My Messed Up, Royally Screwed Up, Utterly Dysfunctional Family||Before: Arriving

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Disclaimer: I do not own RotG

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The words sent a tingle of fear down his spine, but young, innocent, naïve Jack brushed it off. "That's a cool name."

"Not many people seem to think so," the man said wryly. "They mostly just run away screaming." He seemed to close the subject with that.

Jack's curiosity was piqued, though. You simply couldn't say something like that and expect it to be left alone. "Really? Why would anyone run away from you?"

Pitch turned his head to face forwards once more, so Jack could only see him in profile. He bared his teeth, and in the slightest hint of moonlight that slipped through the dense tree branches, Jack glimpsed sharpened teeth filling his mouth, as if he'd filed them to points. "Because I am the embodiment of fear." He waited, as if preparing himself for screams and a rush of power.

Jack, however, was not at all afraid of this perplexing man with pointed teeth and the same name as a color. "Seriously?" Pitch's head turned and he stiffened. Jack got the sense he had overstepped and backed off. "I just meant that you've been so nice, between pulling me out of the, uh,-" he searched his limited memory and came up with the proper word, "-lake, and letting me come with you, and tolerating all of my stupid questions."

Pitch looked at him, golden eyes glittering. "An interesting way of putting it. Most would have thought I was going to use you for my own purposes."

"But I'm not most. And I trust you."

Pitch let out a harsh laugh and Jack had to jog to keep up with his brisk pace. "A foolish decision, some would say, trusting someone you just met." He paused, as if waiting for Jack to rebuff his statement. When he didn't, he kept walking, but there was a hesitation in his voice. "You actually trust me?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah. You're really cool. And I'm guessing a lot of people would have just left me there to rot." And he really meant it. Pitch was the only person he could remember, but he was still pretty awesome.

Pitch grinned again, showing off his teeth, and ruffled Jack's hair in a brotherly manner. "Why thank you. Here we are!" He held out an arm in front of Jack just in time for him to avoid falling into a hole, about three feet in diameter, give or take. When Jack peered down, he couldn't see the bottom.

"So we jump?" Jack bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling as light as air. "Seems fun."

"You don't have to-" Pitch began, but Jack had already thrown himself over his arm and was zooming into the long, dark tunnel, head-first. He was whooping and cheering, not even fazed when he stopped with about an inch of space between his nose and a cold, black-and-gray tile floor, the air pressure the only thing keeping him from the ground. He put his hands on the ground and the wind gave out, leaving him to fall over from his handstand and lay on his back on the floor, his face only slightly red. "That was awesome! I love this place!" He sprang to his feet as Pitch strolled out of a shadow, having teleported in. There were shadows everywhere here.

Experimentally, Jack stuck his hand in one, and the inky substance crept up his arm, swirling and goopy. It made Jack smile and laugh. "That tickles." The goo retreated a bit, but continued along it's path until it was nuzzling up against his cheek, making him chuckle.

The goo dripped off his arm as he pulled his hand out of the shadow and it pooled on the floor, forming a black cat with glowing yellow eyes like Pitch's that rubbed up against his bare ankles and calves, twining between his feet.

Pitch watched with amusement. "They like you."

"Huh?" Jack asked, pulling his attention from the kitten.

"The shadows. They don't like just anyone. Be lucky they didn't drag you in and kill you," like they did with my last visitor. The words were left unspoken, but they hung in the air awkwardly until Jack broke the silence by dropping his staff with a loud clatter before picking up the cat and scratching behind its ears and under its chin, making it purr.

Jack felt the vibration against his own chest and smiled down at it gently. "Aw. They would never hurt me. They're just too sweet." A small mosquito buzzed by and the living shadows that filled the underground surroundings reached out and snatched it out of the air, engulfing it in the tarry substance in moments, ending it.

Jack shrugged when Pitch looked at him pointedly. "I said they wouldn't hurt me, not bugs."

"I can give you that." He walked over to the gray-ish dirt wall and paused before he entered a shadow. "Just don't be afraid. It only riles them up." The words were just a touch softer than previously.

"Okay," Jack said absentmindedly, still playing with the cat as Pitch walked into the darkness. "I'm going to call you Nyx," he murmured into her fur, which felt oddly sandy, small grains brushing his cheek. "Like the Goddess of the Night."

She purred again and meowed. Words, like an airy breath, crept into his mind. Yes, that fits perfectly, the voice said.

Jack started and looked down at Nyx, who was blinking her golden eyes lazily. "Y-you can talk?"

Only to you, Master, she said with a meow. You named me.

"I- what? I'm so confused."

Do not be. You are The Namer, and you gave me both a name and a way to communicate with you. In time, I can teach you how.

"Really?"

Nyx rubbed her cheek against his. Of course, Master. Whatever you wish.

"Call me Jack?" The end of his request ended in an upward infliction, making it into a question.

If that is what you desire, Jack.

He smiled at her and gently set her down. "Thanks, Nyx."

Anytime, Jack. Anytime. She stalked off into the shadow she was born from, her tail raised jauntily.

Jack picked up his staff again and leaned on it, examining the swirls of frost. He sank to his knees on the floor, unsure of where to go or what to do, now that Pitch had left, so he decided to experiment.

He tapped the end of his staff on the floor, ever so slightly. A speck of frost blossomed, spreading outward from the point of contact, then it bloomed, magnificent swirls of floral designs bursting into being and snaking speedily across the ground, coating the dingy tiles in a thin layer of pure, sparkling hoarfrost. Jack admired it, smiling, and rested his hand on the floor. From his touch, more frost came into being, combating that from his staff. He jumped back in shock, but crouched and saw frost coming from his feet too. His clothes, he noticed, had a similar silvery-white coating that crackled as he moved. He looked at his staff. The ridges in the wood were filled with blue glowing ice.

Jack Frost. He had picked an apt name for himself.

"Jack Frost, Bringer of Winter, Rider of the Cold Winds, Spirit of Frost and Snow. Not a bad title," he mused. "Not bad at all. Sounds rather impressive when you say it like that." And coming up with the rest on the spot was smooth, as if something was telling him what to say.

His frost slithered into the shadows and started climbing up something invisible to Jack. Once it was completely covered with glistening white particles, Jack squinted, tilting his head, and decided it was a horse. He climbed to his feet, leaving his staff on the ground. "Hey there," he said softly, "Whoa, there. Easy, girl, easy." The horse with glowing yellow eyes trotted forwards and stopped, allowing him to take cautious steps nearer to her. Don't be afraid, it only riles them up, the boy remembered. He approached her from the side and carefully stretched his hand out, knowing enough to not look her directly in the eyes. His hand landed on her flank and she shuddered, snorting as more frost covered her. Jack came closer and rubbed her side, oblivious to her discomfort. She allowed him to put his face right near hers and rub her head, combing her mane straight with his fingers and rubbing underneath it. "Good girl," he murmured. "That's a good girl." Her mane felt sandy, like Nyx's fur, but Jack figured it was something to do with the territory. Probably everything in here was gritty and dusty. The floor had been. He gathered the courage to look her directly in the eye, and she didn't bolt or try to kick him. Instead, she pressed her cheek to his.

He closed his eyes and pondered a name for her. "Onyx," he heard himself whisper. "Your name is Onyx. Do you like it?"

Onyx whinnied and pushed her nose into his hand, nuzzling his face. When he didn't run his hand over her coat again, she grew impatient and pushed her head at him more forcefully, knocking him in the chest and forcing him to take a few steps back.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed, making her toss her head, but she settled down once he started giving her a good curry, using his hand coated in soft ice granules as a brush. "I guess you like it."

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In another room of his lair, Pitch was watching a large globe. The lights dotting the surface were twinkling, brightly, making him scowl, but he didn't have enough power to put any out yet. He had to bide his time and wait. Pitch sighed and snapped his fingers, waiting impatiently for his favorite nightmare to canter out of the shadows. She didn't. He snapped again, louder and harder, but she still didn't show up.

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Back with Jack, Onyx whinnied softly, feeling her creator call to her, but the boy who named her had a strong pull too. He gave her a name, was brushing her coat, combed her mane. He was taking care of her, a new sensation, rather than having to do it herself or reform. She whinnied again at the second snap, louder, but Jack soothed her with a soft murmuring hum, a slight mash of nonsense syllables streaming from his mouth in a sort of lilting song.

Onyx was aware that her creator was going to come get her himself now, but Master, as she thought of the boy, wanted her to stay. So she stayed.

Pitch came, and he wasn't too happy. "Where are you, you-" he stopped short when he saw Onyx being brushed by Jack. "What are you doing?" he asked incredulously.

Jack looked up. "Giving her a good currying."

"She's a Nightmare! Nightmares don't need currying!"

"Well, Onyx seems to like it." He turned to look at her, his hand still moving over her flank. "Don't you, girl? Yeah, you like it. You're so pretty, Onyx. That's a good girl," he gushed as she nuzzled his hand and face with a nose made completely of sand, leaving black grains behind.

Onyx whinnied with delight. This was nice! Having a name was great, and being brushed and cooed at, and complemented and loved all felt so good to the poor Nightmare who had never experienced any of it before.

"Onyx?"

"Yeah, that's what I decided to call her. It suits her, doesn't it?" Jack rubbed under her chin and by her ears. Onyx whinnied again and stomped her hind foot, tail deforming and reforming as it swished. She seemed to nod and smile.

"Alright," Pitch said warily, unsure of how much he trusted Jack. It had seemed like a good idea at the lake, when Jack had looked at him with these eyes... Before, only his daughter Seraphina would have ben able to elicit any sort of positive emotion from him, but now the child had found a way of melting his heart, ironically, although common sense said he could not keep the spirit around for long. Yeah, he might've been newly born, but he was also more unrestrained and unaware. Pitch didn't know how much power the boy had, and it made him uneasy to have such a potential grenade in his home. "Onyx."

Onyx turned her head towards him, a new level of intelligence and self-awareness in her gleaming golden eyes, the only sign she had once been one of the Sandman's beloved dreams.

"Onyx, we're going out," Pitch said, his voice deceptively neutral, hiding any and all emotion.

Said horse tossed her head and reluctantly trotted over to her creator, who swung himself on and transported through the shadows without a look back at the boy.

Jack's brow furrowed. "Now what do I do?"

There was an eerie hissing from behind him and he whipped around, blue eyes wide and with his staff aimed into the shadow. Out of the darkness, creatures, horrible, disfigured beings made of that terrible black sand emerged, reaching out to him. "Come play with us, Jack," they said, snatching at his clothing, their snakelike voices melding into one with a thousand different pitches and qualities. "Let's have some fun."

He screamed.

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