Chapter Text
It had been quite a while since the Nightmare King had been defeated by the Guardians. But though fallen, he wasn’t yet vanquished, and the Guardians had it coming for them if they thought for a moment that he wouldn’t return.
But still, the Golden Age was a harsh time for Pitch Black, and he could only dejectedly retreat to the darkest recesses of the deep forests. He spent his every waking moment plotting and scheming against his adversaries, the Man in the Moon being his greatest foe. Every night he sneered up at the night sky from within the shadows, whispering curses that he hoped would reach the ears of that old sky rock.
He never once figured that one day, one day he’d be sending thanks instead of profanities.
He first saw the winter sprite on the coldest day of the year. He had felt a stirring in his chest that led him out of his dark underground tunnels, and he followed the chill in the wind to find a boy, a pure white boy that was obviously quite lost. He had no reason to be venturing this far off into the woods, but Pitch could tell immediately that this wasn’t any ordinary boy. However, he wasn’t near curious enough to actually care, so he retreated without so much as a second glance, only hoping that the boy never noticed him from his spot within the shadows.
Unfortunately for Pitch, the boy remained in his woods. He was too curious and too mischievous and quite too disruptive for Pitch’s peace of mind, and so it didn’t take long for Pitch to decide he could pause the whole scheming thing for a moment while he got rid of the pesky kid.
And it didn’t take long for him to find the pesky kid either. He was much too naive to dwell in this part of the forest for too long, with how he didn’t even care to watch his back or protect himself with anything other than a seemingly fragile wooden staff. But Pitch wasn’t foolish enough to start a fight without knowing anything about his opponent, so he opted to stalk the boy until he found a weakness.
The boy, oddly enough, was quite carefree and jubilant. For someone that spent so much time in the dark cold, he seemed to find quite a lot of joy in the simple things. Pitch easily found out that the boy had the ability to harness the wind and conjure frost and ice from the mere touch of his staff. And easier still, was the fact that the boy used his powers for harmless play.
He originally watched from afar, smart enough to not get too close and ever alert the boy of his presence, but the boy’s sheer harmlessness was so oddly baffling to Pitch that he found himself drifting much nearer than he had originally planned. And yet, the boy still had no idea of his presence.
Pitch had to admit though, the boy was amusing to watch. He had an infectious laugh, not that Pitch ever joined in. And because he often spoke aloud to himself, Pitch could easily tell what he was thinking. The boy entertained himself with silly stories and wry jokes that he came up with all on his own. His voice was nice too, soothing and calm, but sharp and clear as ice.
There was a loneliness to him, though. And Pitch could recognize that a mile away. The creatures of the forest steered far clear of his icy energy, but if he ever got too close, Pitch could see the disappointment in his eyes as nothing acknowledged his presence. In the nights, he, too, would stare up at the Man in the Moon, but unlike Pitch, his words were of hope and longing. He simply wanted somewhere to belong.
There was a bit of resentment in his voice when he spoke to the Man in the Moon. Or at least, that’s what Pitch liked to hope. It was clear he didn’t revere the old sky rock like the Guardians did, which meant there was no way this boy could be some sort of spy for his enemies. It was that that put Pitch’s mind to ease, at least a little bit.
The boy could make a nice ally . That thought crossed his mind ever so briefly, but it stirred his soul and left his brain running in circles. Why yes, that was wonderfully true. Cold and dark fit together so well, and he’d be sure to take down his foes easily with the help of this boy. But still, he had no idea whether he could actually trust the boy or not, and he didn’t want this boy to prove as a weakness to him.
With how closely he watched the boy, he was bound to get caught sooner or later. And though it was technically the latter, with it being weeks after he first started, it still felt like the former, as he didn’t really find out nearly enough to make any proper conclusions.
Pitch had been found out when the boy came across a lake in the forest. Characteristically, the boy froze himself a winding path through the lake to go ice skating. Pitch remained hidden in the shadows, concealed by shrubbery. Yet somehow, in his spinning about on the lake’s surface, the boy locked eyes with him. And oddly enough, he didn’t seem the least bit surprised.
Instead, after a moment of staring into Pitch’s eyes from afar, he laughed cordially and looked away. He did some showy flips on the ice and continued to play as normal. But Pitch was unsettled. He wasn’t sure whether to flee, or to fight. He stayed rooted to the spot, only watching as the boy spun and jumped and had a merry time.
When he finally found himself bored, the boy looked back at Pitch. Pitch continued to watch, still like a statue, as he made his way to the edge of the lake, and then to where Pitch was hidden. His gait was confident. He never once broke eye contact, and Pitch held his immovable gaze. It was a challenge, of sorts, and Pitch was not one to back down from a challenge.
The boy slowed to a stop when he was merely a few feet away. The two of them regarded each other in silence. He leaned on his crooked staff lazily. Pitch didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until the boy finally spoke.
“Let’s dance,” he grinned, cocking his head to the side. Surely, he couldn’t be serious. Pitch frowned slightly.
“Dance?” he asked lowly, oddly conscious of how this was the first time he had spoken aloud since first seeing this boy.
“Yes, dance with me,” he replied heartily. He was calm and laid back, and a part of that was offensive to Pitch. Was this foolish boy not aware of how much danger he was in being so close to none other than Pitch Black, formerly known as the Nightmare King?
“Aren’t you afraid?,” Pitch asked, “I could be very dangerous.” Pitch relished in the way his smile faltered and his grip on his staff tightened ever so slightly.
“I’m Jack,” he held out his hand to the dark shrubs, “Jack Frost.” Pitch frowned again at his blatant dismissal.
It might’ve been that glint in his eyes, challenging Pitch and promising wicked fun, that made Pitch step out of the shadows. The boy’s eyes traveled down Pitch’s form, finally taking him in for the first time. When he finally looked back into Pitch’s eyes, Pitch could clearly see his appreciation, but he still did not reach out to take the boy’s hand. However, the boy never thought to lower it; he kept his hand outstretched, awaiting Pitch’s reply.
Pitch had never been this close to the boy before, despite stalking him for weeks, so he, too, gave him a once over. Seeing him this close made Pitch rethink calling him a mere boy. Yes, he had that irrefutable boyish charm, and he was too petite to be labelled a man, but he was surely no child. He had a lankiness to his slouched frame that made Pitch realize he was a lot older than he looked like from afar.
But Pitch had to hand it to him. He was surprisingly patient. Despite everything he had seen within the past few weeks, Pitch could only just begin to see how serene and untroubled he was.
“Pitch Black,” he finally answered, after quite some time simply staring at the boy, and shook his hand. His hands were as cool as ice, something that Pitch oddly didn’t find that surprising. Instead, the boy was the one that shivered at Pitch’s drastic temperature difference. But he didn’t let go.
Instead, he tugged on Pitch’s arm, and took a step backwards, pulling him along to dance in the clearing by the lake.
“I don’t dance,” Pitch’s voice was firm, as was his stance. He wouldn’t allow this boy to drag him along to some halfwitted pastime. The boy smirked, and there was something quite dangerous in that expression.
“Is that because there’s no music, or because you simply don’t know how? Because either way, I don’t see how that stops you from joining me,” he tightened his grip on Pitch’s hand, and Pitch was also beginning to see how this boy posed such a big risk. He had an odd knack for getting others to follow his whims, maybe through some sort of persuasion charm. All the more reason to join forces, right?
He grinned wickedly, and the boy’s eyes widened just a fraction. Hardly noticeable, but it encouraged Pitch nonetheless. Of course he knew how to dance. And he wouldn’t let a lack of anything stop him from what he wished to do.
Pitch, in one graceful step, held the boy in a typical waltz stance. A firm arm around the boy’s waist, holding his body flush against Pitch’s, and lifting up their still joined hands at head level. The boy, still a tad dazed by the sudden action, could only blankly stare at Pitch.
“Your other hand rests on my shoulder,” he instructed, letting his expression fall back to a neutral one. The boy blinked once, then twice, before doing exactly that, though still keeping a firm grip on his crook. It was then that Pitch looked ahead, and led the boy about the clearing.
He could feel the boy’s eyes on his face throughout their dance, but he didn’t once make eye contact again. A hidden tune fluttering through nature’s breeze was much too romantic for whatever it was they were dancing to, but Pitch moved along to coordinated steps, guiding the boy as he went. He ended it off with a twirl of his partner and then a dip, in which he finally looked back into the boy’s ice blue eyes.
The boy was searching for something in Pitch’s gaze, but Pitch didn’t allow him to find whatever it was. He uprighted themselves and pulled away, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in his shadow robes.
Though usually Pitch spent from just before dawn, when the boy woke up, to just after sunset, when he tended to fall asleep, watching him, the mere few hours he spent with the boy today was enough. He didn’t want to hang about any longer and get overwhelmed or make any sort of rash decision that he would regret later on. Pitch turned away from the boy, and made his way back to where he had been hiding before.
He would head back to his tunnels. Maybe think a touch, and rest. He really did have to get back to scheming; that was far more important than anything else at this point.
“Thanks,” the boy murmured, but the words were just loud enough to get Pitch to stop in his tracks. He glanced back at the boy, his face donning a slight questioning expression. “Thank you for dancing with me, Pitch,” he continued, “I enjoyed it.”
“It was nothing,” Pitch paused a moment before adding, “Jack Frost.” Finally letting the name roll off his tongue showed him that it truly did sound a lot better than he thought it would. He was about to continue on his way again when Jack spoke once more.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, something hopeful edging his tone.
Pitch regarded him silently for a moment. With the slight nod of his head, he finally stepped back into the dark woods, using his shadows to transport him far, far away.
It was only until the next day that he realized he had no idea why he said yes.
But regardless, he showed up early. He stood in the same spot he had hidden the day prior and patiently waited on Jack’s arrival. Jack showed up at their agreed upon time, skimming his staff against the ground as he walked and leaving a trail of frost behind him. He walked slowly, with intentionally comically long strides, glancing around the clearing for Pitch. When he finally made eye contact, there was an added skip to his step, but he didn’t approach Pitch as he did yesterday. Instead, he sat down cross legged by the edge of the water.
He picked up leaves and sticks by him and used his frost to fashion them into sailboats, which he then sent off into the lake. He didn’t acknowledge Pitch, but he kept a small, knowing smile on his face as he constructed his boats.
“Are you happy with just watching?” he called out after some time, still not glancing up at Pitch. Pitch took this as the moment to finally step out of the shadows and come to the boy. He didn’t answer, and silently stood behind the boy, his large frame towering over Jack’s sitting form.
“Would you like to play?” Jack asked, holding up the boat while craning his neck back to look up at Pitch. Pitch didn’t take the boat, and after waiting a moment, Jack made a silly face at him, which looked a lot weirder with his face upside down. Pitch raised an eyebrow, causing Jack to laugh. He let the wind take the boat out of his hands and settle it in the water.
Jack finally looked away, focusing his attention on the water instead, so Pitch took a seat beside him. They kept silent for a moment, watching the ice boats drift along the lake.
“I’ve seen you watching before,” Jack murmured, and something in Pitch started racing. Was he really that foolishly indiscreet, that he wasn’t even aware that Jack knew about his stalking? And all this time he thought Jack was the naive one.
“Forgive me for being suspicious of a new spirit wandering through my woods,” a touch of sarcasm laced his voice, and Jack chuckled.
“I didn’t know you owned these woods. I didn’t come across any signs saying ‘ Property of Pitch Black, Stay out!’ ” He leaned back, propping himself on his arms.
“I wasn’t aware I had to put up signs. I figured this place was infamous already,” Pitch shrugged, fighting to keep a smile off his face. Jack was surprisingly quite the amusing boy.
Jack stayed silent for a moment. “Infamous for what?” he asked, his voice suddenly quiet. Pitch scoffed at the question.
“For housing yours truly, obviously.” Jack turned to look at Pitch, and some part of him was glad they were sitting side by side so that disregarding eye contact was much easier. He didn’t know why he didn’t want to be looking Jack in the eyes at this moment.
It was obvious that his answer wasn’t enough for Jack, that he wanted to know more. He, however, didn’t pry, and for some inexplicable reason, Pitch appreciated that.
Pitch frowned to himself. He shouldn’t be appreciating anything. Neither should he be having all these unexplainable feelings. Something about Jack made his mind go all fuzzy, and he couldn’t fathom why that was. Maybe it was part of his charm, something that made his targets bewildered and vulnerable.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, and Pitch glanced at him out of the corner of his eye to see that he was looking out at the boats again. Pitch remained silent. He didn’t know what exactly to say.
Jack let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re quite quiet, aren’t you?” he grinned.
“You’re quite chatty, aren’t you?” Pitch drawled in a taunting tone, rolling his eyes. Pitch wasn’t easy to fool, so he hoped. But he knew that he’d have to keep a close eye on Jack. Clearly, there were many mysteries to him, and jumping to conclusions early on would only do harm. Instead, he’d get close to Jack, learn his secrets and his workings, and use that for his benefit. Worst case scenario, he’d have to kill Jack; and that’d be easy enough. It had taken four Guardians to beat him the first time; this measly boy was not a worry in the slightest.