~~Chapter 2~~

Elsa woke up with an aching head. A hand caressed a faint lump on the back of her head as she fought the heaviness of her eyelids. What happened? She groaned in her thoughts. As her eyes bore on the dark ceiling touched by a faint yellow light, a thought hit her already throbbing head. Where am I? Blinking the remainder of sleep, she tried to sit up but her body refused. She grumbled as she groggily set herself up and surveyed her surroundings. Where was she indeed? Looking around over and over again with what little she could see through the thickness of the dark with little help from the candle's tiny flame. She knew wherever she was held no place in her memories.

The room was spacious yet modest. Silhouettes of see-through silk draped down the dark brown wooden bedposts like curtains that hid her from the rest of the world. The 'ceiling' she thought was concrete was a satin roof over the bed. The walls were decorated in onyx black stone walls and the floors were concrete gray. A vanity mirror sat atop an old, ancient-like dresser that had dents and blackened parts on the right side of the head of the bed coupled with a same old and damaged but still functional looking table placed on the left. No doubt they must've been impressive in its better days. On top of the able were a basin and a towel. While on the dresser was a candle that was in the middle of its life on a silver candle stick standing vigilantly as her light house. Red, delicious-looking apples were piled in a silver bowl together with a knife that lay idly next to it, stainless steel cup and pitcher beside it. And a book with leather cover engraved with golden swirls and flowers with an emblem, she guessed, in the middle. Her fingers ran on the soft, smooth texture of midnight black satin covers, the same material as the blanket that covered her feet to her midsection. A door made of oak, another of her guesses, stood guard on the wall. The knob looked at her with its shiny, gray head.

A hand of pale white lightly brushed on the rough fabric of her dress going up. As her finger went higher she suddenly felt a hole in it. No it wasn't a hole, but a small rip. Brows furrowed in confusion and she winced as she felt a scratch. She immediately inspected it, turning her arm to expose the damage and lifted it higher to let her see more despite the darkness of the room. It wasn't the only place that had rips and tears. Thinking the worst, she threw the covers off. Her whole dress was a mess. Someone had undone her braid and soft streams of snow white hair cascaded down her back and spilled down her shoulders. She was starting to panic as she tried recalling anything. She figured she must have been in a really big fight to get her to look like this. The worst scenario kept popping up in her mind as a chill unlike any other washed down on her form from head to toe. "No. NO. No, it couldn't be." She said aloud as if the increase in volume would make it more believable. "If that happened, then there should be blood on the bed. O-or maybe the sheets were changed while I was unconscious! That can't be. I'm a light sleeper. Or maybe I was hit on the head so hard I was out cold for days that I-couldn't-wake-up-even-if-a-firecracker-explodes-in-front-of-my-face! I don't feel any pain there only on my thighs and legs. Or maybe it healed already because it might have been days since…. No, that can't be it!" she squealed in her pillow as she fell forward. "Okay. This is not the right time to panic." She raised her head and sat straight as she took in a deep breath, setting the pillow aside. But then her head started to hurt again through overuse.

Her mind swam from questions after questions, nauseating her further as she tried to concentrate on recollecting as much as she could. She wanted to puke somewhere, but there was nothing in her stomach that it could dispel from her system. The ball of her feet throbbed and the sole of her feet felt like it was being punctured by a thousand needles. Groaning in tired agony, she massaged her bare feet, feeling faint blisters as she did so. Urgghh… Running and heels really did not go together. "Wait. Running?" snippets of memories flashed so quickly that her world spun. Not really focusing on any of the images, she let the memories bombard her until they slowed down to a stop. Breathing heavily as the headache subsided, she tried to enumerate as many memories as she possibly could.

Someone came to her in her ice castle. She remembered she was so happy, Olaf was there too. Her face was blurred but she knew it was a woman. Then something happened, they began arguing. The woman left, both of them were very angry. The she made Olaf look after the place and she left too. Then everything went muddled and confusing after that. The last clear memories she had after that was that she saw something that made her ran. She could remember the feelings she had while she ran so vividly. It was a whirlwind of different emotions: happiness, anxiety, relief, a sense of urgency and longing. And then she was in a forest. All the branches were naked without any leaf to clothe them. She kept running with all her might, sharp branches of trees and bushes clawed at her face and tore at her dress. Then she remembered putting her arms up in defense. Then her foot missed the ground and she fell, a sudden sharp pain on the back of her head, the last she saw as she fell was the moon and then everything went black.

As she tried to answer the questions in her head the clicking sound of the doorknob made her pause. She held her breath as a figure of a man was molded out of the shadows. A pair of golden yellow eyes, like floating fireflies, contrasted against the dark portal to the outside world captured her attention.

"I see you've woken up." The creature stepped into the dim light of the candle. He was tall and slender with sleek, midnight black hair that was neatly combed back. His disposition was that of a man of discipline as he stood straight with confidence, his hands behind his back and a flamboyant smirk as he gazed into her eyes. Elsa felt like whatever light was in the room was being absorbed into the black hole at the center of his eyes. She couldn't look away nor process any thoughts. He was the first to break eye contact as his lowered for a second and the smirk cracked into a grin. It took a moment to process on her part, and then she finally remembered what condition her dress was in. Her face exploded in a blush as she quickly threw in the covers to hide the rest of her. She never felt embarrassed in front of anyone in her entire life and hearing him chuckle was just rubbing salt. "Don't worry, I've already seen It." He jovially informed her that it sent the wrong signals that made her glare. A deep clunk came from the door that closed behind this stranger without her being aware of it. The sound vibrated coldly down her spine as she realized that that must have been the lock.

She began scooting farther away from the approaching scoundrel, clutching the blanket closer to her as he took pleasure at the sight of her scared face. As he made his way at the side of the bed, she could sense something dangerously dark from this person so she made sure to look for weapons. But as more light washed over him, she could see his skin was a different shade of pale. His skin was undeniably ashen gray. The pressure of his knee making contact on the bed made her gasp. She couldn't back away anymore as the wall prevented her, yet he continued to lean closer and closer. A long, cold finger hooked under her chin as she held her breath. Nails were digging in her palms with only the duvet acting as a barrier in one hand as the other hid under the pillow beside her. She focused all her magic there as she readied herself to attack the first chance she gets. She could feel mischievous glee emanating from those slits for eyes. The only threshold to breath that he left her was a hairline. She could feel the warm air he breaths out fan her smooth skin.

"I have already seen and touched," Elsa's lips tightened in anger. "your delicate flesh," her fists trembled as she felt the frost prickle her skin "and plunged depp within to pluck the innocent flower." He smiled suggestively and she felt like she got dumped with ice water. Her mind blanked for the second time that day. He took in her scent and moaned almost silently with eyes closed, yet Elsa did not even react. But it wasn't that she wouldn't, but she just couldn't. Her head still couldn't wrap around the things he was implying. That he…. T-that she…. She wasn't…. anymore…. Out of nowhere, he suddenly burst with laughter. That earned a jaw-drop stare as words incoherently jumbled out of her. He was laughing at her expense! That infuriated the flabbergasted queen, deciding between freezing his rear or wait until he could finally explain himself because all she could pick up was him saying was "your face" then garbled with the laughing and snickering. Whoever said laughter is the best medicine must find the irony from dying out of laughter. When he finally composed himself, he started to sit upright and leaned back on a chair which she has no clue where it came from. "I'm just teasing." He said as he tried to calm himself but the smug look on his face was still plastered there. "You're too easy."

"What?" she half shouted at him.

"Well, of course I saw your dress torn up because I carried you when you fell." His legs crossed as he entwined his fingers together.

"And the flower?" her tone was disbelieving at the same time accusing.

From his robe, he pulled out a white rose and handed it to her. "I was never the stylish kinda guy. I'm more on functionality really. But, I thought that you might find this room dull and depressing. So, I pluck a white rose that I found growing in a steep ravine which I had to plunge deep just to get it. You know, to lighten this place up a bit."

Twirling the rose in her hand, she smiled and then his face was smacked into a pillow. "You're evil!" He heard squeal. That hit hard on Pitch, but she didn't know and couldn't see the hurt that must've been in his face as the pillow blocked it from her view. "Well, not evil really…" she shyly said as she focused on the flower in her hand. "But rather mean. Really, really mean."

"No." he said sternly. "You're right, more than you know." He sighed.

That caught her off guard. She turned to him and took the pillow off his face. He turned away from the reach of the light and her gaze but she moved closer and let her hand rest on his shoulder. "You're not evil." Struck by her words, he slowly met her gaze. "If you were, then you would have left me for dead but instead helped me up. You even thought of picking me a flower to cheer me up where others would've made me leave the minute I wake up." Right then, he genuinely smiled and she gave him one too.

No doubt it was very awkward and unsettling but not an unappreciated moment for the nightmare king because not a minute later he cleared his throat and stood leaving a dumb-founded but still smiling Elsa. "You must be hungry." He tried to sound a little upbeat, no doubt to cheer the mood up.

At the mention of food, her throat itched from dryness. "And thirsty too." He chuckled and offered her a glass of water. She hesitated at first, but she felt so parched that she took it, drinking its contents with what etiquette she could conjure from her state. "I picked these up for you for when you'll wake up. Don't worry, their just a day old." Taking another apple, he started to slice it in two. "I thought what would be best for you to eat. And I thought maybe the kind that had lot of water in it. The first that came to mind was a watermelon, but… it would be too messy to eat. So I thought the next best thing, an apple. It's small, not messy to eat, sweet and juicy. Besides," he glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes giving a comforting smile. "didn't they say 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away.'" She gave a faint mirth and smiled back at the obviously sloppy joke. Well, at least he tried to make her a little comfortable even though she could see that he was not used to it.

Once he was done slicing the apples, he went to sit on the nearest side of the bed with the silver plate in hand. He let it rest on the bed between them. This time she did not hesitate and grabbed the nearest apple, quickly sinking her teeth into them with a moan of satisfaction. They were cold, it was fine by her. Besides, it was helping her ease the pain in her head. She was busy shoving the apples in her mouth that she forgot about her savior that was watching her with fondness. It was after her eight piece that she heard him chuckle. Suddenly remembering that she was not alone and was in a place not her own, she quickly closed her mouth. A deep blush bloomed on her cheeks and forced herself not to reach another piece of apple. She started to fidget with the black fabric in her hands.

"Why? What's wrong? Are they not to your liking?" he inquired, sounding a little bit offended.

Shaking her head she stared at her hands, for some reason she couldn't look him in the eye. It made her restless and uneasy, nervous actually. "They're quite delicious."

"Then help yourself." He beckoned her. "It was meant for you, after all." pushing the plate towards her with a toothy grin that made her blush even more. If he could see it, she couldn't tell. She shyly nodded and reached for another piece of food, offering it to him first. He smiled and politely declined saying that the food was entirely for her. She began eating albeit with less enthusiasm as the manners that royal tutelage built inside her kicked in. After that, they basked in the pregnant silence that seemed to have clouded over them.

"I was… running." She suddenly spoke earning her a quizzical look from her mysterious healer. "The last thing I remember was running." She said softly as she hugged herself, knees huddled closer to her body. "I think I saw something that made me ran. The trees and bushes had no leaves. Their branches scratched my face, whipping my skin with their sharp thorns." She sighed as a hand cradled her throbbing head as tried to recall more of her memory. "And then I… I put my hands up to shield my face and my foot slipped into something. I hit the back of my head and then everything went black." She looked up to him, his face was serious and seemed to be trying to make sense of what she was saying.

He looked at her with somber and curious yellow eyes. It wasn't until he his mind registered how her form was positioned against the head board of the bed that he spoke again. "Does your head hurt when you try to remember?" voice as soft as a feathered pillow.

"Yeah." She sighed as she put her hand down.

His right hand slowly reached forward and she automatically flinched away from him. His face showed a look of hurt as he retracted his hand that somehow made her a little guilty, but his eyes softened as if he was trying to understand her reaction. "It's alright." He reassured her softly as he tried to reach for her again, this time much slower as not to spook her any further than he has. "I was just about to check the bump on you head." Warily, she let him touch the back of her head. Calloused, clammy fingers almost glided up on her scalp from her nape to the swelling on her head and she winced. "Sorry." Quickly easing the weight of his finger and taking it back to rest on his lap. "It has gotten smaller. A few days of rest should do it." He paused. "Then I should leave you to your rest." He said as he stood. "It would be best if you stayed a bit longer here and rest. Your condition might be worse than we realize."

"What?" She blurted. "There's no need for that. I have troubled your far enough. I can't repay your kindness by being a burden-" rising too swiftly to her feet to walk to his side. Because as swiftly as she stood was as quick as her world began to spin in her head. Everything was dancing around her making her lose her balance. She tried to sway her fall towards the bed. The man, although shocked, reacted quickly and held out his hands, catching her head before it hit the bed preventing it from bouncing harshly against the mattress.

"See, you're not even well enough to walk!" he climbed up the bed and lifted her to lie properly on the bed while she groaned as the world began to steady. Sighing the distress that suddenly took hold of him, he gazed at her with such concern that Elsa would have taken it for something else. But her head was still busy putting everything back to normal that it couldn't recognize diagonal from straight, and so it went unnoticed. She closed her eyes as she felt him trying to make the bed more accommodating for her and adjust the pillow underneath her head, although she was a little bit disturbed with how careful when he was cradling her head as he splayed her hair from under her. His fingers cautiously slid underneath her locks like he was presenting threads of finely spun gold to his divine god. He was also freakishly gentle as he laid her head against the soft inviting pillow.

"Look, if you really don't want to be a burden, then lie down and rest." He sat beside her as he tucked her in. "You're my patient, if you constantly try to leave with your body still recovering, then I would worry about you endlessly. Then you would be more of a burden than you were asleep. At least then I'm assured that you won't be fainting or falling in the middle of nowhere or somewhere much more dangerous like a cliff." He looked at her with scolding gaze and she felt a little annoyed to be treated like a child or a wounded bird. He must've deciphered the expression on her face because he smirked and touched her hand ever so gently.

That quickly gained her attention. His eyes asked for her to understand while his voice held a little bit of teasing. "You wouldn't my conscience to eat me alive, would you?" again. He almost said it, yet he didn't. It wasn't time, not yet anyway.

Pang! That was a low blow, intentional or not. For her anyway, it was. However, it had the desired effect on Elsa. She felt a little bit guilty, for giving him more to worry. She was, after all, more trouble than she was worth. And for some reason, she couldn't agree more. And then there's the guilt for behaving childishly. He treated her like a wounded bird, because she was wounded, treated her like a child because that was she was acting like one not a second ago. This stranger that took care of her without a second thought, and she acted like a brat, even if it was for a moment, when she had no right to. And now her head was hurting, badly. She breathed deeply as she attempted to clear her mind from all the buzzing accusation that started to storm her brain.

Taking it as an answer of defeat to his logic, he regrettably stood to leave. "Then it's settled." He turned and went for the door, his hands folded neatly behind his back. A trait she had commonly seen from noblemen or a soldier back in the days of kingdoms and castles. "You'll stay here and rest until you get better enough to walk."

For some reason, she felt sleepy, which was weird because she had just woken up. She shouldn't be sleepy at all, yet her eyes grew heavier by the second. For a moment, a picture of a bottle of sleeping draught popped up but her mind was too cloudy to process. But amidst the dizziness she managed to say her thanks, not really waiting for any reply or a simple 'you're welcome' or 'no problem' because a few seconds later she had crossed over to the realm of dreamless sleep, not even registering the metallic click of the lock on the door.

He was staring through the door as if it never existed and wasn't blocking the view of her sleeping form. A hand against the hand-carved wooden door, one of the things he managed to salvage from his home amongst other things, a gentle smile which was foreign graced his face.

"And thank you for returning to me…

My sweetest Elizabeth…."

He said with such devotion as if he was really saying it to her. Not yet. He controlled himself. Not until she heals enough to remember. Leaning his forehead against the futile attempt of protection from his ravenous nightmares, he sighed as he reluctantly detached himself from the door. It was the only thing separating her from his dark creatures, the only thing that preventing her from seeing how low he had fallen. He still needs to assess the damage she received. He still didn't know how much she still remembers or how serious the fall had affected her memories. He had always made that flower joke on her way back when, she would always reply with something snarky, suggestive or with a kiss that usually led to other 'intimate' reaction. But when he saw her reaction, he knew something was wrong. The unruly sound of the pitter patter of hooves and the gluttonous stares of his dark mares made it easier to turn and walk away from her door. They were hungry again, expecting him to provide their sustenance. They followed him, tracing his footstep like hungry dogs to their master not wanting to miss feeding time.

He left Onyx, his most obedient and ruthless nightmare, and two other nightmares to stand guard lest the guardians think to visit his lair without his presence. The nightmares had learned not to try him in any way. He had killed a dozen or two of them to prove his point; that they were disposable and he had no qualms destroying them if he finds them irritating or troublesome. The nightmare king glided quickly through the corridors down the halls. His lair had not only millions of cages and stairs, but also hidden passages that only he knew. Taking a right at a deteriorating corner, he was met with a dead end. A golden torch covered with cobwebs looking abandoned on a wall to his left. He held a firm grip and with one practiced pull, a passage opened to his right. His creatures poured behind him as he cautiously emerged from a door in a ruin of a temple.

A testing foot met the freshly rain-watered grass, a hand on a slick, mossy rock for support as he carefully looked up in the sky. There was no moon, no sand, no flutter of big or tiny wings, no suspicious cold breeze nor the jingle of a reindeer-pulled sleigh. There was no one to disturb him yet it wasn't enough for him to put down his guard. He needed to test himself, the prolonged passiveness underground might've affected his stealth and other abilities. So he decided to try it out in a small village in Mexico, where poverty and drought was abundant. He knew they were superstitious people, most of them believed in monsters living in the shadows, but because there was nothing, no event to keep them from fearing, their belief became passive.

But due to the hardship they now faced, they were starting to recall their myths and legends, and with that, their fear. They were becoming hopeless and desperate, making Bunnymund's influences in them wane. This place was out of Toothiana's reach neither was it in Jack's. Both Christmas and Easter was still far away, so their reach here thinned greatly. Still, there was still the Sandman but then again the people here was drowning in troubles and dilemmas and was busy trying to survive that they had barely any thought nor any time for dreams. Both the children and the adults here lay sleeping with exhausted bodies and troubled minds. They had no place for dreams. He grinned sinisterly, but keeping a wary eye for that little yellow shit wasn't a bad idea. With a click of his tongue, he and a handful of his minions dissolved into the shadows and began what they went there to do.

Halfway to the village, a bleating of a goat snatched his attention momentarily. A mischievous smirk was plastered on his face. His dearest Elizabeth would be famished upon her next awakening. Maybe he could cook something special. Chuckling to himself, he leaped to another spot of shadow on the earthed ground. Maybe he could pull off a chupacabra out of his sleeves again.