Luck's Always To Blame

Author's Note: This is very unlike me.

I normally hate it when people write fanfics shipping their OCs with other characters, because it seems like they're shoving that pairing down your throat. I know that's not the case, though; they like a character and want to give them a love interest, or like a character and the only way they can be with them is vicariously through another character. Granted, this story isn't even solely a romance between my OC and Jack Frost, just as the movie wasn't solely Jack Frost and Tooth Fairy (I tried shipping it, because I usually support the canon/implied canon, but I simply couldn't.) But I can still see why people wouldn't want to read it. Which is okay. Never read something you don't think you'd enjoy, for it takes all the magic out of the action.

But if you are- well, you obviously are-, thanks!

Any slang will be explained in the final author's note. Sorry it looks sloppy, Fanfiction hates me and my beloved WordPad. I actually did research, guys! :D This chapter also includes things such as gambling, drinking, smoking, attempted rape, and murder, but that's the last of that, I promise.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians.

"In short, Luck's always to blame."

Jean de La Fontaine

Prologue

It's 1922, and it's loud.

The whole atmosphere of the casino was one of complete illegality, complete drunken rowdiness, and I was silently amazed that a bull(1) hadn't broken down the door and ordered everyone's hands up. I sat tensely on my bright red stool, slightly higher than the chairs at the game tables, which made me feel like a vulnerable trophy in this brewing pot of criminality.

There was a shout of joy from another table, and everyone in the speakeasy(2) grumbled in reluctant understanding that someone, someone that wasn't them, had won a game. I could tell by almost all the men at one table throwing down their cards that they were the unlucky party. Luck. They were contributing to a government downfall in their very own boulevard of broken dreams, and these people were counting on luck to save them.

It was almost sad.

"Mother?" I murmured, knowing immediately afterwards there was no hope of her hearing me at that volume. It was my mother who brought me here; my father had left her the last time she'd gambled away his earnings as a doctor. I was usually with him, but he had a last-minute appointment- he was helping to birth a baby- and had no choice but to leave me with her for the night. With an infantile huff, she dragged me here and sat me on the stool like a child before proceeding to illegally gamble away her own salary. "Mother?"

"What?" she barked, turning around for a moment before averting her eyes back to the game.

"Well, I was just thinking-"

"Dangerous thing to do for a dame(3) like yourself," she replied, reaching into her purse. "Here's a clam(4). Buy a drink, Shirley, and live a little." I took the outstretched bill, well aware that she was more interested in me going away than me living anything. I twirled the bill between my fingers, surprised that she'd given me that much, and jumped off the stool.

I was not going to buy any bootleg(5), that was for sure. As I headed towards the door, I tried to recall the normal fare for a jitney(6), and if I could catch one at all. The door was constantly being obstructed by drunken patrons, and each time I felt my escape was being blocked. This was merely a matter of paranoia, until a couple sober patrons blocked my way.

"Hey baby," a bimbo(7) cooed, making me tense. "You seem a little young to be here."

"I was just leaving," I muttered, not looking him in the eye.

"Well th-" Suddenly, his eyes averted to the table behind me. "Hey!" I spun around just in time to see a man in the action of pulling a card from his sleeve. Suddenly, the patrons forgot about me and rushed towards him, fists raised. The man fell out of his seat in surprise.

"Wait!" I jumped in between them, holding out my hands.

"Move, Jane(8)," he sneered. "This bird(9) was cheating. He deserves whatever he gets."

"He doesn't deserve that," I murmured. And for some reason, they calmed down after that and the cheater simply got the bum's rush(10). After that, I didn't hesitate to leave, and rushed through the door. He was still outside, and I got a better look at him. He looked like the typical drugstore cowboy(11), and I decided to head the other way.

"Hey! Jane!" I turned around, mentally mapping out the conversation. He'd say thanks, I'd say you're welcome, sir, but I really must go.

"Yes?"

"Thanks for that," he told me, stepping closer. "Those guys woulda made short work of me."

"You're welcome," I replied, eyeing the other side of the road. "But I really need to-"

"No," he said, grabbing my arm. Suddenly, the air was much colder. "Let me thank you properly."

"I really need to go," I insisted, trying to pull away. In response, he threw me into the alley between the casino and the shoemaker's. I grabbed the wall and pulled myself up, letting out a loud scream. When I turned around, though, the only thing I saw was the deep nothingness of a barrel of a gun.

"It's best if it's quiet," he murmured.

"John!" We both turned towards the mouth of the alley. This man was taller and his hair was darker, and from the ample light the moon provided I could tell he wasn't happy. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I was just-"

"We talked about this, you double-crosser(12)," he snarled, pulling out a gun of his own. "Now let the girl go."

"Don't hurt him!" I exclaimed, pulling away from his limp grip and stepping in front of the moon-lit man. Right as I did this, he fired, and hit me somewhere in my abdominal area. I'm sure you can understand when I say I didn't really pay attention. My first thought was, how many guns do these people have peeking out of their pockets? Only after that did I feel as if I was hit by a jackhammer. I fell backwards, hitting the pavement, because my assailant had moved out of the way. I opened my mouth to scream from the agonizing pain, but nothing came out.

"Look what you did!" John, my attacker, exclaimed. "You killed her!"

"She's not dead yet," the other man murmured, leaning over me.

"But she will be," John insisted. "I'm getting a bull-"

"Do that and I'll tell them what you were about to do to her." The two men stared at each other, the moon shining brightly between them. How pretty it was... how bright it was... how welcoming in this moment of raw, searing pain.

"Put her in that trash can," John suggested, and one grabbed my shoulders while the other grabbed my legs. This made the bullet wound nigh unbearable, but sound still refused to escape me. The two men stuffed me in a rusty trash can, as suggested, and the last I ever heard of them was their frantic footsteps down the street.

The pain was so strong that the only comfort I could find was that dying would dull it forever. The moon comforted me until then, glimmering and powerful, giving me a glimpse of where I was going to go.

And at one point, I was sure that it became dark and the pain drained from my body.

But then I was awake, as awake as I had been that morning, the moon still winking at me. With a bit of difficulty, I escaped from my smelly prison and dusted myself off. Upon touching my dress, however, I discovered it was beaded and gleaming gold in the moon's merciful light. My hair was curled in a beautiful style I hadn't even seen on any celebrities, and rings dotted my fingers. How glamorous I was! How jealous Mother would be!

As it turned out, it was at that moment my mother exited the casino, trying her best not to stumble to her apartment. I ran up to her, ready to show her my ritzy(13) new outift. But upon touching her, my hand went straight through her shoulder, as if it wasn't even there. I backed up in surprise, and ended up doing so through an older gentleman. I spun around, facing the window to the casino, but I didn't see anything.

I was beautiful, but I was inivisble.

You are Lady Luck, the moon tells me.

He's been silent ever since.

Author's Note: 1- a policeman 2- an illicit bar 3- a girl 4- a dollar 5- illegal liquor 6- a private bus; the fare was normally around five cents 7- strong man 8- any girl 9- general term for man or woman 10- ejection from an establishment 11- guy that stands on street corners trying to pick up girls 12- someone who back-stabs another 13- elegant, glamorous

Thanks for reading and please review!