Just a random oneshot. Might continue if the mood takes me.
Oh, right, and I don't own Rise of the Guardians.
If there was one thing Nicholas St. North had learned over the centuries, above all other things, it was to always trust his belly. It never failed him; it told him whenever there was to be a blizzard during his route, or the sudden reawakening of Pitch Black. They had a special bond that couldn't really be put to paper, and the Guardian had learned never to doubt it.
But as he rode on the mine cart through the underground tunnels below the North Pole, he found himself truly wishing his belly was wrong.
The tunnels, he would often tell the yetis and elves, were strictly off limits. Years ago, they had used them to mine for coal for naughty children, but that had fallen out of practice in recent years when they learned that a greater punishment was socks and underwear in children's stockings. Still, even before he had them closed off, there was one place that nobody was allowed to investigate. Even he never visited in those years, and now relied heavily on his map to get there.
He looked up from the aging parchment at the fork in the tracks before him. He grunted and pulled a lever, sending the cart forward with a jolt of speed that would have made normal people grip their stomachs and lean over the side. Unfazed, North kept glancing back at the map and turning the lever accordingly: left, then right. Then right again, followed by another left. Middle. Up. Down. Another turn left. All the while, the cart pitched forward, demonstrating the downwards incline.
Finally, a perfectly flat stone wall lit by two pale, blue torches came into view, and seemed to grow quickly as the mine cart barreled towards it. With a nonchalance that would put a poker player to shame, North pulled back on the lever, and the mine cart screeched to a sudden stop.
It was only when he stepped out of the cart did the first flicker of worry cross his features. Closer to the wall, he could make out various Russian warnings etched across its surface, warnings that he himself put up there long ago. Reading some of the warnings, he found himself chuckling at his younger self's potty mouth in some of the more…choicely worded cautions. But worry crept again into his mind as he reminded himself what was in there. He pulled one of the torches off from the wall with one hand, reaching with his other into the depths of his coat. He slowly pulled out a black key held by a length of twine. He took a long breath to calm his nerves, and slowly inserted the key into a slim crack in the wall.
At once, there was an ancient and guttural rumble from within the stones. The blue torch he held flickered and waved as an impossible breeze buffeted it; North cast it a quick glance before he pushed the wall with his shoulder. It opened soundlessly and easily, and soon the Guardian found himself in a round room, illuminated only by the torch, and North found that he was not completely alone.
Huddled in the center of the room was a figure with its knees drawn up to its chest. In the dim light, North could only make out its vaguely human silhouette, but what drew his attention were two curling, goat-like horns crowning its head, a feature that made North's stomach turn uneasily. He inched towards the figure and drew out his saber. When he was finally within a sword's reach of the figure, he pointed his sword towards it and, summoning his courage, he prodded it as gently as he could.
The sword made a tink-tink noise of metal on stone, and North gave a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. Slowly, he prodded it again, and when it produced a similar sound to before, he seemed content and turned to walk out of the room. As soon as he did, he leapt around with his saber drawn, giving a triumphant "Ha-HA!" as though he had expected the statue to have snuck up from behind. But no; the statue stayed huddled in the center of the dark room as it was when he turned before. Almost disappointed, the Guardian sheathed his saber and slowly stepped backwards out of the room, the door he had stepped through slowly closing on its own accord as he did.
Before the stone doors completely closed, North gave a half-hearted wave to the figure.
"Do svidaniya, Krampus," he said before the doors sealed shut with a loud rumble.
The statue was left alone in the room. After a moment's pause, it lifted its head to the stone wall before it and grinned.
"Do svidaniya, Nicholas," it said. "Until we meet again."