Belief
Rating: T
Disclaimer: I don't own this. I really wish I did, though.
Author's Notes: Hello! I, like many others, love Rise of the Guardians! And I won't lie, I have a helpless little girl crush on Jack (who doesn't?!). But alas, this story is not about me.
It's about our dear little Sophie.
So let me elaborate:
In this AU/Fix-It Fic: Pitch won. Jack never escaped the Arctic. As you can imagine, the Guardians fell shortly after.
It's an idea I wanted to play around with, and because I have some big plans for Sophie! I loved that little mop of blonde hair. And I felt like she needed her own story.
So, without further ado, here we go!
Prologue
"Man is what he believes."
-Anton Chekhov
She pursed her lips.
Her hands squiggled another line, and then one more. She honestly didn't consider herself an amazing artist, but years of practice and encouragement had always proved her otherwise. Everybody loved her drawings, and they always complimented her skills.
But this. . . it just wasn't turning out right.
She sighed as she tried again, ditching the gray, lifeless pencil in favor of something more colorful. She smiled as the picture began to morph to life in front of her, swirling with hues of blues and purples and beautiful greens.
There. That's so much better.Her hand moved quickly, fingers artfully crafting the colors into the very air themselves. She continued, tracing and drawing mindless, intricate patterns into the eddies that little wings caused-
"Are you still drawing those ridiculous things, Sophie?"
Sophie jerked at the intrusion, and leveled a halfhearted glare at her brother, Jamie. He was standing just a few feet behind her, peering over her shoulder at what she was drawing. Sophie huffed, and hunched over, protecting her drawing from his prying eyes.
"Get out of my room! You know I don't like it when people watch me draw!"
Especially the ones that tell me to stop drawing what I like. She added sourly.
She could practically hear Jamie roll his eyes behind her. Instead of listening to her, he ventured further into her room, which were littered with her drawings. Sophie was not a particularly tidy person (everybody knew it), and when she'd run out of space to pin her drawings on the walls, she'd taken to pinning them up all over the ceiling. . . and the floor.
Jamie's foot landed on a piece of paper, and Sophie shot up, alarm flashing through her. To Jamie's credit, he actually looked a little ashamed that he'd accidentally stepped on one of her drawings. His guilt dissipated in a heartbeat as he peered down and saw just what the drawing was, and he snatched it up angrily off the floor.
". . . the Easter Bunny? Really?" He asked, voice deadpan.
Sophie felt heat rush through her cheeks, and she glared at her brother, irritation rising.
"What's it matter to you what I draw, anyway?" She snapped, getting off her bed, "They're my drawings. If you're just going to be in my room and make fun of me, Jamie, then get out!"
She marched over to him and snatched the poor, crumpled sketch out of his hands, and began to smooth out the crinkles. Jamie snorted, bristling with his own irritation.
"You need to grow up, Sophie. There's no such thing as the Easter Bunny, the Toothfairy, or Santa Claus."
Shooting him an irate glance, Sophie laid the paper underneath a heavy textbook, to give it better chances of flattening out. After she took care of her drawing, she rounded on her brother.
"You believed in them. A lot, actually. I remember when you used to tell me stories about the Easter Bunny-"
At that, Jamie threw his hands up into the air in exasperation, and rolled his eyes to the sky, as if seeking help from some unseen deity.
"I'm done trying to explain this to you, Sophie. They're not real! You're fifteen already, get a grip! You're too old to believe in these fairy tales anymore!"
"Almost sixteen," She corrected automatically, "And I don't care! Get out, Jamie!"
She took to giving her brother a heavy shoe in the arm to get him moving, and it seemed to work. The nineteen-year-old roadblock reluctantly allowed himself to be shoved, and Sophie vehemently intended to slam the door in his face. At the door frame, however, her brother paused, and gave her a pitying glance.
"You can't believe in these lies forever, Sophie. You'll understand that soon."
She stared defiantly up at him, itching to shove him another two inches so she could wrap her hands around her door.
"I can, and I will." She growled.
She grabbed her door, intent on extracting her petty revenge, but Jamie shrugged, brushing their encounter off easily. But Jamie, as if knowing what she planned on doing, did an abrupt heel turn and started walking down the hallway.
"Dinner's ready." He said offhandedly.
Inwardly, she screamed with frustration. He knew I was going to slam the door in his face!Giving an exasperated sound, Sophie turned back to her room and strode over to her bed, where she began to pick up all of her coloring supplies. There, her most recent drawing stood out to her. It was a beautiful hummingbird that looked more like a person than an animal, but it was hard to make out, as all of the multicolored winds absorbed every facet of her human-like attributes.
Sophie ran her fingers lightly over what might have been a woman's face, and she frowned.
Maybe Jamie was right in saying that she needed to give up the lies she'd been clinging to for so, so long. Jamie had given it up, as had every other kid on the block. Most days, Sophie felt like she was all alone in the world, the only person who still believed in fairy tales. Her room was like a weird, childish shrine, really, as every drawing detailed a different myth she believed in. Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy. . . there were a few more, but she didn't have names for them.
She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stared at the drawings, at the years of love and devotion she'd poured into them.
"No." She whispered to the quiet room.
Jamie can say what he wants. I remember. . .They were just small, little wisps of memory, but they were memories all the same. She remembered a humid, shaded place, filled with the quiet clickclack of feet, and beautiful colors in every hue. It was that memory that always gave her the inspiration to draw in color, to never be afraid to venture into something new and unknown.
She remembered voices, and even Jamie, too.
When she'd asked him about it, Jamie had only rolled his eyes, shaken his head, and told her to stop daydreaming.
"Sophie! Dinner!" Her mother's voice floated from the kitchen.
She left her room, turning out the light as she did so, and smiled at her drawings.
"People have given up hope on you. But I haven't."
She left, closing her door just slightly, allowing her nightlight to bathe her room in a soft, stained-glass glow.
Darkness pooled, surging and ebbing.
Down, deep in the dark recesses of the world, the shadows swirled in agitation, infuriated and angry.
- This cannot be. - - Our task was done! - - HE defies us again. -
Soon, the patch of black reached an atrium, where sharp, jutting ledges strained from the ceiling, threatening to slice anyone who ventured near. These spikes guarded the ultimate treasure that belonged to the darkness.
the world.
A globe, constructed of metal forged from desperate times and places, spun, dark and empty. Just a few years prior, the globe had been a beacon of light, hundreds of children shimmering in the darkness. The faint illumination always stung the shadows, biting into its body with fangs as sharp as a snake.
But soon, soon, those lights had faded, one by one.
But now. . .
On command, the globe rotated, and then stopped.
- There. - - It waits. - - We must stop this infection. - - This world is ours! -
The plague would begin anew. Children would believe, and their strength would return.
From the darkness, a pair of thin, spindly hands came to caress the globe, gently tracing around the light.
Shedding the shadows he'd hibernated in, Pitch smiled, something cold and anticipating.
"I've waited for this moment," He said, words smooth as silk, "I came out of my sleep just for you, dear child."
He chuckled as he began to reform, body shaping once more.
"Now, my sweet, sweet little human. . . let's have a little fun." His lips spread into a smile, sharpened, pearly white teeth glimmering in the light from the globe.