Okay so after an eternity of hiatus and lack of motivation, I finally decided to post. I can't promise I'll keep up with this too heavily, but I don't expect this to be long. I do, however expect this to branch off into another fic featuring different drabbles of the parts I skim in this one so don't worry about the blanks just yet.

This doesn't really need much setting up since everything is explained in the story, but I'll have a go anyway.

So basically, this takes place after all but RotG with the exception that, while Rapunzel finished her story, she can still use her healing 'powers' without having to cry. Hiccup made it through until just before the second movie so we are seeing the hella-attractive version instead of the adorably awkward alternative. Merida, like the others, is completely done with her story, though without any changes physically or otherwise. It'll be fairly obvious where Jack stands, but just to set you up, he is still alone and ghosting through his 300 years without memory or purpose. After watching a commentary thing about the character, I found out that the designers made him to be 14 in the movie (definitely hit above that mark in character appearance, but I'm not complaining) but I'm all for baby Jack and am knocking him down to 12ish because he is adorable.

I will warn you now that Jack is by FAR my favorite out of these characters and I'm not afraid to prove it through some serious Jack 'wumpage' (I have no idea what that means, but I've come to associate it with whatever 'hurtJack' is).

I hope you enjoy my new brainchild and as always:

Read. Review. Enjoy!

Watching. That was all he had done- could do –since his birth. Escaping village after village, town after town, city after city, full of those unaware of his existence, he could only watch as they went about their lives as if there was not a frozen child begging for someone to just see him.

It wasn't their doing; he knew this. There was no point in blaming them for something that was clearly his fault. Maybe he didn't exist at all or he was a ghost. Maybe he was supposed to be doing something important and simply couldn't remember or he had done something terribly wrong and was paying the price. Whatever the reason, he had always hoped it wasn't the latter for what could he have done that was worthy of such a punishment; hardly existing in a world without a friend or family or even an acquaintance?

Every day passed with the dying hope that someday, someone, somewhere had to see him. How he still held to that sliver of light within himself was a wonder to even his clouded mind, but it shone in his core however frail- always dimming with each passing day.

Keeping his thoughts as light as he could manage, he filled his time traveling. After 250 years, there was not a culture he didn't recognize, a species he hadn't discovered, a language he didn't know, a friend to greet each morning. Everywhere he went, despite his inward scolding not to hold out on hope, he felt the light inside of him get crushed as more and more humans passed through him with nothing more than a slight shiver.

Each one was like a brand being seared onto his heart- if he still had one, of course. He could remember the feeling and face of every human who came too close. Eventually, he went out of his way to ensure it would never happen again. If the world wanted a phantom, that's what he would become if for nothing more than to avoid the pain the mortal's ignorance scarred onto him.

Forever the child, this avoidance soon became a game of sorts. He would dance himself around a crowd of humans as they raced about their lives. Winning the game was a hollow victory, but the pain of losing far outweighed the temptation to give up.

Another game he had come to enjoy was far more common among the children of one small town in particular. Burgess, Michigan held a strange- yet understandable –part of the eternal boy as it was the host of his beginning on a small pond within the grasp of a thick forest bordering the small civilization. Time had changed the houses and people, but nothing could rid the spark of happiness within the children's eyes when a thick blanket of snow began to drift from the graying sky; perfect, packable snow ideal for the random snowball fights that cropped up wherever they deemed fit. Even the adults couldn't say how these games began or where the perfectly crafted snowballs appearing on the ground came from as their children were pulled into the battle of shrieking laughter.

The frozen child joined in the fun as he gracefully wove between the excited bundles of happiness scooping up his own ammunition and creating more for them when their own supply ran low. Flying around above wool-covered heads, the boy could always find a smile gracing his pale lips while the children darted to and fro, casting their own attacks while avoiding the retaliation. Never missing his target, the instigator would always join in when the balance of skill was off, but he didn't necessarily need a reason.

Of course, all good things must end for the lonely boy as he was left behind on the disturbed snow, watching yet again as his playmates were lead into warm homes with the promise of blankets and steaming broth by the fire. He could only wonder if he had ever been blessed with something so simple and what he had done to lose it.

All of the joy gained from his fun and games bled away as the pain of loneliness set in. One last glance at the moon, his silent overseer, and he was gone with a silent flurry of snowflakes dancing in his wake.

Traveling had been very educating the young boy as he was made aware of several other groups of people and creature he had never seen.

Overseas lay a village known for harsh climates and tough Vikings made so by the dwindling number of dragons attacking their homes at night. The eternal boy could attest to how fewer dragons there were than in the years past, but only one other held the sentiment. It was a small, outcaste boy who- much to the winter child's surprise –befriended a downed-by-him dragon and led his village into a new age. He mourned with the dragon at the loss of his tail as he soon after did with the boy at the loss of his leg. He had assisted as best he could by thickening the dense clouds to hide the dragon and his rider from the queen as well as coat the two in a thick layer if ice as they were engulfed by flames in hope of protecting them. He didn't necessarily fail, but couldn't help but feel the weight of the poetic irony infused with the injury shared between dragon and rider.

Reaching only a bit further around the globe, lay another village full of Viking-like humans with who lived a lively girl with a fiery temper to match her unkempt mass of red hair. He watched and understood her reluctance to follow the orders given her, but could not stay his vain attempt to warn her away from the potion the magician offered her. She did not listen as she could not hear him and went about her merry way, facing the challenge of her changed mother and fighting to right the wrong she had done. The boy did all he could to slow the malevolent monster that was preventing the mother and daughter from reuniting, but there was little he could do aside from what he already had- beating the beast back with his staff until the princess managed to get far enough away. It wasn't much, but it was enough so that she could fight back. The bond created between the queen and princess had been significantly strengthened by the ordeal, not to say they suddenly agreed on their viewpoints as they were both bullheadedly stubborn, but they shared a common ground now that they hadn't before and that steadied them both.

On the same side of the world, he watched a healing flower bring a child-princess into a cruel world that ripped her away from her parents not even a year later by an evil witch who cared only for her beauty. He was only a spectator as she grew, unaware of the wrongness dealt to her, loving the witch as if she were the mother who tirelessly searched for her missing child. Try as he might, he could not warn the girl of her plight, but remained unseen as the girl's curiosity won over her fear leading her to follow the lead of a thief and a guard's horse. Laughing as she brought a song into a bar of criminals and crying out in worry as she was chained by the very woman she had once called mother, he watched. Needless to say, he helped in any way he could. Freezing the ropes that held her, he used his staff to set the girl free, but he could only watch as she held the dying thief in her arms, crying as her once-powerful hair lay useless around her. The joy he felt burst within him when the changed man was healed was nothing more than temporary as he soon thrust back into his empty world of solitude.

He envied the lives of these three the most.

What would it be like to be in such an adventure, with an unknown, unseen protector keeping watch as you fought for your beliefs? He could only imagine the satisfying feeling brought on by the victory each of them achieved. How proud they must be of themselves.

He envied them and their pride; their purpose for he had yet to find his own.

As different as each of these humans were from those the unseen child had been witness to, he had a sliver of hope that maybe one of them would have the open mindedness to finally see him. Though he tried to keep what little hope he retained safe, there was no stopping the shattering feeling of each one of them passing through him.

Maybe he really didn't exist at all.

When not instigating snowball fights in Burgess, the winter boy found himself keeping close tabs on his 'favorite three' as they were close enough to each other that he could visit all of them within the same stretch of time. He watched the Viking boy grow little-by-little until he was well over his own height and several years ahead. The fiery redhead grew closer to her mother, more annoyed with her amusing little brothers, and older as well, though she was only a few years behind the Viking. The flower princess was the closest in age to their protector, but she still surpassed his young age as he watched her spend every waking moment with her family to make up for lost time.

More envy welled up within him as he was left to silently wonder what he had done that was so wrong as to rob him of what they had; a family, a life, a friend.

Another unanswered glance at the moon did nothing more than cloud his eyes further.

Maybe he didn't deserve it.

This thought was soon-after chased away by the sound of deep chuckling from behind him. This made no sense as it was well past midnight and too cold for anyone to justify a walk through the abandoned stretch of the Arctic 'wasteland'. Turning slowly, afraid to have his hopes cast away yet again, the child faced the being behind him.

They both stood silently for a time. Of course, the boy had no reason to speak as he was only meant to listen; to watch as the world went on without him.

Another chuckle caused him to tilt his head slightly. What was so funny? What was this stranger laughing at? The questions as to why he was here and how he got there didn't seem to matter to the boy as his hopes would only cling to the possibility and be left bare to the cruel world around him.

Eventually, the eternal child couldn't bear to be patient long enough for this silent stranger to speak. Though the man was looking directly into his eyes, causing them to cast themselves away from that intense gaze, the boy called to the wind and let it lift him off the ground. Just before he disappeared, the strangest of sensations wrapped about his thin wrist.

His breath caught in his throat.

The man had-was touching him. He was able to touch him- to see him. He fought against the torrent of tears that threatened to pour down his face as he gently landed back onto the welcoming snow. The feeling of touch, while overwhelmingly amazing, was quickly becoming too much for the starved child. Tugging carefully, it was soon found that he was not getting his hand back from the man until he wanted to let go.

Wait. If the man could touch him and see him…could he…?

It was almost too much to ask, but the hope was too blindingly in charge of his mind to let the thought go without trying.

"Hello?" His voice was small, weak from disuse, but the message was clear.

Time slowed to a stop as the child held his breath as to not miss the answer, but none came and the light behind the boy's eyes was dimming with each passing moment. He was a breath away from giving up; of crumbling into a puddle of self-loathing and confusion before there was an answer.

"Hello, child," the dark stranger said in a voice of pure satin. Malicious intent rolled off the man in waves, but the pure joy within the boy blinded him to any warning his sub-conscious could come up with as questions burst from his mouth.

"Hi! You can see me! You're the first person who can! Do you know why? Did I do something wrong? Why doesn't the Moon talk to me anymore? How come I can make ice and snow and frost? Are we the only two like this? Can they see you? What's your name? Do you have-"

"Hush."

It was just one word, but with it, much of the boy's excitement vanished in the place of sadness. Maybe his initial excitement was too much. Maybe this man just had a quick question and would leave. Maybe the only person who could see him didn't want to talk to him.

"What is your name?"

The boy made sure to take a deep breath before answering. "I'm Jack Frost."

"Did Manny tell you this?"

Who? He wondered, but decided it was best to answer the man as well as he could. "I don't know who that is, but the Moon told me after I woke up," he explained simply, resisting the urge to spill every exciting moment of his birth before the overwhelming depression that set in soon after.

The man paused long enough for the boy to fear he had angered him and that he would leave, but the stranger only chuckled a bit. "I will not leave yet, do not fear."

Jack blinked. How had he known? Maybe that was the man's power as ice was his. Maybe he could read minds. No, that didn't make sense. If the man could read minds, he would have known his name before asking. 'Don't fear' he had said. Maybe that was it; maybe the man could read fears like the Night Shade he had heard the Vikings tell their children about or the Boogeyman the Burgess kids hid from. "Are you the Boogeyman?" he asked tactlessly. He was a child after all.

Now it was the man's turn to blink, but he seemed to be a bit more surprised. "Very clever, child. How do you know of me?"

"I have heard people talk about a 'Boogeyman' that knows their fears and you knew what I was afraid of without me saying so," Jack explained proudly around his large smile. He'd never been complimented before.

"Well done, Jackson. Yes, some have created that name for me; though I prefer Pitch Black as that is the name I was given."

Nodding excitedly, the winter child could hardly restrain his desire to pelt the man with questions. With the barest of nods, the man accepted the silent request.

It was not a challenge to choose his first inquiry. "Why can no one see me?"

Pitch's black eyes narrowed slightly. "Did the Moon not explain this to you?"

Jack shook his head hard enough for his white hair to cast about his face. "He only told me my name and that was over 250 years ago. I keep trying to talk to him, but he doesn't answer me. Did I do something wrong?"

His insecurities were cropping up within his core despite his attempts to ward them off. Of course, it was pointless to try seeing as the man could read his fears as easily as he could lay frost on a window. Pitch probably knew of all of his fears by now.

Those eyes narrowed even more. "That was foolish of him." A feral grin fell upon his lips. "To leave you unknowing just makes it far easier for someone else to educate you, my dear Jackson."

His shoulders fell as his core lit up in fear. No doubt the man could sense it, but it didn't matter. Blue eyes only took a moment to look pleadingly into the dangerous gold depths before realizing what was happening. He made quick work of freezing Pitch's hand and breaking away.

Not without his heart breaking too.

He had heard stories of this man; how he was the embodiment of all of the fear and evil in the world, but he had hoped. It was this hope that was going to get him into trouble and this hope that was breaking with each moment of understanding. How that sliver of light had held on, he didn't know. What he did know was that it only took one man to shatter it completely.

The only being on the planet who can touch him, hear him, see him wished him harm.

Always the eternal child, Jack couldn't understand why the world would be so cruel; even after all of the wrong he had witnessed.

It hurt.

No matter how much distance he placed between them, the pain remained the same.

He didn't even bother glancing up at the Moon. There was no point. It wasn't going to answer. Neither was anyone else.

On the other edge of the world, long ears fell as the Spirit of Hope grasped at his chest in pain.

Someone lost their light. Someone needed him.

But who?