A/N: Yes, I realize I've been an extreme hiatus and I sincerely apologize. Chalk it up to taking too many high level science classes for my major this semester. On the bright side, I'm updating now and plan on updating/editing most (hopefully) all of my on-going fics as a Christmas present to whatever readers are left. Probably not meany. ^^; Oh! And I finally got my Final grades for the semester. So excited.

World Geography: B

Online Landform Geography class: A

Landform Geography Lab: B

GIS & Mapping Science: B

Remote Sensing: B

That's 4 Bs and an A. Sp freakin' excited. But I digress.

I'm writing this fic as a fill for the RotG kinkmeme. I've never really done this sort of thing before, so please forgive me if I'm a bit off. I'm new to the fandom. This doesn't have any pairings as of yet, but has the potential to. I'm not sure which pairing at the moment though cuz I'm still working on this fic and plan to let the words flow as they will and let what wants to happen, happen. No matter what it is. ...Wow, that sounded poetic. Anywho, this fic will contain fills for several prompts on the kinkmeme because so many of them are so similar and are just screaming to be strung together into a long story. ...and because I wanted to. In the mean time, please tell me what you think.

That said, here's the first chapter. Ahem, I mean prologue...

Prologue

There was silence this night. It was a gentle, calm silence broken only by the barely audible hiss of snow as it fell to the ground. Jack sat quietly in a nearby tree just listening. It was the dead of winter. No wind blew. Everything was calm and white.

He always loved nights like this. He could just sit and think. He didn't have to worry about being unseen by the humans. He didn't have to worry about why he was here. He could just sit quietly and stare. He was relaxed.

Lonely.

It had been almost one hundred years since he was created. The world had changed since his birth on that frozen lake in the middle of nowhere. Almost one hundred years since he had last been spoken to by anyone. No one heard him. No knew him. No one missed him. No one cared about him.

It hurt. Especially when he heard parents call after their children to bundle up against the cold so Jack Frost couldn't nip at their noses. But it was always laughed off. Just a saying. Nothing meaningful. Nothing real. Nothing… Just nothing.

He tried calling to the people, near the beginning. He tried calling, talking, whispering, begging, screaming, crying, weeping. All for naught. He had to watch as parents huddled against the cold, how children shivered in the factories, how animals hid under porches to escape the biting cold.

He felt cold. Cruel. Harsh. Lonely. Dark.

Not always, though.

Sometimes he could find joy in his existence. Sometimes he could start a snowball fight between children and, if he was especially lucky, some adults. But it never changed a thing. The humans would eventually grow tired of the game Jack started and go off back to their normal lives and, inevitably, move indoors. Scarves would be removed and hung up on pegs in the hallway, boots would be removed and stuffed in the corner by the front door to drip dry, chestnuts would be popped by the fireplace, trees would be decorated, and food would be prepared and eaten. All indoors. All inside. All where Jack Frost, the embodiment of winter in all its frozen cruelty, was not welcome.

But lately, he'd stopped trying to attract attention. He'd stopped trying to go inside homes where the joys of family life laid. He stopped trying to start snowball fights where previously there were none. He stopped causing breezes to blow up the uptight rich ladies' dresses. He stopped stealing men's hats forcing the poor humans to chase after them. He just stopped. There was no point. No point at all. None saw him. None heard him. None believed in him. None.

He was alone.

He'd heard stories of the Tooth Fairy, but he'd never seen her. He'd watch in shy curiosity when the Easter Bunny came to hide his eggs, always escaping before he was seen. And he often saw Father Christmas gliding through the sky on his sleigh. But they never acknowledged him. They never spoke to him. They never even tried to seek him out.

Instead he was just calm. Passive. Waiting. Hoping for a flame to rekindle the fire of joy he'd first experienced with his first breathe of life on this earth. But it hadn't come. He'd experience small sparks that had the potential to light this fire, only for it to dissipate with people's disbelief.

Instead, he resorted to gazing longingly through the windows, dreaming of a family and the affections that obviously came with it leaving frosty tell-tale fern-like designs on the windows. Instead, he was forced to stay outside, rejected and alone. Instead, he was forced to stand by while, inevitably, numerous lives, human and animal, were lost to his biting cold.

Recently, he'd come across a poor little girl struggling to sell matches to the arrogant humans who ignored her, rejected her, walked right passed her like she didn't exist. Like they did to him. So he sat with her and, even though she could neither see no hear him, he spoke to her, sang to her, breathed on her. And she died. Peacefully, in her sleep. He did not make her suffer. She knew what he suffered. How could he force her to suffer further? He was not heartless.

Yet.

Blinking, Jack came back to himself. The snow had stopped falling for the moment as the clouds above dissipated just enough for a small amount of moonlight to peak through and reach his small, solitary figure in the pine tree far above the ground.

He considered asking the Man in the Moon again why he was here. What was his purpose. But stopped. He knew he would only be greeted by silence. He was always greeted by silence. In was inevitable.

Crunch.

Instantly, Jack was alert. His ice blue eyes scanning the ground for the source of the noise. Then the noise came again, and his attention was drawn to the right. There, just below the eaves of a nearby tree was a small child, no older than seven. The poor thing wore barely enough clothes to be considered decent in this day and age, let alone hold back the chill.

Sadness. A common emotion.

Silently as the snow falling, Jack floated down to the frozen ground and stared at the freezing child. His hand tighten imperceptibly on his staff. He could feel this little one's light waver. It wouldn't be long now. He looked into the child's eyes and saw fear, pain, and despair. Emotions so similar to his.

The flame flickered weakly as the child stumbled and fell into a snow drift and Jack sighed. Silently, Jack watched the child struggle to all fours only to sit down and huddle meekly against the nearby tree. Kneeling before the child, he stared at the pale face so alike his own. He felt the flame flicker once more as slowly, ever so slowly, the cold continued to seep into the child's body freezing away the oh-so-important body heat essential to human life.

He sighed once more and whispered so quietly that even had the child been able to hear him, it would have gone unheard. "Forgive me."

Gently, ever so gently, Jack pressed his frozen blue lips to the child's quivering mouth. And instantly, gently, the quivering stopped, as did the tiny, fluttering heart. And the tiny, flickering flame died.

A small tear slipped unnoticed down a frozen cheek. What may have been a quiet sob escaped frozen lips. Even the earth seemed to morn. Clouds of ash erupted from mountains of fire. Natural clouds clumped together and darkened, joining with the false clouds. And the snow began to fall once more. And it fell.

And fell.

And fell.

And fell.

All Winter it fell. All Spring it fell. All through Summer it fell. All through Autumn it fell. And that year, 1816, went down in history as the Year Without a Summer.

Looking back on it, allowing his powers to take full control of the globe for an entire ear wasn't the best idea. But once started, nothing could stop it. Many found joy in the long winter. Many died. But most importantly, someone noticed. Someone heard the dissident sobs echo faintly on the howling gusts. Someone noticed there was an existence that had been overlooked. And that someone was fascinated.