Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first time he sees the child of the Moon, he does not know what to think entirely.

A shock of white hair, icy blue eyes, a mischievous smile with a personality that is both reckless and wild, just like the winter he represents.

The Nightmare King raises an eyebrow at the boy bounding on tiny rooftops, bare feet mute to those living in the small houses. Whispers from the shadows and other spirits call this one; this new being that is barely a century old, Jack Frost.

Merely not some lowly wisp but a being that the Man in Moon carefully and gently gave life to.

A son of sorts.

Perhaps even a Prince of sorts.

Pitch watches quietly from the shadows in distant curiosity. Even when being ignored by the children he so desperately adores, Jack still gives them snow to play in and always insures the ponds are thick enough for skating. Kindly acts that are always overlooked yet that does not break the boy. If anything it makes him try harder.

When Jack finally stops frosting over the rooftops, he turns and jumps into the air that listens without pause, cradling him in its frigid breeze. The elder spirit knows he should not follow but cannot keep a need bubbling, the urge to simply see.

See the reaction this boy would have to someone like him in his presence.

If he would twist away in disgust at his form, smothered in darkness so unlike the unblemished skin that could only belong to the child of the Moon. Even with the knowledge that this is a very real possibility the man cannot bring himself to care. Instead he uses the shadows until a large pond comes into his vision where Jack sits in the middle. Behind him the Moon glows brightly, bathing the ice in pale light that highlights the delicate swirls Jack makes with his fingertips.

“Hello, Jack Frost.” Eyes snap up, the boy shuffling backwards when his name is called. He watches the tall man cloaked in shadows step from the darkened line of trees. Gleaming golden eyes meet his before a small bow is given though those eyes never blink, “It is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Repeatedly he blinks and opens his mouth only to close it again. After another moment, shaking fingers tap against his chest, “W-Wait, you can see me…?”

Bewilderment crosses his face, thin eyebrow arching, “Of course I can-“

The wind rips across the pond, snow flurries bursting and swirling about as the winter sprite jumps onto his feet, skidding across the frozen water. “Really?! You can actually- you, you said my name!” A laugh, carefree and joyful rips out of his throat, vibrating with excitement, his feet leaving the ground.

Confused by such a reaction, the Nightmare King takes a step back and shakes himself to rid of the snow catching on his cloak. “Nobody has acknowledged you?”

It takes a bit for Jack to listen, the wind throwing him about and around the man, never once stopping in laughing though a hysterical tone starts taking over his voice. A few finely beads of ice drop onto the snowy ground below before bare feet find the snow as well. Firmly, Jack scrubs at his face with a torn jacket, closing his eyes with a smile, “No, never. Just the Man in Moon but… He only named me.” Slowly the wind begins calming, lessening until just a gentle breeze is left though fat snowflakes fall around them.

“Is that so…” For a moment, he is not entirely sure what to say, momentarily caught speechless until those too blue eyes peer into his own, Jack shifting closer until he can feel chilled breath against his cheeks.

The closeness has him frowning and taking a step back, hands folding behind his back respectfully. Pale cheeks gain an oddly blue tint as eyes dark off to the side. Mumbling an apology, Jack explains while leaning on his staff and swirling delicate shapes in the snow, “I, uhm, wait,” Quickly the color is gone at the realization he comes upon, “You never told me your name.”

Tension rises across his shoulders, a half scowl coming onto his face. The spirit shifts awkwardly and takes a step back, almost shivering. An action that does not go unnoticed as the man folds his arms neatly behind his back, bowing deeper than he had before, “Forgive me, how rude of myself. My name is Pitch Black. It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”

“Pitch… Black? Are you the one that makes the children afraid?”

Straightening out his spine, the elder spirit watches, lips pressing into a thin line, “And if I am?” Jack narrows his eyes, then glances up at the Moon that has risen to its height, hardly covered by the snow clouds that still linger in the sky.

Jack mulls over this thought, his feet leaving the ground while he idly twists his staff. After another minute he manages a smile even from his place now well above the King’s head he says, “I guess it shouldn’t. I mean you are the only other who’s ever talked to me.” His feet meet the ground again and he stares up at the taller, “Did he ever talk to you?” Jerking his head toward the sky he watches as the corner of Pitch’s lip turns upwards.

A cool chuckle leaves him, “Once upon a time. Though that hardly matters now.” He carefully watches the boy who blinks though gives a hesitant smile. Jack lingers close, his eyes curious.

“Are there others like me? Like you? That the children cannot see, that are… Ignored?” The last word has the wind dying down, the snow no longer falling though Jack does not seem to realize as he shifts between the balls of his feet and easing back onto his heels.

“There are others,” Pitch holds up a hand before the boy tries flying into the air again, “However they are not worth your time.”

Pale lips pull down into a deep frown, arms folding with the staff tucked in them, “How come?” Defiance is clear on his features yet there is something else, something that he can taste on the tip of his tongue. It is a small thing; one that he almost brushes off as the snow or ever moving wind expect he is the Nightmare King. He knows what fear tastes like.

Rolling his tongue along the inside of his teeth, slowly he puts a name on the fear. “They are not worthy because they have not shown themselves they exist.” Jack blinks and slowly his stance wilts, nibbling on his lip as the man continues, “They even have the audacity to not give you the respect you are due or the acknowledgement you should have.”

“How come you’re here then? Why not be ‘like them’ as you said?”

That fear of rejection stains the air, thicker now, causing his teeth to flash in a scowl and he takes a step forward though no more when Jack shifts on his feet, “Because unlike them, I know what it’s like to be without company for years. How old are you, Jack? How long have you been alone?”

“I don’t know, a hundred and ten? Maybe a little less.” He shrugs a bit at the end and sighs.

Pitch takes in a deep breath, the shadows around shifting before settling – with some effort – again and says, “All your life then. If I may be so bold… I’d like to offer something.” He waits until bright blue eyes meet his before going on, “If you would like, I would enjoy having you in my company again.”

“That’s not a very good question, of course I want to see you again! You’re the only one that can-“ he stops himself and grimaces, frowning, “Or as you say ‘will bother’ to talk to me.”

Nodding slowly, taking in this information, Pitch replies, “I’m pleased to hear. Well then, I have a few matters to attend to, Jack Frost, but rest assured,” his lips pull up into a smile, sharp teeth showing as he begins sinking into the shadows, “Unlike some, I won’t act as though you don’t exist at all.”

Chapter Text

On the second visit to the child of the Moon, Pitch finds the boy sitting on upon a rooftop and munching on a snowball. “Hello, Jack Frost.” Startled the younger twists around and almost falls off the house if not for his hand wrapping around a small shoulder. Fear ripples through the air, the man tasting it on his tongue that almost has him frowning. Only letting go once his companion is balanced properly, Pitch steps back until he is at a respectful distance away.

Blue eyes meet his, the snowball falling onto the rooftop and Jack stares. After another moment and firmly rubbing at bright eyes, Jack laughs weakly, “Well, I guess that’s why you are called the Nightmare King.”

“Scaring you isn’t what I intended.” Still he cannot help a half smile on his face nor help the pride that briefly rushes through his veins.

Jack turns and conjures another snowball, nibbling at it. Quietly he says, “You know, I thought us meeting was a dream or something… It’s still so strange that you can see me.”

Shadows twist around them and the winter spirit watches uncertainly but the fear in the air dissipates when Pitch gives a small bow, “Our meetings are hardly a dream.” Golden eyes glint, “I doubt the Sandman would often give anyone dreams of seeing myself. Unless of course that dream is a nightmare.” Hearing this seems to help ease tension.

Jack manages a chuckle and finishes the snow in his hand, shifting his weight, “So…” He struggles for something – anything – to say but comes up short.

“You’re unaccustomed to conversations. It’s understandable, considering your situation.” Sharp eyes narrow when the boy yet again forms a snowball, “Do you honestly enjoy the taste of ice?”

Shrugging the reply comes easily, “Yeah and best of all it’s kind of filling.”

For a moment, the Nightmare King is not entirely sure what to think, or better yet he does not know what to say. Around them the shadows curl and dance as he truly takes in the figure before him, examining the thin body. “Is that right…” All he gets in return is a smile and a nod. “A moment, if I may have one.” Jack furrows his brow and glances about, watching the shadows.

“Yeah, take a few if you want.” He takes a seat back onto the roof with the ice in his hand.

Barely stopping a frown, the elder spirit turns and sinks into his element. He travels into one of the houses near with a low growl rumbling from his chest. Irritation burns deep, enough so for black sand to stream about the floor, seeking out victims. Fear overpowers the house the moment that nightmares overtake once sweet or gentle dreams. Breathing in deeply, he reaches out and plucks the largest apple out of a bowl sitting on a small table.

With the fruit in his grasp he disappears back to where Jack sits and holds out the fruit, a simple offering. “What’s that?”

“An apple clearly.”

Giving a withering look, the reply makes Pitch chuckle, “Oh is that what it is? No, I mean why are you giving me an apple?” The half smile on his face instantly disappears with the question instead a blank look takes over.

“Would you prefer something else?”

“It’s not that it’s an apple, it’s just that… You’re trying to give me the apple.” Jack stands up and leans his head against his staff, “That’s kind of strange wouldn’t you say? Or do you always try giving random spirits fruit?”

Without withdrawing his arm he waits patiently, “No. You’re the only one. And I’m offering this because you’re eating snow.” The smile on the boy’s face fades away instead awkwardly looking down at the roof they currently stand on. Pale fingers reach out but freeze halfway from the bright red fruit, hesitating, “Take it Jack.” Hearing some reassurance has fingers wrapping around the apple and eagerly the winter sprite bites into it.

Pitch folds long arms behind his back again, watching how happy the boy is with such a simple gift. “This is really good, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” For a few minutes they are silent, the Nightmare King allowing the younger to devour the fruit, eyes turning
towards the half moon shining down on them. Once white teeth gnaw on the core, he continues with another question, watching Jack from the corner of his gaze, “How long has it been since you’ve had a meal?”

Shrugging the reply is muffled, Jack chewing on dark seeds and the center, “A while. I don’t like stealing or taking away from the children. They need it more than me anyway.” Merely watching his companion is enough of an answer on how long he has gone without a proper meal.

An answer that he cannot say he does not expect but it hardly means he enjoys.

Even with just this second meeting, Pitch can see why or rather how the Man in Moon wants a spirit, a son, like this to grace this bleak world.

However this does not stop blood boiling behind his grey skin, teeth sharpening into fangs and shadows twist and writhe along the icy rooftop. Anger burns in his center though it tapers off when a question pierces the air, “How come you do that?”

Pitch takes in a long breath then glances towards the boy who chews on the end of the apple stem that pokes halfway from pale lips, the only thing left. “I am not doing anything.” Eyes roll upwards and a long finger taps on a few of the thick shadows nearest to him.

“So the these dancing around your feet are normal.” Jack chuckles and finally takes the stem out of his mouth, “You don’t have to tell me, I was just curious.” He examines it for a moment then tosses it off the roof, deciding that it is not worth trying to swallow.

Lithe shoulders relax and the elder shifts his weight then manages to compose his appearance again. “Shadows and darkness are part of me just like frost and coldness are part of you.”

Bobbing his head in agreement, the boy points out, “It’s kind of ironic isn’t it.” He glances back and peers into yellow eyes, “That we know each other, or rather that you’re the only one that talks to me. It’s funny since cold and darkness go pretty well together.” He turns back forward to examine the Moon with a tilted head, “What are the other spirits like? Are any of them as old as you?” He steps forward until he stands next to the winter aspect, running a hand through jet-black hair.

“Perhaps. As for other spirits worth mentioning, I’m afraid to say that there are none.” A bitter smile tugs at his lips, “None bother talking to me. Unless they decide to do something foolish or if I’m feeling especially bitter that day.” He sees the curious look and interrupts before anything can be asked, “That is a story for another day.” This time he gains a pout though Jack does not push for more information instead leaning back on his elbows, staff balanced on his feet.

Another smile comes onto the boy’s face, “Well thanks for answering one thing. And for talking to me. It’s… Nice.”

Pitch glances down then admits, “It has been sometime since I’ve had a civil conversation myself.”

Jack laughs and looks up with a beam, “Keep coming around ‘your highness’. I’m always ready for some company.” Hearing the playful title has the elder pausing and a dark look flickers in golden eyes.

“So long as you’ll have me, however there is no need to call me such.”

“You’re the Nightmare King though isn’t that-”

An even voice cuts off the rest of the sentence, “Humor me, Jack. I’m merely ‘Pitch Black’ to you. To everyone else, I am the Nightmare King.”

Chapter Text

The next time the Nightmare King visits the winter spirit; the boy lies curled up underneath a large pine tree near his pond. Around him snow has formed a loose ring that reminds Pitch vaguely of a nest with the curved staff resting above his head. Pitch remains outside of the makeshift bed, mulling over what to do before finally turning and gazing up at the Moon.

Bathing the iced over water and snow in pale light, the elder spirit states, “You’ve done a rather poor job wouldn’t you agree old friend?” Above the Man in the Moon is silent – as he always is – but the King hardly cares instead continuing with a thoughtful look, “Not even your guardians care, always so busy with little children and protecting them. Failing to realize their own ignorance.” Shaking his head he chuckles bitterly, “Always silent.”

Jack stirs at the sound of a voice, blue eyes fluttering open and blinking hard to rid of the frost clinging along his eyelashes. “Pitch…?” He lifts his head up from the tattered and torn cloak that he usually wears, something that serves as a makeshift pillow.

He glances over his shoulder and meets a sleepy gaze, schooling his face when he hears his name being called, “Hello Jack.” Twisting around he takes a few steps until he is at the edge of the snowy nest, “I do hope I haven’t ruined your sleep.” Thankfully there is a headshake, the younger growing more awake.

“Not at all, I was just… Napping.” Blue tints at pale cheeks, a color that still fascinates Pitch though he does not comment, waiting until full attention is on him before bowing in greeting. He lets out a yawn then says, “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that you’ll interrupt my sleep.” A tired grin forms, “It’s not like there’s much else to do so late.” He sits up with a hand running through his hair, snowflakes and frost falling from white strands.

His mouth turns up into a smile, sharp teeth flashing and he says simply, “There’s always frightening children.”

Jack almost frowns though stops and admits, “I keep forgetting that’s what you do. You don’t really act like a King of Nightmares around me.”

“And how should one of that title act in your opinion then?”

“I really don’t know.” Standing up, the boy shakes the snow from his back and snatches up his staff. “You’re not what I expect, you bring me things and talk to me.”

Over the past few weeks of visiting the smaller spirit, Pitch has always brought some sort fruit. Sometimes apples and pears but as of late he has brought more exotic ones that the boy has never heard of before such as mangos and star fruits. Yet it hardly seems enough since he knows that his companion is still hungry. Though soon he plans on changing that.

Folding his arms behind his back, he states, “There is no reason to act my title around you.”

Jack grins hopefully, “Admit it, you like my company.” Behind that smile, Pitch can taste fear hinting in the crisp air. For once the man finds no joy in it instead the bitter emotion causes a grimace. Something that the boy catches and swallows thickly, fingers cracking from a too tight grip on the staff. “It’s alright if you don’t.” The words wisp quietly in the air as tension forms in thin shoulders.

“I do enjoy your company, Jack. What I don’t enjoy is your fear.” Pale eyes widen and he takes a step back. Fear spikes in the air though this time it is formless, the shape too confusing for it to be pinned as one or two things. “Does it bother you?” Unable to help himself, Pitch keeps going with another question, “That I am able to taste your fear, know your darkest most hated secrets with barely any effort?”

Biting his lip, the winter spirit stares at his staff, body trembling, “I… W-Well...” He stumbles then suddenly blurts out, “Would you ever use it against me?” Muscles bunch up underneath pale skin, eyes squeezing shut. Jack rocks on his feet, teeth nearly piercing through the soft flesh of his lip.

For a moment, Pitch is at a loss on what to do. Comforting someone is a lost concept, one that he has not done before. Panic twinges in the air and he takes in a breath before drawing on the most unlikely of sources – parents comforting terrified children after a nightmare – in the hopes of calming Jack. He steps forward, large hand hovering over a small shoulder, not quite touching, “I have no interest in your fears.”

Uncertainty lingers on the boy’s youthful face, his hands clenching around the frozen staff and takes a step away. However he shuffles back where he was standing when Pitch begins lowering his hand. “That’s what you feed off, so–“

“Loneliness and rejection are things I know well enough on my own.” He carefully wraps long fingers around his companion’s shoulder, pleased with the silent permission to touch. Just maybe give some sort of reassurance. Jack sharply inhales and nearly drops the weapon in his grasp.

Jack stares, the panic melting away, voice soft, “Your hand is warm.” Trembling fingers brush against grey knuckles with pure awe forming on his face. He mumbles, “You would know about being lonely.” The spirit begins rambling while his fingertips brush against heated skin, “Sometimes it’s hard to believe that there are other lonely people around.”

A statement that rings true yet Pitch doubts there are many others that have dealt with such an aching pain.

The hollowness and longing for company pulsing bone deep as humans refuse in believing, spirits religiously ignore, and the Moon refuses to talk. Knowing that some spirits are too busy to spare just a minute, merely a few seconds from busy schedules to talk or at least acknowledge.

“There is no need for you to fear me. Even at my worst, I wouldn’t bring you harm.” Tension drains and Jack looks up with eyes nearly glowing in the moonlight.

An emotion he is not accustomed to shining in them, one that is directed only for him.

Such hopefulness in those eyes.

Slowly a beam comes onto the boy’s face, eyelids growing heavier with the need for rest, “If you do, can I throw a snowball at you?”

Golden eyes roll upward, a scoff leaving but he allows the tiniest hint of a smile come onto his face, “I’d prefer if you didn’t.” Pitch lets his hand slip off when his companion begins shifting underneath his touch.

Jack laughs and shuffles backwards until he falls slowly back into his nest, a tired look forming. “Prefer all you want, I’ll still throw one.” He bundles up the torn cloak to form a makeshift pillow.

“There are better places to sleep, you are welcomed to come to my home.” The Nightmare King cannot help but picture having this pale being within the walls of his home. How much Jack will brighten up the dull grey and black walls with his smile, his frost, his laugh, his very presence.

This catches the boy’s attention, “Really? You won’t get mad if I randomly show up and start freezing up everything?” He finds a comfortable position for sleep on his back, growing more and more tired, blinking sluggishly.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Pitch clears his throat, “I wouldn’t have offered.”

Jack smiles playfully, his eyes closing and his grip on the staff loosens, “Maybe I will. Sounds like fun.”

“I will look forward for your visit. I shall leave you to your dreams. Good night, Jack.”

A sleepy noise, then a mumbled reply, “Night, have good dreams, Pitch...”

He agrees silently, lingering long enough to stare up at the Moon with a pointed look before slipping off into the shadows. Though not before leaving a pomegranate on the edge of the snow nest.

Chapter Text

Instead of having to find Jack, the spirit finds him in a remote dark town far from the large pond the boy calls home.

“Pitch, hi!” Turning he nearly gets knocked down when an overly excited spirit hovers in front of him. Breathlessly laughing the younger looks about the sleepy houses. Snow begins swirling about in the presence of Jack Frost. “What are you doing this far north?”

The corner of his mouth tilts up though he does not look away from the small window. Inside a child wrestles with thick blankets, whimpering in a feverish nightmare, one that he did not even need to create.

Blinking, the younger peers through thin glass, “Did you-“

“My presence may have helped trigger this bad dream but nothing more.” Blue eyes watch him for a long moment before the younger nods.

Softly, not wanting to wake up the child even though the girl would never hear, he asks, “Do you like doing this? Bringing fear to everyone?”

There is a pause, Pitch examining his companion for a moment before he replies, “It’s what I am. I did not choose this, I merely am, just like you.” He glances back towards the child, shoulders stiffening, “Do you not approve of what I am doing?” Frozen fingers reach out and brush against his shoulder though the touch does not stay for more than a second.

Shaking his head, Jack admits, “No, you frightening children doesn’t really bother me.” Golden eyes snap away from the child, momentarily forgetting about the thick taste of fire and ash filling his mouth caused by fear. “Sometimes they need to be scared. You know, reminded that scary things do lurk in darkness so they don’t think they’re invincible.”

Tilting his head the Nightmare King stares, forcing down a toothy smile, “Is that so…” Pitch loses interest in the vivid flashes of flames eating up a house, smoke choking all those inside. Instead he watches the younger, “You’re very interesting Jack Frost.” Just this small compliment – simply hearing his name – has the flush burning on cheeks again. “Though what has brought you up here?”

“I decided I should swing by for a visit, with Christmas on the way I wanted the kids to have some fun before the big day.” Golden eyes glint at the mention of the holiday, muscles clamping up under grey skin. Shadows twist and spread around his feet. Pitch forces his eyes close and prods the nightmare into a darker, more twisted state. Seeing his mistake, Jack rubs the back of his head, shifting his weight, “Sorry, didn’t mean to upset you, do you want me to go?”

“No, I’m honored to have you here. However… Let us not mention that particular holiday often.” Taking in a long breath, Pitch steps back and bows lowly, one hand over his chest while his other sweeps through the air.

In those few seconds he gains control of himself, stilling the shadows and forcing fingernails to lose any clawed tips they may have gained.

“I can do that.” Jack frowns at the compliment, cheeks growing bluer and pushes at the snow dusting the ground with his foot, “Though there’s really not much to feel honored about. I’m nothing special.”

Firmly gritting his teeth to keep in a scowl, the elder straightens out – not before taking in deep breaths, “You’re wrong if that is what you believe.” Surprise flashes in blue eyes and the boy ducks his head, and turns away, heading off after a small glance over his shoulder.

Doing as asked, the King of Nightmares takes in the air through his mouth for one last fearful taste then follows behind. Before Pitch can say anything else, Jack twists around the moment they are on the edge of the town abruptly saying, “I’m really glad I found you. It’s a bit hard to have a conversation when nobody can see me.”

“Still you try talking to the children.”

The little smile slips away, “… Yeah, I do. Maybe one of these days they’ll see me. They have to realize someone gives them their snow days right?” Pitch presses his lips together into a line, watching as blue eyes dim.

Carefully he replies, arms folding in front of him, “You hope that perhaps one day they’ll believe in you.” A brighter look suddenly comes over Jack’s face, gesturing to himself while a gentle breeze ruffles white hair.

“Well you see me right? Of course there’s hope! Even if it’s just one child at a time.” With a shrug the younger smiles widely, “I’m just glad that someone finally noticed me. But,” he motions at the lanky man in front of him, “I didn’t think the Nightmare King could be so nice.” The teasing has a thin eyebrow cocking upward.

Calmly, Pitch states, “I could easily make you fear me. I choose not to.”

Blue eyes gain back their glimmer, Jack laughing, “You probably could.” His feet begin leaving the ground, something that the elder has noticed often happens, staff twirling in one hand. “But you said you wouldn’t, right?”

Without blinking he agrees, “I did.”

“I’ll be holding onto that word of yours or you will get a snowball to the face.” Jack grins beginning to drift with the wind again, eyes crinkling in glee.

“Before you decide to float away,” amusement sparks on the boy’s face though stays close to the ground, only hovering a few inches, “I have something for you. I planned on giving it to you when I went to visit however since you are here, I see no harm in giving it to you now. Unless…” He suppresses a chuckle at the excited look, “You would prefer to wait and let it be a surprise-”

Jack interjects, “Can I have it now please? Pretty please?” Not needing another word, Pitch retrieves dark blue cloth from his cloak and offers it with a bowed head.

Wonder fills the spirit’s face and tries not to just snatch away the bundle. He cannot keep from eagerly unfolding it and examining the first gift he has ever gotten other than fruit. Fingers trail across the durable fabric, eyes wide. Frost swirls in delicate patterns with every touch, “I’ve never had anything new like this.”

Quickly ripping off the old and shredded cloak, he throws the new one around his shoulders. Finding the fine metal clasp, he snaps it, keeping the material snug around his shoulders but still comfortable.

Pitch says, “I couldn’t help but… Notice the rather depressing state your current one is in.” Wind swirls around the spirit who takes briefly into the air, the wind throwing him around, testing to see if the new cloak will fly off his shoulders with such harsh treatment. The metal clasp never slips up that has him beaming.

“This is, I can’t even, thank you!” Jack draws the cloak closer around his body with a happy noise, trembling.

His mouth turns upwards into a half smile, “I shall assume that you like it?”

“Yes, that’s a stupid question! Where did you get this? It’s so nice.” He keeps running fingers over the cool fabric, unable to quit touching his first present.

With Christmas around the corner and the North Pole working hard to get presents for the children, it had been so simple to visit. Nicholas St. North may always find pride in his work but his workaholic nature has always been a downfall of his. Especially since he never found the Nightmare King using the tiny shadows in the workshop. Never once suspecting his so-called ‘mortal enemy’ dares, and will under the right circumstances, wander the halls of his wondrous castle.

One missing finely made cloak would simply be marked off, everyone assuming it has been destroyed by ever-idiotic elves.

A fact Pitch counts on.

North firmly believes that Jack does not deserve anything for being ‘naughty’, for so desperately trying everything he can to gain attention. From talking and begging to throwing snowballs or screaming at others, pleading for company, to just be seen. Pitch despises the Guardian for assuming Jack does all this and more on purpose, simply trying to cause trouble. For the Guardian of Wonder, he is blind and only sees a playful, mischievous winter spirit instead of the lonely, hurting boy crying out for anyone to see or believe in him.

Content and the beginnings of pleasure rush through the Nightmare King, pleased with the happiness he has given Jack who continues petting the cloth with eager hands. His lips pull back into a sharp smile, finally answering the question, “From the best place to find a gift, of course.”

Chapter Text

“Pitch? Are you down there?”

Rousing from his meditative state, the Nightmare King turns towards the voice asking for him the sound echoing throughout grey walls. Curious, he draws thick shadows around himself and finds where his name is being called at one of many entrances to his extensive labyrinth. Perched on a beaten bed frame sits a familiar winter spirit who peers down the dark hole. “I wasn’t expecting you to find this place so soon, Jack. Without my help no less. Well done.”

Content rushes through him at the sight of Jack still wearing a certain blue cloak. In the week it has been in the winter spirit’s possession frost has spread along the clasp and the ends in intricate swirls. He decides against commenting instead bowing lowly, eyes never leaving his guest.

Arms fold neatly behind his back as the elder steps from the shadows that slink away in wait for their master’s calling. The boy does not flinch, spinning his staff before replying, “Don’t credit me, I saw one of your nightmares and followed it into these woods.” Playfulness sparks in blue eyes; “I knew you’ve got a sense of humor somewhere in that darkness. I like the bed, it’s a nice touch.” The boy taps a bare-foot against the worn frame that has fallen into decay with moss and weeds curling up the wood.

Golden eyes shimmer silver and he chuckles, “I happen to like hiding underneath beds.” Pitch asks, “Would you like to come in? I would rather not staying up here for long because of the date.” Above long curls of golden sand drift along the sky with distant bells ringing.

Jack peers down the entrance to the Nightmare King’s home, “You don’t mind? I figured you’d want to be alone since it is Christmas Eve and I might go around frosting everything up.”

“Hardly an issue, as I have told you before. As for the date, I wouldn’t mind having company.” He bites back a scoff when the bells grow louder and says dryly, “Though if we linger for much longer we may have some rather unwanted company.” The spirit tilts his face towards the sky, scanning for any sign of the ridiculous sled Nicholas St. North drives. Quickly gaining the boy’s attention by clearing his throat, Pitch says, “If I may, I want to show how I travel.” Stepping closer, he extends his hand in wait for the response.

Hearing this peaks Jack’s interest and he meets golden eyes once more. Brief hesitance flickers on his face then pale fingers slide against the elder’s palm. Pitch steps closer, bending his head down to brush his lips against shaking knuckles. Blue tints along cheeks at the action, eyes growing large though Jack does not try pulling away instead glancing off to the side, looking everywhere else.

The Nightmare King smiles, “Let us be off then.” Lightly pulling the boy from his perch, he smiles at the younger before shadows encase them. Picking one of his favorite rooms in the labyrinth depths, Pitch firmly holds the cool hand until the shadows melt away.

He waits until his companion is steady before letting go and stepping to a large fireplace where low flames dance inside. Jack leans on his staff and looks about. “Wow.” High ceilings and bookshelves line most of the walls with a large leather couch in front of the fireplace. Finding his bearings, he moves about the spacious room. In his curiosity he never notices the frost designs he leaves in each step. “You live here? Is there more?” Fingertips trail along shelves though mindful not to freeze the dark wood.

“Yes. This is just one of many rooms. If you would like you can explore.” Cool wind fills the chamber and Jack begins kicks off though before he stops, suspended in the air. “Is something wrong?” Pitch straightens his posture and waits for a response.

Twisting around, Jack presses his lips together and bare feet find the ground again. “I almost forgot, I’ve been looking for you because I have something for you.”

His interest spikes and a thin eyebrow raises, “Oh?”

The winter spirit reaches underneath his cloak and shifts a small bag into view. “I wanted to say thank you for the cloak.” He is briefly distracted, frowning when whatever is in his bag slips, “It took me a while to figure out what to do so I just kind of… Did this. ” With a firm tug the younger holds out a circular object, lips pulling up into an uncertain smile.

Pitch reaches for it, long fingers wrapping around the cold item. Lifting it for inspection he turns over in his hands. Trapped within the almost perfect sphere made of ice are swirls of green and deep red, almost nearly black that catches the light and shimmers inside, “How did you make this?”

“I used some water from my pond and froze some red sand, green rock pieces, and a few crystals inside.”

Nodding slowly, the King says, “It reminds me of the Aurora Borealis.” Each time he turns the sculpture he finds a different and new angle, each one just as beautiful as the last.

Jack grins and shrugs before stating, “That’s what I was hoping for.” After finishing taking in the sphere, the he moves over to the dark table nearby and places it down. “If you don’t like it I can always make something else.” He smiles, gaze meeting a nervous one as he drifts back over to the smaller spirit.

“No.” Carefully he reaches out, hand clasping over his companion’s shoulder. When he hears a sharp inhale he drops his hand and continues, “It’s more than fine. Though you didn’t need to give me anything.”

“You get me things all the time, I just wanted to return the favor.” Blue eyes narrow, grin fading away into a small frown.

Shaking his head Pitch steps back and refolds his arms behind him, “It is different when I give you something, Jack. It is a token of-” He is cut off.

In a firm voice, Jack points out, “No it’s not. You deserve something too Pitch.” Folding his arms over his chest the younger spirit continues, “If I get presents from you, then that means you get presents from me.” Jack sighs though his frown disappears instead morphing into another grin and explains, “I’m not the only one in this room who’s been alone for a long time.”

Pitch stares at the boy in front of him, momentarily stunned by this revelation. “It has been years since I have received anything.” He thinks about the proposition, the Nightmare King counters, “I’ll agree to your terms of gift sharing so long as you do not attempt to repay me for simple things such as fruit or other meals.” A noise of protest leaves Jack who begins to respond however the elder gives a stern look.

A pout comes onto the sprite’s face, “… Fine.” He glances at the entrance of the room but instead turns and sits on the floor in front of the couch, back to the flames.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know, I thought we could enjoy each other’s company for now?” Pitch furrows his brow and quickly the boy states, “I’m just saying, it is Christmas Eve, even if the day doesn’t really apply to us.” Rather than being annoyed or irritated with a seemingly childish comment, the Nightmare King finds that there is some longing in those words.

After a moment of consideration, he takes a seat on one side of the couch, “Sit up here, there is not need to be on the floor.” Only once his companion takes a tentative seat next to him, nearly perching on the cushions, does he question, “How do you usually spend such days as these?”

A fond look comes onto Jack’s face, eyes peering into dull flames, “Usually I play with the kids for as long as I can. Though when the sun goes down they get excited about Christmas and run inside.” Twinges of sadness linger in his voice and eyes dart to meet golden ones that appear more silver, “What do you do?”

“Read or meditate. I rarely venture out unless absolutely needed during this week.” Pitch leans back against the couch, “It is strange though a nice change, to have someone here in my home.”

Jack chuckles, expression turning into a brighter one – one that lightens up the dull walls around them just as the King expects – before pointing out, “If you try to lose some of the grey and cover some stone maybe you’d get more visitors.” The teasing causes a low laugh, lips pulling back into a smile full of fangs.

“If that’s the case then I’ll leave it as it is.”

Mischief sparks in too blue eyes, “Don’t be too surprised if you wake up and find everything different then.” The winter spirit pauses then asks uncertainly, brow drawing down, “Uhm, is it okay if I stay for the night?”

“I enjoy your company, I wouldn’t throw you out for any reason.”

The beaming smile Pitch receives is just as nice, if not more so, than his first Christmas present in decades.

Chapter Text

The rush of wind and cold brushing along his cheeks is what brings Pitch from his meditative state. Golden eyes snap open and sweep about the room, faintly hearing footsteps in the hallways.

Recalling what could have only been a few hours before where he had been engaged in a long conversation with his guest, the Nightmare King finds that said boy is missing. Laughter gains his attention and silently he rises from the couch, drifting across the stone floor to the doorway.

Surprise and fleeting amusement rushes over his face at the sight of frost everywhere. A breeze whistles softly when there had never been one and faint laughter echoes in the deeper chambers. Drawing the shadows up, Pitch disappears with the next blink, searching for the only one who could have made such art in his home. The last thing he expects though is to find Jack jumping between hanging cages and making icicles.

Somehow all of this fits within the labyrinth.

“I see that you were serious about decorating.”

Blue eyes meet his and Jack grins, hanging upside down from a chain, arms folded. “I think it adds a bit more character. Do you like it?” He glances about the open room where icicles hang from chains and bridges, carefully made frost patterns glimmer faintly on the walls. A sort of false sense of security for any other who ventures into the Nightmare King’s living space.

Around them fresh airflows through the caverns, clearing away what staleness there had been. “It’s… Different.” He touches a few icicles that nearly slice open his fingertips and rubs his fingertips together with a hum. “How long have you been up and about?”

“I don’t know, I remember falling asleep for a little while.” Jack lets go of the chain, with the help of the wind, leaps to another that has yet to be frozen over, “And when I woke up, you were still sleeping so I decided to get a head start. Hope you don’t mind.”

Pushing back a chuckle, Pitch watches for a few more moments, his guest jumping from one hanging cage to another or adding lines of frost along the edges of stairs. “You’re a fast worker.” The boy’s cheeks go blue though he smiles and briefly stops from his rather determined work.

A curious reaction.

One that has the Nightmare King continuing, hands folding behind his back, “I would usually protest to such boldness however I find it difficult to.” Long fingers brush along delicate frost swirls and leaves, “Fine work, Jack.” From the corner of golden eyes he sees that his companion practically preens under the compliments. His cheeks flushed and a giddy smile stretching from ear to ear.

Shimming down his current perch the boy stands in front of him, eyes glinting, “Glad that you like it.”

He motions for Jack to follow, turning down a hallway, “I believe that a break is in order however.” Perhaps it is curiosity or just maybe his guest has grown accustomed to his company, either way, he is followed without a single protest.

“Do you spend all of your time down here?” Light colored hands trail over the smooth grey walls, lines of frost and ice following after fingertips.

“Not all the time. Recently I have been given a reason to venture out more.” Glancing over his shoulder the elder examines the confused sprite before continuing, “You are welcomed to stay here if you want. For however long.” The breeze suddenly stops as does the footsteps behind him. He pauses and turns partly towards the winter spirit.

Before he can say anything else, the younger tilts his head to the side and asks quietly, “Do you really mean that?”

Without a thought he replies, “I wouldn’t say anything to you I do not mean.” He raises an eyebrow, “Unless you believe that I would lead you astray or lie to you.” Emotions too fast to read flash through too blue eyes and a laugh – nearly hysterical – rips out of the spirit's lungs, the sound of cracked ice filling the hall.

The sprite wipes at his eyes and says, “Why is it that everyone else ignores you? You’re not nearly as bad as I’ve heard you are!”

A sharp smile comes onto Pitch’s face and he calmly points out, “Nobody else is worth any effort. Though that question is not the one you should be asking, the real question is why everyone has been ignoring you.” Hearing this has his guest going silent instantly, blinking repeatedly before glancing off to the side.

Truly Pitch wishes to know the answer to this question.

Why the Guardians, other than possibly the Sandman, refuse to see the pale boy or show some small token of respect for him.

The spirit that the very Moon himself has brought into the world though abandoned just as quickly.

A child of the being that all spirits once looked up to for help or advise.

However they have not given the Prince acknowledgement or any show of kindness. Instead continuing along their ways while the boy fell deeper and deeper into despair, believing that he did something wrong to be so callously ignored.

Soon enough, the Nightmare King will get answers. Even if he must pry it from defiant tongues or perhaps rip them out depending on the answers he receives. Simply thinking about what he can do has a delicious shiver running down his spine and a sly smile crawling onto his face.

It is his guest that pierces through such dark thoughts and he regains composure, eyes turning politely back to the boy. Jack stares uncertainly at him, “Are you alright? Your shadows were doing the dance again.” He motions to the ground where some still twist about their feet and move on the walls, highlighting the frost.

Clearing his throat, Pitch says, “Yes. Forgive me.”

“Maybe all the other spirits are too busy to pay attention to me, I don’t know.” The spirit shrugs and the breeze begins picking up, the younger’s mood turning brighter, “Does it really matter? Even if they did suddenly come around and start being nice I’d still rather spend my time around you.” This odd sentence sends another rush of emotions through the Nightmare King only this time warmer ones. Though the urge for maiming the Guardians still bubbles in the back of his mind.

He places his hand on a cool shoulder, “Thank you.” Before he can pull back fingers firmly wrap around his palm. Pitch goes still and watches his companion who swallows nervously then looks up with a smile.

“I think I should be thanking you.” Jack gently squeezes his fingers and cannot tear his eyes away as he turns hands upwards, carefully tracing the lines on grey palms. “I hope you realize that I will be around more often now.”

Standing perfectly still, the Nightmare King waits patiently for the cold fingers to cease and states, “I will look forward to your visits then.”

Bright eyes find his and a beam comes onto the boy’s face, “Good.” His hand is released; he catches the blue tint on Jack’s face but does not say anything instead turning away to continue down the hall.

“I believe that breakfast of some kind is in order.”

Instantly this perks Jack up who walks beside him rather than behind, “Do you have any of those fruits you got me last time? The little red ones, cherries I think they’re called?” Shy fingers tap against his before wrapping back around the staff.

He nods, the corner of his lip tilting upwards, “I’m sure I can find something that you enjoy.” Hearing this is all the spirit needs to grin and sweep his staff about to create more designs along the walls.

Chapter Text

After a month and a handful of weeks, Pitch has grown used to the constant visits from a playful winter spirit.

Every visit grows longer.

First by a handful of minutes, then by the hour halves before turning into an hour then hours. A strange sort of routine has been set in place, Jack visiting during the early evenings after children have hidden in their homes and leaving in the morning a few hours before the sun moves into the sky. A thoughtful thing to do since it allows the Nightmare King time to trail curved nails along doors and encourage nightmares, leaving terror in his wake.

Though he enjoys having his companion in his home, he knows to be fair and often goes to the spirit’s large pond. Always bearing fruits from whatever continent he paid a visit to.

Tonight is such a night though the calm peace is shattered on his way through the small town nearest to the pond, fingers stiffening by his sides.

“Dammit, kid would you listen?!”

Tension breaks out throughout the Nightmare King, shadows hissing in the moonlight. Within seconds of melting into the darkness Pitch finds the large pond where an unhappy Jack Frost stands in the middle of the frozen water. Pale knuckles creak around his staff and blue eyes dart warily between two beings that hover nearby.

Colorful feathers and grey fur catch his attention and lips pull back into a scowl, teeth becoming deadly fangs. Standing on the waters edge stands the Easter Bunny who kicks at the snow underneath large paws. Just a few feet away from the winter sprite is the Tooth Fairy, hands wringing together and flying closer though backs off when Jack shrinks away. Scanning the skies, Pitch notes that the two other Guardians are nowhere to be seen. Hardly surprising with how busy the Sandman and North make themselves.

Toothiana glances towards her fellow Guardian then quickly back towards the young man, “We’ve heard that… Pitch Black has been around you and it’s troublesome to hear.” She bites her lip and looks around about nervously then continues, “He’s dangerous to be near, especially since you’re so young.” Again she flitters closer though Jack puts more distance, staff in a defensive position. Wind whistles bitterly, forcibly pulling shivers from the two who are built for warmer climates.

Before the boy can reply, Bunnymund snaps, “You’re suicidal mate. Being around the Bogyman is idiotic, he doesn’t care about you.” The too familiar fear of rejection and loneliness bursts on Pitch’s tongue. Jack swallows hard but stands up straighter, “He doesn’t care about anyone, open your eyes, kid!”

Shadows around grow longer and larger though nobody takes notice, too heated in the current argument, “What would either of you know? He’s nice. A lot nicer than either one of you have been or the rest of the spirits! I didn’t even know there were others until Pitch found me!” Bewildered and disbelieving looks are traded between the two. The wind howls, nearly battering the winged woman to the ground and the boy glares, eyes shimmering in the bright moonlight.

“We don’t exactly got time to come around and say hi to every blasted spirit that pops up!” The Easter Bunny trembles more, nose going blue while his mood grows irritated, “Some of us are busy doing things ya know!” Ice suddenly cracks all around that has the Pooka jumping back a bit.

Grasping for some form of order, the fairy cuts back in after throwing a look towards Bunnymund and grows bolder in her hovering, “We’re so busy with the children, Jack, that’s why we’ve never come by.”

“If you’re always so busy then why come by now?” Just hearing this weak excuse has the shadows darkening and this time it seems that the sprite notices. His eyes flicker around the edges of the pond before he meets the woman’s gaze and takes another step back.

She frowns then says gently, “We understand you’re lonely but-” More ice cracks while the wind shrieks louder, shadows circling around the pond.

Pitch steps forward, pupils filled with hellfire while irises glow of brimstone. His teeth sharpen into needles and fingertips into curved claws. All around the trees disappear in shifting darkness. “I never suspected you would resort to lying.” His voice echoes causing shivers in both Guardians.

He does not miss how blue eyes light up or the manner the wind greets him, brushing softly against his cheeks before easing away leaving only stillness.

Instantly the Easter Bunny glares with ears flattening and finds his boomerang while the Tooth Fairy unsheathes her sword. Bright eyes narrow as she shifts in front of the young spirit, “If anyone is lying it is you.”

“And pray tell me, how am I being dishonest?”

“You’re taking advantage of some scrawny kid and can’t even admit it!” Shadows lash forward and drag the ignorant Pooka into the freezing water, wrapping around strong paws. Rather than drowning him, the Nightmare King is content to allow him to bob up and down even as the Guardian cries out in shock. The shadows do not relent merely squeezing tighter around limbs while he thrashes.

Stepping to the edge of the pond, his eyes resting on Toothiana who tries to aid her friend but keeps her sword drawn. Jack jumps from one floating ice sheet to another until he stands a foot or so away on the water. Ignoring the screeching rabbit Pitch extends his hand with a small bow. The boy hardly hesitates in taking it only examining the claws curiously before pale fingers slide against his.

Shadows become solid underneath his cloak and extend out to where the winter spirit stands, a bridge between land and water. Bare feet meekly press down onto the sound structure before his companion walks carefully off the water. “Are you harmed?” Bending down slightly, lips brush along the soft knuckles, fangs gone for those few seconds.

“I’m okay.”

Nodding, he turns his gaze towards the Guardians. Both stare with shocked expressions – even Bunnymund managing one though it is pitiful in his current position – before he states, “Why are you paying attention now?” His eyes narrow at the currently bound Easter Bunny and interrupts what could only be a half thought out insult, “Think before speaking, or I’ll drown you.” Jack keeps his hand and when he squeezes the fingers lightly, the fear hanging on the boy begins fading.

Toothiana sputters out a reply, “We’ve heard that you have been visiting Jack and each of us are concerned with what you’re doing to him.”

“What I am doing?” His head twists to the side in a grotesque angle and releases a gravely growl, “I’m giving him company something that neither of you or North seem capable of doing.”

Naturally the spring spirit snaps, “And what the hell makes him so special? He’s not anything to be in awe about.” Jack shifts on his feet, glaring with a blue tint of embarrassment crossing his cheeks, “Don’t give me that look, I’ve never heard anything amazing you’ve done to get anyone’s attention much less-” The rabbit disappears into the pond.

The fairy cries out, “Bunny!” Her feet nearly touching ice though she pulls away and instead plunges one hand underneath the glassy surface. Only for it to be in vain since the shadows drag the Guardian deeper into frozen depths. “Let him go!” Again she reaches for him and the Nightmare King trembles in delight until fingers pull hard on his hand and another set of digits fist into his cloak.

“Pitch, stop. Please.”

Large eyes peer up at him, Jack letting out an uncomfortable noise. Instantly the shadows melt away and Bunnymund breaks the surface with bulging eyes, gasping for air. He drags himself from the water with loud wet coughs.

The winter spirit lets out a sigh of relief and practically sags against his side. “That is your second warning. You will not get a third.” Fear rolls off both of them in waves that sends content throughout his veins.

Wide violet eyes flicker between the sprite and Nightmare King, mouth gapping before she manages to ask, “Did… Did you stop because he asked?”

He knows that Jack is staring at him however he hardly minds instead straightening out his posture with a throaty chuckle, “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Does it really matter? You should be grateful right now.” The woman quickly stands in front of the violently shivering rabbit.

“You’re not-“

He interrupts, pretending she never spoke, “As for what makes Jack so special, ask the Man in the Moon. Or Sanderson. He has always been rather sharp. Unlike some.” He cuts his eyes towards the Easter Bunny before turning his gaze onto Jack and lifts his free hand to a lithe shoulder. “It would be for the best if we go.”

Quickly nodding, the boy presses against him with blue tinted cheeks and mumbles against his cloak, “I just want to go to sleep and not deal with them anymore.”

Cutting his replenished golden eyes back at the Guardians, he states, “If either of you cause him that much distress again, drowning will be the least of your problems.” With that the Nightmare King blankets them in shadows and are simply gone, leaving a wide-eyed Toothiana and a sputtering Bunnymund on the pond’s edge.

Chapter Text

The moment the shadows melt away, Pitch finds a short man hovering in his home on golden sand. Above moonlight manages to shine through a small opening where the Sandman must have squeezed through. “It has been some time, Sanderson. What brings you here?” Around shadows thicken and surround the tiny circle of moonlight, hissing lowly in this spirit’s presence.

Beside him, Jack blinks but his lips tilt up into a smile, “Hi Sandy.”

Interested in the familiar interaction between the two the Nightmare King watches silently, waiting for a response. First a small smile and wave then sand forms careful pictures above the oldest Guardian’s head. A tooth then a decorated egg with a question mark at the end.

After a moment of consideration, perhaps not used to the manner this spirit communicates in, the youngest says, “Just met them. They kind of ambushed me at my pond.” Pitch watches closely as the smaller man’s face falls, lips pursing together.

“So they didn’t tell you. Shocking considering the rabbit is hardly ever quiet.” He considers this then steps in front of his companion, fingers brushing over a soft cheek just long enough to gain his wide gaze, “You two have been introduced?” Always Pitch has had respect for the Sandman though with the constant idiocy that follows the other Guardians such a relationship has been strained.

Jack turns with a nod, “After the week you first found me, he visited me. He just asked if I was okay then whenever he’s around my pond he waves or stops by.” He laughs weakly, “Though it’s still hard understanding his charades sometimes.”

Tension seeps out of his shoulders and the shadows grow more lax, lazily filling the room, “I see.” Golden eyes meet honey-brown ones and Pitch steps forward until his feet nearly touch the ring of moonlight, “And other than checking if your companions have bothered Jack, is there another reason you’re bold enough to come into my domain?” He stares down without blinking, fire burning lowly in his eyes, nails beginning to sharpen.

The winter spirit moves to his side with a frown, “Can we not argue anymore tonight? Maybe save it for tomorrow?” More images flash, the sequences longer than before, ones that make the youngest groan and slump against his staff. “You could have just nodded, Sandy… Could you run through it again? Maybe slow it down?” Tired eyes focus on the Guardian who looks back, concerned.

“I actually agree.” Pitch turns his eyes onto the exhausted sprite, “You need rest, Jack.” A soft noise of disagreement and blue eyes fixate on him.

“I’m not that tired.” Both elder spirits stare blankly that cause an unhappy expression, “Look I just don’t want you two to…” The sentence is broken by a yawn and the boy rubs firmly against one eye, “Start fighting.”

Trading glances, the Nightmare King presses his lips together then states, “I assure you it will not come to that.”

Jack narrows his gaze though seems to accept this and yawns again, “I’m only agreeing to sleeping if I can do it here.” Instantly shadows slither along the ground then solidify into a loose circle around bare feet. “Thank you.” Either too tired or trusting his word, the boy sinks onto the mass of shadows, curling up on the mock nest he usually makes from snow.

The Guardian steps forward, reaching out to sprinkle sand onto white hair and the boy barely mumbles a ‘good night’ before falling victim to sleep. Both spirits remain silent for a few moments instead engaging in a sort of staring contest. Finally images featuring the moon and a snowflake flash in the air, Sanderson tilting his head with a questioning look.

Quieting his voice, Pitch replies, “So you do realize the position Jack is in. Yet you never paid any sort of acknowledgement for being the Man in the Moon’s son.” Golden eyes narrow while the small man frowns, arms folding.

Sand curves and breaks apart then reforms into different pictures, a story that causes the stiffness in his limbs to drain away. Tilting his head to the side the Nightmare King asks slowly, “Is that right… You attempted to talk to him sooner yet,” his tone grows darker and deeper, “the Man in the Moon asked you not to.”

Wise eyes turn towards the ground, shoulder bunching up though the Sandman nods. Another sequence forms that still does not quite curb the anger bubbling underneath grey skin.

“That is hardly the point.” Shaking his head he continues sharply, “You’re more than sensible to realize this. What if I had not found him?” Nails grow into jagged claws, voice growing harsher, “Would you have left him alone for more decades, for centuries just because HE told to wait until someone else-”

Arms wave frantically and fangs clamp together, sucking in a long breath. In the bed of shadows the current subject of conversation grumbles then turns away from the two. Sandy shrugs with a frown before spinning more images though his expression holds guilt. Each time pointing out how much every spirit cares, or at least at one point did, for the Moon and would want to abide by any of his wishes.

Lowly Pitch says through his teeth, “It still doesn’t make any sense.” Instead of arguing over this point the small Guardian nods slowly and once more puts up an image of the moon with a question mark next to it.

Too many thoughts run in his mind over this news. Many questions that will never be answered since the being with the answers rarely speaks.

“Times such as these ones causes me to despise that man.”

Sandy shakes his head then shifts the conversation, motioning towards the sleeping spirit with a quick sequence yet again featuring teeth and an egg.

One that has his brow furrowing, anger briefly shifting onto a different subject, “In other words your companions firmly believe I’m corrupting him. As usual I question their intelligence.”

This earns him a dry look.

“You may be Guardians but none of you seem to realize how damaged one can become without some vague form of companionship.” Folding long arms over his chest, Pitch continues, “Does it appear I’m corrupting or breaking Jack?”

Not even hesitating, the smaller shakes his head side to side, a thoughtful look forming on his face.

Unrelenting, he keeps going, “Then tell those two and North to stop with their pointless plotting and ambushes. It only hinders their so called ‘righteous cause’ of ‘saving’ him from myself.” Unable to help but scoff, the Nightmare King shakes his head and turns away, “I believe this visit has satisfied both of us for now. You have duties to attend to much like I have mine.” Sand brushes along his hand, light enough to not send the shadows into a fury but firm enough for golden eyes to turn back.

A slow smile is given then another question, this time with a snowflake involved.

“Just because this has been a pleasant conversation does not mean the next ones will be, Sanderson. However…” he pauses and collects his next thoughts carefully, eyes flickering towards the sleeping winter spirit, “It would be beneficial for Jack to talk with others. Not just myself, I will admit that.”

The younger spirit purses his lips together for a moment then waves his hands until Pitch turns his attention back on him. He offers the olive branch with a hopeful smile; sand swirling eagerly in the air, images flashing by rapidly.

After a long minute of consideration, Pitch replies, “Very well. Though I suggest knocking before sneaking into my labyrinth again. It is not a wise thing to do.” Lips pull back to show off long fangs that glint in the moonlight, “And should you cause more harm than good to Jack, consider this fragile bridge between us to be burned forever, Sanderson.”

Swallowing thickly, the Sandman nods in agreement then motions a hand, sand forming a cloud underneath his feet. Not returning the wave, Pitch waits until the small man has left before moving deeper into his home with the shadows Jack Frost sleeps on following behind him.

Chapter Text

“So you two didn’t fight at all, right?”

Pitch turns his gaze towards the sleepy looking spirit still sitting on the shadows that served as a bed. He lowers a large tome, letting it rest on his lap, “No, our conversation was civil and enlightening. How was your sleep?” The boy stares hard then breaks out into a grin and stands up, practically falling onto the couch.

Smiling, Jack nods and hesitantly moves closer until he can feel the frost in the boy’s breath. “I had a good sleep, some really nice dreams.” There is a pause; his companion’s eyes flickering off to the side and jittery hands reach out though stop short of touching his grey skin. “Thank you for showing up when you did.”

A frown forms and the Nightmare King shuts the book, placing it onto the table before turning, fingers reaching out to wrap around a pale palm, “There is no need to thank me.” The spirit fidgets but returns the hold on his hand, a softer smile on his face.

“I told them you’re nice to me but they really didn’t believe me.”

“Naturally they wouldn’t. I have never been exactly kind to them, there has never been a reason to.” He peers into the bright eyes staring up at him, continuing, “As far as they are concerned I’m nothing more than a menace that needs to be stopped.” Even if he has not ruled since the Dark Ages, the Guardians practically tremble whenever his name is so much as uttered in their presence.

The winter spirit hums and breaks eye contact instead finding new things on his hand to touch. Small scars, around fingernail beds, finding faint veins to press lightly against, Jack traces them all before asking, “How old are you?”

Pitch looks towards a dim fire, “I’ve been around for a long time. Perhaps older than the Man in Moon, I cannot remember.” He leans back into the cushions, “I’m as old as fear itself.” Golden eyes flicker back towards the boy and the corner of his lip pulls up into a half smile. “Does that surprise you?” He cannot resist asking at the wide-eyed expression he receives in response.

Blinking a few times, the sprite shakes his head and replies, “Maybe a little bit. I always thought that the Man in the Moon was the oldest.” A dark chuckle fills the air, the Nightmare King closing his eyes with a sigh.

“Fear has been around longer than any other emotion.”

Sudden coldness rushes through his body causing his gaze to snap over to the spirit who creeps closer, their shoulders bumping together. “Everyone fears you, even the Guardians. But I don’t see how they could.” Blue tints over pale cheeks and boy stumbles a bit, “Well I can see how they might fear you, but I don’t get why they would, you’re never-”

Calmly he interrupts, “They are terrified because they have a rightful reason to be. I’m sure that the Dark Ages are still vivid in their minds.” Golden eyes shimmer silver for a moment, “I enjoy that they are afraid of me. However you are different.”

The very thought of having this young spirit be frightened of him has his stomach twisting in a manner it never has before.

What at first started as simple respect towards a being he once admired, once had been friends with, has turned into something more. The Man in the Moon brought Jack Frost to life then callously left him all alone in the world.

Taking it one more step farther even, the Moon refused to allow others such as the Sandman to visit his son.

Something that baffles and makes no sense to Pitch.

Such an action that only makes him want to be there for the Prince, take care of him where nobody else has.

His thoughts are broken when a head finds his shoulder, Jack curling up next to him. “I don’t care what they say.” Pitch blinks before looking back into the flames though entwines their fingers together. Faint warmth presses against his ribcage, a sense of content flowing through his body at such a simple sentence.

His reply is simple, “Something I’m pleased to hear.”

“They’ll be around again, won’t they?”

“Unfortunately. The Guardians are nothing but insistent.” A fact that has his lips curling back into a silent sneer, “However Sanderson seems to understand I’m not harming you.”

Jack clicks his tongue and grows bolder, nuzzling against the Nightmare King, white hair brushing against his neck, “You and Sandy seem to be friends,” scoffing has the boy snickering, “okay, okay maybe not friends, but you two seem on better terms than with anyone else.” He could admit to such a statement.

He states, “That’s most likely because he understands that there is a need for what I create, and what I stand for.” Idly his thumb rubs along soft skin, feeling a fluttering pulse, “The other Guardians are rather delusional in thinking that the world does not need fear.”

After another few moments of sitting in silence, the winter spirit suddenly lifts his head up and says, “Wait, if you’re as old as the Man in the Moon, does that mean there was a time where he’d speak freely?” Pitch leans back a bit so he can properly meet gleaming eyes, eyebrow raised upwards. When he nods, the sprite asks, “Do you have any ideas why he would give me my name but then never speak again?” Jack stares at him, a wishful look coming onto his face.

“I don’t have any answers for you, Jack. None that could explain his actions.” His response has a deep frown forming on Jack’s face, his expression falling, eyes flickering onto their hands.

There is a long sigh as the younger mumbles, “I just thought that maybe you might have an idea, that’s all.” Curling onto himself, the winter spirits begins pulling away however the Nightmare King stops him by wrapping long fingers around a lithe shoulder. Without a word, Pitch tugs the boy back against his side, lightly brushing back white locks.

Thinking for a moment, Pitch states, “You want to know why you’re here, the reason for your existence.” Blue eyes go large and the boy’s mouth falls open though he keeps going, “Such a question will eat you alive, Jack.” His fingers brush lightly over his companion’s cheek; “The Man in the Moon won’t give an answer if you asked. Even if you pleaded which I’m sure you have.”

Jack turns away from his golden gaze as the sound of ice cracking fills the room, “I just want to know.”

Rather than saying anything else to further upset his guest, the elder hesitates briefly then wraps an arm around the thin spirit. An action that is met with surprising results when Jack hides his face into Pitch’s cloak. “It doesn’t matter what his reasons might have been or are. You’re giving yourself your own reason for existing by playing with the children, making them happy, aren’t you?” Jack stills, frozen against him before he looks up.

Slowly the winter spirit agrees, “Yeah… I… I guess I am.” He nuzzles further into black robes.

He tugs his companion closer and calmly points out, “Then that’s all you need.”

“It also helps that you’re here for me.” Pitch instantly turns his attention onto the younger, meeting a small smile, the boy seemingly warming up to him.

The answer is so simple, almost too simple for the Nightmare King, “Yes. Yes I am.”

Chapter Text

Naturally within a few days the Guardians pay a visit.

Only this time rather than attempting to ambush Jack when he is alone, Toothiana and Bunnymund come along with their self appointed leader in tow. Someone Pitch has not seen in years and would have preferred not to for another decade or two.

Though he is not expecting them to appear just outside an entrance to his labyrinth.

Or rather, he did not think Nicholas St. North would actually start yelling into the entrance, demanding his presence.

Sighing, Pitch gathers the shadows around himself and rushes to the surface, eyes narrowing. All around a broken bed stand the Guardians with weapons drawn, “Already you’ve decided to visit again. How kind of you.” He steps from the darkness of the forest line, arms folded over his chest.

“Pitch, what you doing with Jack Frost?!”

Golden eyes fill with inner flames, teeth pressing together before the elder spirit says, “I’m certain that your companions will tell you I haven’t harmed Jack in any way.” Just the thought of doing such a thing has him shuddering uncomfortably.

Bunnymund sputters and points his boomerang, “You’re sure as capable of doing so! You almost drowned me you bloody-”

“I’m beginning to regret not doing so.”

The Tooth Fairy shakes her head and flitters in the background speaking before the spring spirit can manage to find an insult, “We want to talk to Jack alone, without you interfering. Where is he?” A sword is pointed in his direction but fear twinges in the air, coming off all of those in his presence.

Instantly shadows rush forward, covering the trees in a black rippling wave, the moonlight nowhere to be found. The living darkness presses down on the three, Pitch’s voice lowering into a harsh sound, “How can you say I interfered when you were the ones to cause him distress. Don’t assume you’re doing him a favor, Guardians, and do try to remember where you are.”

Bright eyes glare at him, North booming, “You attacked Bunny without reason!” Anger of the purest form races throughout his veins, clawed finger tips digging against grey palms. With a deep breath, firmly reminding himself not to completely disfigure these spirits. If only so that Jack will not be upset or worse, possibly be afraid of him.

“I assure you I had more than enough reason.” Reeling in his rage, the spirit rolls his shoulders and states, “I will only say this once. My business with Jack is mine and mine alone.” He glares at them, voice tight with each word, “Is there anything else you want?”

“Just tell us where the bloody kid is so we can talk to him!”

A growl forms within his throat, “And will you be doing the so called ‘talking’? What I recall is you yelling and being demanding towards Jack.” Pitch is grateful that the winter spirit is currently delivering one last blizzard to Europe before Easter. “Now then, I refuse to tell you where Jack is. So, if that is all, I’ll be taking my leave.” Turning away, the Nightmare King steps towards the dark wall he has created.

Suddenly North steps forward, ignoring how each shadow hisses, “We are trying to keep the boy safe from you!”

Each muscle stills, the spirit not moving an inch. Even the shadows have stopped their constant shifting and only the breathing of the Guardians can be heard. Slowly he turns his head to meet the blue gaze that belongs to the group’s leader. “Repeat that.” His voice is just a whisper.

Never one to back down, Santa Claus jabs a saber in his direction, “Jack Frost is not safe about you.” Behind him the other two nod in agreement, Bunnymund glaring while the fairy stares unwavering at him.

Screams fill the clearing, even the wind joining in the shrieking darkness, Pitch growling out, “How DARE all of you.” Claws become jagged, the nails tinting black and pupils narrow into sharp slits, “He’s not safe around me…?” The Easter Bunny is bold enough to nod in agreement causing his voice begins sharpen, “So you would rather see Jack without anyone’s company at all?!”

Rage builds more when Toothiana says, her voice quivering just a bit, “We’re so busy, we didn’t have any reason to visit! It doesn’t matter anymore since we want to talk with him now!”

Darkness encases the clearing, utterly shutting out the starlight and instantly the fear becomes overpowering. Shudders ripple down his spine at the taste though he does not let up instead smothering the Guardians. “They just shadows friends!” North calls out.

Simply hearing this has the Nightmare King laughing, voice echoing and bouncing around, “Shadows?! No these are more than shadows!” There is a pained cry, one that belongs to the Tooth Fairy. “All it takes is a bit of belief from all of you and,” Pitch snaps his fingers together with a sickening smile when there is a pained grunt this time from the Pooka, “They are sharper than any needle you might find!” Giddiness fills his mind, the fear so fresh, so delightful on his tongue.

Each time there is a cry or whimper; it only heightens the sensation of feeling the Guardians horror and fear. The very beings that always boast about how much they refuse to acknowledge him or his abilities. Though they cannot see a single thing in the area, their eyes wide in terror and uselessly slashing at the air, Pitch can take in every swing of their weapons and how their faces are frozen with cold terror.

Grinning and enjoying each expression they show, he is more than content to keep cutting at each Guardian. Golden sand catches the corner of his sight and he turns his head until he can find the reason. On an airplane stands the Sandman who stares down with a deep frown. “Well hello Sanderson.” He creates a staircase, arms folding with each step he takes.

Honey brown eyes stare at the clearing, knowing that his fellow companions are in the constantly shifting blackness before pictures form over his head.

“Don’t try to blame me for their ignorance. I won’t kill them.” A dark look crosses his face briefly, “Though I’m beginning to feel that I should.” The small man shakes his head and forms a cloud instead, hovering closer to the Nightmare King.

More pictures form, this time having a snowflake in the sequence.

Pitch scoffs, “You should ask them. They’re the ones that came to me and firmly believe that Jack should be alone.” His face falls, the oldest Guardian nibbling on his lip before shaking his head and firmly waving his hands about, pointing at the clearing. “Then tell them to leave me and my companion alone.”

With an uncertain look, lips pressing together, Sanderson motions towards the clearing once more, pleading for the cries to stop.

Again there is the symbol of the snowflake.

Something that has him pausing, thinking before finally replying with a faint growl in his throat, “Fine. But only because there is the chance you’re right.”

Turning, Pitch moves down the stairs that disintegrate with each step he takes, snapping his fingers again. Within seconds the shadows cease, pulling away from the Guardians who sway in confusion. Cuts cover arms and legs, small rivers of blood streaming from each incision, their fingers shaking around their weapons.

Barely giving a second glance, he states coolly, “If anyone of you come knocking on my door again I won’t be as kind.”

With that said, the shadows and the Nightmare King disappear, only leaving the Guardians in front of a broken bed. Sandy stares down at them, disappointment on his face before finding the ground. His hands rest on his hips and he gives a hard look at the bleeding spirits as golden sand forms images.

“Next time we will be better, Sandy!” North barely stumbles unlike the Easter Bunny who has taken a seat on the ground while Toothiana shakily plucks broken feathers from her body. “We talk to Jack directly yes? Maybe show Pitch isn’t good company.”

The Sandman only sighs and shakes his head, desperately hoping that they will learn before Pitch runs out of his already thin patience and they each end up hurt beyond repair.

Chapter Text

“What do you mean they came here demanding answers?!” Pitch frowns and steps closer to the winter spirit, peering into eyes filled with disbelief as he continues, wind filling the large room, “It’s not any of their business!” The boy glares at nothing and hovers in the air that steadily grows colder.

Perhaps telling Jack Frost of the visit he received early in the morning had not been a good idea. Especially with the boy already in an antsy mood since he will not be able to stir up another snowstorm in Europe until spring and summer has passed.

Calmly he says while watching the spirit be thrown around the room by bitter wind, “My exact words to them. There is no reason to be so-”

Jack interjects, “There is! I’m angry that they think you’re what, hurting me?” His eyes flash and he attacks the chains holding one of the swinging cages, ice sinking in deeply into the metal, causing thicker icicles.

The Nightmare King replies in an even voice, “Anyone in a relationship of any type with myself is cause for alarm in their eyes. It is simply how the Guardians are.” Folding his arms over his chest, the elder continues, “As far as they are concerned I’m corrupting you.”

“You’re not doing anything like that! You’ve been nothing but kind and befriended me when no one else paid attention.”

A sentence that rings true though it only has his lips tilting upwards into a humorless smile, “I am the Nightmare King, Jack. That is all they’ve ever known and all they will ever see.”

Still Jack shakes his head firmly, wind beginning to howl around them, whipping the boy’s thin figure side to side, “Maybe to them you are, that doesn’t mean you’re always cruel and mean though!” Cheeks grow blue with the next words, “You’re nothing but welcoming and, a-and, gentle with me!” Pitch cannot help the swelling of tenderness in his chest, all directed towards this reckless sprite.

Still he points out, “They have no idea how I am around you.”

“Then they should ask instead of assuming the worst, or just talk to Sandy!” This time Pitch shakes his head and sighs.

“Jumping to conclusions is something that they are well known for, Jack. An annoying and rather unfortunate thing.” These are the times he wonders what exactly the Man in the Moon had been thinking when he appointed all four of the Guardians.

Irritation fills the boy’s face, lips pressing together in a thin line, “It shouldn’t matter if we’re friends or not. You’re not doing anything to hurt them or the children.”

Chuckling dryly the Nightmare King replies, “Not in their minds. They fear me. Naturally they believe, quite firmly, that you should too.” With a scoff he says, “They have every reason for such terror around me, I’m not always this polite.”

His mind wanders back to the fight – if one can even call the confrontation that – briefly wondering how his companion would have reacted. If the sour taste of the spirit’s fear would have met his tongue at the sight of his shadows slashing and tearing at the defenseless Guardians.

The reaction he receives is not what he expects.

Knuckles crack against a weathered staff and suddenly the thick chain the boy has been continuously freezing snaps, brittle from such treatment, the cage tumbling onto the floor. Blinking, Pitch grimaces at the metal pieces flying along the floor, a few bolts rolling to the edges of his robe. He looks up but the scolding words on his tongue melt away when he meets large blue eyes. Within seconds the wind dies down, and Jack softly states, “You’ve never give me a reason though… And you never will, I–I trust you, Pitch.”

Golden eyes widen, lips parting in surprise over the so simple yet sure sentence. For a moment his breath catches in his throat and he can only blink at the boy.

One who has once more shocked him.

Yet again Jack proves he is more than just some random spirit, that he is something so much greater without even realizing it.

He closes his eyes then holds out his hands towards the hovering winter sprite, silently beckoning him closer. Meekly his guest does so; pale fingers reaching forward though almost pull away before finally sliding against his palms. Grey fingers wrap around cool ones, pulling Jack closer until their foreheads touch and he peers into bright blue eyes.

“You trust me…?”

Somehow the boy nods his head a little, fingers trembling as they tighten around his hands. Cold breath brushes along his cheeks when Jack responds, “Yes.”

Carefully Pitch lets go of one hand, gently hushing the confused sound to instead wrap his now free arm around the stiff spirit. Just as slowly, he pulls him closer, chin finding soft hair. “Thank you Jack.”

Blue tints along pale cheeks, the younger snapping his eyes shut but nodding. Long fingers rub along his back and a thumb strokes the top of his hand. Within a matter of seconds Jack melts into the embrace, burying his face into Pitch’s chest, heart beating rapidly inside his ribcage. His hand touches the King's upper arm before shakily wrapping around a strong shoulder.

Before there can be anymore second guessing, the Nightmare King asks, “Are you uncomfortable?” His arm begins to unwrap from the thin waist though the boy instantly pushes closer against him.

“No!” Jack bites his lip then mumbles, cheeks blazing now, “I just, don’t really know where to put my hand.”

Blinking, Pitch cannot help but smile and pulls back a bit, nearly fighting his companion who stares up in confusion. Rather than explaining and possibly causing more embarrassment, he takes thin arms and urges them to wrap around his neck. Hesitance flickers in blue eyes though the winter spirit follows along, hands clasping loosely behind a lithe neck.

Grey fingers cup the back of the boy’s head, bringing him to rest against his chest again while his other limb wraps around Jack’s waist. “Better?”

Instantly the spirit nods and nuzzles into his chest, words muffled by his robe, “I’m still mad at them.”

Pitch chuckles and rests his cheek against soft hair, eyes closing, “I know.” Idly his fingers stroke white locks, learning the texture. “I didn’t expect your anger to leave so easily.” He suppresses a shiver when cold breath meets the bare skin of his neck.

“Maybe I should visit them. See if I can’t talk to them-”

“I would prefer if you did no such thing.” Around the shadows shift and the beginnings of a protest fill the air, “However if that is what you wish to do, I will not stop you.” Sighing, Pitch says, “My only request is that you at least tell me when you plan on doing so.”

Jack frowns, messing lightly with the collar of his robe then mumbles, “Fine.” Curious digits travel up until they find jet-black hair, lightly teasing the strands.

“That is all I ask.”

Again the boy nods before leaning further against his chest, voice suddenly fragile, “Is it okay if we do this more often?”

A small smile comes onto the Nightmare King’s face, “As though I could ever deny a Prince such a simple request.”

Chapter Text

Blinking, Jack pulls back enough to meet golden eyes and brow furrowing. “Prince…? What are you talking about?”

Pitch presses his lips together though counters with his own question, “The Man in the Moon gave life to you, and gave you the name of Jack Frost did he not?” He does not wait for the answer, already knowing what it will be instead continuing, “It has been centuries since he has been seen or heard from properly, however nearly every spirit has at one point or another has looked to him for advice.” The boy’s mouth falls open, sliding his foot back and away from their embrace.

Reluctantly unraveling his arms, the elder watches his companion shuffle on bare feet with a frown.

“So what if he named me? That doesn’t mean I’m some kind of… Of royalty!” Jack motions to his body, “Do you see anything special? Because I don’t since I’m not.” The boy swallows and keeps going, “What about the other spirits? So what if they cared for the Man in the Moon, they seem to care about each other.” Even as the spirit says this, a look of pain crosses his face with the reminder that he has never seen another one of his kind up until recently.

The Nightmare King cannot help but be disappointed that he has yet to show the winter spirit how exquisite he is, stating, “The Man in the Moon was admired to the point many considered him to be a King, Jack. While he never gave himself that title, others saw him as a ruler of sorts.” Memories of a smiling man from centuries ago grace his mind.

Once a being that loves wholeheartedly, who loathes but never hates, cares but refuses to smother.

He recalls a strong friendship with the shining man, one that combated the many lonesome years of causing nothing but violence and disease in humans. How they were two sides of the same coin with him urging dread and fear while the Moon gentled broken hearts with faith and the promise of a brighter time. Managing to coexist even though they were complete opposites.

As more spirits came to be their relationship never truly faltered, remaining strong and friendly. Even when most other spirits were terrified of him, the Moon never was. Or rather everything had been mostly peaceful until the start of the Dark Ages.

All of these memories coming from a time that has long been gone.

Whatever warm qualities the Moon had, have been have been stripped away instead leaving a pale faded spirit. Now he is merely a crippled man that shines pathetically from the sky, the shadow of a once great and brilliant spirit.

Sharp wind catches his attention, shattering the lingering memories and golden eyes focus onto the agitated sprite, “Okay, so maybe a long time ago the Man in the Moon was looked at as a King. But that still doesn’t explain why you think I’m a Prince!”

Calmly folding his arms behind his back, he replies, “You might not believe it but you aren’t merely some lowly spirit.” Hearing this only causes a firm shake of the head.

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense Pitch, and it doesn’t explain why anyone would think that-”

Cutting him off, the elder pins down the boy with an unwavering gaze, “Jack. You are the only spirit that the Man in the Moon has given life to.” The wind dies down to nothing, his companion staring with huge eyes, mouth partly opened, “Every spirit merely came to be or chose to become what they are.”

Too blue eyes rapidly blink though there is no other movement from his body. “That can’t be possible.” The words are little more than a whisper.

Grey fingers curl into his palms to keep his hands in check, the Nightmare King explaining with soft words, “I see you as a Prince, Jack Frost, even if you shall never believe yourself to be one.” With that he steps forward until his hand meets a thin shoulder, wrapping around the seemingly fragile flesh.

“Nobody else sees me as one. So why do you?” Eyes peer into his, the boy taking a step forward, “It seems like you’re the only one who does.”

Anger burns deeply in his chest at the reminder.

How the Guardians are so blind and the Man in the Moon refused to let anyone near the winter spirit. Allowing him to spiral down a dangerous path of loneliness and distress. A path that is so easy to avoid all together with simple companionship or even the barest of attention.

Breathing in deeply, Pitch says lowly, “Perhaps others have forgotten how important the Moon was to them, or they are too idiotic to have seen you.” He pauses, a darker thought forming in his mind though he cannot voice it, not yet. “Does it truly matter what they think?”

Jack shakes his head and breaks eye contact, a hard glint forming, “No, not really. I don’t care what they think about me. Or about you.” Drawing in a deep breath, the spirit questions, treading lightly, “Is that why you’re so kind to me? Because I’m a ‘Prince’ in your eyes?”

“At first.” The elder’s other hand cups the side of the boy’s cheek, thumb rubbing underneath one eye, “I wanted to meet you the moment the shadows whispered about you. To properly give you the respect that you rightly deserve.” With a sigh, eyes slipping shut, “My regret is I did not find you sooner.” The statement burns his tongue.

Fingers brush along his cheeks causing a shiver, gaze focusing back onto the determined spirit. “Don’t say that.” Shaky hands trace his chin and along the jaw line, “You found me right?”

“Yes however-“

“Well then that’s all that matters.” Lips pull up into an uncertain smile, the wind calming down into a gentle breeze, “Better late than never, right? I forgive you, Pitch. I’ll always forgive you.”

The Nightmare King examines the boy for a long moment then cannot resist an urge pulsing acutely in his chest. Slowly, not wanting to alarm or frighten his companion, the man bends down just enough to brush his lips along a pale cheek, lingering. “Thank you, my Prince.” Cheeks instantly become bright blue before a startled noise fills the air.

“Uhm, you really don’t need to thank me.” Jack’s eyes dart off to the side and he steps back a little, hands folding over the spot where lips met his skin. “And you don’t exactly need to call me that either.”

Amusement fills golden eyes that spark in the darkened room, “It was a slip of the tongue.” This earns him a disbelieving look.

The winter spirit mutters, “It wasn’t.”

“I can’t help myself.” Pitch slowly captures one of Jack’s hands then smiles slightly, bowing down to kiss soft knuckles. “Viewing you as anything less than the Child of the Moon is impossible.”

Biting his lip, Jacks says, “This could still be a mistake, you could be wrong and I’m just some random spirit that you mistook as being a Prince.” His eyes dart off to the side with a small shrug.

With a chuckle and straightening out, the Nightmare King humors his guest, “Even if there has been a mistake – and I highly doubt there is – I wouldn’t abandon you, Jack.”

Chapter Text

Instead of the Guardians having to find Jack Frost, the boy finds them at the North Pole where they have gathered for a meeting. Everyone stands in Nicholas St. North’s castle, where the world globe sits in the middle.

There is a harsh gust of wind, shattering the windows and sends some of the elves skidding across the floor, even the Tooth Fairy is knocked back, nearly flying into a wall. Weapons are drawn and all eyes focus onto a rather peeved looking spirit, staff held defensively. Sandy blinks at the sight of Jack and bites his lip, slowly lowering his dream sand whips to the ground.

Irritation burns in the next words the sound of crackling ice filling the room, “All of you need to stop assuming I’m in trouble.” Blue eyes narrow at the three blinking up at him. “Pitch hasn’t done anything to harm me.”

“Jack Frost! Good to see you, good that you have come to home!”

Toothiana frowns at the Russian before protesting, “We’re honestly concerned what Pitch is doing around you.” She bites her lip and flutters closer to the small spirit, “You’re too young to understand how dangerous he is.” Behind her the Guardians all nod in agreement. Jack frowns as his feet slowly touch the tile, frost spreading along the floor.

The Sandman manages a waves and a smile, ignoring his fellow Guardians and not saying or asking anything.

Next it is the rabbit, his arms folding over his chest and snaps, “Kid you talk a big game but when that Bogyman turns against you, don’t try crying to us.” The corner of his lip turns upwards, “You’re a bit of an-”

Icy wind slams the Pooka into the wall, pinning him there while his friends tremble at the biting cold, “Pitch isn’t LIKE that!” Slamming his staff sends a wave of ice twisting on the ground. The Easter Bunny lets out an uncomfortable noise, twitching and struggling for his feet to find the ground.

Discarding the words, North steps closer, boots hitting the edge of the ice, “You don’t know him.” Before he can step closer the boy locks their gaze together with a glare.

“He’s never harmed or raised his voice to me.” Knuckles creak against the wooden weapon, shoulders hunching forward. “So stop saying that he will!” The only female in the room opens her mouth but words are frozen when Jack turns to her, the temperature dropping at a steady rate. “I don’t care what you have to say.”

Her mouth dries up and she falls ungracefully onto the floor, eyes wide at the heaviness of ice collecting on her colorful feathers. “J-Jack we’re just trying to help.” Beside her the Sandman stares, quickly frowning as he moves over to the colorful woman, hands beginning to break off the frozen water.

The winter spirit repeats, “Help…?” The wind howls in the large room, glass shards and ice swirling about, knocking down elves and sending papers into the air. “You’re trying to help me?” His staff glows as the ice around him spreads outwards, encasing each Guardian’s feet before crawling up the walls. “Help?! You’re not doing anything but making the problem!” Bunnymund cries out in shock when his paws are covered, effectively leaving him hanging next to a shelf. The lights flicker on and off then everything goes dark with only starlight trickling through.

Sand forms an exclamation point then an olive branch.

“Easy, mate! You’re going to freeze us all!“

“Please Jack, we’re not trying to upset you but you have to stop this!”

“Be calm! No reason for all of this friend!”

Firmly ignoring all of them, Jack snaps, “Then do me a favor then and stop bothering me!” Icicles form on the ceiling and shelves, finding any place to hang from. Anger ripples through the air, emotions bubbling over, his body shaking. Tears shine in his eyes but never fall as his grip tightens on the staff.

Before anything else can be said or expressed, moonbeams shine down and flood the entire room. Everyone goes still and the boy’s breath catches in his throat. North blinks then twists out of the ice around his feet, shaking his legs as he steps forward. “Manny, you’ve finally come and will talk with Jack, show him what Pitch is like!” Large hands wrap around a frosted table with hopeful eyes directed at the Moon.

The beams flicker then brightens until it nearly blinds the winter spirit, one hand reaching up to cover his eyes. Emotions and faint words fill his head much like they did one hundred and eleven years ago. Ones that steal his breath and anger away, leaving his limbs limp against his side with the staff falling onto the ground. “What…?” The word is strangled in the air, muscles seizing up underneath pale skin.

Moonlight dims then shimmers on the ice insistently in a rapid frequency that leaves the Guardians to stare in wonder. Whatever words are being said are muted, nothing but faint whispers that wisp by too fast to understand. Sanderson watches each reaction the youngest spirit has, his eyebrows furrowing while concern overcomes his face.

Jack’s breath hitches in his throat and he steps back, away from the too bright, too cold beams of light and nearly slips on his own ice, mouth-hanging open.

A voice ripples out of the shadows, “You truly have gone insane, haven’t you, Tsar?” The Guardian’s twist their heads to meet the lanky Nightmare King as he moves from the inky darkness. The Moon’s light ripples in irritation, only causing a scoff, “I am hardly at fault, do not try pointing fingers to me. You made this my business the second you abandoned your boy.”

“What are you talking about? What’s going on?” The Tooth Fairy asks boldly, taking to the air again after the ice has been removed from her wings.

For now ignoring Toothiana the elder spirit steps beside the winter sprite, one hand reaching out to grab trembling one. “Jack.” The boy shakes his head with his lip caught between his teeth, indenting the fragile skin. “Look at me.” Gently he lifts the hand up to his mouth, kissing every chilled knuckle before intertwining their fingers together.

“He wants me to be alone.” The sound of shattering ice echoes through the room.

Pitch presses his lips into a line then glares harshly towards the Moon over his shoulder before turning his attention back onto the distressed boy. “You’re not anymore.” He soothes, other hand lifting up to brush back white locks, stroking and untangling them.

Blue eyes meet silvery ones as the boy states, “But if you hadn’t found me, I would be.” Rage races through the Nightmare King at this thought, his eyes briefly closing to fight down the fire burning in his pupils. Once eye contact has been broken, Jack leans forward to rest his head against the elder’s shoulder, free hand grabbing onto black robes to keep from sinking onto the floor.

“Tell us what is going on, Pitch.” The voice of Nicholas St. North reminds him that they are not alone or even in a familiar place.

“You still haven’t told them, old friend. Secrets were always your strong suit.” He mutters, gaze trained onto the winter spirit and easing him.

The rabbit snaps, finally struggling out from the ice that pinned him to the wall, “Someone better start telling us what the hell is going on!” A boomerang is pointed at the elder spirit and his companion, “Well!? Come on then!” Sandy punches the Pooka’s knee and when Bunnymund hisses in pain, the small man snatches up the weapon.

Above the Moon is silent for a few seconds then weakly glints above in a plea, one that will not be answered.

With a sigh, golden eyes at last turn towards the idiotic Guardians, “Since your idol refuses to tell you, I will.” Instantly the moonlight flashes, becoming both too bright and too dim all in the same second as Pitch goes on, “Jack Frost isn’t merely some spirit everyone of you have ignored for over a century.” He looks back towards the broken windows in the ceiling, “Your beloved Moon brought him back to life. Making Jack his son.”

Stillness overcomes the Guardians, other than Sandy though his expression turns guilty. “No, that... That can’t be right.” Horror rings in Toothiana’s voice as dainty hands cover her lips. Purple eyes turn up as well, “Manny, is it true?”

Wind rushes back through the room, even surprising the Nightmare King as the young spirit twists around, eyes blazing towards the silent being, “Why even give me life, or a name if you were never going to talk to me again?”

At first there is nothing, moonbeams completely silent causing crippling disappointment in Jack. He shakes his head though before he can say anything else something rushes through his mind. The moonlight starts shimmering again, desperately, chaotically shifting from vivid to muted.

However it only serves to further confuse and frustrated him, “Then how did Pitch find me if you planned on never telling anyone!?”

Rather than the Moon speaking, the spirit in question lightly puts a hand onto the younger’s shoulder, “Tsar could always keep secrets unless I was involved, Jack.” The sentence in the Nightmare King’s throat dies away and he raises a fine eyebrow at the response from the Moon. “Is that so. I find it difficult to believe that you would grant me any favors. Especially of such tremendous value.” However above the Moon merely gives one last conformation before going completely silent, unable to spare any more energy.

“Pitch, what did he say?”

Reaching out, he gently slips his fingers onto the boy’s face, tilting it upwards, “I will tell you. Just not here in front of these idiots.” A thoughtful look crosses his face, ignoring the sputtered insult that comes out of the Easter Bunny, “You told me you trusted me, did you not?”

Jack blinks, the frustration and pain are pushed away for now instead becoming bewildered, “You already know that I do.” This is all the Nightmare King needs and carefully cups pale cheeks before pressing his lips against soft ones. Eyes grow large at such an action, the winter spirit’s breath caught in his throat at the searing heat.

Instantly cheeks burn fiercely, blue spreading down his neck and suddenly everything is too warm for the spirit, his fingers twitching at his sides. He can only stare widely into molten gold eyes that have too many emotions and heat and passion all piercing through him, leaving Jack dizzy yet aching for more.

He is being kissed.

Something that he has seen humans done more than once, understands the basic mechanics into making it happen yet it is so intense. All fire and electricity racing through his being that lingers even as Pitch pulls away.

It only lasted a few seconds, and other spirit stares in shock, mouths gapping open minus Sandy who grins.

Yet, suddenly, everything feels okay.

Chapter Text

The Nightmare King strains his ears to hear the next whisper, “Can we go home…?”

What had once been unfamiliar warmth settles deeply into his bones at from the soft sentence. Still needing to be certain – and show the Guardians how idiotic they are – he asks, “Are you certain there’s nothing else you want to tell them, Jack?”

A pause, then deep blue eyes turn towards the spirits that still watch with gapping mouths before the winter sprite snaps tiredly, “Do any of you see yet?” Pitch loosens his grip on the smaller being so Jack can face them though keeps one hand on a shoulder, massaging the tense muscles.

North steps forward, “Still you not understand, friend. He will turn on you.” Instantly the wind rushes through the room bitterly, stinging the Guardian’s cheeks and exposed skin. The shadows in the corners hiss and writhe in sympathy towards the irritation the winter spirit feels.

“All of you do nothing but assume and judge.” There is a shake of the head and pale hands clench hard around an aged staff, “What will it take before you see that Pitch is nothing but amazing to me?” Tiredness drips off each sentence and the eldest spirit carefully pulls his companion against his chest. Thankfully the boy goes without much protest only throwing an exhausted look over his shoulder.

The Tooth Fairy is the one to find her voice though it is barely a squeak, “We’re not bad people.” Her hands wring together and she nervously looks around to her fellow friends, lip caught in her teeth. Opening her mouth, she tries grasping for another sentence however nothing leaves her throat.

Frowning, Jack examines each Guardian before dismissing them instead turning into Pitch’s cloak, muttering, “I never said any of you are. None of you are bad, but you’re not really good either.” Grey fingers reach up and brush through soft hair, petting down the messy strands.

“I believe that’s enough.”

Again the Guardian of Wonder takes a step, voice firm, “It will never be enough. Not when you have Manny’s-“

Golden eyes blaze, needles filling his mouth at such a sentence, one that Pitch cuts off, “Do not attempt to put any blame on me. I’ve done nothing that has made Jack uncomfortable or unhappy, unlike yourselves.” Before he can go on a cold palm shyly trails over his cheek, one that melts away the dark look brewing in his eyes as he meets a blue gaze.
Jack says softly, “Please Pitch, let’s go home.”

For now pushing back the frustration towards the clueless spirits, he nods and replies, “Of course.” With that he pulls the boy closer and steps back, shadows blanketing them both in front of their still shell-shocked audience.

Though it merely takes five minutes or less to find the twisting labyrinth, Jack is practically dead weight. Without a thought the elder eases his guest along until he finds one of his favorite rooms.

Bookshelves line most of the walls and in the middle sits a large bed that is raised higher than normal above the ground. Blankets and pillows sit on the bed and underneath it. Something that startles a laugh from the boy – the sound nearing hysteria, “You sleep under the bed?” Pitch lets the corner of his mouth tilt upwards.

Nodding, he asks, “Occasionally I will find myself under it. Fitting, is it not?” He does not let go of the slim body until Jack sits on the soft mattress. Once certain the winter spirit is comfortable, he slides back and folds his arms behind him.

“What did the Moon tell you?”

While he expects the question, the answer is not simple, “He anticipated us meeting at some point though he didn’t expect me to take you in. As I said before, Tsar has never been good at keeping secrets from me.” Jack frowns before moving to the center of the bed, fingers feeling the textures of cool blankets and black pillows.

For a moment the boy is distracted as pale hands pat and trace light designs of frost into the fabrics until he collapses against the pillows. “But he kept me a secret from everyone else. Didn’t even let Sandy talk or wave to me…”

Pitch presses his lips together into a thin line.

The brief conversation with the Moon replays in his head, remembering the desperation in his old friend’s voice. Desperate to have him understand the reasoning behind breathing life into the winter spirit before him.

How badly Tsar has wished and yearned for a son, a piece of him to be on this world when he is but a withered husk.

Perhaps out of paranoia or wariness with the much younger spirits and Guardians, he did not trust any with Jack, found none of them worthy. Did not trust them to keep his son happy or safe or understand the boy’s worth.

Shaking himself from his thoughts and clearing his throat, the elder states, “You’re no longer alone.” This earns him a shaky laugh and a tired smile.

“Yeah… You’re right, I’m not.” Suddenly the spirit perks up a little and moves over on the bed, cheeks tinting blue as he motions to the bed. “Stop standing like that, sit down.”

“You need sleep more than anything else right now, I’ll be taking my leave soon-”

Jack frowns and blurts out, “But do you have to?” His fingers begin plucking at the blankets, “I just,” the younger shifts and sighs, “After hearing that the Moon hoped I’d be alone for…ever, actually being alone is the last thing I want right now.”

The older spirit examines him then replies, “I understand.” He sits next to the spirit, hesitating then swinging his legs onto the bed and leaning against the headboard. Slowly the winter spirit moves closer though freezes when golden eyes lock onto blue ones. “You should know that I don’t mind this.” Barely he is able to get out the words before Jack curls against him, trembling hands fisting into his black robe.

A head finds his shoulder, chilled breath brushing along grey skin though the Nightmare King does not flinch. Wrapping one arm around the thin body and pulling the younger closer has Jack growing more confident. The boy nestles against him, one arm sprawling over his chest, other hand caught in his cloak. A bare foot meekly slides over his lower leg, “I’m happy it’s you who found me, Pitch.”

Raising an eyebrow and tracing patterns into the winter spirit’s cloak, he asks, “Do you now?” Golden eyes burn through the darkness, curiously looking at the smaller being tucked into his side.

“You’re better than anyone else. Better than anyone I’ve ever hoped would talk to me.”

Pitch cannot help the smile coming onto his face, pulling his companion closer and brushes his lips over cool white locks, “Thank you, Jack. I’m pleased to hear that you find I’m a worthy suitor.”

Abruptly eyes find his and a sleepy, mischievous smile forms, “Well if I’m royalty that means I should get the best right? And you are the Nightmare King.” The boy swallows then boldly leans up, lips clumsily brushing over his mouth, just tracing along the corner and lower lip before hiding back into the folds of the older spirit’s neck and robe.

Blinking repeatedly, Pitch stares at his guest’s hair before chuckling. “So you believe that I’m the best. How kind of you to say, my Prince.”

Chapter Text

Lying half propped up on the bed, Pitch scans an ancient book in one hand while his other runs through white hair. Fingers twitch in his cloak, cool breath brushing along his neck, Jack barely stirring by his side. It is nearing the afternoon but his companion has yet to woken. Between the arguing and talk with the Guardians and the Moon, the man is hardly surprised.

Though the book is meant to keep him occupied as the boy slumbers on, it does little to help instead his mind swirls around what Tsar said. Truly the Nightmare King has no idea if the once radiant being has finally succumbed to pure paranoia and crippling insanity or if an ulterior motive lies hidden.

The wish for the winter sprite to be alone for an eternity is beyond cruel.

Golden eyes glint in the darkness, closing the book with a sigh. He puts down the tome onto the nightstand next to a bowl before turning his attention back onto the spirit. His old friend did plea for one thing though.

Instead of trusting or looking to the Guardians, the Moon asked him, the Nightmare King, to take care of Jack Frost.

A thought that is shocking and confusing in itself.

Somehow he has gained the permission from the Man in the Moon to tend to his child’s needs.

It sends such a rush of pure pleasure through him that he is being entrusted with the boy who settles so easily by his side. While there is a lingering fear within his companion of being abandoned, it is smaller now. Barely noticeable unlike weeks and months ago where it wafted about the air consistently.

Thoughts are broken at soft grumbling from the winter spirit. Jack stirs and tries moving into a different position though it proves difficult with his hands caught in the other’s cloak. An unhappy noise fills the air then half-lidded blue eyes blink blearily, head lifting up enough to meet Pitch’s golden gaze. A frown comes onto his guest’s face, voice riddled with sleep, “Do you ever sleep?” The sprite pauses to yawn and pulls back, hands fighting against the cloth they are tangled in, “How long have you been awake? You didn’t have to stay in here with me.”

“I’ve only been in an aware state for an hour. As for your other question, I can sleep however I prefer meditating.” Jack hums, head bobbing in acknowledgement and sits up, yawning, “Did you have a good rest?” The elder spirit reaches out, fingers brushing through tangled locks.

Nodding once more, the boy rubs at his eyes while stretching out his legs until they drape over the Nightmare King’s knees. “Yeah.” Slowly he becomes more awake; “It was refreshing after dealing with everyone.”

Before he can reply a sudden rumble leaves the winter spirit’s stomach and instantly pale cheeks tint blue. Jack ducks his head with a whispered apology. One that is unneeded. “There’s no shame in being hungry, Jack. I expected you to be.” Turning to the nightstand he plucks a pear from the bowl.

“That wasn’t there when I went to sleep.” His companion comments, taking the fruit that is offered.

The Nightmare King replies, “It wasn’t.”

Jack examines him while biting into the crisp pear, his eyes fluttering shut for a few seconds as he chews, smiling at the sweet flavor. A curious gaze focuses back onto the elder spirit after devouring over half of the fruit, “Wait, do you mean that you got this for me?” The corner of Pitch’s mouth tilts up and he has to suppress a chuckle.

Calmly he states, “Of course, after the stress of earlier I figured you would be famished.” Leaning further onto the pillows, Pitch continues, “You are in my presence and care, Jack, I would never allow you to starve.” Since being around the vast labyrinth he has noticed that the boy has yet to create another snowball to eat in place of actual food. Something he is pleased to see.

Blinking and ducking his head, the boy nibbles along the fruit. “Do you think the Guardians will come back around?”

“Possibly however I expect not for at least a week or so.” The winter spirit pauses in eating and opens his mouth but hesitates, instead going back to the pear. A thin eyebrow rises, Pitch touching a thin shoulder, “What is it?” Before he can pull away, pale fingers wrap around his palm.

It is not until the pear is completely gone, even the seeds are eaten that cause a frown though the elder resists commenting, that Jack asks, “Why do you think the Moon wants me to be alone?” Blue eyes meet his and the grip tightens on his palm, the boy biting his lip nervously.

Intertwining their fingers together the reply is simple, “Though he never said, it’s possible he would rather you to not be influenced by any other spirit.” This only has the boy’s brow furrowing with his lips turning down as he keeps going, “Or he thought that nobody would be able to give you the attention or affection you need or deserve.”

Annoyance fills in blue eyes and the sprite shakes his head, “It doesn’t really matter. You’re here for me… Right?” Faint fear twinges in the air, the taste too bitter on the Nightmare King’s tongue.

“No matter how many times you ask or the different ways you reword that question, the answer remains the same.”

At first his companion stares, facial expression frozen in surprise. Then slowly a bright smile forms on pale lips, the sleepiness gone and replaced with giddiness. “Okay.” Jack suddenly lets out a laugh and the sound is carefree, reckless, so much better than the fragileness there had been mere hours ago. “Okay!” Wind rushes through the room and the boy jumps up, “We should do something. I don’t know what but something fun and thrilling and exciting.”

“Oh? And what do you have in mind?” Pitch watches the sprite caught in the breeze, bare feet never touching the carpet. The winter spirit practically vibrates in the air.

“I have no idea!” Delighted eyes peer into his, “I just, I’m so happy right now.” Standing up, the elder watches in faint amusement and content at the gleeful look Jack has. “Even if the Guardians try to say more stupid things and the Moon is confusing, it doesn’t matter.” The boy trembles, nodding firmly as he finds his staff and swings it, “Because you’re here, and you’re not going anywhere, and I’m not going anywhere. So… So that means everything is fine!” The wind whisks his companion about.

The Nightmare King agrees, saying simply, “Yes, everything is more than fine.” Just as Jack rushes past the man reaches out and catches him, firmly holding the thin frame. Jack twists in his grip with a grin, cheeks gaining more color as laughter fills the room, the sound so crisp and vibrant.

Too blue eyes find his, the boy beaming, “You caught me.”

“It seems I did. I didn’t realize it was a game.”

Jack stills in his arms and Pitch cannot resist leaning down, lips almost brushing against a pale cheek when the winter spirit frees himself, wind sweeping him away, “Okay we can do that! You were the one who suggested we play a game!” The winter spirit grins before he disappears through the doorway, leaving the Nightmare King to hold nothing.

Slowly his lips pull back into a sharp-toothed smile, eyes glinting before he follows bouncing laughter, intent on catching the frost child.

Chapter Text

“What is this?” Barely he has taken two steps into his labyrinth when a certain winter spirit comes into his vision. A single white flower is clutched in pale fingers as Jack holds it up.

Raising an eyebrow, Pitch replies with his own question, “Do you dislike it?”

This has eyes widening and instantly the younger draws the flower against his chest, “No!” Instantly blue tints along his cheeks and the sprite shifts on his feet before adding softly, “I do like it, I wasn’t expecting it.” His fingers play with the soft petals that do not welt underneath his cool touch.

Neatly folding his arms behind his back, the Nightmare King suppresses a smile and bows in a late greeting, “I felt you deserved a token from me.” He moves around the spirit who drifts after him, the wind cradling his body.

Jack presses his lips together, “Token? Like a token of affection or respect?”

“All of those and more.”

The blunt sentence has cheeks burning as the boy ducks his head. “T-Thanks.” Pitch smiles but keeps his golden gaze forward, not wanting to further fluster his companion. From the corner of his eye he examines the fully bloomed flower, one of the few that can withstand frost to some degree.

A white chrysanthemum.

The meaning of the flower ranges from compassion and joy to love and trust.

A perfect representation for the feelings he finds himself beginning to harbor towards the winter spirit.

Never in his years did the Nightmare King think he would actually recall, and use lessons the Man in the Moon taught him centuries ago. Things that he only learned to humor his old friend, half paying attention when the man would ramble on and on. Vaguely he remembers listening and scoffing at Tsar whenever the being would talk about flower meanings, constellations, proper courting and other seemingly pointless things.

Yet with Jack Frost, he finds himself digging for long buried memories to be someone the boy could view as a respectable suitor.

His eyes refocus onto Jack when fingers brush along his shoulder. Beaming, the sprite moves in front of him, fingers leaving frost designs, “It’s really nice.” With a nod, Pitch pauses then reaches out to cup a blue cheek though goes no further instead waiting. At first there is no reaction, the spirit swallowing and peering into his eyes before slowly smaller fingers cover his. Content with this position, the elder lets his other hand wander up and brush through white locks.

“If you enjoy it so much then I’ll be leaving more gifts about for you.” Tilting his head with a smirk he adds, “Perhaps make a game out of it for you since you’re so fond of those.” A bright laugh fills the air.

Within the past few weeks since the first time they played chase, the once simplistic game has quickly expanded outside of the labyrinth. Between snow days and terrifying nights, the few hours where children do not need to be frightened or entertained, the boy often requests for a game. One where the wind will sweep up its favorite winter spirit and carries him swiftly across mountains, rivers and oceans, laughter echoing in the early morning. All the while Pitch will follow after, hidden in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to pluck his companion from the north wind.

Though he prefers not to admit it, even the Nightmare King cannot deny the enjoyment of hunting and capturing the sprite. Especially when the younger is being difficult, barely lingering in one country before speeding to another, feet never once touching the ground.

His thoughts are broken as Jack says full heartily, “I can’t deny that. I do like games.” Golden eyes blink then look at the boy who nuzzles into his palm.

“By now I know you do.” He tilts his head then inquires, “How was your last blizzard in Canada?”

A pout forms at the reminder of winter leaving for spring to rush in, the Easter Bunny no doubt eager for his holiday to come finally. “The kids really seemed to like it. I might be able to stir up a few more snow clouds but not many.” Cool fingers trace along grey skin, almost pulling a shiver from the elder.

He raises an eyebrow at this, noting a sort of melancholy look coming over the boy’s face, “In other words until it is time for winter in the southern hemisphere, you don’t have much to do right now.”

Letting out a sigh and a nod, gaze turning towards the flower in his grasp, the sprite says, “I can still make it snow in a few mountain ranges and way up north but that’s about it for right now.” His lips pull up into smile, fragileness shimmering in too blue eyes, “Unlike some people, I’m not needed all the time by the kids.”

“Perhaps not year around when it comes to the children. They still look forward to your return do not simply write yourself off, Jack.” The Nightmare King pauses, lips pressing together before he continues carefully, free hand folding behind him once more, “However do not assume your presence is unwelcomed around me.” Just the thought of not being in the winter spirit’s presence is unsettling.

The boy blinks, staring before the smile turns brighter, face lighting up, “You mean that?”

With a fond headshake, Pitch starts a sentence but is cut off. Arms wrap around his neck and suddenly lips press against his in a reckless kiss. Heat rushes throughout even though the lips are cool on his own.

After a second he wraps one arm around the smaller spirit and brushes back white hair. Carefully returning the affection, he tries to keep it soft, a mere touching of their lips. However the fingers gently rubbing the back of his neck has him pressing closer and deepening the kiss. Teeth nibble on soft flesh then chases the small hurt away with his tongue, an action that has the boy trembling and nearly whimpering.

He does not push further instead continuing to trace the chapped lips that hold the fresh flavor of ice and sweet innocence. Jack practically falls against him, eyes fluttering shut, fingers weakly scratching against his robe collar. Keeping his companion up, the Nightmare King pulls him closer before pulling back.

Gasping for air, the winter spirit remains against his chest, body shuddering while grey fingers run soothing circles against a blue cloak. For a moment Pitch worries he has pushed too far, brow furrowing and lips pressed together into a thin line. “Why… Why was this kiss so different from last time? This time felt better.” With those words that worry disappears, the elder chuckling lowly.

“There are different ways of kissing. I don’t want to rush you or cause discomfort.” Jack looks up, cheeks flushed and lips tinting blue as hands trail from his neck to clutch at his shoulders. Somehow the flower remains perfectly in tact, still cradled in cold fingers.

“But… We can do it again right?”

The Nightmare King stares at the spirit before smiling widely and saying simply, “As many times as you want.”

Chapter Text

Soft skin brushes against his lips and fingers curl on his shoulders, the pressure just enough to wake the Nightmare King. Opening one eye, he finds a nervous gaze that instantly jerks away. Blue overcomes white cheeks, “Sorry I just…” The rest of the sentence dies away and Jack ducks his head, fingers slipping from their place on his shoulders.

Golden eyes scan the room to find that the fireplace is still crackling and the book on his lap has been moved off to the side. Everything is as it should be minus the bashful spirit sitting next to him.

After finishing his examination the elder finishes, “Wanted a kiss.”

The boy bites his lip though nods, eyes darting off to the side, “I didn’t think you would wake up.”

Barely able to press back a chuckle at the endearing words, Pitch closes his eyes and replies, “Then pretend you didn’t.” At first nothing happens as he expects, the winter sprite though reckless is always painfully hesitant. Perhaps from his inexperience or due to not really knowing what to do or how to proceed, he is always unsure.

Before Pitch can say anything else though the skin is back on his mouth, fingers clenching in his robe. Lips quiver and the younger nearly pulls away, cool breath spreading on grey skin in uneven breaths. However Jack either gains confidence or determination and once more presses closer, a shy tongue peeking out to trace his bottom lip. It is clumsy and lacks any actual finesse though the Nightmare King would not have it any other manner.

Since it is perfection in the best way.

Unable to keep the act of ‘being asleep’ any longer, Pitch runs a hand through white hair. Instead of jerking away like he expects the boy presses closer, nearly crawling on top of him. Reclining back against the couch and wrapping his other arm around a thin waist, he waits for any uncertain or unhappy reaction.

When all he gets in return is his companion’s arms wrapping around his neck, he continues, carefully. He parts his lips and sweeps his tongue over a much cooler one, an action that nearly has Jack reeling back with a surprised sound, mouth firmly closing to hide away the shy tongue. Not going any further, patient, Pitch waits for a sign to either break the kiss or continue.

Seconds tick by before tension slowly drains from the sprite’s body, the fingers gripping jet-black hair relaxing and the boy does not try pulling away.

The Nightmare King turns his head just a bit and gently urges chapped lips apart again with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Jack goes along, at first tentative but grows bolder, feeling his way and mimicking the fleeting touches Pitch shows him. Soon enough the boy meets his tongue rather than shying away.

It could only be a handful of moments or days before the winter spirit pulls back with a gasp, eyes large. Cool breaths brush along grey cheeks, neither saying anything instead merely peering into each other’s eyes.

Pale fingers untangle from cropped hair to drift down and trace the elder’s face, going over cheekbones, thin eyebrows and around eyes that shimmer silver. “We need to do that more often.” The words said so surely causes a quiet chuckle, one that has cheeks gaining a deeper blue while a pout forms, “You should have told me that’s why humans always kiss. I don’t see why they don’t do it all day.”

“Well they do have other things to do such as tend to their children, eat and sleep. They’re not like us, Jack.” Still, the reaction is not what he expects instead it is so much better. “You enjoy it that much?”

He bites his lip and looks off to the side, for an instant looking uncertain before it melts away, the words rushing from his mouth, “It’s hard not to. It makes me feel,” a pause and white eyebrows draw down as the younger searches for how he wants to end the sentence, “close to you. I think that’s the best way to describe it.” Barely able to keep from shivering at such a sentence, Pitch lets the corner of his lips tilt up.

Lowly he asks, “It does now?” At the nod, the shadows around the walls flicker and lazily spread across the room, something that catches his guest’s eye.

The winter child laughs, still breathless though there is a glow in his gaze, one that the larger spirit hopes he put there, “I can see you’re pleased with that thought.” He lifts a hand and waves about the room, “Your shadows seem pretty happy with me saying that.”

Pitch does not even try to appear guilty or deny the fact instead pointing out calmly, “Shadows are just as much part of me, as ice is part of you. They tend to… React to my feelings.”

“Trust me I know.” Jack smiles widely as he makes himself comfort on the Nightmare King’s lap, “They like to dance whenever you’re peeved or angry.” Shaking his head fondly the elder shrugs.

He replies, “I don’t know about dancing but they do move, I will admit to that.” Naturally the boy is playful, still giddy from their kiss even as he shakes his head with a grin.

“No, they dance. You just don’t want to say it.”

Sighing though amusement flashes in his eyes, he reaches up and wraps long fingers around the hand tracing his ear. “Whatever you say, Jack.” Lightly stroking the back of Jack’s hand, Pitch cannot keep from brushing kisses along soft knuckles,.

A frown forms and the boy tries tugging his hand away, “It’s hard to argue with you when you just end the argument.”

“I don’t know if we can call that an argument. A disagreement perhaps.” With another chuckle, he questions, “Are you saying would prefer to argue over small things?” Intertwining their fingers, he watches in amusement as his companion huffs then sends small frost designs along grey skin.

The younger tries keeping a face straight, attempts looking annoyed though the blush on pale cheeks and the tiniest of smiles can be seen. “Maybe? It seems like it could be fun.” His brow furrows at the lips once more kissing the top of his knuckles, color flaring up on his face again, “What is it about my hands that you like?”

An interesting question, one that the Nightmare King is not entirely sure how to answer though nonetheless responds, “I like your hands. They’re soft.” His eyes focus back onto blue ones, “Don’t tell me there’s a crime against that, Jack. You’ll simply break my heart.”

Blinking the boy scoffs though that bright look on his face never disappears, “Fine, I guess there really isn’t a crime against it. I wouldn’t want to break your heart.” Suddenly a curious look comes into his gaze, “You do have one right? The Easter Bunny kept telling me you didn’t.” The shadows let out a quiet hiss at the name.

Patient and pushing aside the anger for the mentioned Guardian, the man says honestly, “Buried somewhere in me, yes. For sometime I wasn’t sure if it existed anymore. Until now of course.”

“What made you sure it was there?” Jack tilts his head to the side and firmly grips the hand in his grasp.

The answer should be difficult for the Nightmare King.

However it is so easy to, the words flowing off his tongue, “You came along of course.” The dazzling smile he receives in reply will always be one of his favorites.

Chapter Text

Though it is the ‘off’ season for Jack and he cannot quite make large snow yet, either too warm or too soon for some regions, the boy finds ways of entertaining himself. Mostly by following after the Nightmare King to scare children or play in the deep forests and vast tundra of Siberia or Canada.

However due to a nasty run in with a Wendigo – savage beasts that once were human though driven insane and twisted into something terrifying – Pitch keeps the winter spirit close. The faint wounds have healed yet the elder cannot quite allow his companion to go off on his own just yet. Not when fear of losing Jack still clings in his chest like a tumor.

Thankfully the sprite does not mind and stays for the most part in the man’s gaze once they end up in Europe. Occasionally Jack darts off with a laugh, the wind begging for games that he cannot resist. Never is the boy gone for long, always drifting back with a bright laugh, eyes shining in the moonless night as Pitch urges nightmares in the little villages.

No words are spoken, the silence too comfortable, too calming to be fully broken by voices.
So it is only to be expected that outsiders ruin such an atmosphere.

Really, it is almost clockwork that the Guardians decide to poke their noses back into the Nightmare King’s business and duties. On a night when he is at his best at that, a fact that sends sparks of delight down his spine.

Either unable, or unwilling, to allow more than a month of peace for Pitch and his companion, the four show up just as Jack’s bare feet touch the ground near a hut.

“Could you be anymore cliché, mate? Do you really have to spread fear in a place that’s called the Black Forest?”

Golden eyes turn onto the Easter Bunny who stands with Toothiana fluttering anxiously beside him. Hovering in the air on a cloud of golden sand is the oldest Guardian with Nicholas St. North beside him, large arms folded over his chest. “Every place needs fear. Why are you here?” Jack answers, fingers tightening around his staff.

North ignores the question instead unsheathing one of his sabers. “Pitch prove your abilities to take care of boy.”

Narrowing his gaze, the elder spirit steps away from the hut window and folds his arms behind his back, “I believe I already have.” Still the thought of fighting the Guardian’s leader has such appeal that it makes grey palms itch.

“No. Show to me strength or we will take Jack.”

All around shadows hiss at such a threat, one that has the subject of the conversation shifting and glaring, “I wouldn’t go with any of you.”

The Nightmare King purses his lips, taking in the formal dress that the man wears. From the rich red and golden coat to the ornate blades, the handmade fur hat all cause his brow to furrow. Slowly he tries figuring out the reasoning behind this sudden challenge and the formal clothes.

It is the rabbit that clicks the final pieces together; “I told you that you’re crazier than a bloody galah! Wanting to fight Pitch for some tradition or whatever you want to call it is insane!” Golden eyes stare between the two Guardians then pupils become slits.

Slowly, to keep from chuckling, he says, “You want me to fight you for the sake of your traditions, North.” At the sight of a firm nod has him rolling his eyes, “I have not taken the step you believe I have.” Yet being tested for his strength to insure that he is qualified to be with Jack is too amusing to pass up.

The Russian tradition in question calls for testing suitors, to see if they are good enough for their chosen lover, a term he cannot quite call Jack, not yet. If not up to par then the family of said lover could and will take them away from the suitor in question. The only chance to earn them back is to demonstrate skills, intelligence, or strength.

“I don’t believe the custom in question applies to Jack or yourselves.” He tilts his head to the side, “After all none of you are his family.”

Beside him, the boy frowns and asks, “What are you talking about, Pitch?” Confusion clings to each word.

The Russian points his blade, “Manny cannot be here to do it so I will.”

Thin lips turn up until sharp teeth are exposed in the chilly air, “Even though I have already been given permission by Tsar to take care of Jack?”

“North, I don’t know if this is such a good idea.” Toothiana finally speaks up, her hands wringing in front of her with a worried look.

When the man does not even look away, the Nightmare King chuckles and turns to his companion. He reaches out and cups a pale cheek, gently rubbing the skin, “He wants to see if I am good enough for you. However, it is your decision on if you want me to take up this challenge. We can go home if you wish.” The boy blinks then glances back towards the Guardians before huffing and nuzzling into his palm.

The reply is quick, “I really don’t care.” A small smile tugs onto his face, “If you want to then don’t let me stop you.” Jack presses a soft kiss in the center of a grey palm before stepping back.

Seeing that there will be no protest and that the winter spirit does not mind, Pitch lets black sand pour between his hands. Within seconds a large scythe rests in his palms and he slashes it in the air once then twice. The weapon feels right, heavy and deadly, and he smirks, flashing sharp teeth at the Guardian.

Not even a moment later, North jumps down from the golden cloud, slashing out with both sabers at the Nightmare King. Metal clashes harshly together, the scythe deflecting the blows then swinging out, tip of the curved blade nicking a round cheek. Blood trickles from the cut though the Guardian shows no sign of slowing down instead fighting back.

He does not school the pure glee he feels, dodging and parrying each strike. Drawing out this brawl is what he should do. However at the surprised noise that comes from the sprite, a hitching of breath has golden eyes snapping to the boy. Breathing in through his mouth, there is no true taste of fear instead a look of surprise, just maybe awe, has taken over Jack’s features.

Reeling in a smirk and the urge to preen Pitch ducks neatly then slams the blunt side of his scythe into the man’s back. North barely stumbles and spins around with his saber ready, nearly cutting into a black robe.

Words are pointless, both letting their weapons do their talking. Shadows dance and flicker in the faint starlight, growing fiercer with every sound of swords meeting the black scythe. Those not in the fight shift on their feet, the Easter Bunny constantly tensing while Toothiana bites her lip and flinches with each sound. Jack watches the gracefulness of the Nightmare King, each way he twists and practically dances to keep from getting wounded.

After a few more moments, long minutes that tick by for everyone except the fighters, the elder spirit finally has enough. With a wide grin, he jumps back to avoid the reach of the sabers and swings his own. The curved blade catches the fine coat, cutting through it better than butter. Hardly missing a beat, he steps closer and turns his body just right to gain more momentum in the next slash, this time hitting North with the blunt end.

Grunting and losing his footing, the Guardian ends up on the ground and the Nightmare King stands over him, scythe tip grazing the jugular. “I could kill you right now.” All breathing stops as Bunnymund edges closer with his weapon ready, “Do well to remember that.” Eyes that shimmer silver, “All of you.”

The threat rings in the crisp air as he steps away, scythe still pointed towards the downed man until he stands next to Jack. Pale fingers manage to pry one of his hands from the weapon, intertwining them together. “Don’t assume we won’t be watching or seeing how you treat Jack.” For a long moment there is silence after the words, the large spirit picking himself up with an unreadable expression on his face.

Finally the youngest spirit mutters, gripping his staff harder, “I am right here. Even if Pitch didn’t win, I still wouldn’t go with any of you.”

There is a scoff from the Pooka, “Mate, you really have no idea how crazy you sound, do you?” He says no more though, stepping closer towards the Sandman when shadows shift closer to him.

“Crazy or not, I choose Pitch!” The wind screams in their ears, rustling branches and ripping off leaves.

Warmth rushes through the Nightmare King’s mind at such an exclamation, scythe melting away into fine sand that is blown away. Using his free arm, he wraps it around a thin waist and kisses the top of white locks. “Now that I’ve humored you and your pointless customs-”

Toothiana flutters closer with wide eyes that are directed on the frost child, “You would let us know if he’s hurting you… Right? If you were in any sort of trouble?”

A frown forms, the sprite glaring and replying icily, “He wouldn’t and even if he did, I would take care of myself like I always have.” Her hopeful look falls instantly, wings drooping, and all the Guardians manage some form of guilt on their face.

Content with the reaction, Pitch turns his eyes onto his companion, leaning down to ask, “Do you wish to go now?”

“Please.” He cannot keep from smiling at the spirits who watch helplessly, teeth clear, eyes glinting.

Reminding them just how cruel they are. For all their talks of protecting children and bringing joy they have failed their idol’s own son.

Calmly he says, “Of course, Jack.” Bringing up a small hand, he brushes his lips against soft knuckles then blankets himself and his companion in velvety shadows.

Chapter Text

Years tick by much too fast, faster than they ever have before for the Nightmare King. Instead of the sluggish and uninteresting years that he is used to, they rush by. With Jack Frost being by his side each moment is never dull.

Always full of life, something he doubts will ever fade away.

Just one of the many things he adores about the Child of the Moon.

Whatever fear the boy had of rejection or being alone has been almost completely been shoved from Jack’s mind, only showing up occasionally. The last time he fully tasted it had been when the Guardians were involved.

Something that the Nightmare King loves rubbing in their face and thriving at the fact the spirit they should have protected from day one is his. Rather than finding contentment or safety in the light, the winter child prefers the dark. A fact that according to the Sandman still leaves a bitter taste in his fellow Guardian’s mouths, especially North’s.

Without the constant annoyance of the Guardians who have finally stopped storming about demanding for Jack, things become easier. Though there is an occasional visit while spreading nightmares and fear, it is never for long and only to see how well his companion is doing. Only Sanderson dares to come near his labyrinth and that is only if the frost child is about.

It has been nearly half a century since he discovered Jack Frost and the boy has dragged him out to enjoy the clear autumn air. The Moon is clear in the velvet sky, shining as Pitch admires the sky near the tiny village he first found Jack. The residents curl up in their homes early to leave the chilly wind. Winter is not due for another good month but that has never stopped his companion. The boy currently entertains himself by sliding along the pond, adding just enough ice to the cool water to slip and be pushed about by the wind.

Sitting against one of the larger trees, the elder watches with a bemused look before going back to the object in his grasp. One fingernail sharpens into a pointed tip that he uses to trace fine and careful lines on the side of dark metal. He glances up every few moments to track where the sprite is but soon the piece of metal in his grasp gains his entire focus.

After a few minutes of silence, carefree laugh fills the air then fingers dance along his shoulders, “What are you working on, Pitch?”

He does not respond right away instead insuring that there is symmetry in the lines and the gem is perfectly center. Once he has added a few more lines, he looks up and meets curious blue eyes, “It’s for you.”

“Really, what is it?” Jack stands in front of him, head tilted to the side and eyes wide with curiosity. The Nightmare King lightly blows against the metal, looks it over once then reaches up, slipping the jewelry onto a long ring finger.

Leaning forward, lips press on each joint and knuckle, thumb stroking fingertips, “A symbol of my devotion for you.” A sharp intake is the first response, pale lips parting in shock.

Jack stares at the ring sitting on his left hand, blinking before pulling away to peer at the metal properly. Bright eyes trace curved and swirling lines spreading out from a circular crimson stone in the middle of ebony metal. The jewel shimmers in the moonlight, pure red with tiny traces of blue. “Wow...”

With a chuckle, the elder stands and explains, “In a few days it will be the fifty year anniversary of when we met. I felt a gift was appropriate.”

“You didn’t need to do that.”

Pitch lets the corner of his mouth tilt up, still holding onto the hand in his grasp while his free fingers reach up to brush against a light colored cheek. “I wanted to. You deserve it after all.” At first there is no reaction, the winter spirit blinking repeatedly, a frozen statue against his palm. Slowly awe fills his companion’s face, mouth falling open in surprise then a grin forms.

Arms fling around his neck and an excited voice cries out by his ear. The sudden weight nearly has him sprawling out on the ground though he manages to dig his elbows against the ground. “Thank you!” Quickly pressing one hand against the middle of Jack’s back, he smiles a bit at the next few gleeful noises.

Golden eyes lighten into silver when he finds the boy’s gaze, the younger practically straddling his lap with hands tangled in jet-black hair or his robe. “It’s nothing less than you deserve.”

His companion pulls back a little and looks at the ring, the red stone gleaming clearly against the black metal it lays in. “What kind of stone is it?” Letting his eyes flicker over to the hand on his shoulder, Pitch takes in the gemstone then turns and presses a light kiss against cool lips.

“It’s a ruby. I thought it fits you.”

The Nightmare King cannot think of a stone that fits his ever reckless and gorgeous companion better. Especially this gem, being the best of the best, a pigeon-blood ruby, well known for its vibrant color and rarity.

A symbol of royalty and love, a stone that even human royalty will do their best to acquire or even kill for.

“I think it fits both of us.” Instantly this gains Pitch’s gaze and he raises an eyebrow while blue eyes focus onto the ring, “The dark metal represents your shadows and the swirls kind of look like the wind. And the ruby is both of us.” Smiling again, Jack explains, “It’s really intense looking like you but it isn’t all hard ridges.”

Tilting his head, he takes a pale hand and look at the ring, never looking at it in such a way. After a moment he finds truth behind it and says, “The vivid color is what reminded me of you.” Blue tints on soft cheeks but the boy beams, playing with the metal around his finger.

The sprite appears so content, lips turning upwards and gaze warm as ever, perhaps more so. Eyes focus onto a bare grey finger before suddenly leaning back. “Wait.” Bringing up his hand and breathing softly against the palm, Jack forms a ring of ice. Though seemingly plain, the color is a deep blue with thin arcs in a lighter color, practically white.

Without pause, Jack takes the hand on his back and slips on the makeshift ring onto the King’s ring finger as well. “There. I’ll make you a better one but that should work for now.”

Touched at the gesture, he takes in the freezing ring sitting on his hand. “Even if you don’t make another one or if this one melts, this is perfect. Thank you, Jack.” Intertwining their left hands together with a content look spreading on his face, Pitch lies on the ground, free arm pillowing his head.

The smaller spirit instantly curls up on his chest and nuzzles into his collarbone, “We’re bound together right? Like how some humans get married?” Peering up at the sky, the Nightmare King considers the question.

It hardly takes long to find an answer, “If that’s what you wish. I would like that.”

Cool lips press on his neck, lingering there as cold breath spreads along grey skin, “I like the idea too. We don’t need a big ceremony, this is nice.” Jack is silent for a moment then abruptly laughs, the sound light and airy, and he lifts his head up to peer into gold-silver eyes. Mischief races over the boy’s face, “So according to you, I’m a Prince. And you’re the Nightmare King.” Barely Pitch nods before a question fills the air, “So are you my Princess or am I your Nightmare Queen?”

For a long moment the elder watches his companion then sighs with the hints of a smile, “I would prefer to say we are equals. However considering who your father is, I suppose I would be your… Princess.” Another laugh bubbles from the spirit’s throat, head thrown back with a joyful look, nearly falling off his chest.

Wiping at his eyes, Jack beams, breath flowing over grey cheeks, barely a few inches from kissing the elder. The sight of him against the full moon is breathtaking to Pitch, the moonlight nearly making the frost child glow while eyes glimmer in happiness. “No… I think that a Prince can be with a King. Don’t you?”

Rather than saying anything else, Pitch leans up and presses their lips together, not caring about such simple things such as titles. Not when Jack Frost has accepted his ring, understands that this relationship is not something to be thrown away. That it means more than the world and the stars. And always will.

Chapter Text

When sixty years passed, long decades of no conversations and worse not being seen, Jack began wondering if anyone would ever see him. He would often ponder this underneath the full Moon, ask questions, beg for answers, for a sign, anything that could give a clue of what he had been doing wrong.

No response ever came.

Rather than moping about, the winter spirit made the best of his situation. Giving snow days to the children who had too many chores, offering ways of having fun in the months where night rules more than daylight. All the while trying to talk, to get the young ones to see him. A fruitless task that only left the bitter taste of loneliness and heartbreak on his tongue.

Something he grew used to, numb even, just like the constant hunger that gnawed at his insides. He stopped begging to the Moon instead would watch in silent dejection, unable to keep from questioning the reason for being around, for existing, if not a thing could see him. Children always walked through him, adults cursed his snow and wind for harsh winters, and spirits simply were never about.

That is until a faithful day, a little over a century after he had been lifted from his frozen pond, a man came.

Not just any though, the Nightmare King himself.

Instantly the quiet – lonely – life Jack had been accustomed to shattered into a million pieces. Someone saw him, talked to him.

Everything he always dreamed of.

“There you are.” Blinking and shaking himself from his thoughts, he meets a golden gaze. For a moment he cannot help but admire the spirit in front of him. Impossibly tall with piercing eyes and sharp features, Pitch Black has a unique appearance, one that he cannot help but find attractive. “Jack.” Fingers trail over his cheek, breaking him from his ponderings once again.

Smiling he says, “Sorry, just thinking about the past.” This earns a curious look as the elder sits next to him.

“Anything in particular?” He takes the hand still lingering on his cheek, stroking the skin with a smile as he thinks over the question.

With a shrug and another smile, the winter spirit states, “Not really, just remembering the past and how it was before you came around.”

A cool gaze examines him, thin eyebrow rising upwards before the Nightmare King replies, “I see. I hope you’re not regretting anything, it’s been sometime since you’ve hidden yourself away in the back of the labyrinth.” Jack laughs and pushes closer into the side of his companion, leaning up to nuzzle against a grey cheek.

Blue eyes narrow at Pitch, “No! Why would you think that? I’m just thinking about how better things are.”

Pitch examines him before saying, “I’m merely making sure.” Fingers begin running through his hair, stroking the white locks, “Though I am pleased to hear that you feel things are better. However, I still firmly believe you should have been taken care of from the beginning.”

“If that happened then it’s possible we wouldn’t be in this position now would we?” This has the man’s brow furrowing, the shadows covering the small room hissing that has Jack pushing back a laugh. An arm winds around his waist and pulls him onto the other’s lap, lips brushing over his cheek.

A dark look comes onto the Nightmare King’s face and his lips press together into a thin line. He considers the question then finally responds, “When you put it that way, I’m torn on the subject.” Jack curls up against a warm chest, resting his cheek on the elder’s collarbone, “On one hand I feel someone else should have at least acknowledge you… On the other hand however I don’t exactly enjoy the thought of not being able to talk to you.” Around the shadows begin shifting in the low it room and twist along stonewalls and floor. “If any other spirit had found you, I doubt they would have said anything decent about me.”

“Don’t get all upset now, I’m right here with you, aren’t I?” The boy lets out a breathy laugh; “I guess everything would be a lot different if the Guardians came around from day one.” While the spirits in question are not bad or cruel, not exactly, he knows that if they had been the ones to give him a home of some kind things would be drastically different than now.

Instead of finding comfort in the shadows it is more than possible that the Guardians would have told him the horrors of the Nightmare King. Explained that Pitch is not an old gentleman but a harsh and terrifying man from ancient times that knows no kindness. A lie, but Jack gets the sinking feeling he would have believed every word.

Fingers trail along his back, nails lightly catching the dark cloak around his shoulders, “If you were taken in, they would have told you to fear me, Jack.” Again the shadows around the room shift though they settle quickly.

With a shrug and pulling back just enough to meet golden eyes, the winter spirit asks, a half smile on his face, “Maybe. But that’s not exactly here or now is it?” Arms wrap around the other’s strong neck, “I’m stuck with you and I don’t really plan on going anywhere.” A playful gleam flickers in his gaze, “Will that be a problem, oh great Nightmare King?” He does not even try reeling in his grin.

Pitch gives a withering look though the corner of his mouth tilts up a fraction, “I suppose not. Do try to remember that I’m here because you want me here. The moment that you no longer want me about, is the moment I will leave you be.” The younger tightens his grip around his companion’s neck, hating the idea of not having this man’s company anymore.

“Then I hope that you’re willing to stay here until the Moon falls from the sky or until a star crashes into the planet.” Another smile comes onto the King’s face and a smooth chuckle ripples into the air.

The response is simple and easy, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, my prince.” Red tints on his cheeks though he curls closer against the spirit.

Ducking his head, Jack grumbles, “You’re never going to stop calling me that, are you?” Lips skim along his hairline and press gently against his temple, another noise of amusement leaving Pitch.

“Now tell me, why would I do such a thing? It is how I view you, and I happen to enjoy calling you such.” The younger sighs fondly then closes his eyes for a long moment, thinking back to when he had been a lonely spirit begging for attention. A time that is difficult to recall nowadays.

Winter storms and snow days are ways he still passes the time, happily creating for the children. Though most cannot seem him, stories have been circling about with his name and there have been a few who wave eagerly when he flies by. He has an idea that Pitch has been helping these tales about a ‘winter child’ however the King often dodges the question or merely changes the subject.

After a day of play, he retreats back to the frozen labyrinth where the Nightmare King welcomes him home with open arms. Knowing that there is someone waiting for him, happy to see him, is a fact Jack has not quite gotten used to.

“Thank you.” Jack lifts up his head to meet a bewildered expression and continues before there can be any protest or question, “For all of this, I mean.”

“There is no need for that-”

Pushing a finger against smooth lips, the winter sprite shakes his head, eyes gleaming in the low light, “I know. But sometimes I think you need to hear it.” He reaches up to play with jet-black hair.

Pitch closes his eyes with a sigh and captures his hand, pressing light kisses on each knuckle and one against the black ring sitting on his ring finger before saying, “You’re welcome. And thank you for allowing me to have you.”

A full-blown grin comes onto Jack’s face as he happily says, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” A true statement that he doubts will ever change and one that he is more than content with. Jack cannot think of anyone else he wants to be with even if he did get to know other spirits. Besides, if he is a Prince, who better to be with than the Nightmare King?