A/N: So...Rise of the Guardians is my latest obsession. Obviously. Why write a fic for something you're not obsessed with, am I right? Anyway, this story is mostly complete and will be updated regularly over the next few days as I finish and polish.

This story started with me hearing the song "All I Want" by Steven Curtis Chapman, and I had to make a video (even though I don't make videos). But it's a good skill to try to develop, and I had fun doing it. Tons. It's very amateurish, but it is Rise of the Guardians, and let's face it, it's hard to make Rise of the Guardians look bad. If you'd like to see it and get a good look at what this fic's about, it's on Youtube, and I'll put the link up on my profile. : ) Thanks for reading this Author's Note, and I hope you enjoy the story!

Oh, and I should say, this is based solely on the movie and doesn't take the books into account, canon-wise. But read the books, though. They're great!

294 Years Ago

There was something extremely satisfying about having to sneak. Jack loved it. Everywhere else he went, he was free to come and go as he pleased. Nobody bothered him about it. No matter how much he begged them to, nobody bothered him about it. But here, here among the shifting, glacial ice and tower-sized snow drifts of the North Pole, Jack Frost—invisible man extraordinaire—had to slip footprintlessly up to the infamously lone structure jutting out from all the whiteness. He clutched in his hand a folded piece of paper like it was an admission ticket. With any luck…maybe it will be.

The building was huge, warm and inviting, and he could smell chocolate and peppermint and burning wood. All he wanted in the world right then was to see inside, and it was all more awesome than Jack had thought to imagine.

…Which was probably why he got a bit clumsy.

He technically wasn't doing anything wrong when he jimmied open a heavy window with his staff. There were no signs that said No Trespassing anywhere that he could see. But the monstrous Yeti that appeared out of nowhere and started shouting angry, blustery things right at him seemed to think it was implied. Huge and hairy and way too authoritative, and Jack had never seen anything like it.

With a startled yelp, Jack raised his staff one-handed, ready to defend. Jack was five foot eight and built to ride the Wind. This thing was like eight foot five and built to tow a barge. He'd later call that an exaggeration, but either way. He didn't stand a chance. The fact that the heavy window slid down on top of his ankle so he was effectively trapped hanging out of the building with one leg in and one leg out really wasn't helping either.

Fortunately the Yeti seemed more interested in scolding him than dismembering him. That was greatly to his advantage. He's probably just a big softie, deep down. A teddy bear. Teddy Yeti. No. Yeti bear? Focus, Jack. "So you work here, huh?" Jack grit his teeth and tried to look smiley and tried harder to free his right foot. "Would you believe I have an appointment?"

"Blargha!"

Jack did not speak Yeti. "Is that disbelief? Or a declaration of friendship? That…seems like disbelief. And scorn." As it turned out, Yetis are very good about freeing people trapped by windows. As it further turned out, Yetis are not very good about being gentle. Jack found himself hurled out, facedown and spitting snow.

He smiled a little. "Well. Not bad for a first try, right?" The Wind lifted him up encouragingly and set him on his feet. The Wind never said anything back. But he talked to it anyway. People never said anything back to him either. He brushed snow out of his hair.

He used his toes to flip his staff up in his hand and twirled it around, and only then did it occur to him that, "Oh no." The paper. It was missing. He must've dropped it. He fell to his knees and threw some snow around in a quick, fruitless search, but he already knew he wouldn't find it.

"Well. That's perfect I guess." That thing was supposed to maybe, possibly, somehow fix things. Because Santa could see him. Jack was sure of that. More sure than he'd ever been now that that hench-Yeti had seen him.

Jack had seen the sleigh before, from a distance. He hadn't been able to shout loud enough or fly fast enough, but someday he would. He'd already spent six Christmases listening to children all over the world talk about this Santa person. Santa Claus. Father Christmas. Pere Noel. Sinterklass. Joulupukki. Ded Moroz. St. Nicholas. He had dozens of names, and whichever one he preferred, he was supposed to be wonderful and generous and give children what they wanted for Christmas.

Jack wasn't exactly a child. In terms of age…he wasn't sure how old he was exactly. He liked to play with the children—snowball fights and ice skating and pulling all the best pranks—and most of the time he laughed alongside and could imagine he was one of them. Some of the time, though, when he would whisper his troubles and his secrets to the Wind or plead with the Moon, he felt very grown up. But he only remembered six years, so maybe that counted for something. Maybe he was still young enough for it to be all right. The children wrote letters. Jack couldn't mail a letter. But he could deliver one. Or he could've. If he hadn't lost it.

"No problem. I'll just write another. A better one. And he'll…he'll hear me. It'll matter." The Wind whistled a bit around his ears, and probably he was only imagining it sounded doubtful. "It will," he pressed. And more quietly, I will. He looked up at the lit-up, dome-shaped structure with its smoke rising from its chimneys in defiance of the cold all around it. Jack liked the snow. But sometimes he wished…he didn't say it out loud. Some secrets were too secret even for the Wind. "Anyway, this was only my first try, and I was so close! I made it all the way up to the window. I was halfway inside!"

The Wind seemed suitably impressed.

"I'll try again. And next time…next time will be huge. I'll come in fast from above." He gestured grandly his battle plan. "With an enormous snowstorm to cover my approach, and…and, and I'll leave treats out for the Yetis. Remind me to read up on Yeti treats…"

As if on cue, a pack of Yetis came barreling over a drift then, four or five of them, running much faster than he would've thought something that size could manage. With a whoop and a grin, Jack shoved up from the snow and led them on a very entertaining game of follow the leader. He wouldn't have thought Yetis would be such established ice skaters. Probably the Yetis wouldn't have thought so either.

Jack did try again. Lots of times. After that day, though, he never got so close again. His plans grew more elaborate, his methods more sophisticated, the Yetis more exasperated. And it was always fun. But he never got so close again. Eventually he stopped writing the letters. Eventually he forgot he'd ever written one at all.