Star Sand
AN: A sort of prequel to In Moonshadows focusing on Pitch's first meeting with Sanderson up until he was possessed by the fearlings. This part is dominantly from Sanderson's point of view but I'm planning to make on from Pitch's point of view
*star sand – sand particles literally shaped like stars. In real life it does exist but the scientific explanation is that these "stars" are actually fossils, the oldest known to man.
Chapter 1
"I became what I am when I killed the dragon at sunset and you became what you are at moonrise. Who is to say we did not birth each other? Like the sun and the moon."
The sand spirit began to stir and the new voice dipped and resounded, louder than anything he had ever heard before. He did not know how long he slept, in fact it would be easier to count the few moments where he actually woke. Those were pleasant time though, floating through the eternity of space that hummed with the conversations of the galaxies and constellation, but they were never clear. Never like this voice that sound so close to him.
When new sense began to flood him, smell, sight, touch, he found everything strangely exhilarating from what he had known as a sheet of sand in space. It was a far off memory, a half dream that as he passed by a galaxy flooded with white light and sand that he was sucked into something like a blackhole. Now here he was.
"Good evening to you." It was a tall man, broad shoulders dressed in robes of green accented in gold, the decorations of rank pinned to his lapel. His blonde hair was cropped short, styled back and fell in soft curls, almost white like the fairness of his skin. He offered his hand and the sand spirit, bewildered took it. He was helped onto his feet easily.
The sand spirit felt a small ripple, the language the constellations spoke in and looked towards the source of light in the dark night. It was the moon. He was welcoming him, the dreamer, Sanderson Mansnoozie. At first the sand spirit was confused, he was formless, nameless after all for the whole for as long as he could remember and now he was here. A small form, human like in the image of this tall man in front of him.
"Sanderson, then." The man bowed slightly, and only then did the sand spirit, formerly nameless now named noticed the oddities of the man. There was a white sand dragon perched on his shoulder and a sword hung from a holster at his waist. "General Kozmotis Pitchiner, you may call me Pitch and this… this is the Man in the Moon."
"Forgive me if I assume too much on our meeting but I must say you're a wonder." The general named Pitch studied him with blue eyes quite intently, one hand stroking the dragon on his shoulder. "We both share this affinity with star sand, with stardust but at the same time they are both so radically different." Pitch began to shift more sand in one hand, it was pale like his skin and seemed like it was slightly glowing in the moonlight. "My own is shaped with will, the desire not to be afraid, the desire…" the sand was shifting and shifting from birds to bugs to every shape imaginable. "To be brave." The sand settled once again into the dragon, and it gave its wings a good shake.
"But you." He took a breath as if feeling the weight of his claim. "You are this star sand, so incredibly pure as if you were made from the sand that comes from stars that grant wishes." The general smiled and despite his confusion, his question, Sanderson smiled back. "Its fitting really. Have you ever met a dreamer that is unable to truly make a wish on a star?"
Chapter 2
The same night of his metaphoric birth, he witnessed first hand the battle against the fearlings that was happening in the galaxy around him as he was blissfully dreaming. The constellations had made Pitch their General for his bravery, for what exactly Sanderson was not quite sure.
He sat on the edge of a cliff that overlooked the valley and together with MiM they watched the pale general descend into the quiet village with his army made of light sand in various shapes, in all the shapes of fear that fealings took.
MiM explained to him what he was meant to do here in this world, in this form. Unknowingly, Sanderson had been pulled by the wishes of dreamers like him.
The battle ended as the last shaped sand dissipated meaning the fearlings were either trapped or had fled. Pitch from where he stood, looked up decidedly in his direction, his blue eyes immediately finding his gaze with the same intensity it had earlier seeing deeper than any other existence.
Tonight. Tonight he was going to help make dreams.
Chapter 3
"Ah, gently, gently…" Pitch soothed as the child curled up in bed whimpered and Sanderson dropped his shoulders in frustration. "Sleep is natural, but dreaming is not." The General said gently from his spot a few feet behind him, observing, his hands clasped behind his back and he stood straight at his full height.
After another try, the child overwhelmed by the giant wolf that was meant to be a cute puppy chased him in his dream, he sat down next to Pitch who gestured to the spot near him on the floor.
After a few moments, Sanderson mustered a question in his voiceless language, in gist asking about the dragon on his shoulder.
"Hmm," Pitch was quiet for a few moments, stroking the little dragon's head. "My sand you see, takes the form of fear, in the same way that fearlings do. What is bravery after all, but facing what you fear and transforming it? This. This dragon is the embodiment of my greatest fear." He pulled out something from beneath his clothes, a locket, but he made no move to open it. "Fear that my daughter somehow is not safe. But it's a foolish thought because that was years and years ago, too long for her but not long enough for forgetting."
Sanderson, tentatively touched his hand, a small comfort and the General smiled graciously. "Dreams work on that same breath as bravery, as wishing, as hope. Dreams make us brave in the dark, it makes us wish for everything, anything and it gives us hope it'll come true."
The sand spirit for a moment understood, all he had been was a good dream that as he had seen fear and dark it seemed to pale because there was nothing to compare it to.
That night the child dreamed good dreams, of forests, of games and all his friends.
And Pitch smiled pleased.
Chapter 4
He did not know it then but Pitch if he was not fending off fearlings was teaching him earnestly the dreamscape of children. There were long nights, less sleep that Sanderson was used to but they were good, after eons of being alone he couldn't imagine being without MiM and Pitch to fill the hours where they were not defending the children.
But it was all short lived.
For a while he did not see Pitch, the General was hurt from a particularly large battle, what they believed to be the leader of the fearlings. It was the largest battle he had ever seen but he knew battle in space were much larger, it was only he and the General and their sand after all against the darkest fears of all hollows eve.
Sand clashed against shadow, Pitch entered deeper and deeper into the fray, searching for the heart of the swarm. It rose up from the depths of the ranks, a fearling large enough to block out the light of the moon in the shape of a dragon, eyes burning topaz. It was like the dragon of that day with his daughter in the woods, but back then that was just a live dragon possessed by a shadow.
The General's own dragon grew larger, absorbing the other white sand as the fearling did to it's kin. It grew and grew and the two dragons hissed at each other, roaring and taking flight, bringing their battle to the heavens with Pitch on its back.
Sanderson gathered the stragglers left, even that were a battle in itself until the sun rose. He felt the last assurance from MiM that Pitch was alright before the sand spirit, for the first time since his rebirth, he was alone.
Chapter 5
Years would pass before he would meet Pitch again, so drastically different. His pale hair was streaked with black, the white dragon was absent and his demeanor held a sadness the sand spirit never imagined the man he knew could be capable of. There was dark wound in the middle of his chest, a shard he couldn't identify was sticking out, poorly hidden by his black cloak.
Their meeting was only fleeting, their eyes met when their paths crossed, each travelling in the opposite direction, then he was gone. At that time Sanderson didn't understand what wounds were.
He didn't have time to dwell on that meeting for long.
MiM had tasked Sanderson to help him create other Guardians with dreams, the dreams would make children believe and this belief he could pour into other souls to create more Guardians of Childhood.
For a while all was well, until something called Nightmares began.
Pitch Black. The Nightmare King. The Boogeyman.
AN: anyone want this written from Pitch's point of view? Let me know!