A Rise of the Guardians / Guardians of Childhood Fanfic

By Sakura Martinez

Author's Notes:

Hello, everyone! This is my first time writing a RotG/GoC fanfic and I'm really excited about it. I have been a fan of the movie ever since it came out and have also purchased myself copies of the GoC books. Anyways, this fanfic will merge the best of both world and—hopefully—be one that you would all like. Note that it does not stay loyal to the books.

With that said, I hope you all enjoy reading and don't forget to review!

EDIT 1 (9/18/03): Thanks to Sapphire Drops for telling me about a typo I made. Edited and fixed the first paragraph.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians or the Guardians of Childhood series. It would have been awesome if I did, but I don't. Those belong to William Joyce and Dreamworks Animation.

Summary: Pitch's parting words to Jack and the other Guardians of Childhood during the Battle of Belief held a clear message: The Guardians may have won the battle, but the war was far from over. Now, Pitch is rallying the forces of darkness, calling to arms a dark and sinister group: The Fright Knights. The battle to end the war is underway, but are the Guardians ready?

Rise of the Fright Knights

Prologue

In the deepest and farthest corner of the earth where not a sliver of light could enter, the Nightmare King seethed, angered by his most recent loss to the Guardians. All around him, his army of Fearlings and Nightmare Men—dark and shadowy incorporeal creatures that had served him for eons—moved as far back as they could. So afraid were they of the Nightmare King's temper, especially during the times when his plans had failed.

Darkness poured out of Pitch Black as his anger raged on, darkening the already-darkened underground kingdom even more.

"How can my plan backfire?" He wondered, his tone was icy and cold as pure darkness always was. "It was flawless! I had the world wrapped around my fingers! How can one bumbling spirit change all of that?"

Pitch pounded his fist at the armrest of his throne sending a puff of dark smoke rolling from the impact. He gritted his teeth as he remembered the smug look on a pale face that he had come to resent.

"Jack Frost," Pitch spat the name of the pale-faced spirit like it was the most disgusting thing that had ever graced his mouth—which was saying something.

Pitch still couldn't fathom why Jack Frost, the Winter Spirit, would choose the Guardians over him. He wondered what could have blinded Jack into choosing their side instead of his. He and Jack was a perfect match. He was darkness and Jack was to be the coldness that accompanied him. They should be working together, as dark and cold always had. It was only the way of the nature, the way of the world. He had tried to show that to the young spirit. And yet…

Pitch shook his head. Proud as he was, he was never going to admit that he—Pitch Black, the Nightmare King—made any mistake at all. He blamed his recent failure to the Nightmares that had made a mockery of him when they pulled him back underground. He glared at the dark, shifting, spectral horses with such cold fury that they fell back and whined as if they meant to say that they didn't mean to cross paths with him and had acted only in hopes of preserving their king for another night and another battle.

But Jack Frost and the Nightmares weren't the only spirits he could blame for his most recent downfall. They were not the only kinks in the otherwise brilliant plan he had. No, there was one other. One more spirit that had turned the tide of battle greatly than the young neophyte Guardian had: The Sandman.

Pitch had thought that he had turned the accursed Guardian into one of his Fearlings. He had thought that there were no dreams left when his cloud of darkness devoured The Sandman's golden sands completely. His power had grown exponentially at that time—the time when children's nights were filled not with dreams but with nightmares.

The Nightmare King closed his eyes as he tried to remember and revel in those times when he truly was king; when the Man in the Moon and his Moonbeams, as well as the Guardians, could not do anything to help the children they had sworn to protect. He remembered how intoxicating his strength had been and now that he had a taste of it, Pitch wanted to return to those days of power.

And I will, he thought to himself. But first, I need a plan more devious and cunning than my last. And, to do that, I need to find out what went wrong during that battle…

He recounted the events once more in his mind. From the moment he had stolen that little girl's dream and turned it into a Nightmare, to the moment when he had slipped and played with North's beloved globe. He remembered the moment when he had sent his Fearlings and his Nightmares to the Toothfairy's castle to steal all of the children's teeth and capture her army, to the moment when he dealt with the Sandman.

Pitch remembered how he ordered the Nightmares and the Fearlings to attack the Easter Bunny's warren just as he was dealing with Jack, enticing him with his memories that Pitch himself had only stumbled upon by accident. He remembered watching in the shadows as the faith and confidence—the belief—the Guardians had on Jack Frost dwindled into non-existence and how he had tried to lure Frost to his side, showing him what they could do together. He had even had Jack Frost barter his staff in exchange for one of the Toothfairy's miniature fairies and had broken his staff for good measure.

I should have not just broken it in two but shredded it to pieces, he thought to himself.

The Nightmare King also remembered the last hours, just before dawn, when the battle was reaching its climax. He was winning. He remembered that glorious, glorious moment. And then the child—that loathsome last believer—did something that turned the tide of battle. It was something no other child since that girl had done before: stood up to the Nightmare King.

And then, that was when it truly hit Pitch Black. The reason for his lost. It wasn't Jack Frost, or the Sandman, who had ultimately ruined his plans. It was the child from Burgess—Jamie Bennett!

Despite knowing who had caused his downfall, Pitch knew that doing anything to the child now would not do him any good. The Guardians were far stronger than he was at the moment and meeting them head-on would only weaken him further. So, he decided to come up with something else. Something that no one would suspect.

As all of his plans, the one that hatched in Pitch's mind came when he was not thinking too hard on it. And the plan he had concocted was one for the books.

"Enjoy your victory while you still can, Guardians," his words rumbled low as he molded images of the Guardians with the tendrils of shadows that were in his command. "It will be very short-lived."

As soon as those words that held the promise of vengeance in them were out of the Nightmare King's lips, he crushed the images of the Guardians into nothingness, leaving only the effigy of one Guardian standing.

Short-lived, indeed.

For the first time since they retreated back into their dark domain, the Fearlings and the Nightmares heard Pitch's maniacal laughter.