AUTHOR'S NOTE: Introducing: the THIRD main character of Ice Alliance! GAUGH, this secret has been so hard to keep! As a Fun Fact (meaning, a random thingy that is mildly interesting to absolutely no one except me), some chunks of this scene are actually the very first things I wrote for Ice Alliance, typing on my laptop in secret while sitting on the floor of my student apartment bathroom in July of 2015! …I feel really old, now! (Ice Alliance is nine years old. NINE. Ooooooh, my word…) Thanks for being here, thanks for reading, please review if you're able, and have a FANTABULOUS DAY! :D

REGARDING (my interpretation of) PITCH BLACK: Friendly reminder that IA is based off of the 2012 film "Rise of the Guardians," and not the Guardians of Childhood book series by William Joyce. In other words, because my version of Pitch Black is based off the movie, I have the freedom to give him a different backstory that the one written in the books (because the movie backstory leaves a lot of room for creative liberties). ;)

TRIGGER WARNING: References to Jack's drowning experience

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102: COLD AND DARK

The Boogeyman stepped forward to completely emerge from out of the shadows, his tall, dark form suddenly before Jack Frost, pale gray features and skeletal angles eerily illuminated by the moonlight in Elsa's art gallery. Looming like an omen, he then clasped his hands together behind his back and started to walk towards the Youngest Guardian, his gait a smooth and inhuman glide across the carpet.

"Oh, very good!" Pitch Black chuckled, his expression making all the hairs on the back of Jack's neck stand on end. "Our new little Guardian remembers! With all this time going by, I was beginning to think that you had forgotten all about me."

"Yeah, that would have been nice."

His mind racing, Jack'seyes narrowed as he whipped his shepherd's crook around his body and caught it into a fighter's grip. The Spirit of Winter pulled in his breath. "Let's play a game. It's called, How Fast Can You Run?"

"Oh, look how brave he has become," Pitch sneered sarcastically, "Bravo!"

Jack readjusted his hold on the staff. "What do you want?"

The Boogeyman shrugged.

"Oh—just the usual things," he mused, pausing and pretending to inspect his fingernails for a long moment. "Appreciation… recognition… for the last skeletal, fish-eaten fragments of your frozen corpse to lie disintegrating at the bottom of that blasted little pond in Burgess…"

Pitch Black let his voice trailed off, and he looked up, his gaze a meaningful glare as icy as the body of water had been. Jack froze, a wave of terror rushing over him at the memories. The cold… the darkness…!

He gritted his teeth, his head swimming with both anger and fear as he tried to force himself back into the present. Seeing the Guardian's expression, Pitch's eyes lit up.

"Oh… that's right!" the Boogeyman exclaimed, smiling in demonic glee, "You have your memories again! Tell me, Jack. How did it feel, to drown? The shock of cold gripping your muscles… did you go suddenly? Or did you try to fight? Flailing and thrashing, as the water filled your lungs? Or was your death slow? I've heard there are so many different ways to experience it…"

Jack's heart started pounding, nearly out of control as the terrifying memories seized upon his mind. It was almost as though the Boogeyman himself had faded, along with Elsa's art gallery and all of his surroundings, as Jack was falling backwards through the freezing water, paralyzed with the darkness closing in…

"Okay, Pitch. It's time to go," Jack snapped, shaking himself and setting his jaw, "Or should I say…"

Pausing, he whipped his staff back into position, fixing his aim straight onto the Boogeyman's heart.

"Fallen One?" Jack spat-whispered.

Pitch paused, wordlessly looking down at the shepherd's crook for a long moment. Slowly, he then allowed his gaze to meander back up and lock onto the Youngest Guardian's ferocious expression.

The Boogeyman simply raised his eyebrows.

"Oh… I see the that old professor has taken on a new student," he sneered, giving Jack a cold smile. "How very… academic of him."

"You think they haven't told me about you?" Jack hissed. "About what you did? To Manny?"

To this, the Boogeyman's facade dropped, his eyes alight with a sudden fury.

"The Man in the Moon stole my power!" he snarled.

"You forfeited your power!"

A dark expression swept over Pitch Black's features, and Jack felt a chill go down his spine. A distinct, panicked urgency seized upon him, and the Youngest Guardian had to use every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep himself from actually cringing as the Nightmare King drew closer, still somehow taller than he was despite the fact that Jack was standing on the raised platform of his bed.

"Let me guess: you Guardians were raised up to fight against me, because I'm so terribly 'corrupt,' now?" Pitch sneered, looking down the edge of his now-crinkled nose, "Is that what Nicholas has told you? That I'm a threat to the children? Because it's such a terrible, evil thing, that I am willing to use fear to accomplish my purposes?"

He paused, leaning slightly forward over the Spirit of Winter with a knowing look in his eyes. The Boogeyman then lowered his voice to a whisper.

"I'm sure that no one else around here has ever dared to stoop. So. Low," Pitch enunciated.

As though pleased with himself, Pitch Black then straightened up again, turning to glide-walk away from Jack towards the nearest shelf of Elsa's art gallery. Did Pitch—was he—?

"Wait… what?" Jack stammered, confused, "What are you talking about?"

Pitch huffed a little chuckle, his eyebrows lifting. "Oh, please." He stopped walking, rolling his eyes as he turned back towards the Guardian of Fun. "Did you really think, with all of the fear that you've been instilling into Arendelle's Royal Council, that I wouldn't be tipped off to the fact that something was going on?"

A wave of nausea swept over Jack's body, his eyes bulging at the revelation. The Council. His work, getting rid of Elsa's Council. He'd rid her of them, only to catch the attention of…!

"I simply came to investigate," Pitch started again with a shrug, "And… got more than I bargained for, it seems. With what I just witnessed."

His eyes bulging, Jack jolted. "How much did—!"

He cut himself off mid-sentence, snapping his mouth shut. Pitch Black raised a single eyebrow, looking in the blushing Guardian's direction with a smug and knowing expression.

GAURGH!

Mentally kicking himself, Jack gave his head a quick shake. Tightening his fingers on the staff, he adjusted his stance in the snow and aimed it back at the Boogeyman's heart.

"I would never have guessed that YOU were behind all of those resignations," Pitch Black said smoothly, apparently unfazed by the unspoken threat as he eyed the gnarled old shepherd's crook. He looked back up into the Guardian's face, his eyebrows lifting again. "I wasn't aware that fear was quite your style, Jack."

"It's not."

The Boogeyman's eyebrows lifted a fraction further.

"Oh?" he said.

Jack's face flushed again, his entire body rigid. "There—were extenuating circumstances," he stammered, "And I wasn't trying to go for fear. I was just—messing with their heads. A little. That's all."

"Mmm… confident, aren't we?"

The Guardian said nothing, glaring Pitch down with as much intimidation as he could muster and silently wishing his pale face weren't so prone to blushing.

The Nightmare King turned and started moving again, his silent and menacing stride like a shadow as he practically glided towards the side of the art gallery. He paused in front of one of the shelves, his gaze falling onto the nearest of Elsa's dozens and dozens of ice figurines.

"No… I wouldn't have thought that using fear was the noble Guardian's style at all," Pitch mused, reaching forward and plucking a tiny ice statue from off of the shelf . "But, then again… I wouldn't have thought that Queen Elsa was quite his style, either."

Jack's heart rate increased as he realized that Pitch was holding a figurine from only a few days before—a precious one, of Jack dancing with Elsa, their laughing, joyful expressions perfectly captured in the Ice Power's Girl's beautiful creation.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Guardian demanded.

The Boogeyman shrugged. "I've always pictured you as the type to go chasing after some silly little milkmaid, or helpless peasant girl to pass the time. But no!" he exclaimed, gesturing with the figurine as he turned around, "Jack Frost goes straight for the QUEEN! Who'd have ever thought, that a Guardian of Childhood would develop a taste for the finer things of life?"

Jack's blood boiled, his teeth clenching together. Like he cared about the Ice Powers Girl's social status, or she cared about his. Especially when he had once only been a poor shepherd boy, himself.

"In a way, though… I suppose it makes sense," Pitch went on with a shrug, barely concealing a smirk at Jack's reaction and ostentatiously examining the figurine. "Besides the ice powers, I wouldn't have thought that you two had much of anything in common."

"We—!"

Jack cut himself off, snapping his mouth shut and barely catching the retort before it escaped from his lips. Once again, he wanted to fire back, to refute the senseless jab, but—he knew what this was. Pitch was baiting him. And the less he found out about Elsa, the better. The Boogeyman clearly wanted information, and was now trying to tempt it out of Jack by luring him into a fight.

Two could play that game.

The Spirit of Winter let out a dramatic sigh. Straightening up (but not abandoning his higher ground he had from standing on the bed), he then swung his staff to the side, throwing his hands up in the air in mock defeat.

"Well. I guess you must be right, then," Jack laughed heartlessly, daring Pitch with a sarcastic glare. "I'm just here for Queen Elsa's money! You've got me all figured out, Pitch. So I guess you can just—move along, then! Nothing here to see, right?"

Pitch's teeth clicked together, an unexpected fury lighting up in his eyes. A moment later—schooling his expression—the Boogeyman then shrugged once again, affording Jack a cold smile, but giving him nothing more. In other words: in being condescending and yet telling Jack nothing, he was trying to get the Guardian to make stupid assumptions.

Oh, this creep was infuriating.

"And yet… your fear remains," Pitch drawled, drawing himself up.

Jack scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Your greatest fear."

A wave of confusion swept over Jack's face. Giving himself a little shake, he moved his staff into both hands again, subtly shifting his feet into fighting stance.

"Your greatest fear," Pitch prodded, starting to come towards him, "Is the one thing I always know. Remember?"

Jack huffed another scoff. "Yeah, and people believe in me now, so—"

"—You mean to tell me," Pitch balked, his eyes bulging, "That you think it stays the same? Oh, that's a good one, Jack Frost!"

Jack's grip on the staff went tense, the hairs on the back on his neck standing on end. Pitch smiled, his sharp teeth making him look even more predatory in the moonlight.

A shiver went down Jack's spine.

Pitch Black stood tall, regarding the Guardian of Fun with contempt. "For all of your self-righteous little remarks—waving that stick around," he scoffed, waggling his fingers in Jack's direction, "You don't know that first thing about how fear actually works."

"Maybe I don't have to."

"I'm going to enlighten you anyway."

Jack could already feel his blood simmering his veins, ready to boil as he watching the Boogeyman's arrogant posturing. If Jack hadn't been standing up on his bed, backed by the half-wall of ice, the old creep probably would have started walking in a slow circle around him and delivering a monologue about how misunderstood he was by now.

The Boogeyman let out a dramatic sigh, gazing upwards in thought. "Fear—you can take it from me—changes and shifts, as people do, throughout their lives. There are all kinds of factors, that can influence what people want… and what they're scared of not having."

His eyebrows lifting, Pitch Black gestured with the hand he was still using to hold the tiny ice figurine of Jack and Elsa in dance. In feigned forgetfulness, he then let it slip from his fingers, falling to the ground and shattering apart on the carpet with a quick, loud snap.

Jack tensed, sucking in his breath.

"Whoops," Pitch enunciated.

The Guardian set his jaw, looking back up into Pitch's face with a glare. Knowing that he'd stuck a nerve, the Boogeyman started to walk forward, intentionally placing his foot above the Jack portion of the now-broken ice figurine. It was smashed with a jagged, sickening crunch as he stepped down onto it, making Jack's teeth clench even harder.

"I must say… I do congratulate you, Jack," Pitch drawled, taking a moment to grind the shattered figurine into the carpet completely before straightening and facing the Spirit of Winter once again. "Quite a catch, that one. One of my old favorites, actually."

Already on edge, Jack felt his muscles contract even more as he gripped the staff, and he struggled to keep himself from succumbing to his building feelings of panic. Fighting against his twisting stomach, he pulled himself up.

"You—know Elsa?" he squeaked.

Pitch snorted. "Of course I know Elsa," he snapped, "She was a child, once. A very… scared… child."

The very distinct sensation of feeling both sick and enraged swept over Jack. He shifted uneasily on his feet, trying to stay calm as his legs trembled beneath him.

The Boogeyman's eyes lit up.

"I should say hello!" he said suddenly.

Jack's eyes widened. "DON'T—!"

CRACK!

Ice blasted out of the end of the staff, crashing into the ground right where the Boogeyman had been standing just as Pitch vanished into the shadows. Jack whipped around, his heart pounding as he looked with horror beyond the ice wall and into Elsa's room. He leapt into the air, and was just about to dart over it to her when—

Whoosh!

A gust of burning hot wind rushed through his hair, blowing him back an inch and nearly knocking him off-balance. As he quickly regained his hovering position, Pitch Black was suddenly standing in Elsa's room, considering Jack with smug and victorious grin.

"Now, now, little Guardian," he chuckled, waggling his pointer finger as he stood just out of Jack's reach. "Someone around here made a promise to stay on his side of the wall. And we wouldn't want to break that adorable little promise, would we?"

His throat felt tight. Jack Frost looked to his Elsa, still asleep in her bed, and then back to the Boogeyman standing before him.

Forcing down the rush of seething hatred bubbling up inside of him, Jack slowly sank back down in the air, landing on the snowy mattress of his ice bed with a crunch.

Pitch smiled, his sharp, gray teeth looking more dangerous than ever. "That's better," he said smoothly. "You noble Guardians must control yourselves… right? Jack?"

A muscle in Jack's jaw ticked. He was suddenly aware of the fact that his hands shaking, the staff starting to glow beneath his fingers with barely-restrained fury.

But he hardly had more than a second to register what was happening before Pitch suddenly vanished into another rush of hot wind, the gust hitting Jack and making him once again fight the strange instinctual urge to flee. A moment later, there was another whoosh, and the Boogeyman stepped from the shadows again, this time on the opposite side of the room.

Next to Elsa.

Jack gasped. His stomach lurching, and he jumped forward to grip the ledge of the ice wall, helpless against the situation. His heart started pounding, and he watched in horror as Pitch walked towards Elsa's bed, gazing down at her like an animal assessing its prey.

"Oh, Elsa… how you've grown," Pitch enunciated, then pausing to look up. "Oh—and would you look at that? The Sandman has already been here."

It was then, for the first time, that Jack realized there was a small, golden something spinning above her head, gracefully twirling through the air. Looking more carefully, he realized that it was a tiny version of himself, sweeping a golden sand-girl around and around in elegant dance.

His breath caught. Elsa was dreaming about him.

Suddenly distracted, Jack Frost felt a swell of affection for the Snow Queen. Elsa really did like dancing… but apparently, what she specifically liked about it was dancing with him.

See, Elsa had said, I think YOU'RE the fantasy.

A hint of a smile started to tug at the edge of the Spirit of Winter's lips as he watched the sand version of himself spin the golden little sand-Elsa out, then pulling her back into a closed dancing position.

"Such a pleasant, romantic little dream," Pitch drawled, making Jack's heart drop and vision jerk back into focus as the Boogeyman slowly reached his finger towards the sand couple. "Now, wouldn't it be terrible if—oh, no."

He touched the top of the sand-Jack's head, and the real Jack, standing helplessly behind the thick wall of ice, watched in horror as the golden sand version of himself slowly turned to black. When the sand-girl turned around, spinning out the the dance, the sand version of himself somehow split—his image disappearing, and turning into two figures, and then four, and then eight, until the golden Elsa was no longer with the
Spirit of Winter, but was instead surrounded by a mob. A mob that looked angry.

Just as the tiny sand-Elsa stopped dancing, her head whipping back and forth in horror, the dozens of dark and sandy figures leapt onto her, ripping her apart as the dream abruptly ended, bursting into a million pieces in a cloud of black dust. Elsa gasped in her sleep, stiffening in the bed.

Jack jolted, his entire body tensing.

"Oh, no," Pitch said smoothly, turning back around and raising his eyebrows, "Now, she isn't going to like that—ah, ah, ah!"

Pitch wagged his pointer finger in Jack's direction, smirking as the Guardian froze, his knuckles white as he gripped the top ledge of the ice wall, ready to vault over it at any second. Pitch smirked.

Unable to do anything else, Jack snarled and aimed his staff, ready to blast the Boogeyman to the next kingdom. "Get away from her!"

"No… no, I don't think I will," Pitch said matter-of-factly. He raised an eyebrow, glancing nonchalantly at the glowing shepherd's crook. "What are you going to do with that, Jack Frost? Attack me? Blast me with the ice of your righteous fury? Go ahead. Try it. I might prefer to wake her up, anyway..."

Jack's eyes widened. Pitch was right.

He clenched his teeth together, lowering his staff and glaring over the ice wall as Pitch leaned over the bed to look into Elsa's face, which was now filled with terror.

"Ah, yes, Elsa… oh, how I do remember you!" the Nightmare King giggled. "Tiny, terrified Princess Elsa… always so afraid, always so desperate to keep those pesky, monstrous powers of hers under wraps for Mommy and Daddy..."

"They are not monstrous," Jack snapped, his eyes narrowing. "Elsa's powers are amazing. And she knows it."

"Oh, does she, now?" Pitch taunted, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "Well, then… if what you say is true, if there is really no more lingering doubt, no last little snippet of fear, in her mind, then there should be no problem with me doing… this."

"Don't—!"

Pitch turned and stretched out his hand, gently drawing his long, pale fingers across the sleeping Elsa's cheek. She sharply drew in her breath, cringing at his touch.

"Oh… now, isn't that sweet," Pitch drawled. He looked back into Jack's horrified eyes. "She remembers me!"

"Get your hands off of her!"

Pitch ignored him, stroking Elsa's cheek again as she began trembling uncontrollably, gasping for breath in her sleep. "You know," he continued, smirking, "In retrospect, I have no idea why I wanted to pursue you as an ally, Jack Frost. When Elsa was so…" He stopped, thinking for a moment. "Preferable."

"What do you mean?"

"Why would Elsa be preferable to you as a companion?" Pitch chuckled, smoothly getting to his feet. "Well, there's our long, long history together, for one thing. And her power… in many ways, greater than your own, I'm afraid. And of course, her kingdom," he said, gliding across the floor as he spoke, "If the Snow Queen is mine, then Arendelle is, as well. And the Enchanted Forest… and all of those ridiculous 'Nature' spirits, who swear such allegiance to her. Why is she preferable to you? There are… many reasons."

Stopping on the other side of the room and glancing to the bed, Pitch looked back towards Elsa, staring at her frightened slumbering face. As he gazed at the beautiful Snow Queen, a strange, growing intensity started to flare up in the Nightmare King's eyes, like a determination. A hunger.

A desire.

Jack Frost could practically feel his heart turning to stone, sinking with a slow horror at the realization as his stomach dropped. His face went pale.

"W-wait," he stammered, "You—you can't be saying…"

His voice trailed off. As though lost in thought, the Boogeyman blinked, giving himself a tiny, almost indiscernible little shake before turning back to face the Guardian standing behind the ice wall on the other side of the room.

"Oh, come now," Pitch chuckled, "Even you have to admit it, Jack Frost. In fact, I'm surprised you didn't see this coming sooner." He paused, gesturing to Elsa and then to himself. "For all that talk of alliances… what goes together better than cold… and dark?"

All of the color had drained from Jack's face. Suddenly feeling sick, the Youngest Guardian opened his mouth to speak, then closing it, having to take a deep breath a second later and try again.

"You—love Elsa?" Jack choked.

"Do I love—?"

Pitch stopped talking, looking back to the Youngest Guardian with raised eyebrows and a slightly open mouth. After a long pause—a demonic spark of delight firing up in his eyes—the Boogeyman then started to laugh.

Jack's muscles tensed, a chill going down his spine as the Nightmare King's mirth filled the room, a cruel and hollow sound. A few moments later, Pitch's chuckles grew tired and died off, and he pulled in his breath, looking down to Jack with condescension.

"Ooooooh, Jack Frost," he drawled. "You. Are. Darling."

Jack felt heat rushing to his face. Swallowing his fear, he shifted his fingers on the staff, his entire body on edge as his heart pounded against the inside of his ribcage.

"To answer your adorable little question… no. I don't love Elsa," Pitch started again smugly, his voice barely concealing a chuckle. "I simply acknowledge that she would be a powerful ally. But…"

The Boogeyman's voice trailed off. He looked upwards in thought, a strange expression sweeping his face.

And the Nightmare King… smiled.

"I do… love… the idea," he mused, gesturing with the revelation, "Of watching. You. Suffer."

A jolt of panic shot through Jack, and he forced the terror back down, carefully reaiming the staff.

His eyes alight with cruel excitement, Pitch Black casually pretended to inspect his grayed fingernails. His feet making no sound on the carpet, the Boogeyman then started to move slowly forward, making Jack once again fight the instinctual urge to flee.

Or attack.

"In fact… now that you mention it," Pitch said, looking up, "I have an idea. We'll make it a bet. In fact… a game, if you will. Everybody knows that Jack Frost loves GAMES."

"That's what this is about?" Jack scoffed. "You've come to make threats? You think you're going to take her away from me?"

"Oh… I wouldn't have to."

A wave of confusion swept over Jack's expression.

"What?" Jack pressed, a wave of unease sweeping through him, "You think Elsa's going to dump me? For you? Because, I seriously doubt that she'd do something like that."

"I didn't say that, either."

"Then, why—?"

His voice trailed off, his confused expression even more difficult to hide.

"Ooooooh… I know something you don't knooow!" Pitch jeered, his eyes alight with a cruel gleam. "Oh… oh, my. Oh, now this is just precious."

"What is?"

The Boogeyman felt silent for a moment, letting the tension build. With a whoosh, he the disappeared into the shadows, making Jack freeze.

An instant later, the Youngest Guardian felt a rush of hot air blow past him, the hairs of the back of his neck standing on end as Pitch Black leaned in close to his ear.

"Queen Elsa…" Pitch hissed, "Is. Still. MORTAL."

Jack's heart dropped to his feet.

Pitch drew back and started laughing, the joyless, harsh sound resounding and echoing through the room as he disappeared with another hollow whoosh. It was like all of the air had been sucked out of the room. A horror, and then panic, seized Jack's body, his muscles all going rigid for what felt like the one hundredth time in the previous ten minutes.

"You're lying," Jack blurted.

"Oh." Pitch smiled, reappearing before him on the ground. "Am I, now."

The Spirit of Winter rolled his eyes, then straightening and glaring down the Boogeyman with disgust. "It's what you do."

"Oh, come now, Jack. Surely, Queen Elsa's mortality has crossed your mind," Pitch chuckled, "Surely, you didn't think that this would last forever. That—because she had ice powers—that she was like you?"

"I—!"

Jack was blushing again.

Glancing down at his feet, the Guardian swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortably exposed. To his dismay, he heard the Boogeyman let out a breathy huff of a laugh.

"Wait… hold on. You—?"

Jack said nothing, gripping the staff so hard that his fingers were trembling. As he looked up, he saw that Pitch Black's eyes were bulging, his mouth hanging open in a silent guffaw.

"That's your plan?" Pitch balked, hardly able to restrain himself from buckling over with laughter. "This whole time, you've been carrying on, under the assumption—?"

Jack could feel the color in his face and ears, even his neck itching from the heat.

"It could happen," he choked.

To this, the Boogeyman merely smirked, staring down the end of his nose with a tsk.

"The Man in the Moon doesn't simply hand out immortality, boy," Pitch enunciated, his lip curling around the name. "He isn't. That. Kind."

Jack pressed his lips together, swallowing with effort.

Within a few moments, as he considered the statement, the Spirit of Winter could feel his fear and embarrassment melting into indignation, and then anger. Seething, he straightened up, glaring the Boogeyman down and holding his ground.

"Okay. Time's up," Jack Frost gritted, pointing the staff at the Nightmare King's heart and jabbing it an inch in gesture. "You've made your point. Now leave."

Pitch released a dramatic sigh.

"I was afraid you were going to say that," he chuckled.

CRACK!

Pitch vanished into shadow with a whoosh just as Jack's ice flew out of the shepherd's crook, barely missing the edge of his long black cloak. The Guardian spun around, his heart pumping, to find that the Boogeyman was now effortlessly standing upside-down on the ceiling, just beyond Jack's reach on the other side of the wall.

"I simply cannot leave, without explaining our game," Pitch said smoothly, giving him an infuriatingly casual shrug, "So, here it is: you are going to try to hold on to your precious little snowflake. And I'll… apply a little heat. To see how quickly she melts from your hand?"

CRACK!

Jack Frost blasted another shot of ice at the Boogeyman, and it smashed into the ceiling just as Pitch disappeared once again. His heart pounding as he struggled for breath, the Guardian leapt into the air, frantically searching for him.

The haunting, chilling sound of Pitch Black's laughter began to echo all around Jack in the room, ricocheting off of the walls and ceiling and dozens and dozens of shelves of ice. The Spirit of Winter spun around in the air, gripping his staff in fighting position. Still hovering above his ice bed, he scanned the seemingly empty art gallery in a panic, his blood simultaneously boiling with fury and frozen with fear.

"Oooooh… it appears that the winds are chaaaange-ing!" Pitch's voice giggled, bouncing and echoing through the room. "This is about to get exciting!"

Jack spun in the air, and then back around again, desperate to pinpoint the source of the sound as he tried to quell the feelings on panic rising up inside of him. Sucking in his breath, he struggled to keep his voice even. "What? What did you do?"

Whoosh!

There was a gust of burning hot wind, and a second later, Pitch Black was once again standing before him, on the other side of the ice wall. The Boogeyman smiled, his manic grin sending chills down Jack's spine.

"Your greatest fear, Jack!" he exclaimed. "It. Just. Changed."

"I—!"

Whoosh!

The Nightmare King had vanished into the shadows again. Feeling helpless, Jack sank slowly in the air until his touched down onto his icy bed again, gripping his staff so hard that his knuckles were turning white. In a rush of scorching wind, he could suddenly knew that Pitch Black was suddenly right behind him, leaning over his shoulder and making him go rigid with a sudden and inexplicable terror.

"Your greatest fear is no longer that you will simply lose Elsa," the Boogeyman hissed into Jack's ear. "Now, it's that she will leave you—specifically—for me."

Jack opened his mouth to fire back, but no words came. From somewhere over his shoulder, he could hear the Nightmare King start laughing again, the demonic sound echoing all around him through the room as he stared, his muscles frozen, at Elsa, who was still silently sleeping in her bed.

Mentally scrambling to gather his senses, Jack shook himself from the stupor just as the feeling of terrifying heat vanished from behind him.

"That—that's not going to happen," the Guardian stammered, his stomach churning as he tried to sound confident. "I won't let you take her."

"Oh, you don't think so?"

Whoosh!

Pitch Black reappeared again at Elsa's bedside, picking up a lock of her hair and twisting it in-between his fingers. Whimpering softly in her sleep, Elsa squeezed her eyes shut, curling into a ball in terror. To Jack's horror, a single tear escaped from her lashes, rolling down off the edge of her cheek and falling into Pitch's outstretched hand.

The Boogeyman held it up to his nose, inhaling deeply of the scent. He then sighed happily, glancing back to Jack.

"Oh, come now," he chuckled, "You have to admit that that's fun."

"Leave her alone!"

"Good night, little princess," Pitch enunciated, ostentatiously ignoring Jack. "We'll meet again soon enough." He dramatically bent down over Elsa in the bed, softly kissing her hair.

Then, in sudden surprise, he jerked his head up, taking a step back.

"She—she isn't afraid," he stammered. Pitch's eyes widened with confusion, and he shook his head. "Why isn't—!"

Elsa's face was now relaxed, a hint of a smile beginning to reappear. It was then, leaning over her limp body, that Pitch saw the last gleam of a sparkling snowflake melting into her skin.

His eyes wild with fury, he spun around, appearing back through to the other side of the ice wall. Jack Frost was smiling coldly, sitting on his staff a few feet in the air, and spinning a large snowflake above his open hand.

"You," Pitch snarled, "But—but you—"

"—You fight for Elsa in your way," Jack said carefully, twirling the snowflake with his finger, "And I'll fight for her in mine."

He closed his hand, and the snowflake burst apart, shimmering into a sparkling mist and falling softly down towards the bed.

"Oh—and, by the way," the Guardian added, glaring back up at Pitch. "You've just made a horrible mistake."

"Oh?" Pitch said coldly. His lip curled. "And what might that be?"

"You've opened my eyes."

The Spirit of Winter jumped down from his staff, catching it with his hand. Flipping it back onto his shoulder, he shrugged.

"You've opened my eyes, because—you're right," Jack admitted. "I really am terrified of losing Elsa."

Pitch paused for a moment, processing the statement. Then, looking back down at Jack, he huffed in disbelief.

"A mistake?" he scoffed, "Simply pointing out your weakness when—"

"—No. Pointing out why I need to fight for her," Jack interrupted. "If losing Elsa is my worst fear, then you've just handed me PROOF that loving her really IS the thing I want most. If there was any doubt in my mind before, about whether or not I was truly 100 percent sure I loved her, it's gone now! So, I want you to know that, because I love her, for every move you make, every time you try to take her away, I will fight to get her back. I will fight for Elsa, and I will keep fighting for her for every day for the rest of my life if I have to, because that's what you do for the people you love."

Pitch's smirk had faded. He slowly turned, gliding towards the shadows of the room again. "So… this is how it will be," he sneered. "You want to fight? Done. We are now at war. I hope you enjoy pain, Jack... I had Elsa's heart once. I can get it again."

As Pitch began to fade into the shadows, on his way out, Jack Frost huffed a bitter laugh. He shook his head.

"From the way that you talk," he called after him, "You'd think that Elsa was alone."

Pitch stopped walking. His hands clasped behind his back, he then turned, giving Jack a condescending smirk.

"Someone like Elsa will always be alone," Pitch said smoothly.

Jack shook his head.

"When she was younger? Maybe," Jack shrugged, his eyes still cold as he stared his adversary down. "She might have felt alone, before. But now she has her family. And the Spirits. And all the people of Arendelle, and the Enchanted Forest, as well. And if you fight her, you're fighting all of them, too."

Pitch raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at the side of his mouth. "Is that supposed to feel like a threat?"

"Maybe." Jack said. "Oh—and there's one more thing she has now, that she didn't have last time."

"And what might that be?"

Jack Frost let out his breath, turning and gazing back over the ice wall to where Elsa was sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. Seeing her relaxed features, the healed dreamsand beginning to glisten its shimmery gold once again as it re-gathered back above her in the air, he started to smile, suddenly feeling more confident than he had in a long time as Pitch disappeared.

"She has a Guardian," Jack whispered.