(Always Outside;) Looking In – A Rise of the Guardians Fanfiction by Lenle G
Chapter One
Darkness.
When his eyes finally manage to peel themselves painfully open, the dust of the battle has settled, and all he knows is darkness once more.
He breathes it in with a sigh; it's his element. He was born in the darkness. Of the darkness.
All alone, with only the never ending darkness for company.
He blinks slowly; the pain in his body has faded to a dull ache and there's a heavy weight in his chest where he thinks his heart is, or at least, should be. He stretches out his fingers and all they brush is the inky blackness. Pitch blackness.
The whinny of a Nightmare rings out in it, and though he jumps at suddenness of the sound, Pitch is surprised to find he no longer fears them. Instead his fear has settled into something much colder, harder; lonelier even. He knows the Nightmares won't hurt him again. They can't in fact; he's stronger than fearing now.
He tries to sit up, but his stomach cramps painfully, and his head spins, and it hits him how... weak he feels. He has not felt this pathetically feeble since he was mortal. He directs his thoughts away from that particular painful notion. He does not wish to recollect his time as a human; the remembrance brings him only agony every time. Memories of a time he was loved and...
He shakes those thoughts away again with a physical shudder. His breath rattles thinly in and out of his chest as he tries to recall all that had happened instead. The memories of the past few hours are equally raw and cutting as the remembrance of his past, Pitch is depressed to find.
It had been the Guardians, and the Frost boy, he recollects. They'd turned his Nightmares on him, overpowered him, and made him feel like nothing but a scared child in the dark.
Like the very children who should, rightfully, be fearing him.
It shouldn't have been this way.
It shouldn't have ended like this.
Pitch remembers the cold, dark fear that had gripped at his heart with icy fingers as the Guardians had used his very own Nightmares against him. He remembers the powerful fear that he was going to lose the battle again the light, against the Guardians. That he would be surrendered to the darkness again.
Because Pitch, contrary to what you might think, didn't actually like the dark. He didn't fear it. That is to say; wasn't afraid of it as such. Darkness is his element after all. It's a place where Nightmares lurk and pain haunts the shadows alongside him. And he couldn't very well fear himself, now could he? But the empty blackness he finds himself trapped in is always a little unnerving all the same. Just because he isn't afraid of the dark, doesn't really mean he likes it.
You see, the Nightmares are hardly companions, and, as such the darkness can only mean loneliness to Pitch. You can't see anyone in the dark, and they can't see you. The darkness is an impenetrable barrier that keeps people, companions, apart.
Separate.
Alone... and unbelieved in.
And that. That he feared.
Because, as the Nightmares, his Nightmares, who were supposed to do his bidding as he commanded them, had attacked their own Master, forcing him down into the darkness of his own lair once more and, as strongly as he hates to admit it; the Great and Powerful Boogieman himself had been afraid.
Because they called on his deepest, darkest fears.
On his loneliness.
And the fear, deep and unsettling, in his heart had become his undoing.
Because if there's one thing Pitch, the great Boogieman himself fears, its loneliness.
He's been alone a little too long, and although the darkness welcomes Pitch like an old friend; Pitch loathes it in return.
"Hello?" he calls out into the void of dark nothingness; unnerved and disgusted by the not-so-light tremor in his voice. As soon as he calls out, he wonders why he bothered. He'd thought that maybe they could still be here somewhere. The Guardians. That they might be able to hear him. That he might not be...
He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest when he realises there's nobody there to reply.
Because even the company of those disgustingly cheerful Guardians, he's thinks, is better than talking to yourself.
He'd been so angry, he knows that now; angry that no one believed in him. He'd been invisible to them all, for so, so long, simply because they refused to see him. So he tried to make them believe, make someone take notice of him. Anyone, even those hoity-toity Guardians with their responsibilities and their magic and their disgusting, irritating happiness.
So that he wouldn't be alone anymore.
Because no-one, not even Pitch Black, deserves to be alone forever.
But they still refused to believe in him, and although the Guardians saw him, they looked upon him with only hatred. After all, everyone hates Nightmares.
So he decided that if he had to be alone, and suffer, that everyone could suffer, just like him. And they'd all be the same, together, in their anguish.
But, of course, his plan had backfired, the Guardians had won, and once more, he was alone.
Pitch grits his teeth and clenches his fists and glares out into the blackness above him. Hatred and suffering forming a cold, hard, angry knot in his stomach. He will have his revenge on them, on the Guardians, and on the boy.
The boy.
Jack Frost.
Pitch closes his eyes again, and lets his anger fester in the darkness. He will have his revenge.
He will.
And, as his golden eyes snap open, this time, he thinks, no-one will be able to stop me.
Not even the Guardians.
Not even Jack Frost.
...
A.N: Hello all! Lenle here! Figured I might as well post this! It probably won't be updated until I finish my HTTYD fic Crevice, but here's the first carefully-crafted chapter all the same.
Drop me a review if you liked it! I'll give you free virtual cookies?
Thanks so much for reading,
- Lenle G