Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians.
Hi! So I'm kind of on a Rise of the Guardians kick again. Surprise, surprise. There's no leaving this fandom. I'm sorry I've been absent so long. Anyway, this was inspired by a scene I saw in Stranger Things on Netflix. After I saw it, I couldn't get this plot bunny out of my head. So cookies to whoever knows where this came from. I hope you guys enjoy this short little thing. :)
Hopeless
He fought.
He fought so hard.
The nightmares seemed to never end. They descended upon Jack like the harshest blizzards he'd sent out. They were relentless. One after the other. The black sand was so thick the boy could hardly breathe. He swung his staff, and another black horse exploded. Another took his place. It wasn't doing any good. As soon as one exploded, it reformed. Jack couldn't see an end.
The nightmares were strong.
But Jack was strong too.
So he fought.
For what seemed like hours. In the dark. Alone. He fought. The winter sprite whipped his staff this way, that way. His hand gripped the wood so tightly he thought it might break. He sent ice blasts. Shards. Knives. Even swords. Anything he could think of that would destroy the bloody things.
The boy could feel himself fading. He could feel his power waning, and soon every icy blast he sent out hurt. Like when he got too close to a fire. Like being punched in the gut. Like being carved. He was too drained. Too tired. Too weak.
He had no way to contact the Guardians. No way to contact other spirits. He was so alone. So very alone. He could feel his hope leaving him. Bunny would be so disappointed.
Oh, Bunny, he thought, where are you?
North. Sandy. Tooth... Were they looking for him? Would they find him? After... He knew what he had to do. He also knew how difficult it would be. Dear MiM...
Jack, very suddenly, stopped his attack. He could feel the stags crashing against him. Could feel the coarse sand tearing at his arms, his clothes, his face. The boy pulled his staff close to his chest, drawing all his remaining power within him. Every ounce. The light coming from his staff was nearly overpowering, and it only kept building. He clenched his eyes shut. Just like last time. It hurt.
He twisted his lithe fingers on the age-old wood, gritting his teeth.
And then he let it all go.
He heard cracking. Loud and thunderous. Felt his body shaking with the force of a thousand ice storms as power went out of him. Jack could hear screaming, and distantly, he recognized that it was him
Then, it ended.
Jack's fingers twitched against the damp floor. It was so cold. But there was something warm trailing from his nose. It matched the feeling of the blood seeping from his wounds. Oh, he was so tired...
"Oh, Jack." The voice sounded compassionate. Kind. It wasn't supposed to. It only made things worse. "Oh, dear Jack..."
A dark hand curled around his shoulder, slowly turning him over. He was too weak to do anything but groan. His eyes were glossed over and a single tear escaped him as Pitch pulled him into his arms, holding him close. It was then that he truly realized just how hopeless his situation really was.
Pitch pulled him against his chest and ran a single hand through the boy's damp hair. Jack's eyelids fluttered; his breathing was laboured. He couldn't stop the panic, and more tears rolled down his cheeks. He knew he didn't have the strength to escape. This release of power had been more than the first. Too much. Too much.
"That was impressive, my boy."
