Two months. That was how long it had taken Pitch to establish his kingdom. Any natural force could have never hoped to secure world-wide reign in even two decades, but Pitch was no natural force and a little fear goes a long way. Plus, he had Jamie to kickstart it all: the small boy had begun telling everyone that he had met a man named Pitch Black. Then more and more other children added their voices until the youth across the entire globe were chorusing that the Boogeyman was real and governments were forced to take notice.

A couple shows of power later, and no one even dared to suggest attacking Pitch. But it wasn't just him the mortals saw: oh no. Every spirit, magical creature, sprite, immortal, and creature that resided in the cloud of magical beings on this Earth were seen by man. As Pitch's temporary right hand, Sarah (who had been the first to publically swear loyalty to Pitch,) helped control the changes.

Pitch made the three options available very clear: swear unending loyalty to him, as Sarah had done, and be a part of his elite (or acknowledge his reign, if it was government); choose neutrality, and live peaceably under his reign and the reign of the government; if an immortal chose neutrality, than his/her power would be limited so that they could not attempt to incite a magical rebellion against him; and lastly, choose to oppose him, and be crushed under his heel. Many governments quickly swore to recognize his reign so long as he did not directly overcome their governing; and those that did not were quickly persuaded to. Most of the spirits who Jack and Pitch had saved and befriended swore their lives to Pitch. Many older spirits who were known to be affiliated with the Guardians begrudgingly accepted neutrality on the basis that they be allowed to continue their work with children so long as they did not set the children against Pitch or killed their belief in him. To their surprise, he agreed. He explained that a kingdom of depressed and always frightened people was the last thing he wanted: all it would bring him was inhumanely high suicide rates, which would help nobody.

Two months of negotiation and persuasion, and his kingdom was finally set in stone. He raised his underground lair to the surface partly, creating a massive city just outside the coast of Italy, rising from the sea. At its center is the entrance to his lair below sea level.

The city, Aureum, meaning golden in Latin, was undeniably beautiful and powerful in the same: as the Capitol of the world, what else would you expect?

And so, Pitch began his reign. His nightmares harvested fear and belief across the whole Earth, reigned in only by his command to not harm anyone, mortal or otherwise. They didn't like this very much, but even they didn't dare question Pitch Black.

Another two months passed, solidifying his reign even further. He was unstoppable now.

But something was still nagging at the back of his mind.

What about Jack? Was he alright? (Of course not, how foolish to think that.) Was he even still alive? Pitch didn't know. Jack wasn't afraid any longer: that meant he had either slipped into a state of no emotions or...

Pitch didn't let himself finish that thought. His boy was fine. He wouldn't allow there to be any other outcome.

He wasn't the only one with Jack occupying every waking moment.

"Lord Pitch?"

He turned from the window he stood at, one eyebrow raised. Kneeling before him was Sarah, robed in her new uniform: a blue-gray tactical outfit with a silver metallic breastplate: a mixture of old and modern. "Ah. My dear." Pitch motioned for her to stand. They were standing in his personal workroom that was made of the same dark grey stone as the rest of his palace but with lush silver drapes and fine wooden furniture. He stepped to a table and began pouring himself a glass of wine. "What is it you need? Has China ceased its uprising?"

Sarah swallowed. "Yes. The squadron you sent me to command ensured peace with little violence." She fiddled with the bare ring of a tiara that separated her as a high commanding official and that brought the nightmare forces marginally under her command.

"And yet something is bothering you." Pitch turned, drinking royally from his glass of wine: the alcohol would have no effect on his mind. "By all means, tell me."

She smiled. Pitch really was always so kind. "I have a question, my Lord." He nodded. "It's Jack, Sir." Pitch froze. Sarah swallowed hard and forged on. "Where is he? These four months that you have been establishing your reign, he's been nowhere to be found! I thought he would have been the first person to swear loyalty to you, that you would have brought him to the kingdom first thing. Where is he? Is he alright? I know he was meddling with 'them', but then where-"

Pitch raised a hand to silence her questions. He looked pained. Sinking down into a chair, he motioned for her to sit. He took a deep breath. "You're right, he was getting dangerously close to 'them', and he would have been the first I would have brought into the sight of the mortal world; but as of right now, I cannot reach him."

Sarah swallowed hard. "What happened?" She was afraid she might not want to know.

"You're aware that Easter was my last attack on the Guardians, correct?" Sarah flinched at the their name and the mention of the holiday: no one dared say those words; not anymore. Nonetheless, she nodded. "Well, they tricked Jack into an unfair deal. They claimed that in return for him helping prepare Easter, they would accept him as a neutral party."

Sarah blanched. "But... but he's always been neutral! He shouldn't have to help them to be neutral!"

Pitch frowned. "Indeed. But he fell for it regardless. You know how he hopes for the good in people." Pitch took another long drink from his glass of wine. "Well, when I attacked, Jack had helpfully just left on a little errand: I called him down to my lair and delayed him so he had no part in the battle." Pitch saw how Sarah's shoulders slumped in relief, glad that her brother was safe. "I tried to persuade him to not return to them, to fly away and leave them to their fate: he almost listened; but you know how he feels responsible for the littlest things."

"He's too honorable to duck out of a deal." Sarah nodded slowly. Going back to end a deal he knew was rotten sounded exactly like something Jack would do. But... "what happened then?"

"I... I made a mistake." Pitch sat forward, dragging his hands across his face. "I don't know if you're aware, but Jack has no memories of his human life." This caught Sarah entirely by surprise. Why wouldn't Jack remember? She certainly did, and everyone that she talked with remembered their past lives. Was this just another of Jack's many peculiarities? "When I stole the teeth," Pitch continued, "I hunted down Jack's box and gave it to him. When he returned to the Guardians to end his deal..."

Pitch's voice trailed off. Sarah bowed her head, assuming the worst.

When Pitch resumed speaking, he had already moved on to another subject. "Have you heard of the winter storm covering Antarctica?"

"Of course. It's been affecting the whole globe."

Pitch nodded. There was a torn look in his eyes and he was staring into no point in space in particular. "Jack is at its epicenter. That storm is the embodiment of the Winter itself, and it is protecting Jack. Even I couldn't get through."

Sarah leaned forward. She wanted to rush down to Antartica right then and find her dear brother. "Pitch? Is he alive?"

"... I don't know."

Sarah felt as though her heart was just stabbed with a rusty stake. She held her head, feeling a massive headache coming on. A world without Jack Frost (the kind, loving, protective Jack who always saw the good in people and helped everyone in need,) was a world she could not imagine. It tore her heart to even think she might never get to hear his whooping laughter on a brisk winter's day; or see children playing in his enchanted snow; or watch as he caused massive snowdrifts so schools were forced to call a snow-day and keep children home.

What would the world come to without Jack Frost?

Elsewhere, down at Antartica, the Winter was facing the same problem. It didn't understand: Jack was in his snow, but he wasn't getting better. Slowly the boy was getting worse and worse. He was less and less afraid, but his joy wasn't coming to replace fear and only a howling emptiness sat in his chest.

The Winter swirled around its beloved Boy Master, desperate to understand why this was happening. Jack should be up and flying by now.

But Jack didn't stir. He didn't wake up; didn't grab his staff; didn't touch that golden box or that little red doll. He didn't sleep either, but just stared into the walls of his icy prison. The Winter whispered its Boy Master's name: sometimes he would stir, but he wouldn't rise.

Suddenly, it dawned on the Winter what was the problem.

Jack Frost was dying. Jack Frost WANTED to die.

With horror the winter propelled itself away from its Boy Master. It had been trying to help, but all it had done was hurt. It hadn't helped Jack at all!

It shut off its mighty storm. Though it loathed to admit defeat, it sent out a howling cry, calling to the small darkness who wanted to help the Boy Master. That small Darkness was perhaps the only one able to help now. The Winter sure couldn't: it only ever harmed if it tried to help: it truly was a season of death.

The call echoed across the Earth, a wild echoing howl. In his city in the sea, Pitch's head snapped up: Sarah's as well. He leapt to his feet with a cry of "finally!" Pitch grabbed Sarah by the hand and dragged her after him as he dashed into the dark shadows.

The shadows spat them out in the frozen wasteland of Antartica. The winds howled around them, the only remnant that the Winter had ever been present.

Rising high above them, sparkling in bright sunlight, was a massive dome of ice, too perfect to have occured naturally.

Jack was in there: Pitch knew it.

With Sarah at his heels, he stalked towards the Dome. Unable to find an entrance, Pitch bashed his way through with brute force and entered into a maze.

"Jack must be at the center," Sarah mused. Pitch growled and raised his hand, ready to storm his way to Jack: he was so, so close- "wait my Lord!" Pitch halted and looked at Sarah. "The Dome will collapse. We'll have to walk."

"That could take hours." He was not ready to spend hours getting lost in a maze of ice while there was a chance Jack could be saved from death's door.

She crouched and laid a hand on the floor of the Dome, closing her eyes and concentrating. Slowly, a pale blue light shone up from the floor, guiding them. Sarah stood triumphant: since becoming one of Pitch's high ranking elites, her powers had increased significantly. "This is the shortest route."

With that, a pair of ice skates materialized on her feet and she zoomed down the pathway. Pitch summoned a Nightmare and followed right behind. They thundered down the twisting path so quickly that what would have taken them hours was accomplished in mere minutes. They came to a small round room. There was snow piled along the curved walls and icicles hung from the ceiling: a forgotten staff was half buried under the white powder and a little red doll of a baby with wonder in his eyes was abandoned on a gold canister of teeth.

And there, in the center of the room, lay a crumpled form: he was on his left side, his back to the entrance, not moving, half buried under the snow like his dear staff. His hoodie was torn and what could be seen of his skin was covered in blue frost. His white hair was matted with clumps of ice.

Jack Frost looked dead.

Pitch and Sarah darted into the room with a cry. He knelt down before Jack and swept the boy into his arms and lap. Pitch tilted Jack's face up to his own, desperately calling his name.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then there was the lightest intake of breath. Jack's eyes fluttered open half-way, blurry and unfocused.

'Pitch?' He mouthed the word, but no sound came out.

Pitch nearly cried then and there. Sarah did cry, brushing Jack's bangs out of his eyes while wiping away her tears. Pitch dragged his hand away from the boy's cheek, looking down his body for any obvious injury. Sarah gasped, making Pitch snap his attention back to Jack's face.

Now that his hand was no longer obscuring the wound, a dark red mark could be seen. It spawned from Jack's left cheek and stretched down his neck and to his chest: despite the chill of the rest of Jack's body, the mark was still warm to the touch. Pitch traced the outline of the mark with a delicate finger. He growled. "That rabbit..." neither Sarah nor Jack had heard such venom and anger in his voice. "He could have snapped his head clean off with this kind of blow if Jack had been mortal. And he claimed to be kind and caring!"

Jack whimpered. He screwed his eyes shut and another frozen tear slid down his cheek.

Pitch was snapped out of his anger at the sound. He scooped Jack up into his arms, cradling his boy like a newborn and gently rubbing a hand along Jack's torn and frozen face. "Grab his things. We have to get him to a doctor as quickly as possible."

Sarah scrambled for the abandoned items. Clutching them to her chest she scurried behind Pitch as he stalked through a shadow portal. As they left, the Winter, sensing its Boy Master was sent to a place where he could be helped, collapsed the Dome. It sighed longingly and slipped back into a state of blissful sleep.

It was the next day that news of Jack's rescue hit televised broadcasts. Sarah was the one at the podium, in spotless uniform, speaking clearly and with as little emotion as she could. She emphasized that Jack was an important person and widely beloved in the world of immortals, someone who loved humans and their children and who was someone who could be wholly trusted.

At the end of her speech, one journalist raised a hand. Sarah nodded for him to ask his question. "You've explained a lot about what he's done and how he's important, but just who IS Jack Frost?"

"Who is he?" Sarah smiled. "He's the chief spirit of Winter. He's the one who brings your children snow-days and frozen solid ponds. He's the kind of person to help anyone in need regardless of who they are. He's a brother to all, and loved as such by many. He's the best person I have ever met."

Another reporter raised a hand. "What place in this new kingdom with Jack be taking?"

Sarah hummed quietly, thinking that over. "Well, obviously, I am not him, so I cannot say for certain. But I hope and think he'll take the position Lord Pitch will offer him. However, he's in too weak of a condition right now to anything at all." She swallowed and tapped her loose papers into a neater stack. "Now, that will be all." She dismissed the crowd and the television screens cut back to their newscasters.

It was a week before Jack woke up. In that week Pitch and Sarah rarely left his bedside (and many who knew Jack personally frequently visited.) Soon the city of Aureum was flocked with winter spirits who had come out of hiding to live in the city of their protective brother: each kept asking if Jack had woken up yet every time they saw Sarah. It hurt her to keep saying no.

When Jack finally did wake up, it was in a plush bed. He was wrapped under several blankets, but he wasn't the least bit warm, staying at a neutral cool. There was a light dusting of snow on his bed and rolls of the stuff in the corners of the room. His staff was propped beside his bed and his belongings were on a bedside table.

Pitch was sitting in a chair beside the bed, staring down at the floor, seemingly lost in his own mind. He had one arm stretched out: his hand was gently holding Jack's and there was a streak of lighter pink on the back of his hand where Pitch's thumb had been rubbing and warmed it up.

Jack nudged the hand ever so lightly. Pitch's head shot up. "Why the long face?" It was more if an enunciated breath then a whisper, his voice box not wanting to cooperate, but that didn't matter to Pitch.

Pitch was the type to rarely smile, and even more rarely smile with teeth shown; and yet he broke into the widest and most relieved smile Jack had ever seen on anybody. "Jack! Oh you reckless boy, you have no idea how worried I was!"

Jack couldn't help a slight snicker. "Aww, the spirit of fear is worried for me?"

"Jack you nearly died!" That sucked the amusement out of the conversation. Jack's face fell. Pitch rested his chin on his clasped fists, looking torn as to how he should breach the subject. "We were beginning to think you wouldn't make it."

Jack swallowed. One side of his throat felt swollen and sore. "What happened?"

"You were trapped down in Antartica by the Winter itself: it thought it was helping you, but it in the end only hurt you more. You were trapped down there for four months."

Jack's eyes widened. "The Winter? Which spirit is that?" His voice was still just a whisper.

Pitch looked at Jack funny: then he snorted lightly. "Sometimes I forget that despite your power and age, you really are quite naive sometimes." Jack frowned. Pitch recollected himself and explained, "the Winter isn't just a season. It's one of the most ancient and powerful consciousnesses on this Earth, as are the other three. You seem to be its chosen, its favorite if you will. Normally it remains dormant, asleep; but I suppose it sensed your anguish and rushed to protect you."

Propping himself up with a gentle hand from Pitch, Jack murmured, "well. Learn something new every day." He settled into his new sitting position. "So where are we? Your lair?"

Pitch smirked and leaned back. "Yes and no. Yes we are in what was once my underground home, but it has been changed into something far greater now."

Jack squinted. His brain felt muddled and stiffed with feathers.

Finally it dawned on him what Pitch was implying. He looked up in awe. "You won."

Pitch spread his arms out wide. "Welcome to the city of Aureum, the Capitol of the world."

His jaw fell. "Shut up."

"You shouldn't speak to a King like that."

"You're joking!"

"Do I ever joke?"

Jack's jaw (if possible) fell even further. Pitch really did not joke: he was a very straightforward and serious man. He leaned forward. "Are you really?"

Pitch smiled and nodded. "All across the world, our immortal brethren are being seen and accepted into society. My nightmares are keeping the peace. And many have sworn loyalty to me, including-"

The bedroom doors swung open and there was a loud and happy cry of "Jack!" Sarah barreled into him, already crying. "I thought you were going to die brother!"

He held up his hands helplessly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause such a panic, honest." His voice was just as quiet as it had been when he woke up. Still he swallowed hard and adjusted on his bed once again. "Tell me. What have I missed?"

A/N

My soft bois. You gotta love em.

This is the second to last chapter of part 1, and I'll prolly take a week or two break before starting part two so I can pre-write some more of the chapters, cuz I don't have many more pre-written. Once I run out of pre-written chapters, I won't be able to guarantee that regular weekly posting will be able to happen, but I'll do my best.

The only comment for last chapter was from Phoenix-Jessica Winchester-Morse. I'm glad you think so highly of this! Telling an author that they keep the characters in character is the highest praise you can give! I'll try to keep the updates regular.

That should be all! So long Lovies!