Pitch snarled as he batted the last Nightmare away, effectively replacing his fear with all-consuming anger as he seethed in his defeat. The Guardians had won, he had been defeated, tossed aside to be set upon by his own subjects until he remained as a mere shadow. Now he was more powerless than he had been in centuries. To add insult to injury the Guardians would be more powerful than ever before, despite the many children permanently lost on Easter. And why was that? Because of that wintry upstart, the ice brat, frosty devil Jack Frost.

The Guardians had increased their power and diminished his more than they could ever hope for. Because of Jack Frost. And the worst part was, they didn't even know. Frost didn't even know. They had taken away the Nightmare King's greatest power source and applied it to themselves and they didn't. Even. Know. Even had they noticed the strange surge they never would think of what was at its source, never would even consider that all the extra strength they had, all of the excess power came from one little frost boy.

Jack Frost was more special than the Guardians could ever know. More important than they could possibly realize. Yes Jack was a spirit, he was immortal, but he was also a child. A child with belief just like any other, only so much more powerful. For years Pitch had had this belief all to himself. For with an immortal it seemed that simple knowledge that Santa or the Easter Bunny or, yes, the Boogyman exists was not enough for the spirits to profit from their belief. No, they had to have complete faith in that spirit's center. They had to experience the wonder or hope… the fear. And oh, Jack Frost knew fear.

He feared being alone forever, he feared silence. Jack Frost shivered in the thought of unanswered questions and getting the cold shoulder. He quaked at the thought of people walking through him, of spirits never giving him a second glance. He was afraid of solitude, afraid that his isolation was his fault somehow, that no one liked him because he was just a colossal mess up. He was completely terrified of another day spent alone and unwanted. And the best thing, the most satisfying, delicious thing, was that each and every day his darkest fears came true.

It was a verifiable feast for a starving Boogeyman. He remembered his first taste of the boy's fear, ice cold and minty-fresh with bittersweet undertones, tasting exactly as chocolate-chip mint ice cream. He'd been attracted to it, drawn by it as a child is drawn to the scent of fresh baked cookies. And when he'd found the source he discovered a skinny new spirit, still young enough for Pitch to feed off of his fears, being walked through in a tiny village.

He had been disgusted the next morning when the boy had all but forgotten the previous night's terror in favor of playing with his powers and having fun. However, the next night, after Sandy's dreams had left the sky to reside in the minds of children, Pitch got another helping of the decadent fear. The spirit was yelling at the moon, begging for answers that he never got.

Over the years Jack's desperate fears got more powerful, more pronounced, and Pitch found himself feasting on power the likes of which the fear of thousands of mortal children could never have given him. And the best part was, for the better part of those glorious three hundred years he was the only one gaining any power from the boy. Jack'd had no 'precious childhood memories' from the start, so while the frost boy knew of Tooth's existence she had none of his belief.

Any wonder that the boy may have held was soon hollowed out and destroyed by bitterness as he spent his eternal winter completely alone. Perhaps the bitterness would not have been so great if one Christmas, just one, he'd received a present or- or even just a lump of coal. Jack just wanted to be acknowledged on the night that every child was shown love in gifts under the tree, the night where family meant the most. Oh, his fruitless, fearful desires were almost like a Christmas present for Pitch. Especially on Christmas morning when the boy would wake to find he'd been overlooked again. The fading wonder had been renewed the when he had first seen the workshop, only to be squashed down once more as he was kicked out by the yetis whose apologies sounded to his ears as uncaring jeers. It didn't take long for his wonder to die completely one Christmas morning when North was so full of belief he didn't even notice.

Sandy, unfortunately, was Jack's one solid rock during his three hundred years. The two never stopped to chat- or Sandman's equivalent- or anything like that really. No, Sandy was much too busy. However, he always had the time to smile at the desperately lonely boy or wave to him, and Jack loved to play in the dreamsand and watch the children sleep. As an immortal he rarely slept, and with a life such as his, the boy's sleeping mind was the equal domain of both Pitch and Sandy. He hated the nightmares while he loved the dreams, but that was okay with Pitch. He didn't care if the boy despised his nightmares, so long as the immortal child continued to fear them. And he most certainly did. Unfortunately, that caused him to treasure Sandy's dreams even more and so Sandy alone of the Guardians felt the power of Jack's belief. Which was why he was so powerful, why he held so strongly against Pitch. It was also the reason why he had to die first.

Now hope, hope is a hard thing to kill completely. It can wedge itself into the narrows of your mind, remaining as mere whispers until something sparks and it turns into a raging storm. Pitch would show up at odd times to speak with the boy- and poor, lonely soul he was Jack nearly longed for his unnerving company- to plant seeds of doubt and fear, the best hope killers he knew. Unfortunately, he couldn't eradicate it entirely. The hope stubbornly persevered. At least, until the Easter Bunny himself had snuffed it out completely.

It was 1868. Jack had spent over a century alone, hadn't spoken to anyone- not even Pitch- in a few decades. He was desperate and attention starved. So he did what any attention-seeking child did. He caused trouble.

The blizzard was a beautiful thing for Pitch. Not only did he get the fear of hundreds of children snowed into their homes Easter Sunday, but Jack himself was terrified that his plan, his last desperate course of action, wouldn't work. He hoped that it would of course but the fear was most definitely present. Fear tasted best when tinged with hope. Like a chocolate covered pretzel, sweet fear and hope as salty as the tears that came when that hope was for naught. It was decadent.

Jack finished his blizzard. He was naughty, caused more trouble than he dared to believe. He knew Bunny would kill him for ruining the holiday and was too desperate to truly care. He sat at the center of his pond, his darker clothes standing out against a forest that was completely white, and waited. And waited. And waited. And Pitch waited with him, hiding in the shadows and feeding, feeling his power swell. Finally there was an enraged howl that made Pitch slink further into the concealing shadows even as Jack shot to his feet in a combination of delight and terror.

"FROST!" The Easter Bunny yelled, rushing out to the pond's shore and calling out to the boy standing at its center as he cursed in Australian. Finally he had enough control over himself to yell something other than an unintelligible insult. "Get over here!" He yelled, and to the bunny's surprise Jack obeyed, not looking the least bit sorry for snowing out his holiday.

"What do ya think yer doin' ya idiot! This is my 'oliday and you ruined it! What, do ya think yer the only one who exists?" Bunny missed how Jack's face darkened at the question, but Pitch did not. "That you can do anythin' ya want just cuz ya think it'd be good for a laugh? Of all the stupid, inconsiderate- Ya can't do stuff like this, ya piece of frostbite." Jack frowned as Bunny bent down and tried to hide some eggs close enough to a house for the children to find, only half focusing on Jack. "If ya try another stunt like this again I'll make sure I don't have to worry about your winter again for another century."

"Would you bring the other Guardians too?" The frost child asked, his voice filled with hope though its Guardian missed the tone. He glanced back at Jack for a moment in irritation before leaning to get back to work.

The bunny snorted. "Please I don't need any of them to teach a lesson to a show pony like you."

Jack brightened. When Bunny was mad he'd looked at him again, it felt more like he was talking to Jack, not just complaining to thin air. The boy began speaking in attempt to get Bunny to focus on him again, even if the only way to do that was to make him angry.

"Come on, I think it looks better this way. White is so much prettier than green. I don't get what the big deal is about spring and Easter anyway." Maybe he went too far. It was hard to tell, considering he hadn't talked with anyone in a couple decades, but he was pretty sure that Bunnymund's expression wasn't exactly 'happy'.

"You know what the big deal about Spring is? It's not Winter. It brings hope to people after winter to show that there is going to be life and warmth and happiness again after months of cold and white and death and you. And Easter is a herald of Spring, brings hope and shows that your time is done. It a celebration of the beginning of Spring, of the end of Winter. So why don't you get out of here before I throw you into a tunnel so deep you won't crawl out for a decade."

He created a tunnel and hopped away then, completely missing the Pain-filled words Jack whispered after him. "Not like anyone would care if you did." The frost boy breathed, and with that breath all hope left him. No one would help him. And though children seemed to play happily in his snow they were always glad to see it leave when spring arrived. They wouldn't believe in him, they were just trying to make the best of a bad situation until he finally moved on. No one liked him. No one wanted him. He would always and forever be alone.

Of course, he didn't come to all of these conclusions by himself. Pitch helped a great deal: whispering in his ear, making suggestions on their purposely rare meetings, and infusing the thoughts into his nightmares. It was so easy now.

If Bunny felt the overwhelming loss of power as belief in hope faded, he did nothing more than blame its source. For while few children lost faith in the Easter bunny that ill-fated day, one poor little frost child lost all hope.

So the boy had no memories, was too bitter for wonder, shared his dreams with nightmares, had lost hope, and had fear in abundance. It was a power surge like Pitch could barely fathom. Suddenly he had the power to change dreamsand, shifting it from pleasant images to horrifying Nightmares standing at his beck and call. He was more powerful than ever and the Guardians had no clue. He was hiding, waiting for the right time. He was monitoring Jack's steadily growing sadness and fear, wanting to gain as much power as possible before facing his enemies.

So he waited. And watched as Jack cries to the moon stopped being pleas and turned to angry, bitter calls. He watched as the boy stopped crying in the night over a future that would only get worse. He watched as Jack tried to hid his sadness behind a tough and angry mask that he wore even when alone and he watched as sometimes true hatred, bitter as the cold winter wind, broke through. He watched as the boy enjoyed a rare afternoon of fun, and watched as the fear and lonliness would crash down even more powerfully when the fun came to an end. He waited as the fear's growth began to slow, until finally it flat lined. Neither increasing nor lessening no matter what Pitch whispered in the boy's ear.

It was inevitable, Pitch knew. After all you can only live your worst nightmare for so long before you become numb to it. So the man of the shadows knew that he would gain no more power from the increasing fear of the boy, but that was alright. He was powerful already. And so he set forth a plan, a glorious plan to destroy the Guardians. A plan that would have worked had it not been for that one little frost child.

Manny had chosen Jack to be a Guardian. At first it had been delectable. The Nightmare King was being treated to a host of fears from the boy he hadn't tasted in years. The white haired boy was so afraid of letting the legends down, of getting left out in the cold again. He was afraid that they were just using him, that they didn't care. He worried that he would get used to being with people, that it would make his inevitable return to loneliness so much worse. He was afraid of making a mess of everything, like he always did. And that was even before the shadowy king spoke to him.

Taunting Jack and teasing him brought the boy so much more fear than usual. Terror at Tooth Palace and then downright horror in the caverns. And then when the Guardians, once again, proved the boy's worst fears true Pitch could hardly stand it. The fools had played right into his hands, doing exactly what he had told Jack they would do and effectively ruining any trust or belief the icy-child had for them. Jack was terrified more than he had been in centuries.

He had made his proposition then, when the child was separated from childhood's protectors, alone and in the barren cold once more. For even if Pitch truly defeated the guardians and fear ruled the world, he would still truly miss the icy-sweet fear he longed for like an addict. With Jack "by his side" he could play on the ice spirit's fears just enough. Keep him doubting and fearful so that he could get his fix. But of course the boy refused. The only thing more frustrating than a truly fearless man was a fearful man who chose to be brave. Oh well, if Pitch could get neither Jack's compliance nor fear, he would at least keep the boy out of the fight.

Jack's terror at seeing Baby Tooth in the Shadow King's grasp had been like fine wine, matched only when Pitch refused to hold up his end of the deal and let the fairy go. And then- oh, then- when the staff was snapped clean in half it tasted like manna from heaven, better than any fear he had ever tasted. And so, in hopes of keeping that flavor just a little longer he tossed the boy his little stick as he lay in the bottom of the ravine, terror filling Pitch with strength.

It was perfect. Then, the frost child came back, along with the rest of the Guardians, and decided to try and play the hero. It was impossible and they all knew it. There was only one believer left, the Guardians should have been weak they should have been on their death beds, in comas, barely hanging on. But no, they managed to limp their way into battle. It was because they didn't have one believer, they had two. Jamie and the one little frost child.

Jack was filled with the wonder that came from knowing that he had saved his sister's life, that he was meant to be a Guardian. He had his memories. He was dreaming of a better future, and he had hope that he would make it a reality.

Pitch knew he was defeated when Jack truthfully declared that he was no longer afraid. Oh, he still fought, but he knew he was doomed, especially as the children started to believe again, as Sandy rose golden from the black ashes. When Bunnymund regained form with only a few simple believers, and Jack, he knew that it was all over. When the children ran through him and the Nightmares turned against their own king it only sealed the deal.

Now he was a mere wisp of a shadow, feeding on petty fear and Jack's lingering uncertainties. The Guardian of Fun still had plenty of fear. You don't go from 300 years of solitude to interacting with two distinct groups of people without having a little uncertainty. You didn't go through what Jack went through without having some trust issues. You couldn't go through years of being ignored without floundering in worry of abandonment.

But these fears were far from filling, and they lessoned every day as more hope, wonder, dreams and memories were poured into the boy. Leaving the Guardians more powerful than ever before and Pitch at his absolute weakest, despite hundreds of children permanently losing their faith that one Easter morning. Those idiotic Guardians, they didn't even think to questions why their powers were at an all time high when they had less believers than they'd had in centuries.

That accursed Man in the Moon. He had planned this, Pitch just knew it. Fear couldn't be defeated this soundly unless it took a stand. He had given Pitch Jack, to feed off his loneliness and fear and grow strong. He had done it knowing that the boy would be a Guardian, giving them his power source and eradicating it from Pitch forever. It was all part of the plan for loosening fear's hold and he'd fallen for it. Pitch snarled as a hint of Jack's fear flowed through the air. Seems that the boy froze one of the Yetis an 'oh how will North react'- bah! It was because of Jack that he'd grown, strong, powerful. Now it was all gone and he was feeding of trivialities.

He had risen to become a force capable of defeating the Big Four. He had wielded awesome power. Now that power was gone, resting almost solely on the Guardians. He had risen on the fear of one little frost child and he had fallen by the belief of that one little frost child.