Hey there!

So here's the Pitch/Elsa story that's been floating around in my head for the last couple months. If the beginning reminds you of Through Ice and Shadows, then you're right - this story is sort of like an AU of that one, except Pitch meets Elsa when she's a little girl rather than after she'd become a disgraced queen. The writing is also a little different, too; instead of long chapters posted weekly, these chapters are going to be fairly short and posted at least twice a week. In my opinion, that's a total win-win for you guys. Right?

Just a small disclaimer: This story has a T-rating now, but there are going to be some chapters later on that might be more of an M category. It's still several weeks from now and I promise I'll post another disclaimer when that time comes, but just so you know, it's coming.

I am so excited about this story, you guys have no idea. :)

Standard disclaimers apply.

*A Beautiful Beginning*

She caught his attention from the beginning.

Pitch Black always believed that children were easy to torment and to frighten. They feared so much - monsters, isolation, the cold - but above all, darkness. It was so simple, so wonderfully easy to nudge a hint of fear into their heads. A flicker of shadow, a noise where there oughtn't be, and he was rewarded by a shriek of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Nightmares," parents told their children soothingly. "It was just a nightmare." And Pitch, looking on in the darkness, would smile. If so, he thought, then I am the king of nightmares.

Every child was susceptible. Every child was weak. Predictable. It pleased him and yet, every couple decades or so, Pitch nearly wished for something more.

And then he found her.

Elsa, the eldest princess of the kingdom of Arendelle.

Pitch stood at the foot of her bed, his chin perched on the knuckles of one hand. What to make of this little girl? He had been observing her for a while and found himself almost... uncertain.

You are unusual, aren't you? he thought, but it was true; Elsa had almost no similarities to any other child he had encountered. The cold did not bother her, nor did isolation, for she had been living in the self-imposed prison of her room for years now without complaint. Pitch's chief weapon, darkness, had little impact on the girl, and as for monsters -

Well. Pitch's golden eyes flickered over the girl's sleeping form, appraising the guilt inside Elsa's mind. Perhaps monsters were more familiar to her than he'd thought.

That should have dissuaded him from ever returning - after all, if she was not afraid of him, then there was no point to ever return - but her sister was so easy to scare. Arendelle was a wealthy reaping ground for his purposes, and he always enjoyed frequenting such places. Yet for all his excuses, Pitch had to admit that a part of him returned at the chance to muse on Elsa's silent, sleeping form.

She interested him.

Sometimes, after she awakened from her fitful dreams, she even turned to glance in his direction. Anna did that too, and the sight of his glinting gold eyes never failed to tempt a piercing scream from her throat. Elsa never screamed, though - she, the only child who had never frightened at his looming, silent form, never screamed. And Pitch knew she never would; Elsa wasn't afraid of him, so she would never be able to see him. It's a pity, Pitch reflected. Your monsters interest me far more than any of the others I've seen.

But then Elsa surprised him.

It was a night much like one of many in Arendelle's infamous winters: bitterly cold and heavy with falling snow. Pitch had just come from Anna's room - the noise the little girl had made was enough to wake the entire castle, and the king and queen were busy trying to calm her shivering whimpers with little success - and now he stood in the corner of Elsa's bedchamber, wrapped securely in the shadows that the early hour and bleak season offered him. Anna's wails had awakened her sister, and Elsa stared out the window, watching the silent flakes of snow as they piled up against the panes of glass. Pitch smirked, knowing she could hear the muffled sobs from down the hall - and yet her face bore no outward sign that she did. She's strong, he thought appreciatively, grudgingly. A shame I can't get the same screams from her as I can from Anna.

He sniffed at her still form and made to leave her room when Elsa's eyes snapped over to look at him. "Wait, she whispered.

Pitch froze. Surely he hadn't heard right. The girl had spoken to him. That was impossible. That never happened. None of the children had ever spoken to him before, other than the usual plea to stop and leave me alone and other trivial nonsense.

But no child had everdirected a comment to him specifically before, and Pitch stared back at the girl, finding himself in the rare predicament of being lost for words.

In Pitch's hesitation, Elsa sat up. Her eyes stayed fixed on him as she leaned back against the headboard, her child's face strangely calm. "Who are you?" she asked, and this time her voice was stronger, more confident.

Did she think to intimidate him by revealing she could see him? Well, Pitch could play at that game. "I am the Bogeyman," he said, a sneer in his level tone.

Elsa glanced toward her door and then back at him. "You're the one who scares Anna, aren't you?"

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a slanted smile. "I show her the darkness in her dreams," he said. "She is the one who flinches away from their truth."

The little girl's brow wrinkled. "Truth?"

"The truth that the world is not made only of springtime and sunny days. There is unfairness, there is danger." He raised an eyebrow. "You know this better than anyone."

Elsa blinked, then dropped her eyes. "It's why Anna can't see me anymore. Why I'm in my own room."

"That's right." Pitch watched her closely, wondering if she might suddenly turn shy or become afraid of him. But then she looked back up at him, and Pitch was astonished to see the small smile on her face. "My name is Elsa," she said. "Princess of Arendelle."

He barked out a mocking laugh. "Are we friends now," he demanded, "since we've introduced ourselves?"

Elsa pursed her lips - no doubt at the sarcasm in his voice - but she again surprised Pitch by answering with a simplicity that only children can properly convey. "Don't you want to be friends?"

This time Pitch held back his impulsive laugh and studied her. Friend was such a pointless, meaningless word; Pitch was alone, and he always would be. He had no need for companionship, especially in the form of an intelligent, fearless little girl.

No, Pitch corrected himself. He stared into her blue eyes as she stared right back. Not quite fearless, after all. He could use that, someday.

Besides, it was clear that the Guardians hadn't gotten to her yet. It was a rare mistake for the virtuous St. North, but Pitch could wield that against them, too. Your oversight will be your downfall, he thought, imagining the shock and dismay on the Guardians' pathetic faces. And when that day comes, I will simply laugh.

"So you don't want to?" Elsa asked, disappointment clear in her voice.

"I don't have many friends," Pitch said slowly, musingly. "But you're not like any other little girl I've met, so... I'd say yes. We are friends now."

Elsa's bright smile was all the answer Pitch needed, and he sent her a sly one in return.

A/N: There will be more