm here to help."

Her brows furrowed suspiciously, "Who are you?" She demanded.

Pitch surfaced again, this time from the closer shadow behind her mirror, "My name is Pitch." He answered her.

At his sudden proximity, Elsa swiveled around to face him once more, keeping her hands between them, "what do you want?" Her voice was edging on hysteria.

Pitch took a moment to take in her fear, it was almost intoxicating at this range. Yet as much as he wanted to simply terrify her and revel in her panic, he knew he'd get a much more lasting effect if he took this slowly.

"As I said," he continued calmly, "I wish to help you." He struggled to maintain his kind expression as he felt her fear receding away from him, but he reminded himself it was all a part of the plan.

She lowered her hands slightly, caution and suspicion still present, but no longer the dominant emotion, "how?" She demanded.

Pitch smiled, "is it not true your curse is centered around your hands?" He wondered though he already knew the answer.

She looked at her hands, "yes, but I was born like this. It's not a curse." She answered sadly.

"Oh but it's not your fault." He argued softly, "you didn't choose to attack your sister, you can't control it. It's not a part of you, it's trying to control you." He refrained from changing his pitying expression to one of pride when he felt her fear start to rise again, "the solution is to contain it first." He knelt down in front of her, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she looked at him as though he were her only anchor in a storm, and he knew he had her now, "it is your duty. Your responsibility, to keep the storm inside, to protect the people around you." He finished.

Her fear welled up deep within her, and he didn't need to be able to feel it to know. It was visible, so visible in her eyes.

"How?" She practically begged.

He smiled, "you need something to keep it from escaping your hands."