"Dad?!"
"Daddy?!"
"Please Daddy! You said you'd be here"
The male in question jumped up as if electrocuted. A thousand volts charging through his very being. A tear ran down his face. it was a dream.
A dream. Just a dream, he told himself. Screamed at himself.
"You failed me daddy! You told me you would keep me safe" Screamed the fearling.
Fearling, he reminded himself . But it sounded so much like his baby. His little girl.
"Daddy! DADDY! Help me!"
With an almighty almost animalistic roar, the brave general stood. With his bare hands he tore apart the chains. His hands bled and the skin split. His vision blurry and his thoughts racing.
Then as the doors opened he, Kosmotis Pitchiner, was darkness. He screamed.
A loud gasp pierced the cold air.
A man, his skin as grey as fog and mist and hair, styled into dangerous looking spikes from the back of his head as black as night. His golden eyes darted sideways searching for the fear he could smell. It was potent which meant it was near.
Very near.
A cold hand brushed his cheek. He started and the fear grew. It was him.
"Pitch?" a small voice came from owner of the cold hand.
"I am fine Elsa. Do not concern yourself." a smooth, elegant and dark English accent came from this Pitch.
"Just bad dreams". No need to mention they were his bad dreams. Or rather memories. The first of many he feared.