Ever since Elsa, princess of Arendelle had been born, the kingdom could never say it enjoyed a fully heated summer in comparison to the years prior to her coming. No one outside of the King and the Queen knew that while their firstborn was around, the most they'd get out of the natural flow of the world would be a few months of vague sunny bliss and lack of icy temperatures.
Fear was always present when such mysterious series of events took place, and the constant presence of pure white snow was without a doubt a very significant spark to ignite the belief that the young monarch's birth had something to do with it.
While Pitch at first had expected paranoia from the theories that went on to be formed about the situation, which would most likely lead to protests or even more drastic reactions by those who were to terrified of any oddity; the suspicions and beliefs of the crowd eventually shifted to a more positive light, since most people came to accept that the constant presence of snow was a sign of the princess's purity and that she would be a compassionate and strong leader.
In any other circumstance, the Nightmare King would have been majorly upset at the depriving of a large source of fear for him to feed, which was exactly what had transpired in Arendelle. He knew, however, that this was not an ordinary circumstance at all. For once ever since he could remember, he was deeply intrigued by a human child; in this case, the very source of whatever would shake up the realm's faith.
The conversations between him and Elsa had become slightly frequent, seeing that he would often visit her in the improvised mental prison cell that was her room. Most of the times, not too many words would be exchanged between both of them, seeing that Pitch was not particularly attempting to induce any sort of terror upon the girl, and that Elsa had become incredibly shy and slightly awkward when it came to talking in a non-cordial situation.
When it came right down to it, their encounters were a complete absence of the purpose they were given. There was no need for Pitch Black to be the Boogeyman, nor was there the need for Elsa to be the good girl she always had to be.
Being put in a situation they were completely unprepared for, it normally meant that both would not talk a lot whenever they saw each other; since Pitch was, much to his chagrin, embarrassed by the fact that he was allowing a child to see him as something other than a fear monger, making him usually hide when he came to visit; many times just to see if she was doing well enough.
Talking was not truly important, though. Most of the time, being aware of each other's presence was enough for both to feel balanced enough in each other's company. Elsa was alone in her little corner of the universe, told how the world was not ready for her; and the Nightmare King himself was the living proof of how one's gifts could condemn a person to a life of isolation. In their silent solitude, the little girl and the monster were each other's deepest confidents, even if they never opened their mouths.
Pitch eventually began pondering the chance that their strange relationship was their own way of reaching other levels of what they could do. Did that meant he was using the little girl? It was kind of his purpose to make people's fears and worries into his toys. But what if it was actually the other way around? Elsa was a scared and lonely little girl who was constantly fed the idea that she was holding a monster inside her, only containable through the lack of feelings. Was her relationship with the very entity of fear a way for the tiny monarch to overcome her demons? Was she even aware she was doing that?
To even consider the chance that he was being played by a little girl only seemed to fuel the embarrassment Pitch felt about the entire basis of their connection. In a way, sparing this girl from his influence was deeply harming him, seeing that he could feel his powers dwindle at every moment that passed, as if the familiar smiles she shot him whenever she saw him or noticed his presence had been sucking out the source of his powers.
Out of all the thoughts that coursed through the Nightmare King's mind, the one that involved asserting his position as a fear entity and casting his dark shadow upon Elsa once more grew constantly. It would not be a difficult task, after all. She was already shy and introverted, which made it easy for him to take advantage of her insecurities. Heck, a little bit of effort, and he could make her break down. It was all there, in the palm of his hand. All he had to do was take action, and everything would go steady again.
He could do it. He would do it. He had already started, even as his figure marched through the halls of the palace of Arendelle. For some strange reason, Pitch enjoyed taking his time as he moved closer to his potential victims, as if it created some sort of an atmosphere. He was the big monster, coming to terrorize every child in the world as they cowered away from his inevitable arrival. It almost felt like a ritual he took pleasure in performing.
As he moved up the staircase that eventually led to the lonely princess's room, Pitch hesitated as a figure crossed paths with him, both coming to a stop, albeit for different reasons. The King was a fully grown man with firm beliefs that made the boogeyman a mere tale, making Pitch completely invisible in his eyes. The fear monger, however, found himself stopped dead in his tracks just by the sheer confrontation of each other's eyes.
Seeing that most of his interest was devoted to children, making them his sole object of study; the Nightmare King had forgotten how deeply profound and rich an adult's mind could be when one looked such a being in the eye. This monarch was no exception to that. In fact, being confronted deep with the very windows of his soul, Pitch was mesmerized by the fear that escaped through them.
He could look into his entire trail of thoughts so easily, but the fact that was an open book of this sort was a shock for the boogeyman, in a way. Everything was clear, everything was obvious. Above fear, he could see deep hatred in the eyes of the man who had just recently left his daughter's bedroom. Pitch's nature initially made him assume the royal's object of contempt was the princess inside the mental cell, but even he could not deny that all the loathing that was inside the King was directed at his own self. Yes, it was true. The monarch was afraid of what his little treasure could do to others, and for that he too was afraid of himself. Such fear became the source of a hatred that slowly consumed him from within, all to be left with merely pain at his actions.
The implications of the Arendelle ruler's mental state was something Pitch Black wanted nothing to do with, much to his own surprise; seeing how quickly he turned away from the monarch to march forth in his path, trying to get his focus back on to what was really important. He would get inside the room and unceremoniously scare the little princess that stood inside it in order to regain his own sense of freedom and purpose.
Humans were truly foolish beings in his mind, and he had the need to rectify the faults he had been committing over the past few weeks.
Everything was going according to plan as soon as he felt his entire being pass through the door like the hollow specter he was seen as. As usual, it was slightly darkened, the main source of light being the fireplace lit nearby. This made the environment all the more cryptic and comfortable for him to act in. To add things up, he could see the young royal close to the window, obviously distracted with something, which also gave him the surprise element. This would be too easy.
Stealthily moving through the shadows of the division, his amber eyes gaining their normal demonic glow once more, the fearsome creature opened his arms, all of its remaining forces summoned as he prepared to attack the helpless child in front of him. Ready to lunge at her, he suddenly found his movements halted when he casually noticed a rather peculiar trait in the girl.
She had gloves in her hands.
He could not understand why it had such an effect on him, but a sudden rush of hesitation and awkwardness overtook him as he lost his composure and stumbled around a little, denouncing his presence, seeing how the tiny monarch was quick to turn her head, gazing at him with her sapphire eyes.
"Hello, Mister Black. How are you doing today?" she suddenly asked in her faint whispery voice, the delicate smile he had grown accustomed to manifesting on the corners of her lip, which only drove him to new levels of awkwardness.
He was the very entity of fear. He was the darkness that cast a shadow on darkness itself. Yet he could not bring himself to bring any sort of harm towards the tiny creature so easily destroyable that stood right next to him. It made no sense to him and only made him feel at a loss.
"I'm fine, actually. Just had a run in with some problems you needn't worry about." he quickly retorted, regaining his composure immediately next to her as his eyes were fixated on the window. "What are those things in your hand?"
Elsa was slightly taken aback as well when she heard his reply in the form of a question that muted her usual cordial greetings. Her stare was now directed straight at her tiny hands, concealed by the greenish blue fabric given to her minutes ago by her beloved father.
"Papa gave these to me, Mister Black. He said they'd help me with…you know."
"How exactly do two gloves help?"
"Well…Papa said they help me conceal the ice. If I don't touch things, I can't freeze them. So that way I can hide it…" she murmured, trying to explain the King's line of thought when he gave her the newest source of concealment and lack of feeling, eventually being at a loss of words, for this was strange for her.
"You know he's afraid of you, don't you?"
"He's not, Mister Black…he never would be."
"What makes you so sure of that? Why wouldn't he be afraid of you?"
"Because he's my Papa…and that's what parents do. They protect us!"
Pitch could only roll his eyes at the exchange of words he was having with Elsa. Somehow, the little child always found a way of making him feel awkward and out of place when it came to debating. He did not know it if came from the fact that she was incredibly intelligent or from the fact that he had a very limited knowledge of how the world worked.
"That is just strange. It makes no sense." he scoffed as his eyes darted away from her, his cranky muttering echoing through the room when he turned his back on her, seemingly to retreat from the source of his hesitance.
"It doesn't need to make any sense, Mister Black. It's just the way things are…I'm sure your Papa did the same for you, before." the little monarch suggested as she eyed him when he moved away from her, fidgeting her tiny fingers against each other as she tried to follow after him.
"I have no father nor mother, so I wouldn't know." was the only sort of comeback that Pitch could muster when confronted with her little argument.
"Of course you did…everyone has a Papa and a Mama, Mister Black. That's why we are here. Maybe you just don't remember them. That doesn't mean they're not real!"
"Even if that is true, they're just memories. What do they matter? What's gone is gone. I don't care about that."
The next reply drove the Boogeyman to halt, being left with a total loss of words, for he did not know how to react to it.
"I do, Mister Black. That must mean something to you, no?"
"Maybe it does." he once again retorted after another short moment of silence that seemed to drag on forever.
The Nightmare King did know he could somehow access some of his memories if he got into the Tooth Fairy's world. He loathed her just as much as he loathed all the other Guardians, but he was very much aware that she held the key to the long emptiness that was his past. It was then that he realized he was inevitably scared of something as well. Was it all there was to him? He would not have minded before, but at the moment it was something that had started to trouble him.
"I bet you would be a great Papa, Mister Black…" Elsa's soft voice suddenly broke his trance once more, her tiny hands now wrapped around his larger grey one in a simple gesture that he would define as a sample of love if he could actually fully understand such an emotion.
"Why'd you say that, Elsa?" he asked back quietly, only noticing he had said her name when it was far too late. He never addressed a child by its name before, seeing them as mere tools for his existence to continue. Yet…he had just accepted this one as something different. Perhaps her belief in him did matter more than he imagined.
"Because you're always here when I need someone to talk to." was the simplest reply she could muster to expose to him, and yet it was the one who could shake him up the most. "You're a Guardian…"
Sighing and shaking his head as he allowed his thumb to caress her tiny gloved hands, Pitch nodded slowly, smiling a bit when he was sure she was not noticing him.
"Yes…I suppose you're right."
